While men were slaughtering each other in thousands on this hill the civilized world watched the tape, wondering who would win, what the end would be. How many protested or were even indignant at this legalized butchery? It is said, of course, that war is necessary and inevitable, that it freshens and invigorates national organism. This may be so, but it also brings a step closer the realization of the socialistic dream. Of this I am certain. December 3 arrived and passed under similar conditions, except that the fight on the hill was, if possible, more exasperated. In the Fortress the feeling of alarm was intensified, and all unemployed men had been got under arms (at the time of the surrender the number of armed men had been increased by 9,000), and the other points denuded, in order to feed the maw of 203 Metre Hill. Even the hospitals gave their contribution. December 4—bright and frosty—ushered in a fresh hell. It was now hardly a fight between men that was taking place on this accursed spot: it was a struggle of human flesh against iron and steel, against blazing petroleum, lyddite, pyroxyline, and mélinite, and the stench of rotting corpses. It was the last day but one of the long-drawn agony.
A shell to-day fell into one of the hospitals full of wounded men, but perhaps the scene of horror inside was hardly[Pg 253] increased. Were the enemy getting ferocious in their exasperation, and beginning to ignore humanity? It looked like it. By night our feelings had become deadened by the continued strain; we were almost apathetic.
On the hill our men still held on under the gallant leadership of Colonel Irman, but in spite of his bravery he did not really replace Tretiakoff, and Butusoff, by now well known to the reader, had just before this fight been given a week's leave to rest—a rest which he sadly needed. Captain Veselovsky, of the 26th Regiment, was actually commanding on the hill. The officers with him were Lieutenants Obolensky and Rafalovitch, of the same regiment. While the first-named was calmly doing his duty a splinter tore away his face right down to the lower jaw. On his body there was left a chin fringed with beard and some teeth. Rafalovitch, who was standing alongside, was untouched, being merely covered with earth and blood; but he was quite upset, and asked Semenoff to relieve him for a few hours. The latter telephoned permission, but 'not for more than two or three hours,' as the waste in officers was very great. Rafalovitch appeared at the Staff Head-quarters. He was dirty; his clothes were torn and covered with blood and spotted with whity-red bits of something. This handsome, healthy young fellow was quite unstrung by what he had been through. He was trembling as if in a fever; his eyes were bloodshot and wandering, and he could scarcely speak.
'What's happened? Your face is covered with blood. Are you wounded?'
'No, sir, I am—I am not wounded. It's not my blood; it's Captain Veselovsky's brains,' was the stammering reply jerked out.
'What! Veselovsky killed?'
'Yes, sir. His head was carried away—only not quite:[Pg 254] the lower jaw and beard were left—and I was covered with his brains, right in my face. It almost blinded me. I thought I was wounded. Can I go and rest a little?'
'Yes, go, and God be with you. Go and rest, but remember we are short of officers.'
After a few hours a message was received that Obolensky had been killed with a bullet in the head. There was now not a single officer left in the 5th Company of the 26th Regiment; there was only the sergeant-major. He was promoted by telephone to be acting ensign, and Rafalovitch was sent for.
The telephone rang.
'Sir, General Kondratenko wants to speak to you.'
Semenoff took the receiver and listened.
'I think the position so serious that Colonel Butusoff should be sent there.'
'Sir, Butusoff is exhausted, and asked a few days ago for leave to go and rest. I gave it him on the condition that he would at once come if wanted.'
'Tell him that I do not order him to go to 203 Metre Hill, but I would ask him to. We want him there; he is irreplaceable. Say it is my particular request.'
He was at once summoned, and went up to the hill. We knew we should not see him again, and sure enough next day Butusoff, the pride of the Frontier Guards, was mortally wounded in the stomach, and suffered frightful agony till he became unconscious before death.
As the sun rose on December 5 it lit up the two-humped summit of 203 Metre Hill for the last time in the possession of Russian soldiers—a handful of gunners, sappers, and infantry hiding among shapeless mounds of rubbish. This was the last day. On it occurred an incident which might be for ever quoted as an illustration of the 'fog of war.'
[Pg 255]
That morning Semenoff was watching through a telescope from Obelisk Hill. At ten o'clock he saw that the fighting was at the very top of the hill. At noon he saw our men retiring; the Japanese had gained the top, and our men were dashing down the hill. The en............