The Romance of Modern Sieges

CHAPTER XXVI

SIEGE OF PORT ARTHUR (1904)

Port Arthur – Its hotel life – Stoessel not popular – Fleet surprised – Shelled at twelve miles – Japanese pickets make a mistake – Wounded cannot be brought in – Polite even under the knife – The etiquette of the bath – The unknown death – Kondrachenko, the real hero – The white flag at last – Nogi the modest – “Banzai” – Effect of good news on the wounded – The fleet sink with alacrity.

Port Arthur consists of a small land-locked harbour surrounded by hills. As you sail into the harbour you have on your right the Admiralty depots, dock-basin, and dockyard, sheltered by Golden Hill; next the waterfront, or commercial quarter; on the left the Tiger’s Tail, a sand spit which narrows the entrance, behind which the torpedo-boats lie moored. The new town lies south of Signal Hill, on a plateau rising to the west. All round the town were hill-forts elaborately fortified.

The hotels were, like the houses, very primitive: the best was a one-storied building containing about twenty rooms, each room being furnished with a camp bedstead and no bedding, one deal table, and one chair. Sometimes, if you swore hard at the Chinese coolie, you could get a small basin of water and a jug. There was a permanent circus, a Chinese theatre, music-halls, and grog-shops; a band played on summer evenings.

General Stoessel, the military commander, was not loved by soldier or citizen: he was very strict, and, during the war became despotic. They say he once struck a civilian across the face with his riding-whip because the man had not noticed and saluted him as he passed. His soldiers dreaded him, and would slink away at his appearing. Some such words as these would come from him on seeing a sentry:

“Who are you? Where do you come from? When did you join? Why are you so dirty? Take off your boots and let me inspect your foot-rags? Oh, got an extra pair in your kit? Show them at once. Go and wash your face.”

Though it was known that war between Russia and Japan was imminent, the officers and men of both navy and army took little heed, but relied on the strength of their fortress, its fleet, and batteries. What could the little yellow monkeys do against Russia? Well, on the 7th of February invitations were sent out for a great reception at the residence of the Port Admiral, for it was the name-day of his wife and daughter. Officers of all grades flocked thither from the forts and the ships. After the reception followed a dance, very enjoyable, gay, and delightful.

It was midnight, and many were down by the water’s edge waiting for gig and pinnace. A dull sound echoed through the streets that night.

“Dear me! what is that, I wonder?”

“Oh! only naval manœuvres, sir. We sailors must be practising a bit, you know, in case the Japs come.”

Then there was a laugh: “They won’t dare to come under our guns!”

But they had come! In their torpedo-boats the brave sailors of the “Rising Sun” were quietly steaming round the harbour, launching a deadly torpedo at battleship and cruiser.

Next morning, when the Russians went down to see what was going on, they found the Retvisan nose down and heeling over, the Tsarevich settling down by the stern and with a pretty list to starboard, other vessels looking very uncomfortable, and a long way off, near the horizon, some black specks that actually “had the cheek” to bombard Port Arthur.

Why, yes, as the curious citizen came to the Bund, he was so astonished that he forgot to run. Crates and sacks had been hurled about, double glass windows all smashed; and what was that big hole on the quay, big enough to hold an omnibus and four horses? “Good gracious! you don’t mean to say that those specks twelve miles away have done all this! Come, sir, let us seek shelter in the stone-quarries.”

And the Russian batteries on Golden Hill? They were returning the fire from 10-inch guns; but the Japanese possessed 13-inch guns and were outside striking distance.

A party of ladies and gentlemen had gone to the terrace before the Mayor’s house to see the pretty sight – it is not often you can see such a sight. A shell fell just below them! They scattered and went to bed.

“What was it like? Oh, my dear, a noise like a big rocket, a blaze, a bang, an awful clatter all round, as the glass breaks and falls. You are dazed, you see yellow smoke, you smell something nasty, you shake – you run – run!”

Yes, they all ran away from Port Arthur, all who could – merchants, tradesmen, coolies – all went by train or boat. Then there were no bakers or butchers, no servants, until the Russian troops were ordered to take the vacant places.

If the Japanese had only known they might have taken Port Arthur that night of the torpedo attack; but they left the Russians sixteen days of quiet to recover from their panic and to repair their ships. Then it was more difficult.

The hole in the Retvisan was 40 feet long and 20 feet in depth. Seven compartments were full of water, and many dead bodies floated in them. But, beached and water-logged as she was, she used her guns with effect many times during the siege, so difficult is it to destroy a battleship unless you can sink her in deep water.

It was not long before all foreigners, newspaper correspondents, or candid friends were ordered out of Port Arthur, so we have to rely on the evidence of those who witnessed the siege from the Japanese side. Even they did not at first find their freedom to see and pass from one hill to another very secure. One night two of them tried to get to the front under cover of the darkness. They soon met a Japanese officer, who reined in and asked where they were going. One of them could speak Japanese, and replied that they were looking for their camp. So he let them go. But what if they stumbled upon the Japanese outposts and were shot at as Russians? They must be very wary. In the starlight they saw a small hill in front of them, which they made for, hoping to see or hear more of the great fight which sounded louder as they walked – a roar of rifles broken by the rattle of machine-guns. As they climbed one of them said he saw a trench near the top of the hill and men sitting near it. They hesitated, but finally made up their minds to risk it, and advanced boldly, whistling carelessly as they went. The Japanese were all looking out in front, and did not at first notice the new-comers, who approached from behind. Then suddenly the thought came, “We are being taken in flank by the Russians.” The entire picket started to their feet. Many of them had been fast asleep, and, being aroused to hear the noise of heavy firing, they called out “Ruskies!” One Englishman tried to seize a Japanese by the hand to show he was a friend, but his intention failed, for both of them rolled into the trench. The other threw himself flat on the ground and called out in Japanese, “English friends!”

When at last the Japanese discovered their mistake they were all smiles and apologies, and “Please go to the front, sir.”

The Japanese made great mistakes at first: they lost many thousands by attacking in front hills and forts scientifically fortified. They were trying to do what was impossible. Some years before they had captured Port Arthur from the Chinese speedily and easily by a fierce assault. They had then been compelled by Russia, France, and Germany to give up their fair prize of victory. Afterwards Russia had seized Port Arthur and Manchuria. So honour and revenge both spurred on the Japanese to retake it from the Russians. The war became most cruel and sanguinary.

After one night attack the Japanese left 7,000 dead and wounded on the hill-side. They could not fetch them in, though they were within call. Some few crawled back to their friends at night; many lay out for days, being fed by biscuits and balls of rice thrown from the Japanese trenches – the Japanese were fed almost entirely on rice.

A naval surgeon tells a story which explains the conduct of the Japanese when suffering intense pain. He says:

“When the battleship Hatsure was sunk in May, a sailor was laid on the operating-table who had a piece of shell 2½ inches long bedded in his right thigh. I offered him a cigar as he came in, which he eagerly took, but the surgeon told him not to smoke it just then. His smaller injuries were first attended to, and then the surgeon turned to the severe wound in the man’s thigh.

“In order to pull out the piece of steel still embedded in the limb, he was obliged to pass his hand into the wound, which was deep enough to hide it as far as the wrist. During this painful operation the sailor never spoke or winced, but kept trying to reach the breast-pocket of his coat. At length the surgeon, irritated by his fidgety manner, asked: ‘What are you doing? Why can’t you keep quiet?’

“The sailor replied: ‘I want to give that English gentleman a cigarette in exchange for the cigar he kindly gave me.’ Even in the throes of that agony the Japanese sailor could not forget his politeness and gratitude.”

They are a curious mixture of opposites, these Japanese – one day facing machine-guns like fiends incarnate, or giving their bodies to be used as a human ladder in attempt to escalade a fort, the next day sucking sweetmeats like little boys. You come upon some groups by a creek: they are laughing and playing practical jokes as they sharpen up their bayonets with busy, innocent faces, making ready for the great assault at dawn to-morrow. A few yards further on you find them in all states of undress, their underwear fluttering to the breeze, some of them sitting on the stones and tubbing with real soap. You ask them, Why so busy this afternoon? They smile and nod their heads towards Port Arthur, and one who speaks English explains that they had been taught at school this proverb: “Japanese fight like gentlemen, and if they are found dead on the field, they will be found like gentlemen, clean and comely.”

There were so many forms of death in this siege —plurima mortis imago, as Virgil says – from the speedy bullet to the common shell, shrapnel, and pom-pom. But besides these common inventions there were mines that exploded under their feet as they walked, hand-grenades thrown in their faces as they approached the forts; there were pits filled with petroleum ready to be lit by an electric wire, and poisonous gases to be flung from wide-mouthed mortars. But the one which spread terror even amongst the bravest was what they called “the unknown death.” It was said that during the early attacks in August, one whole line of infantry which was rushing to the assault had fallen dead side by side, and that no wounds had been found on them. At last it was discovered the Russian chief electrician had ordered a “live” wire to be placed among the ordinary wire entanglements, furnished with a current strong enough to kill anyone who touched it.

Of course, it was liable to be destroyed by shell or cannon fire, but in many cases it proved fatal, and always made the attackers nervous. The Russians had such steel-wire entanglements placed at the foot of all their positions, and where success depended on the dash and speed of the infantry, they succeeded in stopping them and exposing them to a heavy fire. As a rule, volunteers went out at night with strong wire-nippers and cut the strands, or they set fire to the wooden posts and let them come to the ground together. Sometimes in a fierce charge the sappers used to lie down beneath the wires, pretending to be dead, and choose a moment for using their nippers; some even, in their desperate efforts to get through, would seize the wire between their teeth and try and bite it through.

The man among the Russians who was the mainspring of the defence was General Kondrachenko. He was an eminent engineer, very popular with the men, one of the bravest and most scientific of the Russian officers. On the 15th of December the General and his staff were sitting inside North Keikwansan Fort, in the concrete barrack just underneath the spot where a shell had made a hole in the roof. This had been repaired, and they had come to see if it had been well done. As luck would have it, a second 28-centimetre shell came through the same place and burst inside the barrack, killing the gallant Kondrachenko and eight other officers who were with him. This was the gravest blow that Port Arthur could have suffered, for this man was the spirit of resistance personified.

After his death Stoessel began to seek for excuses to surrender. He called a council of war, and proposed that, as the Japanese had taken so many forts and sunk their warships, terms of surrender should be proposed. Almost every one was opposed to it, and some officers were so disgusted that they privately suggested kidnapping Stoessel and locking him up.

The Japanese policy of mining and firing mines under the redoubts had succeeded so often that the Russians had got into a nervous state. On the 1st of January the fort of Wantai was rushed and captured; mountain-guns and quick-firers were sent up to help in holding the ground, ammunition was sent forward, everything made ready to rush the whole of the eastern defences, when, to the astonishment of all, from General to private, a white flag was seen fluttering over the valley. The news spread like wild-fire that Stoessel wished to capitulate. Could it be possible?

At 9 a.m. on the following morning, the 2nd of January, a little group of foreign pressmen assembled as usual in the small room provided for them at head-quarters. They discussed the white flag incident; but they remembered that Stoessel had said that he would die in the last ditch, so it did not seem probable. Captain Zasuhara, whose duty it was to inform them of what was going on, was late in appearing, and when the door opened, it was not the Captain, but an orderly, who entered, carrying a tray on which was a bottle of liqueur brandy and several glasses. Something strange must be going to happen when a Japanese officer begins drinking liqueur so early!

A few moments later Captain Zasuhara came in.

“Gentlemen, General Stoessel has capitulated; Port Arthur has surrendered. Banzai!”

They all joined in the shout “Banzai!” which means “Live for ever!” and then gave three lusty Saxon cheers, which brought out General Nogi, the Commander-in-Chief. He who for so many months had borne the grave responsibility of sending so many thousands to their death, he who had lost both his sons before Port Arthur, and tried so hard to conceal his grief, now beamed with joy at the sudden relief, and the lines that used to seam his forehead were smoothed out and almost invisible. A grand gentleman was Nogi, gentle and polite and kind to all. Who could have grudged him this triumph after so much sorrow and disappointment?

He offered his hand, received their congratulations with dignity, and said with an under-current of sadness and a voice as soft as a woman’s: “I thank you all for staying with me through the dark days of disappointment and all the sorrowful hours of this terrible siege.”

The proud spirit of the Samurai soldier seemed blended with the gentle feeling of the Buddhist. It was a touching sight to have seen.

And how the news stirred the troops! Men broke into snatches of song, then shouted and yelled “Banzai!” until they choked. In the field-hospitals the wounded, trying to rise from their canvas stretchers, joined in the cheering with thin, weak voices. At night wood fires were lit all round the hills, and many of the Russian garrison left their dismal forts and came down to sip saké (rice wine), and after spending a night of carousal with their late enemies, the big, burly foemen of the North were glad to be helped homewards by their polite hosts, who bowed on leaving them and hoped they would not suffer from the after-effects of Japanese hospitality.

Astonishing, too, was the effect of the good news on the wounded. Desperately wounded men crawled over the stony hills and walked to the hospitals without aid. If you said to one such, “You are badly hurt; let me give you an arm,” he smiled proudly, and said with a salute, “No, no; Port Arthur has fallen!”

One man who had been shot in the head, and whose right arm had been smashed to pieces by a shell, walked to the dressing-station, had his arm amputated and his head dressed, and then walked two miles further to the field-hospital. The news was too good for him to think of his own pain. Another man had a bullet through his chest. He walked two miles to the hospital; there he coolly asked the surgeon if he thought he might live. The surgeon, though he knew the man’s case was hopeless, said, “Oh yes; but” (after a pause) “if you have any letter you wish written, do it at once.” The soldier replied, “All I desire is that a letter should be written to my mother.” No sooner had he uttered these words than he fell dead on the spot. It reminds one of a young Lieutenant in Browning’s poem, who had ridden with dispatches to Napoleon. “Why, my boy, you are wounded!” “Nay, sire; I am killed.”

In the harbour at Port Arthur there were riding at anchor five battleships and two cruisers. On the 10th of August they had gone out to meet Admiral Togo, and had returned next day badly damaged.

By the 1st of September they had been repaired. But on November the 27th began a tremendous battle for the possession of 203 Metre Hill. On the 5th of December that hill was taken at a fearful cost of lives, and a Japanese naval Lieutenant wormed his way into the shallow trench and by help of his nautical instruments was able to take observations and give the correct direction and distance to the artillery commander, who at once trained Howitzers on the fleet. All the ships were sunk by the 6th of December, with the exception of the Sevastopol, which steamed out under Captain von Essen and anchored under the batteries of Tiger’s Tail.

This brave officer tried to protect his ship by a wooden boom and by torpedo-nets. For three nights he was attacked by Japanese boats and torpedoes, and inflicted great damage on them. At last the boom was pierced and the ship’s steering-gear ruined by a torpedo. The Sevastopol showed signs of settling down, so that night steam was got up for the last time, and the gallant commander with a few picked men took her out into deep water, opened the sluice-cocks, and then, taking to his launch, pulled away a bit and watched the great battleship settle down stern first in the dim and misty moonlight.

It is only right that the pluck of this Russian Captain should be remembered when we think of the poor defence made by the Russian Navy.

As for the rest of the fleet, the battleships and cruisers were huddled together with a strong list and their upper works destroyed. They have since been raised and repaired, and belong to the Mikado.