One of them came near me, evidently taking me for an officer, but went away, puzzled, on seeing no sword and no epaulettes. Another, more fortunate, rushed up to a real officer, who stood close by, and laid his hand on the hilt of the latter's sword. This officer (who, by the way, had received a contusion on his head) smiled, and cheerfully allowed the Japanese to take the weapon. The next thing I was aware of was that the enemy had closed in on us all along the line, and that a tremendous amount of enthusiastic handshaking was going on between them and their captors. The Russians were laughing with joy, as if they had met long-lost brothers, and were trying to express their feelings by the frequent repetition of such " pijin " Russian phrases as " Shibka Znakom " (" Very good friends "), etc. The Japanese did not evidently understand these phrases, but their genial smile was worth a bookful of polite protestations.
They seemed as pleased as children who have got new toys, and made no objection when, with eloquent gestures expressive of extreme thirst, the Russians went down on their knees and emptied the waterbottles that hung at the waists of their captors. Meanwhile several mounted officers rode in among us, giving directions to the men, some of whom thereupon made signs for us to come along with them, while others picked up our guns and began discharging them in the air. A number of Chinese coolies afterward appeared on the scene and followed us, dispassionately, with numerous bundles of surrendered firearms.
All this time I was allowed to rush about, taking snapshots with my two cameras. Even the Japanese privates understood perfectly what I was about, and merely said to one another " Shashin-kikai desu" ("It's a kodak"). Judging from past experience, I am afraid that it would not have been so safe to take photographs had I been with the Japanese and my captors been Russians.
A long train of disarmed captives, we now wended our way slowly between two rows of armed Japanese, who accompanied us toward the hill from which the shrapnel had been launched and on which a great crowd of Japanese now stood revealed. Our captors took advantage of this opportunity to deprive the Russian officers of their binoculars and of some other objects which, under the rules of war, they were hardly entitled to seize. Spying a pair of fine furlined gloves in my pocket, a young private briskly snatched them from me, checking my remonstrances by threatening gestures. I afterwards heard the Russian officers complain to the Japanese commander of these petty thefts; but as the Russian officers could not identify the culprits — for the Japs looked as alike as ducks' eggs — and as the Japanese commander sorrowfully lamented his own inability to do so, the matter went no further.
At the foot of the hill we came to a frozen brook, from which the Japanese cut chunks of ice with their bayonets for the now bayonetless Russians, who, still tortured by thirst, proceeded to eat this ice greedily.
Then we moved on again toward a gully from which the frozen stream proceeded, and while en route I casually remarked to a Japanese soldier who was walking alongside me: " Anone! Anone! Watakushi-wa Igirisu-jin desu" ("I say! I say! I'm an Englishman "). On hearing this remark the soldier jumped as if he had been shot (he was the party that had " swiped" my fur-lined gloves), and regarded me with bulging eyes. He could not have been more astounded had it been his horse which had spoken.
" Sayo de gozaimasu," I continued affably, in Japanese, which, if not faultless, was at least intelligible. " Watakushi-wa shimbun kisha desu." (" Yes, I'm a newspaper man.") Whereupon the soldier, after exchanging a few hasty words with his sergeant, rapidly disappeared.
I felt as pleased and gratified at the outcome of this little incursion of mine into the Japanese language as a magician who has just tested a new and mighty spell with very satisfactory results. It seemed that, in spite of his colour, the tiny Jap had more respect for the Press than his European antagonist; for on several occasions when I had told Russian privates in their own language that I was a correspondent, their faces remained as blank and expressionless as if I had informed them that I was a herbivorous dinosaur.