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CHAPTER XX
203 METRE HILL
N
ovember 26th had been a disastrous day
for the Japanese. Ten thousand of their
brave soldiers lay killed or severely
wounded on the bleak hillsides or in the forts and
trenches where the battle had raged, and their
hospitals were crowded with men, torn, mangled,
and mutilated by the horrible wounds which
bayonets, hand grenades and rifle bullets fired at
close range inflict. And all these sacrifices had
not brought them a step nearer to their goal.
Their entire centre and most of the right and
left wings had been engaged in the attack, and
the troops were tired out after the fifteen hours of
continuous terrible fighting. A deep despondency,
a dark gloom had settled over the whole army.
The weather was misty and sultry and seemed to
fit in well with the mood of the besiegers, and the
strange quietness, the morose silence, which reigned
throughout the Japanese lines seemed doubly
oppressive after the uproar and ear-splitting of the
preceding day.
At headquarters this feeling of despondency and
dejection was even more pronounced than amongst
the troops. Their calculations and estimates had
again proved wrong, their methods unavailing,
their plans a failure. I had a distinct feeling that
they were inclined to do as they had been doing
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