Read Ebook: The Land of the Boxers; or China under the Allies by Casserly Gordon

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The fields of luxuriant, waving grain stretched away to the rim of the distant horizon. A trail of smoke, the tall masts of junks showed where the river wound in frequent bends. At length we passed the extensive buildings and high chimneys of the Chinese Arsenal, captured by our marines and held by the Russians; and above the trees towers and domes told that we were nearing Tientsin. Then through a gap in a big earthen wall that is twenty miles in circumference, past many sidings and long lines of iron trucks and waggons with bullet-marked sides, eloquent of fierce fighting, we ran into the station.

A commonplace, uninteresting place at first sight--just the ordinary railway station with the usual sheds, iron bridge, offices, refreshment-room. Yet here, not long before, white men and yellow had closed in deadly struggle, and the rails and platforms had been dyed red with the blood of heroes. The sides of the iron water-tank, the walls of the engine-house, were patched and repaired; for shells from the most modern guns had rained on them for days. The stone walls were loopholed and bullet-splashed. Many of the buildings were roofless, their shattered ruins attesting the accuracy of the Chinese gunners. At yonder corner the fanatical Boxers had burst in a wild night attack, and even European soldiers had retreated before the fury of their onslaught. But the men of the hitherto untried Hong Kong Regiment, sturdy sons of the Punjaub plains or Frontier hills, had swept down on them with the cold steel and bayoneted them in and under the trucks; until even Chinese fanaticism could stand it no longer and the few survivors fled in the friendly darkness. For that brave exploit, the Subhedar Major of the corps now wears the Star of the Indian Empire. From the mud walls of that village, scarce two hundred yards away, the European-drilled Imperial troops, armed with the latest magazine rifles, had searched with deadly aim every yard of open ground over which the defenders advanced. Across this ditch the Boxers, invincible in their mad belief, had swarmed in the face of a murderous fire, and filled it with their dead. Not a foot of ground in that prosaic railway station but had its tale of desperate fanaticism or disciplined valour.

TIENTSIN

The foreign settlement of Tientsin and the Chinese city are entirely separate, and lie some distance apart. The former, resembling more a European town than an alien lodgment in the heart of the Celestial Empire, boasts wide roads and well-kept streets, large offices and lofty warehouses, good public buildings and comfortable villas, a racecourse and a polo-ground. It is divided into the Concessions of the various nationalities, of which the English, in size and mercantile importance, is easily first. The difference between it and the next largest--the French--is very marked. The latter, though possessing a few good streets, several hotels, and at least one long business thoroughfare with fine shops, speaks all too plainly of stagnation. The British quarter, bustling, crowded, tells just as clearly of thriving trade. In it are found most of the banks, the offices of the more considerable merchants, and all the municipal buildings.

The Chinese city, perhaps, has more charm for the lover of the picturesque, though it is less interesting now than formerly, since the formidable embrasured wall surrounding it has been pulled down by order of the Allied generals. In it stands a grim memento of another outburst of fanaticism against the hated foreigner--the ruins of the Roman Catholic Cathedral, destroyed by the Chinese in 1870. The city itself is like unto all other Celestial cities. Narrow lanes, low houses, ill-kept thoroughfares, gaudiness and dirt intermingled, stench and filth abominable. To it, however, was wont to go the seeker after curiosities, choice silks, or rich furs from Manchuria and Corea. But the retributive looting that fell on it after its capture has left it bare indeed.

Leaving Major Whittal surrounded by a polyglot crowd, and handing over the luggage to our sword orderlies, we seated ourselves in rickshas and set out in search of quarters. The European settlement is separated from the railway station by the Peiho River. We crossed over a bridge of boats, which swings aside to allow the passage of vessels up or down. At either end stood a French sentry, to stop the traffic when the bridge was about to open. The stream was crowded with junks loaded with stores for the various armies, and flying the flag of the nation in whose service they were employed. A steamer lay at a wharf--an unusual sight, for few ships of any draught can safely overcome the difficulties of the shallow river. Along the far bank ran a broad road, known as the Bund, bordered with well-built warehouses and offices. Some of these bore eloquent testimony to the severity of the Chinese shell fire during the siege. The Tricolour flew over the first houses we passed, for the French Concession lies nearest the station. At the gates of those buildings, used as barracks, lounged men of the Infanterie Coloniale, clad in loose white or blue uniforms, with large and clumsy helmets. A few hundred yards farther down we reached the English settlement, and turned up a wide street, in which was situated the fine official residence of the British Consul-General. We arrived at last at the mess of the Hong Kong Regiment, where two of us were to find quarters. It stood in a narrow lane surrounded by houses shattered by shells during the siege. Close by were the messes of the Royal Welch Fusiliers and the 3rd Bombay Light Cavalry in dark and gloomy Chinese buildings.

In the afternoon we paid our first visit to the Tientsin Club. It was crowded with representatives of almost every nationality. Britishers, Americans, French, Russians, and Austrians were clinking glasses amid a chorus of "A votre sant?!" "Good health!" "Svatches dor?via!" and "Here's how!" Even an occasional smart little Japanese officer was to be seen. Naval uniforms were almost as much in evidence as military garb; for the officers of the Allied Fleets lying off Taku varied the monotony of riding at anchor, out of sight of the land, by an occasional run ashore and a visit to Tientsin and Pekin. The utmost good fellowship prevailed among the different nationalities. French was the usual medium of intercourse between Continental officers and those of the English-speaking races. Britishers might be seen labouring through the intricacies of the irregular verbs which had vexed their brains during schooldays, or lamenting their neglect to keep up their early acquaintance with the language of diplomacy and international courtesy. The bond of a common tongue drew the Americans and the English still more closely together, and the greatest friendship existed between all ranks of both nationalities. The heroic bravery of the sailors and soldiers of the great Republic of the West earned the praise and admiration of their British comrades, who were justly proud of the kinship that was more marked than ever during those days when the Stars and Stripes flew side by side with the Union Jack. The famous saying of the American commodore, "Blood is stronger than water," and the timely aid given by him to our imperilled sailors in this same vexed land of China, were green in our memory. The language difficulty unfortunately prevented much intercourse with the Japanese officers. Some of them, however, were acquainted with English, and these were readily welcomed by British and Americans.

But the desperate losses among the Boxers opposed to Seymour's gallant column, the heavy fighting around Tientsin, and the capture of the city broke the back of the Chinese resistance. And when the Allied Army advanced on Pekin, no determined stand was made after the first battle. The capital, with its famous and formidable walls, fell almost without a blow. A sore disappointment to the British Siege Train, who, hurried out to South Africa to batter down the forts of Pretoria, found their services uncalled for there; and then, despatched to China for the siege of Pekin, arrived to learn that there, too, they were not needed.

And though within a few miles the broken Chinese braves and routed Boxers, formed into roving bands of robbers, swooped down upon defenceless villages, and heavily accoutred European soldiers trudged wearily and fruitlessly after them over impossible country, life in Tientsin flowed on unheeding in all the gay tranquillity of ordinary garrison existence. Entertainments in the Gordon Hall, convivial dinners, polo, races, went on as though the demon of war had been exorcised from the unhappy land. Yet grim reminders were not wanting; scarcely a day passed without seeing a few miserable prisoners brought in from the districts round. Poor wretches! Many of them were villagers who had been driven into brigandage by the burning of their houses and the ruin of their fields as the avenging armies passed. Some were but the victims of treacherous informers, who, to gain a poor reward or gratify a petty spite, denounced the innocent. And, with pigtails tied together, cuffed and hustled by their pitiless captors, they trudged on to their doom with the vague stare of poor beasts led to the slaughter. A hurried trial, of which they comprehended nothing, then death. Scarce knowing what was happening, each unhappy wretch was led forth to die. Around him stood the fierce white soldiers he had learned to dread. Cruel men of his own race bound his arms, flung him on his knees, and pulled his queue forward to extend his neck. The executioner, too often a pitiful bungler, raised his sword. The stroke fell; the head leapt from the body; the trunk swayed for an instant, then collapsed on the ground.

Yet for many of them such a death was all too merciful. No race on earth is capable of such awful cruelty, such hellish devices of torture, as the Chinese. And the unfortunate missionaries, the luckless wounded soldiers who fell into their hands, experienced treatment before which the worst deviltries of the Red Indian seemed humane. Occasionally some of these fiends were captured by the Allies; often only the instruments, but sometimes the instigators of the terrible outrages on Europeans, the mandarins who had spurred on the maddened Boxers to their worst excesses. For these no fitting punishment could be devised, and a swift death was too kind. But in the latter days of the campaign too many suffered an unmerited fate. The blood heated by the tales of Chinese cruelty at the outbreak of the troubles did not cool rapidly. The murders of the missionaries and civil engineers, of the unhappy European women and children, could not be readily forgotten. The seed sown in those early days of the fanatical outburst bore a bitter fruit. The horrors that war inevitably brings in its train were aggravated by the memory of former treachery and the difficulty of distinguishing between the innocent and the guilty. A very slight alteration of dress sufficed to convert into a harmless peasant the Boxer whose hands were red with the blood of defenceless Europeans, or of Chinese Christians whose mangled bodies had choked the river.

Between the railway station and the river lies a small stretch of waste ground, a few hundred yards in extent. Here arose the famous "Railway Siding incident." The Russians claimed it as theirs "by right of conquest," although it had always been recognised as the property of the railway company. An attempt to construct a siding on it from the station brought matters to a crisis. A Russian guard was promptly mounted on it, and confronted by a detachment of Indian troops under the command of Lieutenant H. E. Rudkin, 20th Bombay Infantry. The situation in which this young subaltern was placed demanded a display of tact and firmness which might well have overtaxed the resources of an older man. But with the self-reliance which the Indian Army teaches its officers he acquitted himself most creditably in a very trying position. Then ensued a period of anxious suspense when no man knew what the morrow might bring forth. But calm counsels fortunately prevailed. These few yards of waste ground were not judged worth "the bones of a single grenadier," and the question was taken from the hands of the soldier and entrusted to the diplomat.

THE ALLIED ARMIES IN CHINA

The world has long believed that the German Army is in every respect superior to all others. But those who saw its China expeditionary force--composed though it was of picked troops and carefully selected officers--will not agree with this verdict. Arriving too late for the serious fighting--for there were no German troops in the Allied Army which relieved the Legations--it could only be criticised from its behaviour in garrison and on a few columns which did not meet with very serious opposition. All nationalities had looked forward eagerly to the opportunity of closely observing a portion of the army which has set the fashion in things military to Europe during the past thirty years. But I think that most of those who had hoped to learn from it were disappointed.

The German authorities are still faithful to the traditions of close formations and centralisation of command under fire. Unbroken lines in the attack are the rule, and no divergence from the straight, forward direction, in order to take advantage of cover lying towards a flank, is authorised. The increased destructive power given by low trajectory to modern firearms does not seem to be properly understood by them. The creeping forward of widely extended and irregularly advancing lines of skirmishers, seizing every cover available within easy reach, is not favoured; and the dread of the effect of cavalry charges on the flanks of such scattered formations still rules the tactics of the attack. The development of the initiative of the soldier, of his power of acting for himself under fire, is not striven after. In steady, mechanical drill the German private is still pre-eminent, but in wide extensions he is helpless without someone at his elbow to give him orders. One of the Prussian General Staff--sent out as a Special Service Officer--argued seriously with me that even when advancing over open ground against an entrenched enemy armed with modern rifles, it would be impossible to extend to more than an interval of one pace, "as otherwise the captain could not command his company."

Those in high places in Germany probably appreciate the lessons of the South African campaign. But the difficulty of frontal assaults in close formations on a well-defended position, the impossibility of battalion or company commanders directing the attack in the firing line at close ranges, the necessity of training men to act for themselves when near the enemy, have not struck home to the subordinate grades. Viewed in the light of our experiences in the Boer War and on the Indian Frontier, their adherence to systems that we have proved disastrous before modern weapons stamps their tactics as antiquated. "Entrenching," another staff officer said to me, "is contrary to the spirit of the German Army. Our regulations now force us to employ the spade, but our tradition will always be to trust to the bayonet." And I thought of another army, which also used to have a decided liking for the same weapon, and which had gone to South Africa in the firm belief that cold steel was the only weapon for use in war!

The German officers were very smart in their bearing and dress. Their khaki uniforms were similar to ours, the coats well made; but the clumsy cut of their riding breeches offends the fastidious eyes of the horsey Britisher, who is generally more particular about the fit of this garment than any other in his wardrobe. The product of despotic militarism in a land where the army is supreme and the civilian is despised, the German officers are full of the pride of caste. In China they were scarcely inclined to regard those of the other allied troops as equals. The iron discipline of their army does not encourage intercourse between the various ranks. The friendly association of English officers with their men in sports is inexplicable to them; and that a private should excel his superior in any pastime is equivalent, in their opinion, to the latter at once forfeiting the respect of his subordinate. When a team of British officers in Tientsin were training for a tug-of-war against those of the Pekin garrison in the assault-at-arms at the Temple of Heaven, they used to practise with a team of heavy non-commissioned officers. A German captain said to a British subaltern who was taking part:

"Is it possible that you allow your soldiers to compete against officers even in practice?"

"Certainly," replied the Englishman.

"But of course you always beat them?"

"Not at all," was the answer. "On the contrary, they generally beat us."

"But surely that is a mistake," said the scandalised Prussian. "They must in that case inevitably lose all respect for you." And nothing could convince him that it was not so.

As the German military officer does not as a rule travel much abroad, the realisation of England's predominance beyond the seas seemed to come on those in China almost as a surprise. One remarked to a member of the staff of our Fourth Brigade:

"Our voyage out here has brought home to most of us for the first time how you English have laid your hands on all parts of the earth worth having. In every port we touched at since we left Germany, everywhere we coaled, we found your flag flying. Gibraltar, Malta, Aden, Colombo, Singapore, Hong Kong--all British."

"Yes," added another, "we have naturally been accustomed to regard our own country as the greatest in the world. But outside it we found our language useless. Yours is universal. I had said to myself that Port Said, at least, is not British; but there, too, your tongue is the chief medium of intercourse. Here in China, even the coolies speak English, or what they intend to be English."

The German organisation--perfect, perhaps, for Europe, where each country is a network of roads and railways--was not so successful in China. For the first time the leading military nation was brought face to face with the difficulties involved in the despatch of an expedition across the sea and far from the home base. And its mistakes were not few. Their contingent found themselves at first devoid of transport and dependent on the kindness of the other armies for means to move from the railway. One projected expedition had to be long delayed because the German troops could not advance for this reason, until the English at length furnished them with the necessary transport. The enormous waggons they brought with them were useless in a country where barrows are generally the only form of wheeled transport possible on the very narrow roads. Their knowledge of horse-mastership was not impressive, their animals always looking badly kept and ill-fed.

The first German troops despatched to China were curiously clothed. Their uniform consisted of ill-fitting tunics and trousers made of what looked like coarse, bright yellow sacking, with black leather belts and straw hats shaped like those worn by our Colonials, the broad brim caught up on one side and fastened by a metal rosette of the German colours. Later on all were clothed in regular khaki, and wore helmets somewhat similar to the British pattern, but with wider brims. The square portion covering the back of the neck was fastened by hinges, so that the helmet was not tilted over the wearer's eyes when he lay down to fire, which is the great disadvantage of our style of headgear. Some of the officers wore silver sashes and belts which looked out of place on khaki, the embodiment of severe simplicity in campaigning dress.

The vast increase in their mercantile marine of late years enabled the Germans to transport their troops in their own vessels. The Russians, on the other hand, were frequently forced to employ British ships, although the bulk of their forces in North China did not come from Europe by sea, but was furnished by the Siberian Army.

English officers are frequently accused of a lack of interest in their profession from not acquainting themselves with the problems which arise in contemporary campaigns, the course of which many persons believe that they do not follow. But we found a singular want of knowledge of the history and events of the South African campaign among the commissioned grades of the Allied Armies. I understood the crass ignorance of Continental peoples with regard to the Boer War after a conversation with a foreign staff officer. I had asked him what he thought had been the probable strength of the Republican forces at the beginning of the campaign.

"Ah, that I know precisely," he replied. "I have heard it from an officer in our army, now in China, who served with the Boers. I can state positively on his authority that your antagonists were never able to put into the field, either at the beginning of the war or at any other time, more than 30,000 men. The total populations of both States could not produce any greater number capable of carrying a rifle."

"And how many do you think they have in the field now?" I asked. This was in August, 1901.

"About 25,000."

"But surely," I argued, "after nearly two years of fighting their losses must amount to more than 5,000 between killed, wounded, and captured."

"Not at all. Perhaps not even that."

"Then you apparently do not know," I said, "that we have about 30,000 or 40,000 prisoners or surrendered men in St. Helena, South Africa, Ceylon, and India."

"Oh, but you have not," he said, with a politely incredulous smile; "two or three thousand at most. In our army we are not ignorant of the course of the campaign. We read our newspapers carefully."

I ceased to wonder at the ignorance of his nation when he, a Staff and Special Service Officer, was so ill-informed.

The French officers, though not so well turned out as the Germans, were much more friendly and agreeable. There was a good deal of intercourse between them and the Britishers. Their manner of maintaining discipline was very different to our ideas on the subject. I have seen one of them box the ears of his drunken orderly who had assaulted the Indian servant of an English officer, and who, considering himself aggrieved at being reprimanded by his master, had staggered up to him to tell him so.

France's long experience of colonies and wars beyond the sea rendered the organisation and fitting out of her expeditionary force an easier task than some other nations found it. The men were always cheerful; and the French soldier is particularly handy at bivouacking and fending for himself on service.

The Russian troops were composed of big, heavy, rather fleshy men. Unintelligent and slow, for the most part, they were determined fighters, but seemed devoid of the power of initiative or of thinking for themselves. I doubt if the Muscovite soldier is much more advanced than his Crimean predecessor. The men of the Siberian army may be best described as cheerful savages, obedient under an iron discipline, but not averse to excesses when not under the stern hand of authority, especially when their blood has been heated by fighting. The great power of the Russian soldier lies in his wonderful endurance under privations that few other European troops could support. I should be sorry to offer Englishmen the meagre fare on which he manages to exist. His commissariat rations were anything but lavish in China, and had to be supplemented by the men themselves by foraging. Yet those whom I saw in North China and Manchuria looked well fed and almost fat.

Their respect for, and faith in, their officers is admirable. Their religion is a living force to their simple natures. Once, in Newchwang, in Manchuria, I passed a small Russian church in which a number of their troops were attending a Mass of the gorgeous Greek ritual. Their rifles were piled outside under the charge of a sentry. Helmet in hand he was devoutly following the service through the open window, crossing himself repeatedly and joining in the prayers of the congregation inside. I am afraid that such a sight would be very rarely seen at a church parade in our army.

Though the Russian officers exceed even the Germans in the severity with which they treat their men, there is, nevertheless, more of a spirit of comradeship existing between the higher and lower ranks. This is truer, perhaps, of the European army than the Siberian, which was more employed in the China campaign, and is inferior to the former, especially the splendid Guards corps. The officers were fine men physically, but seemed in military training rather behind those of the other Allies.

Profiting by the experience gained in their previous campaign against China, the Japanese Army arrived well equipped in 1900. As long as road or river was available, their transport system of carts and boats was excellent; but when it came to flying columns moving across country the Indian mule train was superior. Beginning the war in white uniform, the disadvantages of such a conspicuous dress were soon evident, and khaki was substituted. The men were well clothed, and carried a horsehide knapsack containing the usual necessaries and an extra pair of boots.

The organisation, equipment, and material of the Japanese Army leave little to be desired. Their engineers and artillery are well trained, and both rendered good service to the Allies in 1900. Their Intelligence Department had been brought to a high standard of efficiency; and its perfection astonishes those who are permitted to gain a glimpse of its working. The whole East is sown with its spies. When the Legations were threatened, Japanese who had been working at inferior trades in Pekin came in and revealed themselves as military officers who for months or years had been acquainting themselves with the plans, the methods, and the strength of China.

The discipline of Japanese soldiers in small things as well as great is admirable. I have often watched crowded troop-trains arriving at the Shimbashi railway terminus in Tokio. The men sat quietly in their places until the order to leave the carriages was given. Then, without noise or confusion, they got out, fell in on the platforms, piled arms, fell out, and remained near their rifles without chattering; indeed, with hardly a word except in an undertone. Prompt and unquestioning obedience in everything is the motto of the Japanese soldier. Their courage at the storming of Tientsin city, on the march to the capital, and at the capture of Pekin won the admiration of all the Allies, and their behaviour and self-restraint in the hour of victory were equalled only by their gallantry in action. No charges of cruelty to inoffensive peasants or women and children could be substantiated against them; and they treated the conquered Chinese with great kindness. They employed their prisoners to work for them and paid them liberally for their labour. Their conduct in garrison was admirable. Well armed and equipped, well officered and led, the Japanese Army is now a powerful fighting machine, and would prove a formidable enemy or a useful ally in the field.

Throughout the campaign a remarkable spirit of comradeship existed between the Japanese and the Indian troops. The Gurkhas were their especial friends. So like in appearance that it points to a common ancestry in the past, they hailed each other as relatives, and seemed quite puzzled to find no resemblance in the languages. This did not seem to slacken their friendship; and it was amusing to see a mingled group of the two races chatting together in an animated manner, neither understanding a word of the other's tongue.

The new American Army, like their excellent go-ahead Navy, is a force to be reckoned with in the future. We hear much of the effects of "influence" in our army. It is nothing compared to what goes on in the American. With them to be the near connection of a Senator or a prominent politician is infinitely more advantageous than to be the scion of a ducal line or the son of a Commander-in-Chief with us.

If the Continental troops suffer from too rigid a discipline, which destroys the power of thinking for themselves in the lower ranks, the Americans, perhaps, err on the other side. They are too ready to act on their own responsibility, to question the wisdom of the orders they receive, and act, instead, as seems best to themselves. This was particularly evident in the case of the volunteer regiments in the Philippines; but instances of it were not wanting among the regulars and marines in North China. Democracy is impossible in an army. But the material at the service of the United States is unquestionably magnificent; and when the pressure of events in the future has called into being and welded together a really large army in America, there are few nations that can hope to oppose it successfully in the field. How rapidly the sons of the Star-spangled Banner acquire the art of war was evidenced in Cuba and in the more difficult and trying guerilla campaign in the Philippines. Their faults were those of inexperience.

Of their courage there can be no doubt. At the taking of Tientsin city nearly a thousand American infantry and marines served with the British under General Dorward. In a letter to their commander this officer warmly expressed the honour he, in common with all his men, felt in serving alongside the American troops. In his own words, "they formed part of the front line of the British attack, and so had more than their fair share of the fighting. The ready and willing spirit of both officers and men, their steady gallantry and power of holding on to exposed positions, made them soldiers of the highest class." What greater praise could be given them? And well they deserved it! Two companies of the 9th Infantry , attacked in front and flank by a merciless fire, held gallantly to their ground until nightfall with a loss of half their number in killed and wounded, including their brave leader, Colonel Liscum, who met a hero's death at the head of his men. In all the actions of the campaign the American troops distinguished themselves by conspicuous bravery; and the British recognised with pride and pleasure the gallantry of their cousins. May we always fight shoulder to shoulder with, but never against, them!

I heard a good story of an encounter between a young English subaltern and an American in North China. I fancy the same tale is told of a Colonial in South Africa; but it is good enough to bear repetition. The very youthful Britisher, chancing to pass a Yankee soldier who was sitting down and made no motion to rise, considered himself affronted at the private's failure to salute him. He turned back indignantly and addressed the offender.

"Look here, my man, do you know who I am?"

"No--o--o," drawled the American.

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