THE YELLOW WAR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2667, 26 April 1905, Page 68

THE YELLOW WAR.

(T.P.'s Weekly.)

"The following sketches," says the .anonymous writer, "have been published with the object of giving the layman some glimpses of the true significance of war j when two first-class Powers come together j on sea and land in the clash of battle. ' j The author has certainly succeeded in his • piupose. Stripped of generalities, of false glamour, brought down to the details and experiences of the individual: | soldier or sailor, these sketches are well ! calculated to fill everyone with an overwhelming sense of the horror, the brutality, the beastliness of ■war. There are pages in this book which dwell in one's j memory and haunt one's imagination for 1 many a day afterwards ; there are pages j which almost make one foel the stench of j thf battlefield ; now and then one almost ; feels as if one could be physically sick as j the picture rises before the imagination '. under the skilful hands of the chronicler. ; This is one of the greatest pleas against war which has ever been written, and it peihaps is the more powerful because t3e moral is left to be inferred, and is not thrust before the reader. I. ! Apparently the writer is a military attache who has been allowed to get glimpses of the war from close at hand. He had made abundant acquaintance in , different countries and cities witu leading figures on both sides in the war long before the war commenced : and thus he found himself wherever he went among friends only too anxious — so far as duty ! permitted — to facilitate him in the study ! of war near at hand. "Of many of the • incidents related," he says in his preface, } "I have been an eye witness ; and "for j tlie rest I have .dealt at first hand with the actors themselves." '"Every character in \ the book represents some living actor in : the terrific drama." Here, then, we have 1 authentic material ; the result is a picture oi warfare so lifelike, so palpably true, | that you feel as if you knew the per- j sonages who are named ; as if you yourself i lived through some of the scenes described. 'JLhis military attache is one of that strange -new race of soldier who can wield the pen apparently as skilfully as the sword. It is not perhaps what they were ' intended to do ; but such military writers — so different from the old — are helping to kill that awful thing — War. 11. I must pick my extracts almost at random from the rich medley that lies before me ; you have to reaa tne book as a whole to entirely realise its power and the moral which lies written in such legible letters across the entire book. I take as a first specimen the progress of a Japanese lieutenant through various pi ases in which he and the author have come in contact. Their first meeting is at a big, dull reception. "The Foreigner," -writes the author, speaking of himself in this impersonal way, "was unutterably bored." Suddenly amid the "grinning faces" the Foreigner is caught b\ the sight of a little swarthy face — like his own, it seemed to be cast^-oxer with the thought of all this futility. The face, "in spite of the low forehead, beady black eyes, and Mongolian bluntness, was full of intelligence — at this moment cynical j intelligence." The Foreigner speaks to the Japanese attache — for that is what the litle swarthy man was — but at that epoch the Japanese had not yet learned i a European tongue, and he could only hand, with a bow, his card to the courteous Foreigner ; it bore the words : " Lieutenant H. Kamimato,

*' Imperial Japanese Army." Three years later the Foreigner found himself at a midsummer party ; he went to the tennis-courts, and there "a lithe little figure in flannels was the heart and soul of the game." It is Kamimoto ;he is at this moment a Cambridge under-

*"The Yellow War." By "O." (Blackwood.)

giaduate. He is completing his. education m the service of his country. And the cl ief lesson apparently he takes away is a supreme contempt for our intelligence and our' methods. The next time Foreigner encounters the Japanese lieutenant the surroundings are quite different. He is in China on a diplomatic mission, -and finds himself, among other places, in Port Arthur. He turns into a barber's :

Four Russian officers from the garrison were filling all the available space. The Foreigner was surprised at the freedom of speech of the Russian officers with regard to their professional duties. It seemed this hairdresser's was a sort of morning clubhouse. Vodka and beer could be served from an auberge next door. In due course the Foreigner took his place in the chair. One look in the cheval glass, and in his surprise he nearly jumped out of the seat. There, behind him, lather and brush in I hand, and a spotless apron round his ! waist, stood Kamimoto. . . . Here stood his Japanese prototype, a perfect j barber, reading the minds of the Rus- j sian officers from morning till night.. Finally, when war is declared, the Foreigner again meets Kamimoto : It would have been hard to recognise in Kamimoto, as he now stood, the Cambridge undergraduate of a few years ago. He was still mild in manner, but his cheeks were drawn and sunken with privation and sleeplessness ; his uniform — he was chef de bataillon now, where he had been a company commander three days ago — was torn, dirty, and weather-stained. The toes of his boots and the knees of his overalls were worn through by the rough scarps of the hillsides ; even the , scabbard of his twohanded sword, the blade of which had been wielded by Kamimotos of his house for "six hundred years, was scarred and friction markeu. Yet withal, save for his eyes, he ■was mild and e\*en feminine in appearance. 111. And then comes the final phase of Kamimoto ; it is terrible and almost appalling. He and the l<'oreigner have been discussing the awful carnage they have seen during the last few days of the fighting at Liao-yang. The Foreigner had seen Kamimoto " lead five forlorn hopes that had failed." He had seen half the battalion blotted out amid the entanglements, and had followed the remaining half over the Russian breastworks, and on into the plain to the little rise upon which they now lay. They had reached it in time to throw up sketchy trenches, in which the Foreigner, dead-beat, had cast himself down to snatch a moment's sleep. "Eat and pray your gods that you may never see the like of tiiis again. Think of death in thousands, and wish for peace, pray for peace, Work for peace." And

the little officer mixed some tepid green tea with his rice as is the custom of his country. And in the midst of this plea for £>eace, amid such strange surroundings, the little oiiieer is approached by one of his sentries ; "with a smile and an apology Kamimoto left his European friend and dived into the cornstalks in the direction of the outpost line." Kamimoto has been called away because hi i scouts have discovered that a Russian column, which has lost its way, is wandering dejectedly and wretched along tne Liao-yang road. And here is the ghastly sequel : The men's xifles were across their backs, and their pale, worn faces were whiter than their blouses. There was no speech, no sound other than the squelching of their boots in the mire. A surrender? No man came forward to arrange quarter for men too tired, too whipped and beaten to defend themselves. No Japanese went forward to recommend to them such mercy as they had earned. . . . The voice of the chef de bataillon rose superior to the . silence. The rifles crashed like one. The Russian column stopped dead in its tracks. The leading fours were so close that the Foreigner could see the look of amazement, horror, and despair upon the blanched features of the wretched men. Then, as the magazines ground out their leaden avalanche, the leading fours tried to surge backwards, tried to save themselves in flight. It was awful ! The rifles made no smoke to hide the hideous spectacle ; it was like the execution of a bound man. Flight was impossible, for the magnitude of the confusion prevented retreat or retaliation. The little Japanese, shouting and jeering, were now upon their feet, and redoubling the rapidity-of their fire. With blancheed cheek and set teetli the Foreigner watched this terrific curtain to the bloody drama in which he had joarticipated. * He saw the white tunics melting into the mud like snow under a sleet shower. He "saw a mad rush to-v.-az-ds the cornstalks baulked by the intensity of the fire. He saw such of the Russians as remained on their feet throw their arms into the air, and stretch out their naked hands towards the rifles that were annihilating them. Their shrieks were in his ears. Then, as if by magic, the firing stopped. A little figure — he knew it well, the whole battalion knew it — leaped in front of the firing. For a moment the face was turned towards the Foreigner. The mildness, the culture, the charm were gone ; animal ferocity alone remained. It was Kamimoto as he would have been a hundred years ago. His two-handed sword was bare in his hand. .He raised it gleaming above his head, and dashed down into the amphitheatre. Like a pack ot hounds his men streamed down after him. The Foreigner covered his face with his hands. The end was too terrible. He turned and fled back to the trench. Here he collected his raincoat and water-bottle, and then, with the horrible picture ever before him, went south to collect his thoughts.

* IV

I pass on from this scene to one of a a cry different kind. We have heard a gco'd deal during the war of Japanese who committed what is called the "happy dispatch." There is one remarkable chapter in which this form of seeking glory or blotting out shame is told with extraordinary power. A body -of four Japanese destroyers was told off in the face of a terrible, blizzard to do some wcrk. Two of them were partially successful ; a third was never heard of again. Lieutenant Watanabe, the commander of the fourth, seeing as he thought that there was no chance of success, and having lost touch with his "consorts, " put into port. He had. committed the .great crime' ; he had failed ; and . he had shown a want of courage and resource at the critical moment. He is called to see one of the staff" commanders "of Togo's fleet. " He is asked to give an account of his failure ; h-i tells it straightforwardly :

When he had finished the .chief of the "Staff handed him the paper packet of cigarettes which lay on the table. Then drawing in his breath to the full extent of his lungs, the chief staff ofecer said, "Lieutenant Watanabe, you are relieved of the command of your boat, arid' you will report yourself for duty to the commander of the gunboat Oshima. The face of the commander as he heard this news was as expressionless as that of the staff officer who gave the order. Watanabe saluted gravely, and withdrew from the cabin. He passed to the quarter deck and joined a group of officers. They discussed the fortunes of the war, the prospects of the future, and the various topics which were of in-

terest at the moment ; and then the

picket boat having been piped, the lieu-tenant-commander went over the side smiling to his friends. Yet as he

passed down the gangway and returned

the salute of the sentry, to all intents and purposes he was a dead man. And what is more, every one of his friends knew it. And then comes a description of the delibeiation and ceremony, and even solemnity, with which Watanabe prepares to purge his shame by suicide :

The servant was about to pick up his master's uniform when Watanabe detached the two medals from his frockcoat, and wrapping them in a piece of paper, instructed him to take them to his home in Japan. "The rest," he said, pointing to his uniform and his sword, "will go with me."

The servant carried the personal effects away, and Watanabe was left

alone. He turned and looked seaward over the dull, grey expanse of water to-

wards the horizon, which stood out t the line dividing him from the stronghold of his country's enemy. He never took his gaze away from that skyline until the second engineer returned and took him by the hand and led him to the place which was prepared. Here the crew of the launch had assembled. They stood round in a semicircle, and placed in front of them was a, white sheet. At one end was a Japanese pillow, at the other a little table. On this lay, wrapped in a clean white paper, a short knife. Watanabe strode to the sheet ; he bowed to his comrades, and they all stood in attention in mute salute. He then sat down and "arranged his posture so that his neck "might lie upon the pillow. Having settled himself, he proceeded to unfold the lower portion ol his dress, and lay bare some four inches of skin from the waistband upwards. The second engineer handed him the papercovere T knife ; he seized it in the middle of the blade, and turning his head, bowed as well as he could in his prostrate position to his comrades. His eves finally sought the second engineer's. This officer was in position ; he stood at Watanabe's right side with a naked sword in his hand. At an inclination of the doomed man's head he raised this blade skywards. Wilh one bold, firm, and determined acton, Watanabe self-inflicted a slight incision from left to right ; he turned his eyeballs upwards, the second engineer caught the signal, and with a single sweep of the sword he helped Watanabs to vindicate his own honour, the honour of his forbears, and the fair name of Japan.

Y. There is no service too moan, as, of course, there is none too dangeious, for the Japanese officer, to perform. One of the tasks set to them now and again is that of wrecking the railway line — that thin thread oi steel on which the lives of all the hundreds of thousands of the Russian soldiers depend. This is a capital offence ; any man crught in doing it is immediately executed. The Mork is visually left to the Chinese brigand ; but now and then a Japanese otnoer is sent among these fellows to stiffen their resolution and to give intelligent direction to their efforts. And many a Japanese officer has fallen in this service. B'ere is a curious little episode in which two old comrades of the days before tbe war meet when a train-wrecking party has been captured red-handed ; it is something of the inevitableness and high tragedy of war, mixed also with its gleams of pity and tenderness : * It is a beautiful morning as these severe winter mornings go. and the two

officers in charge of the bridge guard turn out of their snug little bivouac under the embankment to hear the report that the night patrols have captured four trainwreckers red-handed. •' Bring them up,' says the tall, fair, fur-covered senior, who is an officer from the .European array, and has been posted tff this section of the railway on account of the energy he lias displayed in preventing damage to the line by the

maurauding Hunhutzas. The foui wretched culprits are brought before him. Miserables, their captors had extended to

them nothing of the hospitality of mean warmth which they themselves were able to find in the bivouac of the bridge guard. Miserable., indeed, but stoical withal. The Russian officer, as he lit a cigarette, walked over to the prisoners and peered into the face of the shortest of the four. He Look off the fur cap, and laying hold of the queue beneath, gave it a wrench. It came away in his hand. '• Ha, ha ! I thought so ;it was too oaring for these wretched Manchus to have undertaken by themselves." And

the tall Russian laughed loudly., The

laugh died on his lips as he looked at the Japan ese'fttce before him ; he changed from his own tongue to Frenclr, looking the while like a man who has seen a ghost. "My God ! " he said, "it must be the same; to think that you~should-have come to this ! '" The masquerading Japanese answered in halting French : "Yes, captain, when we were comrades together in Eure et Loire, we never dreamed that it would come to this ! " The Russian steadied himself, and, •without saying a word, took out his cigarette case and handed the Japanese a cigarette. Then he called his servant and ordered some spirits. "Perhaps you would prefer tea?" he said to his sorry guest ; "it is quite ready, only I must apologise that it is Russian tea." The little Japanese admitted that he would prefer the tea,. As he drank it the Russian captain grimly gave some orders to the escort, and, pulling out his watch, he reverted to French: " Lieutenant Zamoto, in fivo minutes you will be shot. It is the only concession I can make to you. Your three companions will be hanged immediately from the bridge girders. God be with you ! "

Two passages finally. One is a wondrous example of the readiness of the Japanese soldier to sacrifice himself, and of the perfect recklessness with which his officers use up his life if it be deemed necersary. There is one of tlie terrible attacks on the .Russian trenches which precede the fall oi Port -Arthur. In this fight the animal has in the end obtained such mastery that men no longer stop to fire their guns, they simply take hold of their butt" end and try to each other's skulls ; or thej, rr.ake bayonet charges. At last the colonel, sees that the trench must be won speedily, and this is how he gives his order : "Thro\^ yourself on their bayonets, honourable comrades," he shouted ; "those who come bc.^ "hind will do the rest ! " Just fancy sticlu a.n order as this ; a number of men aske<3» to impale themselves and to die thus pain-3 fully, and at pnee, so that they mijjlrt n^,v^

the way for the others who are coming on, and ■who alone are to have the credit of she victory ! But there is no hesitation : His men heard him, his officers heard I him. Eight stalwarts chopped their rifles, held theiv hands above tibeir heads, and fluwg themselves against the traverse. Before the Russian defenders coiild extricate their bayonets froan their bodies, the whole pack of the war-dog's had surged over them. The trench was won. Tho rest was a massacre. VIAnd this is the final scene I will quote. I have given sufficient of the bloody massacre which is going on all over Manchuria ; let us glance for a moment at the three ger-erals before they leave Japan to be the directors of this orgie of blood tnd pain ; it is a contrast which is poignant and striking ; it makes one realise that, after all, the Japanese are Easterns, not Westerns .- They are leaving the modest building which represents Japan's military strength in Tokyo — this building which, though t>o unpretentious and insignificant, vet has such a far-reaching shadow — the marshal and his two chief lieutenants are leaving it, for to-night is their last night in the capital ; to-morrow thfey will leave Japan to control the destinies of the army in the field. They are due at a farewell complimentary dinner given by the Heads of sister departments. Just have one glimpse of them as they fit on the floor in strange alignment round the three walls of the banquetting hall. For the moment all that is of the West is forgotten ; they are now mere Orientals, trifling with the dainty Geisha maidens plying them with food and drink ; they are entranced with the semi-barbaric dancing of the premier dans-euse of th& house wherein they sup, and they partake of the merriment of the cup as if there were no such distinction in the wide world as war. Yet even as they sit there has come to the men on duty at the War Department a detail of new ground that has been broken within 2000 metres of- Port Arthur's outward works, of grim casualties to covering infantry entailed in this pushing forward of the parallel. Nevertheless, as the messenger who brought the news from the war bureau stands outside, in the passages, sipping the cup of green tea winch some musm.e. has brought him, all he hears is the spirited rhythm of the samasan. . ♦ . On the morrow the Ministers Plenipotentiary and Envoys Extraordinary of all the great Western Powers, glittering^, in their bullion charged dresses, will be" present on the platform to wish the Triumvirate " God-speedi." It is a grim contrast — that scene and the scenes that followed. — T. P.