Читать книгу China's Revolution, 1911-1912: A Historical and Political Record of the Civil War - Edwin John Dingle - Страница 9

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Thus did China's Revolution start. Event followed event during the first days with such startling rapidity that it became a matter of difficulty to keep trace consecutively of events. On October 13th the Hanyang Arsenal, the largest in the Empire, passed into the hands of the Revolutionists. A large body of soldiers indistinguishable from loyal troops arrived in several units from Wuchang. They entered the Hanyang city quietly and, donning the Revolutionary badge, proceeded with their work. The powder factory was seized at 1 a.m. and the arsenal fell soon after, only a few shots being fired. In the arsenal were found no fewer than 140 three-inch guns, about 500,000 rounds of ammunition, and powder sufficient for the manufacture of 2,000,000 rounds. This amount, together with 32,000,000 rounds of rifle ammunition and 5,000 rounds of field-gun ammunition, which were known to be stored near Wuchang, gave the rebels enough to carry on with for some time. Hankow native city soon afterwards fell, and with its fall the Revolutionists found themselves in possession of three of the finest strategical points in the whole of China.

Meantime nothing had been heard of the foreigners in Wuchang, and as the gates were closed and huge conflagrations were seen during the next couple of days it was thought that the affair might develop into an anti-foreign rising. Crowds gathered on the Bund and gazed anxiously through field-glasses over the river for signs of the foreigners, but it was not until October 12th that a steam-launch, conveying Captain Knepper, of the U.S.A. Helena, some foreigners and American blue-jackets, and flying the American flag, left in the early morning for Wuchang. In the afternoon the naval officers were cheered as they steamed alongside the Bund at Hankow, with practically all the foreigners and about 150 Christian girls from the various schools.

For the next few days there was the greatest activity on both sides—among the Revolutionists and the Loyalists. With wildest enthusiasm the Revolutionists prosecuted their aims in Wuchang, in Hanyang, and in Hankow. The Government banks were ransacked of all silver and burned to the ground, all Government offices were looted, Revolutionary troops were stationed in the three cities, and for some days there was no doubt about the sovereignty of the rebels in this neighbourhood. The two armies touched for the first time on October 19th, but even this was a one-sided affair, because General Chang Piao, the head of the Hupeh army, had but a handful of men, and stood from the first no chance whatever against the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Foreigners were able only to see in this a local revolt, but it very soon became apparent that the Revolution had taken hold of China and that the rebelling forces of Hupeh were soon to gather many other provinces under their banner. Such unity was never seen in China before as the first days of the revolt brought to light.

Then the war began.

After this first slight engagement there was a rare ado with the Revolutionary army and supporters as the victorious regiments marched into the city, and this victory over Chang Piao and his men, apart from having the effect of completely routing the enemy, added a tremendous stimulus to the fighting line of the Republicans, and they were then itching for another scrap. The Loyalists had come down from Peking. They were expected to turn over to the Revolutionists. But they did not—they intended to fight, and to fight hard. In the first engagement, however, after having had taken from them their bullion with which the troops were to be paid, their rice and supplies by which the men were to be fed, the ammunition by which the throne was to be kept secure, and much else in the way of impedimenta of warfare, they retired crestfallen and moved some considerable distance down the river.

TYPICAL REVOLUTIONARIES. Changed by love of country and passion for freedom from downtrodden coolies to enthusiastic soldiers.

Before dawn on the morning of October 20th I took my launch down towards Kilometre Ten, the Revolutionary base, where the Loyalists were said to have crept up during the night. It looked as if they had regained courage, and were to put up another fight. I found a party of Revolutionary recruits and regulars, all having a good time, whilst lessons were being given to the raw material in the art of using the rifle. The target was a couple of pigs, and into the hides of these two innocent porkers the recruits were endeavouring to discharge their bullets. Passing them, I followed on through a road which at one time had been the main entrance to the station, all being now in anything but perfect order, into the station, where some fifteen hundred troops were assembled on the platform and in the adjoining ground—the scene of the recent battle.

To my companion (representing the New York Herald) and myself the Revolutionists were most courteous. Whilst we preferred to stand, they bade us to be seated, a couple leading us to a point on the platform where was seated the Commander-in-Chief of the Field Forces, a portly fellow, full and hearty, typically Chinese, delighted to see us. Down below were the field-guns and the dark-clad troops, battered railway trucks, officers' horses grazing by the line, men rushing hither and thither, all enthusiastic upon getting something done and wasting no time. But here was the Commander-in-Chief—the Buller of the campaign—calm, quiet, courteous, extending to me with the simplicity of a boy the usual Chinese felicities. He was seated in his official war-chair, had upon him all the paraphernalia of war, and waited as he talked with me for his scouts to return before he could make up his mind what the day's programme was to be.

Allow us to take his photograph?—certainly he would, and stood up and put on a straight face purposely for the occasion, waving back a scout who hurriedly came in whilst I snapped a picture. Then he attended to the scouting parties, taking careful notes of all that they told him. I wished to exchange cards—delighted, he would do it in a moment, and wrote his full name on the back. He laughed over the simplest incident, was exceedingly solicitous on my behalf, assured me that they would win; when he spoke of battle his face hardened, his keen eyes sparkled, full of fire. His aide-de-camp, quite a youngster, dressed in a foreign tweed suit—queueless, of course—and bearing no traces whatever that he was an army official, gave us all the news he could. He waved his hands to the captured railroad trucks, containing the captured supplies, and asked us blandly if we could solve the problem of living without food—because he couldn't, and he didn't suppose that the Loyalists could. "And they won't," he vociferated. But that was in the early days of the war. During those days it was interesting to any fair-minded foreigner to watch the intensity of feeling displayed by the Revolutionary Army as opposed to the downhearted attitude of the small Imperial force which took the field.

On the same morning that I interviewed the Revolutionary Commander of the Field Forces I was successful in discovering that General Chang Piao was on board a launch down-river. I immediately made off by launch to see him. As I sat soon afterwards by the side of this Chang Piao, the man in all Hupeh who had been entrusted with the authority of the Model Army, and looked at a medium-sized Chinese who gave no evidence of being a common soldier by anything in his dress, and as I looked at his unshaven head and bloodshot eyes, I could not find it in my heart to extend to him anything but genuine pity. He recently had been a strong man, high in office, and dazzled with braid and buttons and all official paraphernalia which to-day is thought so much of in military China; now he was a crestfallen man, knowing that he had lost, cut off from all supplies, with a helpless army on his hands, and himself knowing that fifty thousand Chinese dollars were being offered for his head. With some little difficulty I had jumped on board, asked for Chang Daren, and was shown into the cabin aft, where I found some dozen or so officers eating their morning rice. Towards me came a man dressed in an ordinary teacher's garb; he extended his nervous hand, and with ceremony bade me enter. His name he told me was Chang—this, then, was the man, General Chang Piao, erstwhile Commander-in-Chief of the Hupeh Model Army.

A well-built fellow, some five feet six or seven, with hard, determined mouth, and a chin of iron, was Chang Piao; his jet-black eyes looked suspiciously out at us. By the side of the General as he sat, one leg up under him in real Chinese fashion, stood a guard of soldiers with loaded pieces; in front of us as we talked were seated the dishevelled officers and staff of the General, some on upturned boxes, some on the settee (which had been the General's resting-place), some on the floor, all busy with their rice-bowls and chopsticks.

At first Chang looked at me in apparent unconcern. Then—

"Where do you come from? What do you want? What nationality are you?" These questions came from him as quickly as he could put them.

"I shall not do any fighting at all to-day," he said. "My scouts are all around the country-side, and my troops, some three thousand of them—and all good men, far better than the rebels—are lying in ambush away at Niekow. I shall wait for the arrival of Yin Chang,[1] who is coming with twenty thousand troops, and Admiral Sah, who is waiting for more ammunition."

Chang Piao made no reference to his adversary, General Li Yuan Hung, and did not seem inclined to encourage talk about the opposing side. Later, however, in the midst of the small talk, he referred very sympathetically to the Revolutionists, and was confident that they would rue the day when they broke out into rebellion. He continued: "It will not be long before we shall be able to win. There will, at any rate, not be any serious fighting for four days, but when Sah has his big guns' ammunition sent to him, and we have ours and our twenty thousand drilled troops, the position will change speedily."

Imperial troops now began to pour down from the north. Their headquarters were made at a place called Niekow, a small village, situated at the end of a big S bend in the railway leading out from Kilometre Ten, and about six miles away. Their first attack was made on the morning of October 25th, the Revolutionists taking up their position at the Government Paper Mill, situated below the Kilometre Ten Station, and near the Seven Mile Creek. People would point away in a northerly direction and tell you that over there were the Loyalists—twelve thousand, fifteen thousand, seventeen thousand, twenty thousand of them, mobilised for action. But no one actually knew; every one merely guessed. True it was that on the previous day several hair-brained adventurers went so far forward as to tempt the Loyalist outposts into shooting at them, and then set the Concessions talking about their internationality and how the Loyalists were bent on shooting every foreigner they could catch.

THE RAW MATERIAL OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY. "Enlisted on Tuesday, drilled on Wednesday, shot on Thursday," was often the record of a revolutionary recruit.

It was some days previous that my launchman had refused point blank to convey me near the scene of action. Therefore was it that at dawn I was astir by the riverside at Hankow hailing a sampan, the men who were willing to go down-river demanding, in hoarse voices, exorbitant charges to get me near the fight if there was to be one. Having sufficiently argued the point and boarded a boat, however, we soon came to the firing-line, to the Revolutionary base, having been questioned by the sentries along the riverside as to who we were and what our business was. We rowed down to the Government Paper Mill, up a tributary to the main river, and landed. But no one was to be seen as we walked haphazardly onwards for some minutes, our only obstacle being a poor, one-eyed wretch trying to sell us some of the Loyalist ammunition and empty shells, at ridiculous prices as curios go.

Suddenly, however, there was an enormous explosion, which nearly broke our eardrums, and we knew that operations were commencing. Coming to an open space, we discovered small parties of infantry under cover of undulations in the ground, and slightly to the north, raised from the ground, were the field-guns. I was now between the river and the railway, and, with the other men around me, who told me to "duck," as they expected a rapid return of the enemy's shells, waited for the Loyalists' return. Then, after some minutes, a little dancing flame, a little column of blue smoke, a dull, heavy boom, and a continued whistle in the air, told us that the enemy had started. With my glasses I watched anxiously for the shells, which fell short. With terrific force they dropped into swampy ground some five hundred yards in front of us, sending up the water most picturesquely. There was a laugh from the Revolutionists around me as I reported the news to them, and they lay still in their positions, waiting, they hardly knew for what.

Going up to the field-guns, several of which had been brought down by a train now unloading, I found that there were ten four-inchers, most of which had the range beautifully. There were also Rexers, Maxims, and smaller fry.

Of the Loyalists, even with the aid of good field-glasses, nothing could be seen. Their camp at Niekow—some considerable distance to the north—was plainly visible, and the shooting was directed across the top of that S bend in the line; and thus it continued for another half an hour, the Loyalist guns failing to find their range and falling short. Ear-pads there were none; other ordinary equipment war correspondents carry I had none, so lay down as the guns shot and wrote my copy. Suddenly there was a sharp, deadly firing of Rexers, more deadly than the Maxim, and after that no sound. The rebels fell to jubilant congratulation, declaring that they had silenced the enemy, and that they could move forward and chase them. But they had misreckoned. Of officers among the Revolutionary men there were many. But of order I saw nothing. Each man did as he pleased and went where he pleased and when. Each gave orders and counter-suggestions to one another, and none was prepared for following up the engagement in its several possible turns.

And now their misreckoning was to be forced home. Dancing high above the earth, truly denoting danger to come, was the blue flame of the enemy. The releasing boom was heard, the whizz-z-z of the shell became noisier as it sailed through the air towards us; each instinctively bent his head and waited for the shell to burst. Then came the bursting directly above us in mid-air, telling that one gun at least—certainly the biggest in the field—had got the range. In and around the firing-line of the Revolutionists there was a "Hiyah!" Some of the men rose immediately, slung their rifles over their backs, looked round anxiously for their comrades, and made to run; others still stayed on. But the enemy, now sure of the range, lost no time. In deadly succession shell after shell was put into the men who were fighting for the establishment of the model Republic. At the time, however, the Republic seemed far away.

Several shells as I stooped behind some brickwork broke directly in front of us, tearing up the red earth of the line. Simultaneously others broke above our heads, and the shrapnel descended in a deadly shower. So far as I could see, no one yet had been wounded, certainly no one killed. But at this moment I decided to go, simultaneously, it appeared, with many scores of the Revolutionist infantry. For in a couple of minutes, as I sprinted along the river bank, making for some decent cover, I found myself perilously running in the middle of a most disordered rabble of several hundred men, each doing as he liked. Some held their rifles high in the air, some pointed them onward at their fellows, others dragged them after them—and none was there to give them orders. Meantime, as we ran, shells were dropping around us. We could hear sharp "pings" on the corrugated roofs of the buildings we were passing, and all were glad when out of range.

In the village at the foot of the V-shaped ground we met many more of the Revolutionists, some gunners, some infantry, who had fled.

All decided that they had been routed; some asked whether the guns had been deserted, and were told that they had; and one, in an eminently Chinese way, made a small purchase of ten cash worth of nuts from an old woman by the roadside, arguing in the heat of battle as to whether he should give her ten or eight cash, and filling his knapsack, whilst his more excited comrades discussed the plan of subsequent events.

Thus had the rebels been reversed, completely beaten at the game they themselves had started. The reverse, however, or rather the loss of their position, taught them a valuable lesson.

THE CENTRAL MART OF THE WORLD. Thus do the Chinese describe Hankow. In the foreground is a small section of the Hanyang Steel and Iron Works. Across the River Han the city of Hankow is seen.

[1] General Yin Chang, President of the Board of War—a man who was trained in Germany. He has a German wife.