CHAPTER XXIICROSSING THE RIVER
Despite the fact that there had been some hand-to-hand conflicts, the great battle of the Yalu had so far been largely one of artillery. Many batteries had been brought into play, and fearful execution had been rendered, both on the islands and on either side of the broad river and near the mouth of the Ai.
But now this was to be changed. Just in front of Tiger Hill rested four miles of Japanese soldiers, awaiting the order to ford the stream as best they could, and storm the Russian position before them. Other soldiers were on the islands, also in readiness to cross. This was on Sunday morning, May 1, 1904,—a date well worth remembering.
Before dawn the Japanese commander-in-chief had everything in readiness for the advance. The soldiers were close to the water front, but screened from view by low hills and small patches of timber.
“Forward,” came the command for Major Okopa’s battalion, about seven o’clock, and in less than a minute they were on the move. As luckwould have it, they were placed next to the sharpshooters to which Casey and Stummer belonged, and the two commands started to cross the Ai less than a hundred feet apart.
The Japanese batteries had already “opened the ball,” as Ben termed it, doing their best to disclose the batteries of the enemy. But General Kashtalinsky had learned a lesson the day before, and did not allow a shot to be fired in return until the troops of the Mikado absolutely compelled him to do so. Then his batteries roared forth as never before, doing execution that was frightful in the extreme.
The advance of the Japanese to the water’s edge was in open-front order. But the fords were narrow, and as a consequence the infantry had to bunch up the instant they entered the stream. They now formed an excellent target for the Russians behind the hills of the other shore, and man after man dropped, as bullets and shrapnel came whistling in that direction. But the advance was not checked, those in the rear fairly pushing those in front ahead. As the batteries of the Mikado had now discovered the position of the enemy’s guns, they did all they could to silence the pieces. This bombardment was deafening and created a great smoke which swept along the river like a pall.
Along with their commands, Gilbert and Benplunged into the stream, which at some points in the fords was waist-deep. The footing was slippery, and they had to be careful to keep from going down. Some did fall, among them Carl Stummer, who struck on his back with a loud splash and then disappeared for a second.
“Hullo, Cart, are ye hit?” sang out Dan Casey, who was close by.
“No, I ton’t vos hit,” spluttered the German sharpshooter. “Put I got me apout a gallon of vater in alretty! Of I known der rifer vos so schlippery, I but me sbikes mine shoes in, hey?”
“’Twouldn’t be a bad idea,” answered Casey, with a grin. “But come on, onless ye want to be lift behind,” and forward he raced, to rejoin those who had plunged ahead.
As the infantry gained the middle of the stream the fire of the Russians became hotter than ever. Soldiers went down by the score, some few killed and the rest wounded. Of the latter, sad to relate, many were drowned before they could be picked up.
As Gilbert plunged on, he and his command drew closer to the sharpshooters who were following Dan Casey. The gallant Irishman was shouting and hurrahing wildly, and waving his hand for the others to hurry up.
“Come, b’ys, come,” he called, regardless of thefact that nearly all the Japanese understood not a word of what he said. “Come, I tell ye! Be th’ first to make the Roossians run an’ win a medal! Don’t be after actin’ like ye had lead in yer feet!Banzai!”
The last word was understood, and “Banzai,” ran all along the line. The Irishman was well liked by all who knew him, and his courageous spirit made those around him press forward more eagerly than ever.
Like Stummer, Ben had slipped in the water, and this placed him a little behind Gilbert. The latter and Casey were almost side by side,—each in water up to his waist.
Suddenly Gilbert saw the Irishman throw up both hands and clutch at the air. His heart almost stopped beating, for he knew that such a movement could mean but one thing—that Casey had been wounded. Then he saw the Irishman pitch headlong into the stream and disappear.
“Dan,” he called, and at that moment he realized how much he thought of this comrade of so many fights. He plunged forward and felt around in the stream. Bullets were whistling all around him, but to these he just then paid no attention. If Casey was still alive, he felt he must do all in his power to save him from drowning.
At last he got hold of the Irish sharpshooter, and with a strong effort he raised his wounded comrade from the water. The poor fellow was breathing heavily and spluttering.
“Where are you hit, Dan?” he asked quickly.
“In th—the side. Oh!” And then Casey closed his eyes and went off into a faint.
For the moment Gilbert did not know what to do; the next he had his comrade of many fights over his shoulder, and was rushing forward as fast as before. Luckily the shore was not far away, and in a few minutes he gained the shelter of some brushwood, just as Carl Stummer came after him.
“Vat’s der madder mit Tan?”
“He is wounded, Carl. Come, let us see if we can’t do something for him.”
An examination revealed the fact that Casey had received a bullet through his right side. Gilbert was no surgeon, but experience told him that while the hurt was bad enough it would probably not be fatal. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt for a bandage, and bound up the wound as well as his limited means permitted, Stummer assisting.
“Can you look after him now, Carl? I must rejoin my company, I suppose.”
“Yah, I look after him,” answered the Germansharpshooter “Poor Tan! and he vos vonts to fight so pad, too.”
“Fortunes of war,” returned Gilbert laconically; and then he ran off at top speed, in the direction Major Okopa’s command had taken.
He found the battalion fighting desperately. They were moving up a long hill, at the top of which was planted a Russian battery. To the left was a long line of intrenchments, filled with Russian soldiers, and bullets and shells were whistling and screaming through the air as thickly as ever.
Had the infantry been compelled to face what was before them unaided, the Japanese victory might not have been so complete. But the Japanese batteries had now located the Russian intrenchments, and shells and shrapnel were poured into them, turning them into veritable slaughter pens. But from these same intrenchments the enemy fired steadily on the advancing sons of Nippon, and many a red banner went down in the dust and smoke.
At last Gilbert and Ben found themselves close together once more. The companies were climbing from rock to rock up the long slope, utilizing every shelter as best they could. All around them the battle continued, up and down and across the river.
“Hurrah, the Russians are retreating!” was the cry of the Japanese, about ten o’clock. The newsproved true, some of the batteries and infantry were moving back to Hon-mu-tang, on the road to Feng-wang-cheng.
The fact that the enemy was falling back was hailed with savage delight by the Japanese, and forward they went with vigor, charging over the wide plain behind the hill. Here occurred some bloody hand-to-hand conflicts, and one Russian regiment, the Eleventh Siberian, was almost surrounded and captured. But a priest who chanced to be along ordered a bayonet charge, and led the way to safety by running ahead holding aloft a crucifix.
Antung had been abandoned, the Russians setting fire to the town before leaving, and now Kiu-lien-cheng was likewise evacuated. Re-enforcements were expected by the soldiers of the Czar, but they did not come up in time to be of use in stemming the sweeping advance of the Japanese.
It was now that Gilbert and Ben fully realized what the Japanese soldiers could do when put to it. They fought like very demons and never seemed to grow weary of charging and of using either gun or bayonet. Many were without ammunition, but to this they gave scant attention. Those who were wounded but slightly still kept at the struggle, with blood pouring from their faces and bodies. They were fighting for their beloved Mikado and fairNippon, and to die would be glory. Never once, even under the heaviest fire, did they think of retreating.
“We haven’t learned the meaning of that word,” said Major Okopa grimly, to Gilbert, as he wiped the sweat of battle from his brow. “Were some to retreat without orders, I imagine they would be court-martialed and beheaded.”
But all battles must come to an end sooner or later, and by sundown the great struggle for the Yalu was over, and the victory was entirely in the hands of the Japanese, while the Russians were well on the way to Feng-wang-cheng. The battle had thoroughly exhausted both sides, and the Japanese were content to rest on their laurels, while the Russians did what they could to reorganize their shattered forces and construct a new line of defense.
The great battle of the Yalu was remarkable in more ways than one. For the first time in history a well-organized European army was defeated by an army of the Asiatic race. The Japanese had proved themselves not only masters of the art of war on the sea but also on land, and the victory was so complete that it left no room for doubt. In the future Japan would have to be reckoned with as one of the world powers.