It should be remembered that directly it was decided by the Paris Council that a diversion through Russia was the surest way of relieving pressure on the French front, the English apparently decided to be first in. Though Japan was unquestionably in the most favourable position to send help quickly, she was known to have German commitments of such a character as precluded her from taking the lead in what was, at that time, more an anti-Teutonic than pro-Russian expedition. Her Press was, and had been all through the war, violently pro-German, and however much the Tokio Cabinet might wish to remain true to the Anglo-Japanese Treaty, it was forced to make a seeming obeisance to popular feeling in Japan. If it had been only an English expedition, Japan's hand would not have been forced; but the American cables began to describe the rapid organisation by the U.S.A. of a powerful Siberian expedition, which gave the Japanese Government ample justification—even in the eyes of her pro-German propagandists—to prepare a still larger force to enable her to shadow the Americans, and do a bit of business on her own. Several months earlier Japanese suspicions had been aroused by the dispatch to Siberia of an alleged civilian railway engineering force to help Russia reorganise her railways, and the immense benefit that this force had admittedly conferred on the Far Eastern populations was acknowledged on all sides. But the very success of American enterprise in this beneficent direction had created in the minds of the Japanese a doubt as to the wisdom of allowing free play to American penetration.
Japan consequently hurried forward her preparations, and a few days after I had taken over the Ussurie command her 12th Division, under the command of General Oie, landed at Vladivostok. He at once established his headquarters at Nikolsk, and his Chief of Staff, General Kanaka, took up his position behind our lines at Svagena, using us as a screen for the deployment of his command, which had already begun.
Major Pichon informed me that he had telephoned the Japanese general at Nikolsk describing the new situation on our front, and asking him to move up sufficient forces from Svagena to protect our right. I went to my wagon to get breakfast. A little later Major Pichon informed me that the Japanese commander had asked us to suspend our retirement as he was moving up from Svagena a battery of artillery and one battalion of infantry, who would re-establish the position at Antonovka on our right rear, from which we need not fear any further danger. In consequence of this message I ordered my men to re-occupy their old positions, and by 9.30 we had carried out the orders of the Japanese commander.
Having got back into our old position, we inquired the direction of the Japanese advance that we might, if necessary, co-operate with their movement, and to our utter consternation were informed that the Japanese had not started, had no intention of doing so, and that we must take what steps were necessary for our own safety, but if we retired at all we were to fall back behind their lines and, we suppose, take no further part in the operations.
The first promise of help and its countermanding had placed us in an extremely dangerous situation. We had left our positions once, and nothing but the lack of vigilance on the part of the enemy had enabled us to reoccupy them without fighting. Our movements must have been seen, and though he had not understood them till too late to take full advantage the first time, that he would allow us to get away so easily again seemed to us to be very unlikely. In fact, it appeared as though we had been sacrificed to give a clear field for some manoeuvre or purpose which we could not understand.
Our conference was a very urgent one, and for a time Major Pichon thought it best to hang on to our positions and trust to someone making an effort for our relief. Had British or American troops been collecting in our rear, we would not have hesitated a moment to remain, for we should have been certain of immediate help.
We knew that a battalion of Czech infantry had been moved up from Svagena towards Antonovka to threaten the enemy's outflanking columns, and that this battalion had made it a dangerous proceeding for the enemy to close in on our rear. Hence we decided to withdraw certain units to Svagena, and for the remainder to retire to a position at Dukoveskoie and make a new line from the railway through that village, thus linking up with the Czech troops who had marched to our assistance; they would thus become the extreme right of our new line.
This movement would enable the Japanese 12th Division at Svagena to continue their deployment behind our screen, and if the enemy continued his outflanking tactics would involve the Japanese in the fighting whether they willed it or not.
The retirement was carried out as arranged in perfect order, with the loss of very little material and not more than a dozen men taken prisoners. The French were the last to entrain. The whole movement was covered by the two armoured trains under the command of Captain Bath, R.M.L.I. Before retiring the bluejackets blew up the bridge on our front and otherwise destroyed the line in a very workmanlike manner. If we had been supported, the retirement would have been quite unnecessary; it was the result of lack of confidence in our Allies after the first let-down.
The new line was held as follows: On the left of the railway one company of Czech infantry; the two British armoured trains occupied the railway, and a Middlesex machine-gun battery of four maxims occupied the right, while the wooded slope leading to Dukoveskoie was held by the French, and a battalion of Japanese infantry extended beyond the village. The right of the village was very sparsely held by a reduced battalion of the 5th Czech Regiment and Kalmakoff's Cossacks. The whole force was under the personal command of Major Pichon.
The enemy quickly repaired the bridges and the line, and within forty-eight hours his armoured trains were observed moving cautiously into Kraevesk, my old headquarters. Simultaneously his patrols advanced from Antonovka and came into touch with Kalmakoff's scouts on the right, and three days from our retirement his advanced elements were testing our line from end to end.
On the morning of August 22 the Japanese 12th Division began to move up from Svagena to Dukoveskoie and deploy immediately behind the new line. As is usual in all Japanese tactics, they pushed their right out far beyond the enemy positions, and early in the evening began to envelop his left with their usual wide turning movement. Their right was supported by two heavy batteries, and from the centre, near Dukoveskoie church, their units, now acting as a reserve, were in position before sunset. Large bodies of Japanese troops were in bivouac immediately behind the centre of the village near their headquarters ready to deploy in either direction.
On the evening of August 22 orders were received to push forward the observation post of our armoured trains to a spot indicated, which proved to be six hundred yards ahead of our positions and near enough to be easily raided from the enemy lines. Lieutenant T.E. King, my machine-gun officer, was at the same time ordered to move forward two maxims, with a reduced company of Czech infantry in support to protect this advanced post. The night was enlivened by constant skirmishes between British and Terrorist patrols until about 8.30 A.M., when it was observed that the Japanese patrols on the right had quietly retired without giving any notice of their intention, and that the enemy were in position on the plain for an attack and had already advanced along a ridge to within a hundred yards of the outpost. The movements of the enemy were observable only from the main look-out, from which orders were already on the way gradually to withdraw the party to a position nearer the lines. Before the order could be delivered the enemy attacked. Lieutenant King proceeded to withdraw the guns alternately, working the foremost gun himself, but defective ammunition frustrated his effort. He gallantly tried to restart the gun, but the enemy were now upon him, and he had no alternative but to retire without the gun. The small Naval party in the advanced look-out were practically surrounded, but under Petty Officer Moffat, who was in charge, they managed to get out, with the enemy on their heels. This party was saved by a marine named Mitchel, who, seeing Petty Officer Moffat in difficulties, turned on his knee and faced his pursuers. Their fire was erratic, but his was cool and accurate, and after three or four rounds the Magyars kept their heads well down in the long marsh grass, which permitted the party to escape. The result of this skirmish, however, allowed the enemy armoured train to advance to a point dangerously near our defensive works, which, with a little more enterprise and determination, he might easily have enfiladed. But though the enemy train had mounted a 6-inch gun our 12-pounder Navals were too smartly handled to allow any liberties to be taken. This was the situation on the morning that the Japanese 12th Division began to deploy behind the new Allied line at Dukoveskoie.
About 3 P.M. on August 23 I asked my liaison officer, Colonel R. Antonivitch Frank, of the Russian Army, to accompany me towards the front line, as I had heard rumours of large concentrations of the enemy, who, elated with this small initial success, seemed determined to dispute our possession of the village of Dukoveskoie. I arrived in time to witness a duel between one of our armoured trains and a rather spirited fellow of the same sort on the other side. The Bolshevik shells would persist in dropping to the right of our train on a road on which Colonel Frank and I were sitting our horses, so we decided to dismount and send the animals out of range, while we boarded the train and enjoyed the contest. One of our 12-pounders went groggy and obliged us to retire slightly, but we dared not go back far, as the Terrorist train had all the appearance of following, and would soon have made short work of our infantry, which were occupying very indifferent trenches near the railway, Captain Bath saw the danger and steamed forward, firing rapidly; shells burst all round his target, and so bewildered his opponent that he soon turned tail and retired to safety. I applied to the Japanese commander, General Oie, through Major Pichon that our trains, directly it was dark, might be allowed to return to Svagena to shunt the injured gun to the rear train. About 7 P.M., while preparing to return for this purpose, a few sharp rifle-cracks were heard near the centre of the line. These reports grew rapidly in volume, and now became mixed up with the bass "pop-pop" of machine guns. The rolling sound of conflict spread from the centre along the whole right front. Till now it had been exclusively a small-arm fight. At this point the Bolshevik artillery began to chime in, followed by the Japanese and Czech batteries. The lovely Siberian summer night became one huge booming, flashing inferno, terrible but intensely attractive. The silent tree-clad mountains to right and left vibrated with the music of battle, while shell and shrapnel screeched like frightened ghouls over the valley below, where white and yellow men were proving that there is no colour bar to bravery. This din lasted about two hours, and then died away almost as rapidly as it began.
Our trains which had remained to take a hand in the business if necessary steamed slowly back to Svagena, and I turned into my wagon for the night. After the usual battle with the mosquitoes, I fell asleep, but it seemed as though I had only slept a few minutes, when a banging at the door announced a visitor, who turned out to be a Staff captain from the Japanese Headquarters with an urgent message for the Commander of the Reserves at Svagena, who with great ceremony handed me the following order of the day:
"To COLONEL WARD,Officer Commanding Reserves.Operation Order byLIEUT.-GENERAL S. OIE,Commanding 12th Division,Svagena."August 23, 1918."1. All enemy attacks were driven back to-day. We gained two machine guns and five captives."2. The Allied troops will attack the enemy, inflicting upon them an annihilating disaster, to-morrow, August 24."3. The Japanese troops will attack the enemy, starting the present line, at 3 o'clock, the 24th, morning."4. The reserve British, French, Kalmakoff's forces, and a few Japanese companies will be under the command of Japanese. Colonel Inagaki will arrive at the north-western side of Dukoveskoie at 2 o'clock to-morrow morning."(Signed) S. OIE,Lieut.-General,Commanding 12th Division."
"To COLONEL WARD,Officer Commanding Reserves.Operation Order byLIEUT.-GENERAL S. OIE,Commanding 12th Division,Svagena.
"August 23, 1918.
"1. All enemy attacks were driven back to-day. We gained two machine guns and five captives.
"2. The Allied troops will attack the enemy, inflicting upon them an annihilating disaster, to-morrow, August 24.
"3. The Japanese troops will attack the enemy, starting the present line, at 3 o'clock, the 24th, morning.
"4. The reserve British, French, Kalmakoff's forces, and a few Japanese companies will be under the command of Japanese. Colonel Inagaki will arrive at the north-western side of Dukoveskoie at 2 o'clock to-morrow morning.
"(Signed) S. OIE,Lieut.-General,Commanding 12th Division."
I Looked at my watch, and called the Japanese officer's attention to the fact that the time was 1.45 A.M., and that Dukoveskoie was four miles distant. Although he could speak perfect English, he held out his hand and with a profound bow pretended not to understand the point of my observation. It was in point of time simply impossible to arouse the British, Czech, Cossack and Japanese detachments and march four miles in the middle of the night in fifteen minutes; but I had lived long enough in the East to know that the Oriental never sets a European impossible tasks without a good reason from his own point of view. I dispatched orderlies to each detachment with definite instructions to be ready to move at once. The Japanese refused to move or even get out of their tents. The Czechs were enjoying a much-needed rest, and refused to budge, while Kalmakoff's Cossacks remained asleep beside their horses. Ataman Kalmakoff was at Vladivostok, and his second in command was dismissed on his return for refusing to obey my orders, as the Ataman was most anxious that his men should be always in the fighting line wherever it might be. Captain Clark, M.C., reported the 25th Middlesex as ready to march, transport and all complete, twenty-five minutes after receiving the order.
To make doubly sure there was no mistake, I called personally upon the Japanese officer, who point-blank refused either to arouse or move his men in accordance with his own Headquarters' order. I am bound to admit that from that moment I had a suspicion that the order of General Oie was so much Japanese camouflage, and that it was not intended that we should take any part in the immediate operations. I also determined to frustrate this attempt to exclude the Allies from participation, and gave the order to my own men to move.
Our road for about two miles lay alongside the railway, after which the soddened nature of the ground and the danger of losing direction in the darkness forced me to take to the railway. About a mile and a half along the track brought us to our armoured trains, where we were to pick up our Machine-Gun Section, which was to act with us if necessary, or remain as a reserve or rallying-point in case of need. Except for the sentries, the train crews were asleep, and almost within rifle range of our place of assembly. I halted my men and roused Captain Bath to inquire if he had received instructions as to his part in the coming battle. He informed me that he had received a telephone message from General Oie (through Major Pichon) which he could not understand and had asked for it to be repeated. He thereupon produced the message, which was to the effect that a battle would commence at 3 A.M., but that the British armoured trains and the British troops were not to be allowed to take any part in the impending engagement. On the production of the actual message I began to understand why the order of battle had been given to me too late for me to be at the rendezvous with Colonel Inagaki, and the refusal of the units of my command to march with me. These instructions to Captain Bath from the Japanese Headquarters explained the riddle. I gave Captain Bath instructions to move forward in my support in case of need and to watch the proceedings generally, to render aid to any Allied detachment which might be in difficulties, and otherwise to obey General Oie's orders. This duty he performed with complete satisfaction to the commanders of the French and Czech detachments.
Having arranged my rear, the men of the 25th were ordered to move forward in file on each side of the railway track to the point selected for our rendezvous. The time was now 3.25 A.M., the dull light of dawning day enabling us to distinguish moving objects four hundred yards away. A scout came back to report the presence of cavalry on the left, but in the early morning haze we could not make out whether it was friendly or enemy. I moved my troops to the opposite side of the railway embankment and prepared to receive their charge. I then dispatched my liaison officer, Colonel Frank, forward to discover their strength and character. He quickly returned with the information that the cavalry was Japanese, moving into position on our extreme left. I re-formed my men and advanced towards my position as ordered, ninety minutes behind time. I halted and examined the ground, but saw nothing of Colonel Inagaki or any of the detachments on the spot selected for our assembly. Standing on the line, I saw the foremost enemy armoured train about four hundred yards ahead, and their outpost giving the alarm. No shot had so far been fired, but I gave the order to load. At this stage an incident happened which put an end to the hitherto silent advance of the attacking army. In the act of loading a rifle went off accidentally. The soldier to whom it belonged was standing just behind me, and I ordered Captain Browne to examine and report. In doing so the rifle again went off; it saved the man from punishment, but it began the battle. There was a puff of white smoke, and an instant later a 5-inch shell burst over our heads. The men opened out into the corn and scrub, and I dismounted while the advance continued. Taking my servant's rifle, I led the way.
The enemy must have anticipated our rendezvous, for the place was ploughed with shells from end to end. The first pitched just under the centre of a peasant's cottage, and in a moment cottage and peasant were no more. The heavy purple pall hung on the ground, and had we been on the spot selected, this description would have been written by other hands than mine. By the increasing light and the aid of my glasses I was able to make out the entire scheme of the advance, which was a continuous line from one mile on the left of the railway, extending to about ten miles on our right. A space of about one hundred yards on each side of the line was unoccupied—for the reason, as I afterwards learnt, that it was considered too exposed and dangerous for the purpose of an advance. Unable to find anyone to direct my movements, on my own initiative I decided to fill this vacant space, so making the line continuous, and move forward with the Japanese to the attack. Disposing my men in the shelter of the scrub on either side of the railway, I directed their movements from the centre of the track. There was an ugly moment when a maxim situated in a cornfield began to fire point-blank at a range of one hundred yards, but a Czech outpost entrenched quite near made it so hot for the gunner that after firing about 150 rounds he scooted, leaving a well-placed gun and 5,000 rounds, all belted, behind. We now advanced over the Czech and French trenches, for these forces, like our armoured trains, had been ordered to take no part in the advance. It was while near these trenches that a grey-coated Magyar, four hundred yards away, took deliberate standing aim at myself. It was a most difficult shot, and I felt quite safe, but though the Magyar missed me, he killed a Czech soldier five yards to the left, the bullet entering the centre of his forehead just over the nose. About sixty shots answered his, and he sank across the rails. When we reached him he lay, with many others, quite dead. Captain Clark picked up his rifle and bandolier, and used it with good effect upon the retreating enemy.
There is no doubt that if we had failed to get into position under the cover of darkness we should have had the greatest difficulty in making any headway along the railway except with very heavy casualties. As I have stated previously, the end car of the enemy armoured train had a 6-inch gun, but it was mounted so high that the whole platform could be swept with rifle-fire. The reason for the high mounting was to enable two machine guns to be worked along the track from the bed of the car under the heavy gun. If our advance had been observed the enemy would easily have smashed it, but we got within 400 yards before they knew we were there. By concentrating all our fire on the end of the car we swept the platform clear, perforated the body underneath with a hail of bullets so that nothing could live, and put every gun which could be brought to bear along the track out of action. By this means the apparently most dangerous point of our advancing line became the safest, and we accomplished our purpose without a single casualty. Five enemy armoured trains were on the line disputing every inch of the way, but their shrapnel was either too high or exploded so far behind the front line that, though it made havoc amongst the laggards, it had but little effect upon those who kept well to the front. The battle was now joined at all points and reaching the decisive moment.
In the centre by skilful manoeuvring, a Japanese 5-inch battery had taken up a position actually in front of the general infantry advance. Such daring deserved to succeed, and in this case it did so beyond all expectations. The point selected was a thin group of trees, which gave a view of the railway from the left, across the plain to Kraevesk, and enabled the leading enemy trains to be shelled almost from the flank. The infantry, while still going methodically forward, were receiving far too much attention to feel comfortable, and Japanese soldiers were putting tufts of grass and leaves in front of their caps to hide the red band, which made an excellent target for riflemen and machine-gunners. Occasionally one would rub a handful of mud around the tell-tale band; experience soon taught the Japanese soldiers the dangers of a little colour. It was just ding-dong open fighting, wonderfully spectacular in character. Then a shell burst plunk under the line behind the two foremost enemy trains, which made retreat for them impossible. Desperate efforts were made to repair the line, but well-directed rifle and light machine-gun fire made this impracticable. Another well-placed shell dropped just under the gunners' quarters on the front train, and instantly the car was enveloped in flames. In turn the fire spread to the gun-carriage, which had become untenable from rifle-fire. This proved a complete catastrophe for the enemy, who from positions on our extreme left and centre had a full view of the slaughter around the doomed trains. Their nerves were completely shattered, their fire became spasmodic and erratic, and then among the trees on a hill to the left appeared a white flag.
That flag was too late. The Japanese cavalry shot out in file as a straight extension of our left. Having come parallel with the farthest group of resistance, they right turned, and instantly swept up the slope in a beautiful line and forward over all resistance, white flag and all. They took no prisoners.
My men were only "B one-ers," and the pace was beginning to tell; still they were leading, owing to the fact that our advance was along the railway and the usual tracks at the side, while the Japanese had to contend with the marshes and woods farther away. I therefore ordered a rally, and advanced only with such troops as could be reasonably expected to keep the line. This party numbered about sixty, and included Captain Clark, the Padre (Captain Roberts), Lieutenant Buckley, my Czech interpreter (Vladimir), Regimental Sergt.-Major Gordon, Sergeant Webb (who, I am sorry to say, died a few days later at Spascoe), Colonel Frank (my liaison officer), and rank and file. With this party we advanced within fifty yards of part of the burning train, amid a shower of debris from the exploding shells stored in its magazine. The second train looked quite deserted, and therefore, beyond examining the ammunition cart of a 5-inch gun left derelict on the road and counting ten rounds of unfired ammunition, we passed without molestation up the railway embankment on the way to Kraevesk.
We had passed the trains and left them about two hundred yards in our rear when we were startled by rapid rifle-fire behind us. On looking round, we were astonished to see spiteful jets of rifle-fire issuing from both sides of the uninjured train directed against thick bunches of Japanese troops who were passing along the track over which we had just advanced. Even the Eastern temperament has limits to its serenity. For a moment the Japs were completely off their guard, but they soon recovered, and dropping flat in the grass, they opened a brisk fusillade. The Magyars were protected by the plated sides of their wagons, and were making sad havoc amongst the soldiers of the Rising Sun. Taking in the situation at a glance, a Japanese officer gave the order to charge. Every man instantly bounded forward, and, like a disturbed nest of ants, they swarmed all over the train, stabbing, clubbing and bayoneting every Bolshevik they could get at, tossing their dead enemies out of the carriages off their bayonets with the same motion as if they were shovelling coal. Then they posted a sentry on the highest part of each train, and the gun in the road, and called them their "trophies of war." My great regret was that no Bolshevik was left alive to tell us the reason why they allowed about sixty English officers and soldiers to pass unmolested at point-blank range of about forty yards, and only began to fire when the Japanese soldiers came under their rifles. Many explanations were given at the time, none of which seemed to be quite satisfactory, so the mystery remains.
It was here that a polite request was made that the British detachment should not keep so far ahead of the other troops, but I was anxious to keep well ahead for an important reason. The Bolsheviks had ravaged and tortured both young and old, rich and poor, male and female throughout the country till their very name stank in the nostrils of the common people. Their blood lust had been so great that when they had no Russian peasant to torture they fell back on the poor unfortunate Czech soldiers who had fallen into their hands as prisoners of war. Many authentic cases of this kind are so revolting in character that it is better to keep them in the dark rather than advertise how fiendishly cruel men can be to one another. I knew that the Czechs had threatened to retaliate. The incident of the white flag previously recorded may have had something to do with the same sentiment, though I can scarcely think it had. I decided, however, that the more humane rules of war should apply so far as I was concerned, and I soon had a chance of making a demonstration of my views before the whole army. A fugitive Bolshevik soldier had escaped from the Japanese cavalry, and started to make his way across our left front in an attempt to join the retreating Bolshevik trains. Exhausted by the heavy going of the marsh, he had dropped for cover and rest. The Japanese line was fast approaching the spot where he had taken shelter, so he raised himself from the grass and began to run. I levelled my servant's rifle, but misjudged the distance, and he took no notice. I took aim at a point over his head, and he dropped in the grass so suddenly that Colonel Frank thought I had killed him. As we approached the spot his black hair showed up above the green, and I took aim again, but did not fire. I informed Colonel Frank I wanted the man, if he would surrender, to be an example of how a prisoner of war should be treated. Colonel Frank shouted to the man to surrender. The man shouted back that the Japanese killed all prisoners. He was then informed that I was an English officer, and if he would surrender I guaranteed his life unless he had committed some greater crime than merely fighting as a Bolshevik soldier. He made no further parley, but almost ran to me as for protection. I was standing on the embankment, in full view for miles, and it was easy for the whole incident to be seen. I took his rifle, with fixed bayonet, and bandolier and fifty rounds from him. His papers showed him to be a demobilised Russian soldier. I placed him under a guard of two men with orders to see him safely to the rear. Time after time demands were made to his guards to allow the murder of the prisoner. But those two British bayonets made his life as safe as though he had been in Trafalgar Square. I could tell by the atmosphere which the incident created that our Allies thought this regular conduct wholly out of place on a battlefield, but it fulfilled its purpose, and surrenders were accepted during the further operations.
Our progress was now very rapid, and except for a few bursts of shrapnel which continued to fly harmlessly over the front ranks and injure such as were far behind, we approached our old station, Kraevesk, easily. As to the method from the military point of view of approaching this place, the less said about it the better. A single company of British troops would have held up the whole show and inflicted losses on the attackers out of all proportion to the object gained. The stuffing, however, was completely knocked out of the Bolshevik army, and the advance took more the form of beaters driving big game. Having previously reconnoitred the whole ground, I again chose the railway for my party. The Japanese swarmed up through the wooded slope on the right. I chose the railway because I knew the shallow cutting had a slight curve which would give a safe line of approach to the station, situated about three hundred yards behind this low-lying hill. The Japs advanced through the wood in masses, huge bunches of men without regular formation. On rounding the curve, I saw an enemy armoured train about four hundred yards distant. A Bolshevik officer walked leisurely out of our old headquarters and put one foot on the step of the engine, looking straight at myself standing on the line. I drew a bead on him with Lance-Corporal's Moorman's rifle. I do not believe I hit him, but I was near enough to make him skip quickly into the engine shelter. A flash from the leading gun, and a 2-inch shell passed so close to my head that I fell into the four-foot way, and felt the top of my skull to find out if it was still there. This shell exploded about one hundred yards behind me and mortally wounded two Japanese and injured several others. The machine guns on the train now swept the wood, where the Japs were advancing, with such effect that for a few moments there was a regular stampede back over the brow of the hill. My party had taken cover in the scrub on the left, and I crawled on hands and knees in their direction. I found a deep dyke at the foot of the cutting covered with high weeds, and into this I rolled. Gradually raising my head over the thistles, I potted rapidly at the gunner, and my party did the same.
The Japs by this time had recovered from their first shock, and began to open fire on the train, which steamed slowly back to the far end of the station, when it came to a standstill and pumped shrapnel along our front. We had got far ahead of our artillery, so it became a contest of rifle versus armoured train. On the left of the station was a thick log store, and keeping that between ourselves and the armoured train, we crept into the station and began to fire at close range at the gunners, whose heads appeared above the sides of the armoured carriages. The Japanese used a red brick cottage for a similar purpose on the other side, while others tried to outflank the train and cut off its retreat. The officer in charge detected this manoeuvre, and, using all his guns, he retired behind the hill, and later was reported as steaming towards Shmakovka. We took possession of the station, and near our old headquarters found a hut in which was the Bolshevik officers' breakfast, with potatoes cooked to a nicety on the fire. These were looted by Colonel Frank and Sergeant-Major Gordon. The sun was very hot—the time was about 8.30 A.M.—we had fought over very difficult country for twelve miles, and as we sat on the crossing of the railway the potatoes were very good. By some hopeless blunder the Japanese cavalry had been ordered to close in from the flank on this station instead of the next, so we lost the huge bag of prisoners which was waiting to be captured. The Jap cavalry commander sat down and sampled my potatoes, but he lost the culminating stroke of the whole movement. This small minor action proved to be one of the most decisive of the war, as it destroyed the whole Terrorist army east of the Urals.
I was ordered by General Otani to remain in reserve, and returned to my base at Svagena to find the proverbial luck of my battalion had been maintained. The Japs had over six hundred casualties, some of which occurred close to my men, but not a man of the 25th was hit. We had many cases of complete prostration, but, in view of the category of my unit, not more than was to be expected considering the strenuous month's work they had undergone. One and all behaved like Englishmen—the highest eulogy that can be passed upon the conduct of men.
General Oie sent a letter of special thanks to the Commanding Officer of the British unit for their great services in the engagement. At 4.25 P.M., August 28, I received the following communication from the General Headquarters:
"1. On August 26 the Division had occupied the heights situated at the north of Shmakovka. The inhabitants reported the enemy had left there between nine and twelve on the night of August 24 by eleven trains, strength of which was about 5,000 men; 2,000 men retired by road from Uspenkie. The Division bivouacked at Shmakovka."2. On the 27th the enemy continued their retreat to the north of the River Ussurie, and no enemy could be seen to the south of it, though nine railway bridges out of ten between Shmakovka and Ussurie had been destroyed. Damage done is some ten metres each, and a few days would be required to repair them. The Ussurie railway bridge is not damaged, and on the night of the 26th, after a small detachment had occupied it, one company of infantry reinforced. Against the enemy on Lake Hanka, which was known to have gone down the river with gunboats, one company of infantry has been dispatched to the right bank of Ussurie east of Shmakovka."3. The Division remains at the present position, and prepares to move forward on the 28th."
"1. On August 26 the Division had occupied the heights situated at the north of Shmakovka. The inhabitants reported the enemy had left there between nine and twelve on the night of August 24 by eleven trains, strength of which was about 5,000 men; 2,000 men retired by road from Uspenkie. The Division bivouacked at Shmakovka.
"2. On the 27th the enemy continued their retreat to the north of the River Ussurie, and no enemy could be seen to the south of it, though nine railway bridges out of ten between Shmakovka and Ussurie had been destroyed. Damage done is some ten metres each, and a few days would be required to repair them. The Ussurie railway bridge is not damaged, and on the night of the 26th, after a small detachment had occupied it, one company of infantry reinforced. Against the enemy on Lake Hanka, which was known to have gone down the river with gunboats, one company of infantry has been dispatched to the right bank of Ussurie east of Shmakovka.
"3. The Division remains at the present position, and prepares to move forward on the 28th."
This completed the Ussurie operations, for the battle was absolutely decisive. The enemy were entirely demoralised, and never made another stand east of Lake Baikal.
The Japanese, for their own peculiar reasons, as will have already appeared, had decided in the early stages of the operations that the maritime provinces were their special preserve. They looked with the greatest suspicion upon the forces and efforts of the other Allies, especially British and American, and by their orders tried deliberately to exclude them from their counsels and as far as possible from the administration of the territory recovered from the Terrorists. The 27th Battalion of American Infantry had landed at Vladivostok a few days before the battle of Dukoveskoie, and promises were made that they should be hurried forward to take a share in the fighting; but the Japanese, who controlled the railway, saw to it that they arrived a day late. Instead of pushing them ahead, they were detrained at Svagena, and then entrained again from day to day, always about fifty versts behind the Japanese front. In addition the Japanese never trusted their Allies. No order to the Japanese Army was ever given to the Allied commanders until the operation had been carried out or had got to such a stage as to make it impossible for them to take part or offer suggestions.
Captain Stephan (now Major), of the Czech Army, and myself knew every road and track from Shmakovka to Svagena, and were certain that with proper care the whole enemy force on the Ussurie front could have been destroyed or captured. The Japanese would neither consult nor inform any of their Allies about any movement until it had taken place. They treated the Czech commanders with the most scant courtesy; the English officers' carriages were invaded by their private soldiers, who would insolently ask what business we had in Siberia and when did we propose to go home; but they reserved their most supreme contempt for the Russian people. These poor wretches they drove off the railway platforms, using the butts of their rifles upon the women as well as the men, just as though they were dealing with a tribe of conquered Hottentots. I did not understand this behaviour on the part of our Eastern Ally, and felt it could only be the irresponsible bullying of a few individual men and officers. Later on I found it to be the general policy of the Japanese Army to treat everybody as inferior to themselves; they had learnt this Hun lesson to a nicety.
I give two instances which are neither glaring nor isolated, but of which no doubt official record remains. I was standing on Nikolsk platform waiting for a train; there was a crowd of Russian people, and a Japanese sentry was standing near. This man quite suddenly darted forward and jammed the butt of his rifle in the centre of a Russian officer's back; the force of the blow knocked him flat on the floor in such pain that he rolled about for a few minutes, while the Jap, grinning, held his bayonet at the "On guard!" Though there were many standing near, not one Russian had the pluck to shoot him, and not wishing to mix myself up in the affair, I took no action, but watched further developments. Ten minutes later another Jap sentry repeated the performance, but this time the victim was a well-dressed Russian lady. So cowed were the Russian people that even her friends were afraid to help her. I stepped forward to offer assistance, with the Jap standing over me; when, however, he saw my revolver he put up his bayonet, but continued to laugh as though it was a huge joke. A few Tommies were attracted to the spot, and the Jap saw that things were beginning to take a serious turn. I proceeded to the Japanese Headquarters, situated in a carriage near by, and reported the occurrence. The officer seemed astonished that I should interfere on behalf of mere Russians, who he said may have been Bolsheviks for all he knew, and inquired whether the sentry had ever treated me so. I answered that "the first Japanese that touches an English officer or soldier in my presence will be a dead man." This seemed to surprise the Japanese officer, who pointed out that the Japanese were in occupation of Siberia, and were entitled to do what they liked. I had to inform him that the Japanese were acting in alliance with the other Powers, including Russia; that we were here as the friends of the Russian people, and not as their conquerors. This he would or could not understand. I ended the interview by warning him that if his sentries were not instructed to behave a little less like savages, there would be an end to those sentries' careers. I later heard that the interview did good, but could not in the case of Japanese troops do more than slightly mitigate their behaviour to the defenceless Russian inhabitants.
That is merely a type of their conduct towards ordinary people. There is, however, one excuse for them: given the right circumstances, they treat all alike. A battalion commander was not quite the sort of material to operate upon, for the simple reason that he was usually surrounded with sufficient force to secure proper respect, but a general without a powerful escort was always fair sport for their gentle attentions. Not even the chief of the British Military Mission could hope to escape from the most insulting behaviour. An incident placed my unit in charge of a part of the telegraph system, which enabled me to handle personally the sort of message which entered the Japanese Headquarters relative to a special train that was approaching their station. I handled the message myself. It ran as follows:
"A special train, No. ........., will enter your section at ......... time; it conveys the chief of the British Military Mission, General ........., and Staff from Vladivostok to Ufa for important conference with General Surovey, the Commander-in-Chief of the Czech and Russian Armies. You will please give 'line clear' throughout the journey." Did the Japanese give "line clear" throughout? That will never be the way that this highly efficient and interesting little people will do anything, if their army is a sample of the whole. They stopped the train, and boarded it with a squad of men with fixed bayonets. They insulted the chief of the British Mission by placing him and his Staff under arrest, and then proceeded to make elaborate inquiries to find out whether they were not German emissaries in disguise. The impudence of the whole proceeding was so remarkable and yet characteristic that when the Staff of the General reported the occurrence to me I did not for a moment know whether I should die with rage or laughter.
I went to Siberia entirely biassed in favour of this admittedly wonderful people. I took care to instruct my soldiers to salute every Japanese officer and to be most polite to every Japanese soldier, and they carried out my instructions to the letter; but my attention was called to the fact that only on rare occasions did a Japanese officer take the trouble to return the salute of my men, and still more rarely did a Japanese soldier salute an English officer. He was much more likely to give an insulting grimace. I say quite frankly that I admire the workmanlike way the Japanese go about their soldierly duties, but it is impossible to ignore their stupidly studied arrogance towards those who are anxious to be on terms of peace and amity with them. It is unfortunately true that they were misled into believing that Germany was ordained to dominate the world, and, believing this, they shaped their conduct upon this awful example. They quite openly boast that they are the Germans of the East. Let us hope that they will read aright the recent lesson of history.
During my stay in the maritime provinces I never saw or heard of a single act or order from the Japanese Headquarters which would help in the slightest degree in the administrative reorganisation of the country. On the contrary I saw many things which convinced me that the Land of the Rising Sun was at that time more concerned in maintaining disorder as the surest way of fostering her own ambitious designs.
At this stage the other Allies were without a Far-Eastern policy. Their sole object was to push back as far as possible the German-Magyar forces, which were carrying out the sinister policy of Teutonic penetration under the guise of Bolshevism. Bolshevism in the Far East at this date was an attempt to reduce to a system the operations of the Chinese robber bands of the Mongolian border. Mixed with and led by released German and Magyar prisoners of war, they became a formidable force for destroying all attempts at order in Russia and resisting the possible reconstruction of the Russian front against the Central Powers. Previous to the Bolshevist régime these Chinese bands had lived by murder and loot; it was their trade, though hitherto considered illegal, and sometimes severely punished. No wonder they joined the Soviet crusade when it declared robbery and murder to be the basis upon which the new Russian democracy must rest. This German-Magyar-Chinese combination was bound to meet with remarkable initial success. The Chinese got his blood and loot in a legal way without much danger, and the German prisoner played an important part in the defence of the Fatherland and the destruction of its enemies.
If Germany lost on the Western Front, and by means of this unnatural combination still retained her hold upon the potential wealth of the late Tsar's dominions, she had indeed won the war. This was the reason for our presence in Siberia, but it was not the reason for the presence of Japan.
Shortly after the incidents referred to in Chapter IV, I received General Otani's orders to take over the command of the railway and the districts for fifty versts on either side, from Spascoe to Ussurie inclusive. My duty was to guard the railway and administer the district, taking all measures necessary to keep open this section of the line of communications. I was instructed to fix my headquarters at Spascoe, and make all arrangements to winter there. In accordance therewith I proceeded to get into touch with what remained of the old Russian authorities, civil and military, and the new ones wherever such had been created. So far as the men's comfort was concerned, new roads were constructed and old ones repaired, broken windows and dilapidated walls and woodwork were either replaced or renovated. Electrical appliances were discovered and fixed, and what had previously been a dull, dark block of brickwork suddenly blossomed out into a brilliantly lighted building and became at night a landmark for miles around.
We also began painfully to piece together the broken structure of human society. For over a year no law but force had been known in these regions, and many old wrongs and private wounds demanded liquidation. I made many journeys to outlandish villages and settlements, with a small personal escort, fixed a table in the centre of the street, and with the aid of the parish priest and the president of the local council, heard and decided disputes, public and private, from threats and injury to the person to the possession and occupation of a farm. There was no appeal—the stolid Tommies who stood behind me with fixed bayonets put my judgments beyond question. I remitted one or two points of property law to legal decision, but all parties in each case protested that they would have preferred my instant judgment. Three murderers I remitted to a court which I called together with an old Russian officer to preside, but he was so terrified at the prospect of having to order their execution for fear they might be Bolsheviks—whose name was a terror to everybody—that I had to send them to another district to enable the law to be carried out. The report of these proceedings spread with such rapidity that it became quite embarrassing, if not impossible, to deal effectively and thoroughly with the daily increasing number of litigants. I began to understand the reason why in more civilised communities legal proceedings are made so expensive. Either the Russian peasant is a most litigious person, or else he mistook a free system of justice as a healthy English pastime which he thoroughly enjoyed.
It was extremely flattering to be told that these people preferred that the "Anglisky Polkovnika Boorpg" should decide their disputes than that they should be reserved for a Russian tribunal. It was the most interesting work I had so far done in the country. The trial of even the simplest case gave me many insights to Russian institutions and character that only years of book study could otherwise have accomplished. I learnt the difference between the right of the peasant holder as compared with that of the Cossack circle. The law of the forest afforded an education in itself. The intimate relationship of Russian family life, from the highest to the lowest, was constantly laid bare before me with all its romance and mediaeval trappings and its sordid substratum of violence and superstition. In fact, I became so interested in this work that it was with the greatest regret that I relinquished it for a more urgent and important call.
The Allied forces in the Transbaikal had now accomplished their task of dispersing the forces of lawlessness, and had made some progress in the work of administration, but if this work was to be consolidated and made of permanent value it must be given a centre, other than the Allied command, around which it could rally and to which it might reasonably look for guidance and support. The Siberian Government had been established by the alive elements of the old régime and the more showy members of the Social Revolutionary party, but their authority was ignored and their orders were not often conspicuous for their wisdom. This great people can do almost anything, but even they cannot live without a head, and the question was, how was some sort of head to be provided? The Allies had taken control of the far-eastern provinces, but, if their object was to be carried through and German designs frustrated, it was necessary to push at once their control to the Urals and, if possible, beyond. The brilliant feats of the Czechs had temporarily thrown the Terrorist forces into confusion, but with wealthy, helpless Russia as their prize cupidity alone would be sufficient to excite them to renewed effort. To be effective, Allied help and activity must be transferred nearer to the scene of actual conflict, and Ekaterinburg or Omsk appeared to be the only possible centres which could provide the proper accommodation and surroundings for this next step in the Allied programme. This much as a general proposition was conceded by all, but everybody held differing views as to the way in which it should be carried out.
Japan, having firmly planted her feet in the much-coveted maritime provinces, did not look with enthusiasm upon the suggestion that she should leave what she most wanted in order to lessen the pressure upon a front in which she had no interest. That Paris should fall under German blows was of no importance compared with American control of the Chinese Eastern Railway or the presence of theBrooklynat Vladivostok.
America had not exactly made up her mind what particular part of the Far East was most precious in her eyes, but wished to be friendly with everybody and get as much as possible out of all. Her armies were on the Western front, but her eyes were on the Eastern Pacific, and was it not better after all to remain where you could keep an eye on the other fellow?
Who would think of taking a military force over six thousand miles from its base through a partially hostile country? Would it get through the many dangers and difficulties it was certain to encounter on the way? And if it did, who could guarantee a friendly reception? and if not, how could a ghastly disaster be avoided? These were some of the problems which called for decision, and once decided could never be recalled.
The Americans and the Japanese were otherwise occupied and therefore not available, and though it may seem mere national egotism to make such a statement, there was only one force in which moderate Russians of all parties had absolute confidence—without which anything might happen. All eyes turned to the old "Die-Hard" Battalion which had now proved its mettle on land and sea.
Russian society had been ripped up by the roots, and the whole country reduced to a huge human jungle. Human life was at a discount, in fact was the cheapest thing in the country. If a centre of order was to be created anywhere, force must be provided for its initial protection. Statecraft cannot work with violence ever threatening its very life. The risks were great, a big force would create suspicion, a small force must rely upon something more than mere bayonets for its safety. It was with due regard to its dangers, but with a certainty that it was worth it, that I accepted the task which the fates had forced upon me.
We had settled down for a winter in Spascoe, when I received the necessary orders to proceed to Omsk, with the suggestion that before executing them I had better visit Headquarters at Vladivostok for a conference with General Knox. I tried to get a carriage suitable for the journey for my Staff from the railway authorities, but failed, and ended by purloining a cattle-truck. In this contraption we got as far as Nikolsk, where our truck was to have been hung on to the Harbin Express; but the station-master, the best type of Russian public official, thought it a disgrace that the Commander and Staff of their most trusted Ally should travel so. He placed his private car at my disposal on my promise to return the same if and when I could find another. We arrived at "Vlady," and in four days had completed the arrangements for the move and secured verbal and documentary instructions as to the general policy to be pursued. The means to be employed to worm my way towards the Urals were left entirely to myself.
I had already formed a very high opinion of the Russian character. Much can be done by sympathy and persuasion, but if they fail, then the "big stick" of Peter the Great, used sparingly, is the only method which is certain to secure obedience to orders.
On the return journey I was hung up at Nikolsk for several days. Heavy rains had caused the valleys and marshes to become flooded, and a haystack which had been carried off its bed by the water had lodged against the temporary sleeper buttress and swept the bridge away. The hay had held the torrent back till it became so high that it rushed over about two miles of the railway, destroying that also. The Japs would not repair the damage, nor for some time would they give a chance for the Russians to do so. I managed to get orders through to Major Browne so that no time was actually lost. It was estimated that it would take seven days to get on the move, but by a general hustle all round in three days we began our 5,000 miles journey. Starting from Spascoe we travelled to Nikolsk, and then turned back up the Manchurian-Chinese Eastern Railway. On arriving at Nikolsk we were informed that the French Tonquin Battalion had also received orders to move west some seven days prior to us, but were not yet ready, nor were they likely to be for two or three days. We had arrived at "Vlady," and gone thence to the Ussurie front before the French; so now again we led the way towards the sinking sun.
This French unit was under the command of Major Malley, who from his appearance ought never to have dropped the "O" before his surname. He and his officers were some of the best; but the atmosphere of South China had robbed them of some of their native energy. He informed me that his destination was a point on the railway near the borders of North-West Manchuria, and by consulting my own instructions I guessed the object of his move. In case of need I should at least have the border open. In addition to which the move was an indication that so far as this venture was concerned English and French policy ran parallel.
The first part of the journey was through hundreds of miles of uncarted corn. As far as the eye could see, to right or left, one vast sea of derelict corn, left uncared for on the land to rot in the Siberian winter. The entire absence of labour, and the complete breakdown of internal administration and communication had produced stark want in the presence of plenty. It made one feel quite sad to look day after day upon this waste of human food and remember the food rations and regulations at home. All along the line there was a continuous stream of refugees of all nations and races—poor, hunted creatures who had horrible stories to tell of the ravages of the Bulgar and the atrocities of the Bolsheviki. At one place the Serbian women and children got the breakfast of my men, the Tommies refusing to eat until the kiddies had been satisfied. And the pathetic homage they paid to our flag when they discovered it was the flag of England! I shall never forget some of the scenes which showed us also the wonderful trust the struggling nationalities of the world have in the power, humanity and honour of our country. It is a priceless possession for the world which Englishmen must for ever jealously guard.
Through apparently never-ending uplands we entered the great range which forms the natural boundary between China and Siberia. On and on, through mountain gorge and fertile valley, we broke at length out on to the wide open plains of Manchuria. Perhaps it could be best described as a combination of all the most wonderful scenery in the world. It is somewhat difficult to keep three huge trains of over forty trucks each together on a single line. This, however, had to be done, first for purposes of safety, and secondly for defence in the then lawless state of the country. The next difficulty was transport. Horses had to be watered, and if they were to be ready for use the train must stop and the animals be exercised every fourth day. Hence much scheming and management had to be exercised for the journey to be successfully carried through.
I saw much about the "hidden hand" in the newspapers we received from home, but our experiences of the same character were sometimes amusing and sometimes serious. The railway was under a sort of joint control, Russian, American and Japanese, and it soon became clear that one or the other of these groups was unfriendly to our western advance. It may have been all, but of that I have no proof. The first incident was a stop of four hours. After the first two hours a train passed us that had been following behind; after another two hours, when slightly more vigorous inquiries were being made as to the cause of delay, we were quite naively informed that the station-master did not think we ought to risk going farther. We soon informed him to the contrary, and again started forward. The next stop of this character was at a fairly big station about twenty hours from Harbin. This station-master held us up for seven hours. This I thought the limit. At last he showed my interpreter a telegram asking him to prevent us going any farther. It was not signed, and when I demanded that we should be allowed to proceed, he said that there were no engines. I had seen two standing idle outside. I rushed on to the platform just in time to prevent the engines disappearing. While the station-master had been parleying with me he had ordered the engines to put on steam. I gave orders for my guard to form up across the line at each end of the station and either bayonet or shoot anyone who tried to take the engines away. I then forced the operator to tell me if the line ahead was clear, and threatened to take the station-master under military arrest for trial at Harbin unless he announced my intention to start in that direction and cleared the way ahead. I put a soldier with fixed bayonet on the footplate to see that the driver held to his post and did not play tricks with the train, and started on our journey. We made every inquiry possible, but no one could give us the slightest reason for our stoppage, but seemed to think that there was something wrong with the works which had allowed us to get so far. From then on I took no risks.
There are no special features about Harbin. It is just a conglomeration of houses of a more or less Chinese character thrown together in three heaps, the first two attempts of the thrower not getting quite near enough to the target, which was the junction of the Chinese Eastern Railway. Elaborate preparations had been made by an Allied Committee for our reception, and when we drew into the station about 4 P.M. it was crowded with about as cosmopolitan a crowd of Far Eastern races as we had so far met with—the Mayor, the Chinese Governor and all the notabilities, foremost amongst them being the British Consul, Mr. Sly; but most important of all was General Plisshkoff, the commander of the local forces known as "Hovart's Army." Speeches were delivered, and a reply given which elicited from a Cossack band the most astounding rendering of the British National Anthem that was ever heard around the seven seas. The gem of the proceedings was a presentation of two lovely bouquets by the English ladies of Harbin. I never felt so much the necessity for adopting the Eastern custom of kissing all the ladies you are introduced to as at this one supreme moment of the journey; it was a real test of the power of restraint. But the ladies' husbands were there, and everything passed off quietly, even though some wretched fellows took snapshots of the presentation for home production. I inspected the several guards of honour, and General Plisshkoff returned the compliment, while the famous "25th" band discoursed what was declared to be the sweetest music that had been heard in Harbin since its history began. Tea was served in a specially decorated marquee on the platform and all the men were given presents of one sort or another, and the town gave itself over to tumultuous enjoyment, happy in the thought that at last one of the Allies had appeared on the scene, a faint indication that a desperate effort was about to be made by the oldest and most trusted nation in Europe to conjure order out of chaos. The officers were entertained by the British Consul, and preparations were made for a ceremonial march through the town next day. This turned out a great success and greatly impressed the inhabitants.
The day following we were entertained by the Chinese Governor, a very courtly old gentleman, and the local Chinese general at the headquarters of the Chinese administration. The band was in attendance, and during the meal dealt with some of the British military choruses which have spread themselves round the world. Of course we all joined in, as only Englishmen can, and this became so infectious that even the staid mandarins unbent and added their quota to the noise. It is surprising to note the resemblance between the solemn Chinese and the self-centred Englishmen. The solemnity of the one reacts upon the other, and both become what neither is in reality nor can be separately. After our hard work and harder fare on the Ussurie this gorgeous banquet was equal to a month's leave, and we let go with a vengeance. What the Chinamen thought about it next morning I do not know; for myself, I only remembered the kindness of this act of friendship and thecamaraderieof the whole affair. How strange that we should feel more at home with these pukka Chinamen than with others we have met who are supposed to have much closer affinity.
Immediately after leaving Harbin we crossed the finest bridge of the whole journey to Omsk. It carries the railway over the River Sungary, which meanders about over the enormous yet fairly well cultivated plains of Northern Manchuria. It is not my intention to describe either the peoples or the countries through which we passed, but no study of the blending and dovetailing of totally different races into the different types that we particularise under the names of Chinese, Mongol, Tartar and Russian, would be complete without a journey along the Siberian and Eastern Chinese Railway. The same remark applies to their dress, habitations and customs. It is an education in itself, especially if, like us, one had to stop occasionally to drive bargains, negotiate help, and have the closest and most intimate intercourse with the common people. None of them had even seen the British flag, few of them had the slightest idea where the "Anglisky" lived, and one old Kirghis explained to his wondering tribemen that we were a strange tribe that had broken away from "Americanski" and gone to live on a great island in the middle of the lakes, where no one could touch us unless they risked their lives on great wooden rafts. I thought the amount of inverted truth in this charming description very pleasing if not very flattering to our national vanity.
After climbing the great Hinghan Range the plains of Mongolia came as a wonder to me. Imagine if you can a perfectly flat land through which your train glides hour after hour, day after day. The whole is covered with rough grass and a growth somewhat like a huge horse daisy or marguerite. At the time we passed these plants had dried, and a terrific wind sweeping over the plains had broken countless numbers of the dry herb off near the ground. They fell on their round sides. Directly the plants had lost their anchorage away they bounded like catherine wheels over the plains. It does not require much imagination to picture hundreds of thousands of these rounded tufts of dried grass bounding along over immense distances. It is quite a fascinating pastime to select a few of the larger and better formed ones coming over the horizon and calculate how long they take to arrive opposite your position. Calculations made in this way convinced me that a small coloured message properly fastened to these moving objects might have been carried five hundred miles in twenty-four hours. If, instead of looking at one, you look at the whole, the impression is of the solid earth passing rapidly from west to east. There are occasional obstructions in the shape of a huge flock of sheep which would cover half of Rutlandshire. These are herded by quaintly dressed Mongolian Tartars, on wonderful shaggy-haired horses, who ride at a furious pace around their flocks and guard them from attack by the wolves which infest this part of the world. It is worth recording how they do so. The wolf is a very cunning animal who has numerous methods of attack, and, like a hare, is very difficult to locate if in his form and practically level with the ground. But his very cunning is often his undoing. On no account will the wolf allow a string on which there are little coloured rags fluttering to pass over him, nor will he willingly get near it. The Tartar herdsmen go forward in line over the plain in the direction their flocks are feeding with a small strong string with little coloured flags fluttering along it, fastened from horse to horse. This effectively sweeps the whole space as the trawler sweeps the sea. No wolf can hope to escape the trained eye of the Tartar near the horse where the strain of the line lifts it high off the ground, and no wolf will allow the line to pass near him, hence the herdsman gets both sport and profit out of his occupation. Having fed off the grass and herbs in one place, the whole Tartar tribe moves forward at regular periods on what appears to be an endless crawl across the world, but what is really an appointed round, settled and definite, within the territorial lands of the race to which it belongs. Their women and children journey with them and hunt and ride with the men, free as the plains over which they travel. In spite of this community of interests the men seem to place but very little value upon their women except as a sort of communist coolie attachment for carrying the camp from one place to another, for preparing the rude meals, and for the care of the boys, of whom the tribe is very proud.
Over this featureless wilderness we progressed day after day, each stopping-place marked by a few aspen trees mixed up with a few others that look very much like mountain ash but are not. The winter houses of the people are single-roomed, square, wooden structures, very strangely built, with flat roofs consisting of about two feet of earth. Against and over these structures in winter the frozen snow piles itself until they have the appearance of mere mounds, impossible to locate except for the smoke which escapes from a few long crevices left open under the eaves of what is intended to be the front of the house. These smoke-escapes perform the double duty of chimneys and also keep clear the way by which the inhabitants go in and out. Their herds are either disposed of before the winter begins or are housed in grass-covered dug-outs, which in winter, when the snow is piled over them, take the form of immense underground caverns, and are quite warm and habitable by both man and beast. The one I entered had over two hundred beautiful little foals housed in it, and others similar in character had cows and sheep and poultry all as snug as you please. The entrance was lighted with a quaint old shepherd's lantern, not unlike those I had seen used by shepherds in Hampshire when I was a boy. The entrance was guarded all night by a number of dogs, and curled up in a special nook was the herdsman, with a gun of a kind long since discarded in Europe. Such are the conditions under which these people live half the year, but they make up for this underground life when in April they start their cattle on the move by first allowing them to eat their shelters.
Near the edge of this plain we began to encounter a few sand dunes with outcrops, very similar to those on the coast line of our own country. Over these we gently ran day after day until we could see vast fields of sand and scrub that it must have taken thousands of years of gale and hurricane to deposit in the quaint pyramidal fashion in which they stand to-day. Even yet they are not fixed; occasionally a tree falls exposing the naked sand to the action of the wind, which swirls around the hole and moves the sand into a spiral whirlpool, lifting and carrying it away to be deposited again on the lea side of a distant valley, choking the pines and silver birch and sometimes destroying large woods and forests. It is surprising that though we travelled for hundreds of miles along the edge of this huge sand plateau we did not see a single rivulet or stream coming from its direction, though there were the traces of a river far out on the plain. Sunset on these sand-hills was quite entrancing. The occasional break in these conical formations, when the sun was low down, gave one the impression of a vast collection of human habitations, with gable ends to the highest of the buildings. The fact is, however, that, so far as we saw or could make out, no human habitation exists over the whole face of this sea of sand, though men live quite calmly around the craters of volcanoes and other equally dangerous and impossible places. The fear created by legends of human disaster attaching to the local history of these sands is of such a character that even the daring of the Tartar is for once mastered. The sands themselves when on the move are dangerous enough, but their cup-like formation would hide armies until the traveller was in their midst, when retreat would be impossible. The same applies with greater force to the banditti or beasts of the desert; hence the gloomy history and legends of the Mongolian sands.
We arrived at Hazelar on a Saturday evening, and collected our echelons during the night. On Sunday morning I made application to the priest for permission to hold our parade service in the grounds of the Greek church. This was granted, and the parade was a huge success. The spectacle of the padre (Captain Roberts) in his surplice conducting the English service under the shadow of the church our help had rescued from the violence of the Terrorists was very impressive. The service was watched with intense interest by hundreds of Russian men and women and by crowds of Chinese, Korean and Tartar plainsmen. Some of the Russian ladies joined in the responses, and many women's voices joined in the old English hymns. These were the first religious services that had been held for a year, and seemed to give assurance to the people that their troubles were nearly over, that peace had come again. The huge padlock and chain upon the church door had been removed, and general thankfulness seemed to be the predominant feeling. The scene was doubtless very strange to those unaccustomed to united worship by both priest and people. In these small matters I was extremely punctilious, as I saw what an impressionable people I had to deal with. I further calculated that once we had joined in public service together the edge of hostility would lose its sharpness. I did not leave it at this, but entered the markets without a guard and held conferences with both peasant and workman, stating our reasons for coming and the friendly service we wished to perform. It was clear from the beginning that my safety depended upon our securing the confidence of the majority of the people. A mere military parade would have failed, but with a thorough understanding of our object in entering so far into their country we gained their confidence and enlisted their help. On the other hand, there is a small proportion of disgruntled and abnormal people in all communities who cannot be controlled by reason, and for whom force is the only argument, and for these we also made ample provision.
There was not much interest in the remainder of the Manchurian and Mongolian part of the journey until we arrived at Manchulli. This was occupied by the Japanese Division under the command of General Fugi. Here it was necessary to get a supply of fresh bread and exercise the transport. I paid my respects to the Chinese general, who had just lost part of his barracks, forcibly taken from him for the occupation of Japanese troops. I also paid an official visit to General Fugi and Staff and the Russian commandant of the station.