There is a phase of our naval careers of which the average officer has but a hazy knowledge. It is only when Asiatic sailors get together for a “bull session” that the Battle Fleet hears some of the incredible tales of the Yangtze River Patrol. There was no war with China in 1928-31 and little mention of any trouble in the press; yet the river patrol thought it odd not to have a periodic brush with Chinese irregulars.
Aboard the U.S.S. Panay on the morning after the fight herein described, I contemplated boatload after boatload of impudently gaping soldiers sweeping past within hailing distance of the foreign gunboats and under the guns of the Ichang forts. There was no punishment for our attackers. In fact they were offered jobs in the Nationalist Army!
Such was an old Chinese custom. But to start at the beginning—the 84th voyage of the American steamship Chi Ping (Yangtze Rapid Co.) returning downstream from Chungking to Ichang was guarded by a naval force consisting of Chief Quartermaster August Arntson, Yeoman First Class William Weldon, Fireman Hugh C. Terry, and Seamen Wade H. Beck, C. J. Waters, and Walter Hallam, with myself in charge. Our arms included a Lewis machine gun, two Thompsons, two rifles, two riot guns (sawed-off shotguns), and two Colt automatics. As it turned out there should have been more.
The Chi Ping's cargo, 155 tons of tobacco, wood, oil, hemp, native medicines, etc., was finally aboard, stowed, and restowed, and the sailing time fixed for sunrise. Two British subjects, Mr. and Mrs. Nathan, took passage for Ichang.
The day started with an impenetrable fog, which gradually cleared toward ten o’clock, enabling us to proceed. As we passed a small town in the afternoon we sighted two companies of soldiers peacefully drilling on the foreshore, and others in a long line extending down river where there was a beach 300 yards wide. There were about 200 of them. Suddenly the soldiers opened fire on the Chi Ping at 300 yards range, almost abeam. According to Beck, two or three shots passed close to his head, between the stack and the after deckhouse. Others sounded as though striking below the bridge.
Bang, came down the armored bridge windows to shield us as the armed guard returned the fire with two Thompsons and a rifle (the Lewis jammed), at ranges from 300 to approximately 650 yards. The soldiers continued to fire during this time, though I believe their shots were soon falling short. Most of the Chinese finally scattered and ran up the hill toward some shacks, others dropped prone on the ground. It was impossible to tell whether or not these men were hit. Machine-gun bullets were spattering mud in their vicinity. About half the soldiers, who were drilling, continued to goose-step during the engagement but when several bullets came close to them they broke ranks and ran with the other soldiers. After 145 rounds had been fired by the armed guard the last Chinese gun was effectively silenced. It is estimated that about 50 soldiers were actually firing, that a dozen bullets raked the ship, and that a good many soldiers must have been hit. It is not thought that civilians were harmed.
At the town of Fowchow several miles farther on, 100 soldiers were standing in double line with rifles at the ready, pointed in our direction. These troops, who might have belonged to a different army, didn’t raise their muskets. They could have raked our stern as the ship swung to port following the channel.
Mrs. Nathan, a well-known short story writer, showed no fear during the fusillade and when the din of battle had subsided she calmly resumed work on Other People’s Houses, her first novel.
An inspection of the ship revealed no new bullet holes, no casualties. A rifle shell, however, penetrated one of the thick bales of hemp which lined the lower deck rail and narrowly missed a Chinese pate. This shell was retained as evidence of the soldier’s marksmanship. (We found that too much tension on the main spring had caused the failure of the Lewis.)
That night we anchored at mileage 246,* in 3½ fathoms of water with 20 fathoms of chain to each anchor. The Chi Chuen and Chi Nan, two other Yangtze Rapid Co. ships, also arrived with their armed guards and moored alongside.
March 13 brought no bad luck. The ships paused at Wanhsien to take on cargo, but before nightfall they reached Kweifu at the head of the great gorges.
Getting under way at dawn, we soon outdistanced the two slower vessels. At eleven o’clock we met the SS. Wan An (Chinese) proceeding up the rapid. She warned us that there were many soldiers firing a few miles ahead. So narrow was the channel here that to turn around would be courting disaster and we prepared for battle, lining up the ammunition, assigning stations, securing the bullet screens. Orders were to wait until the soldiers opened fire, and then to shoot back continuously until the enemy was routed. Sights were initially set at 400 yards. Mr. Nathan at once offered to take a rifle, but since there were none to spare I suggested that he stay with his wife in the captain’s cabin. Mrs. Nathan was most courageous, remaining quietly in her corner when a bullet crashed through a window showering her with splintered glass. Later she calmly offered helpful suggestions in caring for the wounded.
At 11:15 soldiers were sighted on the left bank and it soon became apparent that we had great numbers to deal with, as gray shapes dotted all the near-by ridges as far as the eye could see. The terrain was admirably suited for a prolonged and convergent attack upon passing ships, for the rocky hills seemed to jut in all directions, the ranges varying from 50 to 400 yards, and the elevations from the level of the bridge to signal towers far above.
The first group of approximately 100 soldiers were seen to stand upright, their rifles at their hips. They opened fire from two points abaft the beam. The guard fired over the steel plating abaft the bridge, bringing a Lewis, two Thompsons, and two rifles into play. The soldiers quickly lay down, and some of them were seen to throw up their arms and fall backward. Terry had placed himself amidships, and from behind a water tank was pumping rifle shots over the port quarter but the soldiers soon found him out and for a while bullets spattered all around him. When his ammunition was expended he made a dash for the armor plating and resumed his firing from there. It was evident from the quick rat-tat-tat of bullets that the enemy was well supplied with machine guns. A bullet bulged almost through the plating, and another, a few feet to the right, passed clear through the “bullet-proof” steel.
From now on the firing on both sides was very heavy and continuous. The soldiers extended in an almost unbroken line for 2 miles down river. Most of the firing was from abeam and the range averaged about 100 yards. Two Thompsons and one
Rifle were posted at the three loopholes on the port side of the bridge, from which vantage points a fairly large arc could be covered. The bridge plating was stopping the bullets except near the edges, where the plates were so badly fashioned that whenever a bullet struck it came through.
Abaft bridge, Waters had fired about 50 rounds with the Lewis when it was rifled through the gas tank and put completely out of commission. Having escaped death by so narrow a margin, Waters showed no perturbation and busied himself with reloading the cartridge drums.
Only the middle bullet screen facing forward was left open, directly in front of the steersman, who stuck gamely to his post, with the captain and the pilot at his side, outwardly calm and performing their duties efficiently. The gun slides on the forward screens couldn’t be opened even an ax, so it was impossible to fire dead ahead without opening other screens. This it never became advisable to do, nor was firing ever heavy from the bow. The one opening gave good opportunity for Potting new targets.
At last the interminable 2 miles of flying lead and steel were covered, and while Hallam exultantly cried that he had seen least three of his rifle bullets find their mark, we looked around with relief that none of us had been killed. Several bullets had penetrated the bridge, one crashing rough the glass window of the cabin, with two machine guns and two rifles we had run a gauntlet of at least 1,000 soldiers and taught many of them a fatal lesson. Suddenly it was discovered that the rave steersman still at the wheel had a bullet imbedded in his leg and part of one finger shot away!
At mileage 46, hardly had the noise of musketry ceased to strike our eardrums when a louder and more ominous note was card: the deep booming of a fieldpiece! A shell crossed our bow and exploded on the opposite bank, throwing up large masses of earth and rock. Captain Opperman pointed out this gun on the left bank about 2,000 yards away at a considerable elevation and we all thought: “It is finished. The next one will hit us and we shall be killed, wrecked, or captured, or all three.” The second shell, as many will attest, passed directly over the ship amidships; the third fell short, but exploded very close to the stern. Then, at last, the Chi Ping was outside the range, and safe. But no, the Captain knew better. There was still mileage 44, that infamous ambush which had so nearly proved fatal to the Chi Ping three months before.
One could easily see why mileage 44 was to be dreaded. Here, also on the left bank, a point of rock land jutted out and to remain in the navigable channel a ship had to head directly for this point, turn, pass it close aboard (a clearance of about 20 feet), and then present her hapless stern to the enemy.
The gray rock loomed ahead. It was covered with soldiers, 200 or 300 having crowded onto this vantage point. An officer stood in front, waving a red flag with wide sweeps of his arm. He wanted us to heave to. Captain Opperman tooted the whistle continuously, a signal indicating to the Chinese mind that we wouldn’t fire unless they did. As viewed through the field glasses it seemed that the soldiers had no intention of shooting, at least not right away. A few breathless minutes elapsed that seemed like ages, while we stood by for a capping fusillade over the bow. Then the flag man jumped back and the soldiers crouched low.
When the Chi Ping was almost abeam the enemy fired one or two shots. That was enough. We opened up with everything we had, including two pistols. There were so many soldiers bunched together that the death toll at this point-blank range must have been terrific. The volley in return was of tremendous volume and concentration. Several bullets came through the edges of the bridge screens and one through the after steel plating. Just as Weldon ducked to insert a new clip in his Thompson, a bullet whizzed by where his head had been and splintered wood scratched his finger. As the ship swung to port, enemy fire raked her stern unmercifully and I think it was at this time that a bullet clipped my thigh, though it may have been sooner.
The compradores inspected the ship for casualties and two Chinese were brought up, both seriously wounded and one having three bullets in him. Weldon did most of the first aid. He had proved himself a valuable man throughout the battle, displaying that spark of leadership and quick presence of mind so necessary in action. All the bluejackets displayed the utmost courage, and never flinched from their duty one instant, though all experienced “close calls.” The skirmish at mileage 286½, in comparison an exciting picnic, had nevertheless prepared us for the struggle to follow.
I retain my unbounded admiration for Captain Opperman, who, though frequently exposed to gunfire, remained calm and was a bulwark of confidence to all those present. The pilot and steersman also deserve praise for their gallantry.
The ship was literally riddled with bullets; even the Chinese quarters abounded with round holes and it was miraculous that many were not killed. The fact that they all lay flat on the deck saved them. A later inspection revealed approximately 250 shots against the ship’s side. About five bullets crashed through the bridge and two shots riddled the steel plating abaft of it. As for the stern, it resembled a sieve. Nine hundred rounds were fired by the guard.
We were worried about the fate of the Chi Chuen and Chi Nan, scheduled to follow us, and hoped and prayed that they were warned by the Wan An in time to turn around. If not, that they had fared no worse than we and that most of the fight had been taken out of the soldiers.
To turn back and face the fieldpiece while bucking the current seemed suicidal and unfair to the passengers, so we proceeded with best possible speed to Ichang, to radio the Tutuila for help. It would be possible for her to shoot down the rapids without delay.
At mileage 41 soldiers were sighted near the signal tower on the left bank. Battle stations were manned. These soldiers (there were about 50 of them) did not open fire.
One mile lower the number three steersman, who had just taken over the wheel, was peering at the hills, looking for soldiers and failed to see the pilot’s signal for port helm. In five seconds we were heading straight for a rock, and missed it closely by going full speed astern with the starboard engine.
Just above Hsintan, mileage 39, we observed a small Chinese motor ship apparently lying to across our path, tooting her whistle violently. At first some thought that this was a deliberate attempt to wreck us, but as she soon cleared it evolved that she was warning of firing at Hsintan. We in turn warned her of the fieldpiece.
It was just below Hsintan that the I’Ping was observed turning toward us. We warned her of the cannon, and she turned again and followed us down river.
We finally reached Ichang at 3:00 p.aland dropped anchor near the U.S.S. Panay. A semaphore message had been sent and Dr. Read came aboard immediately to tend to the wounded.
It was with great relief an hour later that we sighted the Chi Chuen and Chi Nan rounding the bend of the Yellow Cat Gorge. Their armed guards reported seeing some soldiers along the left bank, who, however, only grinned at them en passant. Thus ended a memorable voyage.