‘Sergeant Fushida,’ Nicholas snapped. ‘Ride to the fortress and request General Kodama to support me with all his people, forming a right wing. Tell him the battle will be joined in a few minutes, and his arrival may well be decisive.’ For even as Fushida saluted and rode off, the artillery reached the hilltop, and the guns were unlimbered. Now the noise from in front of them was deafening, as the cymbals clashed and the bugles rang out, and the heavy tread of the advancing samurai thundered down into the valley. The Satsuma cannon were already firing, sending isolated shot whistling over Nicholas’s head or into the earth beneath him, while now too the samurai loosed an arrow storm, filling the air with sound, but nearly all the shafts fell short.
‘Aim at the centre of the Satsuma army,’ Nicholas told the gunners, taking his place beside them as he saw that all was ready. He raised his hand, waited for every piece to be set, and then shouted, ‘Fire!’ The twelve field pieces exploded together, shrouding themselves in noise and smoke, which was immediately taken over by the screams from in front of them. As the smoke cleared they could see the destruction the exploding shells had caused in the Satsuma ranks. The entire rebel army checked, and then gave a shout of contempt as they saw that they were apparently opposed only by two batteries of artillery. On they came again, urged by the waving swords of their officers; the rifle regiments were also advancing against the Imperial left wing, at the double as Nicholas himself had taught them, not firing as yet, but waiting to reach the most effective range, again as he had taught them. They were the principal danger. But now the honin infantry were nearly breasting the hill, still out of sight of the Satsuma.
‘Halt!’ Nicholas shouted, riding along the ridge above them and ignoring the shot which was whining about him. ‘Hold there! Form three lines, and lie down.’ The Satsuma had raised the trajectory of their guns to fire over the heads of their infantry, and the air on the hilltop was becoming increasingly filled with flying shrapnel – he felt a vague sense of surprise that he had not yet been hit himself.
The honin, and their officers, gaped at their general in amazement, unable to understand his command. But they obeyed, lying on the grass in orderly lines, their rifles thrust in front of them, while Nicholas galloped back to the guns. ‘Colonel von Donop, wheel your artillery to the left, and fire into those rifle regiments.’
Von Donop obeyed without question, although he cast an anxious glance at the main samurai force. Now not more than half a mile away they were still advancing, but slowing all the time as they toiled up the slope in their armour. But the riflemen were much closer, and now Nicholas watched the first rank drop to their knees and present their weapons. ‘Fire!’ he yelled.
Another storm of shot and shell tore through the riflemen’s ranks. It seemed as if at least half had fallen, although some were obviously only taking shelter. Those who could fired in return; even these stray bullets brought down several of the gunners, to indicate what might have happened had the enemy been able to develop their full fire power.
‘Reload,’ Nicholas shouted. ‘And keep firing. Those riflemen must be dispersed, Colonel von Donop.’
‘They will be dispersed, Captain Barrett,’ the German promised grimly. Nicholas turned along the ridge just in time, for the samurai were more than halfway up. Shouting and blowing their conch shells, for all their exhaustion they were confident of victory, as their commanders clearly discounted any opposition from the honin. They were only about four hundred yards off, now, point-blank range for a rifle, and their artillery had ceased firing for fear of hitting their own people.
‘The brigade will rise and advance,’ Nicholas bellowed.
With a great shout the honin got to their feet and lined the ridge, and then gasped as they saw the force to which they were being opposed, and more, of whom it was composed.
The samurai were no less taken aback by the sudden appearance of this mass of smartly uniformed infantry above them. They also fell silent as they checked, staring at their foes; for a brief moment the only sound was the continuous roaring of the guns to the east. ‘Volley fire,’ Nicholas commanded, dismounting to take his place in the front rank. ‘Fire!’ For a moment nothing happened, and his heart seemed to stop beating. ‘Fire!’ he yelled again, and stepped forward.
The first rank moved with him, kneeling, aiming and firing. He wanted to shout for joy as the second rank followed their example, and then the third, while the first rank reloaded, volley after volley crashing into the mass of samurai, still hesitating halfway up the slope. They were definitely wavering, looking to their officers for orders. Major Yamagata, commanding the infantry in von Donop’s absence, hurried up. ‘I would like to give the order to charge, Barrett san.’
So would I, Nicholas thought. But he dared not let the honin come within reach of the samurai swords, those devastating symbols of a thousand years of supremacy. ‘Hold your men, Major,’ he said. ‘At least until General Kodama arrives.’ He looked back at the fortress, saw a group of horsemen approaching, and frowned; the garrison was not marching behind them. ‘Hold your men, Major,’ he repeated. ‘Keep firing into the enemy.’ He remounted and galloped to where von Donop was still blasting the samurai riflemen with shrapnel, leaving huge mounds of armoured men dead and dying on the field. ‘Keep firing, Colonel,’ he said, his voice hoarse and his throat burning. ‘We must not let up for a moment.’
He raced back to where Kodama was just breasting the hill, accompanied by his officers. ‘This was not a battle,’ Kodama grumbled. ‘It was a massacre. Those bullets . . .’
‘Have gained the day for us, General,’ Nicholas told him. ‘But now we must secure our victory.’ He pointed, to where the mass of samurai was beginning to fall back over even the further hill, as the Satsuma generals realised it would cost them every second man to press their assault, so deadly was the fire of the honin; even had they not been trained riflemen, they could hardly miss the dense masses in front of them.
Kodama nodded. ‘They are retreating. As you say, Captain Barrett, your bullets,’ his voice was heavy with contempt, ‘have gained the day for us.’
‘So now is the time to charge home with the bayonet, General,’ Nicholas said. ‘With every man we possess.’
Kodama shook his head. ‘We have repelled a vastly superior force, Captain. Let us be content.’
‘Content?’ Nicholas shouted. ‘General, those men have been checked, not defeated. They are still an army. They will regroup and resume the assault, and we will not catch them napping again; now they know the honin can and will fight. But if we charge them now, as they retreat, we will destroy them as a fighting force.’
‘We will consolidate our hold upon Kumamoto, Captain Barrett,’ Kodama insisted. ‘This was the task we were given by the Emperor, and this is the task we have accomplished. I congratulate you. Let not the hunger for fame lead you astray.’
Nicholas kept his temper with an effort. ‘General, I gave you a letter from His Majesty, instructing you to take my advice in all matters regarding this campaign.’
Kodama’s face remained impassive, but his eyes flashed anger. ‘You are mistaken, Captain Barrett. The letter requires me to take your advice in all matters pertaining to the defence of Kumamoto. This I have done, to your great glory. I have received no orders to assault Kagoshima. That is for the Emperor to decide.’
Nicholas returned to his men, and gazed down the hillside in and impotent rage, as the samurai hurried back out of range of the deadly rifles and the even more deadly cannon. ‘Cease firing, Major Yamagata.’
‘Will we not charge, Barrett san?’
‘No. Tell your men to dig defensive trenches; we will use this hill as our perimeter.’ He rode to where von Donop waited, with the guns, now also silent, and watched the Satsuma banners retiring over the next hill. It would all have to be done again, and now Kagoshima would have to stand a siege, with all the attendant horrors. He had lost his wife and children.
*
Regiment after regiment
marched over the hills next to Kumamoto, banners waving in the breeze behind officers proudly mounted, bayonets gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Hardly less than seventy thousand men, Nicholas estimated, all clad in their blue and white western-style uniforms and peaked caps, all armed with rifles and bayonets rather than swords and bows, all marching with western precision. The Imperial army, come to settle matters once and for all.
He saluted the Emperor, who had General von Rintelen at his side with a cluster of Japanese and German staff officers following. Nicholas himself was immediately behind General Kodama, beside Colonel von Donop and Major Yamagata. Close by was Lieutenant Fushida, who Nicholas had promoted on the field, to the honin’s delight. ‘Kodama san,’ Mutsuhito said. ‘A famous victory.’
Kodama bowed. ‘The victory was Captain Barrett’s, Your Majesty.’
‘My congratulations, Captain Barrett. But I believe you are not satisfied. And I observe that you have not joined your ship.’
‘I am satisfied now that you are here, Your Majesty, and will join the fleet if so instructed. But I must warn you that the Satsuma have had two months in which to prepare themselves.’
‘Two months in which they have not again attempted to take Kumamoto, and in which they have been cut off from the outside world by the squadron controlling Kagoshima Wan. I think they understand their situation. Shall we not visit Kagoshima, and see if General Saigo is willing to surrender to the inevitable?’
*
Kagoshima basked in the morning sunlight, as the huge glowing ball rose out of the Pacific to the east. How often had he watched that sunrise, Nicholas thought. How often had everyone in the Satsuma city watched it. And how many of them would see the sun set tonight?
For as far as the eye could see there were nothing but the Imperial banners. With ponderous efficiency the army had surrounded the town, each unit taking up its alloted position, while the fleet had sailed further up the bay to complete the coil that lay around the rebels. And all without a shot being fired, although Saigo-no-Takamori must have known that his only hope of success was repeatedly to attack the Imperial forces before they could concentrate. The cross and the ring of the Satsuma still flew above the citadel, and last night they had seen lights gleaming there, but the houses outside the walls appeared deserted. His own house was within the walls; he wondered if Sumiko and the children had returned to their old home? He had hoped she might have gone back to her father, and had been to the inn himself, looking for them. But Masaru, infinitely sad, had told him that his wife was indeed in the city; she had been taken under the protection of Saigo, who had personally sponsored his namesake as a samurai and who would now have to fight to the death, against his father.
It was broad daylight now, and still Saigo made no move, although for the past week he must have watched the besiegers taking up their positions. The bugles rang out, and the Emperor himself approached; he had spent the night at Kumamoto. Now he drew rein before his generals, and looked at the city. ‘Well, Barrett san, the end of the affair. But you at least need take no part in it. You did enough for glory at Kumamoto.’
‘If you will pardon me, Your Majesty, I would beg the favour of leading the assault. My family is in the city.’
Mutsuhito nodded. ‘I understand your feelings. Very well, Captain. The assault will be commanded by General Kuroda, but I grant you permission to ride with him as a volunteer.’
Nicholas saluted, and turned to Fushida, who had remained as his aide since the first battle. ‘You have my permission to rejoin your regiment, Lieutenant.’
‘I would rather remain with you, honourable Captain.’
Nicholas held out his hand, and after a moment’s surprised hesitation, Fushida took it. ‘Then let’s go,’ Nicholas told him. They rode to where Kuroda waited. He was the youngest of this new breed of Japanese generals, restless as Saigo had always been, walking his horse to and fro in front of the five picked regiments of foot he was to lead.
‘Welcome, Barrett san,’ he said. ‘Are you acquainted with the assault plan?’ Nicholas shook his head. ‘Why, it is simply this. Should the garrison refuse to surrender when the summons is made, my orders are first of all to secure the town, which is a conventional tactic, but then to pause no longer than is necessary to regroup.’ He pointed at another ten regiments, waiting just behind the first five, and equipped with scaling ladders. ‘Those will then take over the assault, and carry the citadel itself.’
‘A coup-de-main,’ Nicholas commented, his mind teeming with despair. Yet it was a practical concept; unlike the citadel at Tokyo, Kagoshima Castle was not surrounded by a moat for more than a third of its length, and by the sea for another third; its landward strength was that it was built on a mound, like Kumamoto. It could be taken by sufficiently determined men. But the cost! Mutsuhito obviously sought the total destruction of his enemies. And their women and children?
He watched the herald riding up the road to the outer gate of the castle; this skirted the city, and was exposed. The assault force was grouped to the north and east of it, opposite the houses; the troops to the west and south were defensively positioned, but with them was the main part of the Imperial artillery, awaiting the command to open fire, as was the fleet in the bay. Mutsuhito and his generals had been well taught by their German mentors, and on this first occasion they had had to use their knowledge they had been allowed to position themselves as if on a parade ground.
White flag fluttering, the horseman stood before the closed gate; through his glasses Nicholas could make out the heads of several men standing on the battlements above him, looking down. From the waving of arms there seemed to be an animated discussion going on, and then there was a sudden movement amongst the Satsuma men, above whom there now rose a puff of smoke. The herald reeled in the saddle, and then hit the ground as lifelessly as a sack of grain. A great shout of anger arose from the throats of the watching soldiers, and Kuroda snapped his fingers. ‘Now have the Satsuma signed their own death warrants,’ he said. ‘Saigo-no-Takamori has revealed his true nature.’
‘I do not believe Saigo would ever act so dishonourably,’ Nicholas said. ‘There is something odd happening over there.’ Kuroda glanced at him, but had no time to speak, as from the hillock on which the Emperor stood with his staff a signal rocket was fired. Immediately the entire morning exploded, as the massed batteries to the west, as well as the ships’ batteries to the south, all opened fire at the same moment, concentrating their shot upon the citadel, which became enveloped in clouds of smoke and dust, punctuated by flame. Kuroda raised his arm, and walked his horse down the slope. Nicholas and Fushida and the other officers followed, and with a huge roar the honin infantry of the regular army, every man a conscript of scarce two years’ experience, hurried behind them. Now at last the guns for the fortress replied, sending solid shot as well as explosive shells amongst the houses. Those flimsy match-boxes immediately burst into flame; whoever was in command of the fortress was using red-hot shot, on his own town.
But the tactics were at least momentarily effective. The assault troops checked in front of the wall of smoke and flame suddenly erected before them. Nicholas himself had to gallop into the inferno, followed by Kuroda and Fushida, before the infantry realised that at least they would be hidden from the rifles of their enemies, and followed their generals. The town had been completely evacuated, but for terrified stray dogs; no doubt most of the inhabitants had taken refuge in the surrounding country, to await the outcome of this struggle between their betters. The Imperial soldiers charged through the streets, smashing doors, hurling whole buildings to the ground, trampling down gardens on which years of labour had been devoted. Nicholas left Kuroda and rode to his own home, to watch it too burn. But it had also been evacuated, long ago.
Smoke clouded his nostrils, hurt his eyes, but it was not the smoke that induced either the tears or the feeling of breathlessness as he galloped through the burning streets to gain Kuroda once again, on the far side of the town. ‘
Well, Barrett san,’ the general cried. ‘We have lost scarce a man. And do you know why? Bring that fellow here,’
A man was dragged forward, his kimono stained with smoke, and with dust from where he had been rolled on the ground. He was old, with white hair and moustaches, and trembled as he was forced to kneel before the officers. ‘Mercy,’ he begged. Clearly he was not a samurai, but a well-to-do merchant, Nicholas estimated: his kimono was silk. No doubt he had been unable to make himself leave his warehouses and join the general exodus.
‘There will be mercy,’ Kuroda promised. ‘If you answer my questions as before, and truthfully. Tell Captain Barrett where General Saigo is.’
‘Saigo-no-Takamori is dead,’ the man gasped. ‘He has been dead these two months. He committed seppuku the night following his defeat before Kumamoto. He could not live, after being defeated by a honin army.’
‘By God!’ Nicholas said. Saigo had not been defeated, merely repulsed. But he had fallen into the final trap forced by the samurai code, an inability to accept the future. ‘And we did not know of it?’
‘It was kept secret by the lords, for fear the army would be disaffected.’
‘Will they fight?’ Kuroda asked. ‘Without Saigo?’
‘They believe the general is ill, honourable sir. They will fight, to the death, to defend him.’
‘Do you believe this fellow?’ Kuroda asked Nicholas.
‘I believe him, Kuroda san. It will be a bloody battle.’
Kuroda smiled. ‘We have come for a bloody battle, Barrett san.’ He beckoned one of his aides. ‘Summon the second wave. We are ready to begin the assault.’
*
The signals went up, and the artillery ceased firing. The citadel was still shrouded in smoke, through which could now be seen leaping flames, from the barracks and stables and storehouses, mainly, but also from the palace as well. Covered by rapid rifle-fire from the five original regiments of the assault force, the ten regiments of the second wave ran forward, carrying their scaling ladders. A quaint mixture of the old and the new, Nicholas thought, for on every man’s back there was slung a loaded rifle with its bayonet already fixed. He leapt from his horse, and Kuroda attempted to stop him. ‘No no, Barrett san, you are not a soldier.’
Bloody Sunrise Page 23
