FOREWORD. The present disturbed conditions in China, especially with reference to the manifestly increased antipathy of the Chinese toward foreigners, have caused me to look backward twenty-six years to the time when the Boxers undertook to expel all foreigners from their country.
The United States Navy and Marine Corps took an active part in suppressing this rebellion. The operations on shore of the Newark’s crew, in conjunction with battalions landed from the men-of-war of seven other nations, are so unique, that a recounting of the experiences of those days does not seem amiss.
No attempt is made to relate these experiences purely from memory after a lapse of so many years. It so happens that immediately after they occurred, I wrote a full account in my midshipman’s journal, while in the Yokohama Naval Hospital recuperating from a gunshot wound received during the fighting ashore.
This journal has long been laid away in an obscure place. It probably might never have been brought forth if Captain Dudley Knox had not made his appeal, through the Naval Institute Proceedings, to uncover the accounts of our vanishing history and traditions. Even then, no attempt would have been made to relate this narrative if d were not for the very unusual conditions that existed. It is probable that never again will history repeat the story of eight nations combining their naval forces in land operations against a common enemy. These nations were the American, Austrian, British, French, German, Italian, Japanese and Russian. This combined force became known as “The Seymour Relief Expedition,” taking its name from Vice Admiral Sir Edward Seymour of the British Navy, who, by virtue of his seniority, became the commander of the expedition; and from the fact that its mission was the relief of the besieged legations at Pekin.
Our American leader was the late Rear Admiral Bowman H. McCalla, who was then a captain, commanding the Newark. The United States Navy throughout its entire history has not developed a more forcible character of such dynamic energy. With the British contingent were two officers who have since become world famous. They are Admirals Jellicoe and Beattie. Both were young men, the former being captain of the battleship Centurion and chief-of-staff to Admiral Seymour; the latter a lieutenant on one of the ships. With the Germans was Captain von Usedom—an officer of unusually high attainments. There were other officers, too numerous to mention here, who afterwards became famous in their respective services.
Preparations. The cruiser Newark, one of the original “White Squadron,” famous in appearance for its huge gun sponsons, called by the sailormen, “bunions,” had in the fall of 1899 completed an eventful cruise from New York to San Francisco via the Straits of Magellan. Captain Bowman H. McCalla then relieved Captain Caspar F. Goodrich as the commanding officer. The ship was sent to the Navy Yard, Mare Island, for overhaul preparatory to proceeding to the Asiatic station, where the Philippine insurrection was at its height. Captain McCalla, with his usual keen perception, sensed the probability of landing operations. During our stay at the navy yard he put us through a most strenuous program in which the entire ship’s company was included. There was incessant practice on the rifle range. Twice weekly there were sham battles on shore in which the battalion had much experience against an imaginary enemy. On the long trip across the Pacific the lower booms were rigged out with targets on the ends. There was a continuous pop-pop of rifles and revolvers. On anchoring at Cavite, in December, 1899, targets were anchored out and the rifle practice continued daily.
The Newark proceeded to northern Luzon. Immediately things began to happen which proved the wisdom of Captain McCalla’s foresight. The ship’s battalion landed at Caoayan and marched to Vigan to support our army forces. These had previously relieved the Oregon battalion as holders of the city, and had just been attacked by the insurrectos. Here we had five days’ valuable experience. We then proceeded to Aparri on the north coast. General Daniel Tirona immediately surrendered all the northern provinces of Luzon to Captain McCalla. Half of our battalion was sent inland to a small town called Pamplona, where we hoped to cut off the insurrectos who were crossing the wild mountainous country to the southward with our Lieutenant Gillmore and his associates from the Yorktown, who had been captured some time previously. We spent two weeks campaigning at this place. Returning to our ship on December 28, we continued operations on the Luzon coast until April, 1900, when the ship proceeded to Japanese waters. It is thus seen that the Newark battalion had been through experiences which made it specially well prepared for the strenuous operations on shore that were still before us in China.
Attention is called to these preliminary operations because the writer has always felt that the experience gained therein was, next to Captain McCalla’s masterful leadership, the prime factor in any of us coming through the ordeal which followed, and living to tell the tale.
On the afternoon of May 26, 1900, while at Nagasaki, Captain McCalla, Naval Cadet Courtney, and I went ashore for tiffin with the American consul and Mrs. Harris and their charming daughter. After dinner there were boat races between the crews from various men-of-war in the harbor. These Courtney and I watched, and then proceeded leisurely to the boat landing. Much to our horror and surprise, there was the Newark steaming down the bay, outward bound. We commandeered a steam launch from the Oregon and started in pursuit, the launch’s shrill whistle shrieking continually to attract attention. Of course we caught the ship, or else this narrative would not now be told by this writer. A rather strange aftermath of this incident was, that of the half dozen naval cadets on board, Courtney and I, who were almost left stranded at Nagasaki, were the only ones who accompanied our battalion when it landed in China.
At Taku. A more desolate anchorage than that off Taku cannot be imagined. From the deck of the ship not a vestige of land is in sight. The wide expanse of muddy greenish yellow water is depressing. The Taku bar, formed by the continuous silt from the Pei-ho River, is the barrier which forces vessels to anchor so far off shore. When we arrived late in the afternoon of May 27, the French cruiser D’Entrecasteaux, the French gunboat Surprise and three Chinese cruisers were the only vessels present. The French admiral was ashore. He returned the following day and his two ships immediately stood out to sea. The French admiral apparently felt no cause for alarm. However, events on shore were moving rapidly, although the information was meager and slow in reaching us. This was before the days of radio, and our ship was anchored twelve miles off shore. As is apt to be the case under such circumstances, rumors were rife; but if any of the younger officers sensed excitement, evidences of it were lacking.
At five o’clock in the morning of May 29, I was rudely awakened by the captain’s orderly, who said: “The Captain says get ready to go ashore immediately; uniform, heavy marching order. Be prepared to remain four or five days.” On deck everything was hustle and bustle. The first contingent of sailors, about sixty in number, with Ensign Daniel W. Wurtsbaugh in charge, were packing haversacks and knapsacks. Canteens were being filled; one day’s ration served out for each man’s haversack; 180 rounds of rifle ammunition in each belt. The three-inch field piece, with ammunition, stores, and water, was being placed in the sailing launch. Extra water and stores were lowered into the steam launch. At seven-thirty we shoved off from the ship, the steam launch taking the sailing launch and cutter in tow.
Little did we appreciate the coming difficulties. Tide and wind were both against us. When about three miles from the ship the steam launch ran aground on the bar. We lightened her by transferring some men into the already crowded sailing launch and cutter. In this way we ploughed through the soft mud for a short time. Then the steamer stuck fast. The sailing launch and cutter cast off—the former making sail. The cutter, of which I was in charge, had over fifty men in her. We could not get at the sails, so we started to pole towards the shore. A heavy wind and rain squall passed over, soaking us to the skin. Then the sun came out, burning hot. We anchored to await developments. Two light draft sampans were commandeered. Into these enough men were transferred to enable sail to be made. However, with the contrary wind and tide no advance was made towards the shore. The sailing launch was forced to anchor owing to inability to make headway. Eventually the tide turned and the steam launch, after floating off the bar, again took the sailing launch, cutter, and two sampans in tow. With the aid of the following tide, we soon had the low, muddy looking shores of China in sight. We passed between the dismal mud forts at the mouth of the Pei-ho River and threaded our way between what seemed Enumerable junks and sampans. At one o’clock, five and a half hours after leaving the ship, we landed at Taku, a tired, hungry lot. Our rations of canned com beef and hardtack were devoured with relish.
Here we found the marines who had left the ship about four o’clock that morning. There were about fifty in the company composed of the guard of the Newark and that of the Oregon, which latter had been embarked on the Newark just before leaving Nagasaki. Captain (now Colonel) John T. Meyers was in command, assisted by Captain (now Colonel) Newt H. Hall.
On to Tientsin. The Europeans at Taku advised an immediate start for Tientsin, it being rumored that on the following day no armed foreigners would be permitted to pass the forts. An unsuccessful attempt was made to get passage for our little force on the railroad. The only remaining means of conveyance was the Pei-ho River. A tug and a large covered lighter were chartered, and into this lighter we were packed. Immediately on starting all hands were required to go inside under cover so as not to be visible when passing the forts. Our discomfort was great. Not only was it very hot, but the lighter had been used for carrying mud, and had not been cleaned. It was a great relief when finally we were allowed on deck and had the opportunity to view our surroundings.
The Pei-ho River is a muddy, winding stream, varying in width from thirty to a hundred yards. Beyond the low mud banks were fields of growing rice, their fresh greenness being a pleasant contrast to the monotonous yellow brown nearer the sea. We passed numerous villages, all the houses of which were built of mud and straw. They were not picturesque, with their extremely narrow streets, the houses extending right to the water’s edge. The tug and lighter often grazed the banks, especially in making the sharp turns. Then the villagers would run out of their houses and stand curiously gazing, or rush wildly to secure their boats against mishap due to the wave caused by the tug.
Loaded junks, fishing boats, and sampans were innumerable. Many Chinese were laboriously engaged in throwing water from the river into the network of handmade irrigation troughs. Fishing with dip nets was active.
It was not until 11:00 p.m. that we arrived at Tientsin and disembarked. Here we found the entire foreign colony, headed by a brass band, awaiting us. They were much worried over the possibility of Boxer atrocities. Excitement was running high. We, being the first foreign contingent to appear, were made welcome with enthusiasm and wide open arms. As our battalion formed on the dock some one in a distinctly foreign (to us) voice shouted: “Three cheers for Uncle Sam!” They were given with a will, all nationalities vociferously participating.
The stores and field piece were finally disembarked. The band struck up a tune, and led us to Temperance Hall, our temporary barracks on the Taku road. The entire foreign population tramped along with us. As we entered the building there were three more lusty cheers for Uncle Sam, following which the crowd gradually dispersed. With midnight came the end of a long and strenuous day.
Insofar as the outward appearances of the foreign section of Tientsin were concerned there was no cause for alarm. The place was exceedingly clean and well policed. Business was progressing in the liveliest manner. Along the Taku road there was a continuous conglomerate stream of loaded jinrickshas, carts, wheelbarrows, and people afoot. The clumsy wheelbarrows, which often held two persons and a mass of merchandise besides—all being trundled by one Chinaman—made an impression which sticks. The students afoot—with their large horn-rimmed spectacles which the Occidental world has since adopted—were then, to me, a decided novelty. Along the bund, loading and unloading of junks by swarms of half-naked, sweating coolies went on continuously day and night.
However, in spite of these serene outward appearances, there must have been a decided feeling of unrest among those who were in a position really to understand the situation. Captain McCalla and the American consul, Mr. Ragsdale, wished to send the company of marines to Pekin immediately. But the Chinese authorities would not permit the armed force to travel on the railroad. During the next few days after our arrival, foreign naval detachments from the ships of Great Britain, France, Russia, Germany, Japan, Italy, and Austria arrived. Something must have suddenly occurred in Pekin to bring these ships to Taku, where, only a few days previously, the U. S. S. Newark was the only foreign man-of-war in the roads.
On May 31, the pressure brought by the powers became too great for the authorities further to refuse the use of the railroad. Accordingly a special train was made up, and into this a combined force of about four hundred sailors and marines was packed. The American contingent consisted of the company of fifty marines from the Newark and Oregon, and of one Colt automatic gun on a wheel mount with a crew of four bluejackets. The officers of this detachment were Captains Meyers and Hall of the marines and Assistant Surgeon T. M. Lippitt, U. S. Navy. This was the little force that protected our legation in the long siege of the following months. Much has been written of their gallant activities. Lippitt was so severely wounded he was forced to retire from active service. Captain McCalla, Paymaster H. E. Jewett, and Naval Cadet Courtney, accompanied this contingent to Pekin. They later returned to Tientsin on the last train which passed between these two cities before traffic was interrupted by the Boxers tearing up sections of the railroad track.
In the meantime, those of us who were left in Tientsin moved our quarters from Temperance Hall to the compound of the American Board Mission. This, like other compounds in Tientsin, was enclosed by a high brick wall. In it were a chapel, four residences for the missionaries and their families, and a few other buildings. Our force consisted of fifty-four sailors under command of Ensign Wurtsbaugh, with Gunner Sheldon, Warrant Machinist Mullinix and myself as assistants. We had one three-inch field piece with seventy-two rounds of shrapnel, and one Colt automatic gun mounted on a tripod.
There was much difference of opinion in Tientsin as to whether there really was to be trouble, or whether the whole unsettled situation would soon blow over. Every day rumors indicated that the Boxers were becoming more and more active, and that they were gradually approaching the city with a view to repeating the massacre of 1870. However, large forces of Chinese Imperial troops were encamped nearby, and at Yang Tsun, eighteen miles distant. It was certain that Tientsin was safe so long as the Chinese government remained friendly, and these troops remained loyal. But there were some missionaries who were outspoken in their belief that the foreigners had more to fear from these regular Chinese troops than from the Boxers.
For a while all was quiet in Tientsin and we settled down to routine life. Sentries were maintained at the two gates of the compound, with an additional post on the Taku road at night. We also patrolled some parts of the city during the dark hours. There was plenty of fresh meat and vegetables available, but all the drinking water had to be boiled.
The Boxers, it should be understood, were a patriotic organization formed for the express purpose of driving all foreigners out of China. It was their superstitious belief that the presence of the foreigners was the cause of the long protracted drought. Throughout the native city of Tientsin, with its million of densely packed Chinese, flaring posters were pasted calling on the populace to arise. A translation of one of these typical maniacal effusions is here given as a fair sample of their general character:
Sacred Edict
Issued by the Lord of Wealth and Happiness
The Catholic and Protestant religions being insolent to the gods and extinguishing sanctity, rendering no obedience to Buddhism and enraging both heaven and earth, the rain clouds now no longer visit us; but eight million spirit soldiers will descend from heaven and sweep the empire clear of all foreigners. Then will the gentle showers once more water our land; and when the tread of soldiers and the clash of steel are heard, heralding woes to all our people, then the Buddhist Patriotic League of Boxers will be able to protect the Empire and bring peace to all its people.
Hasten then to spread the doctrine far and wide; for if you gain one adherent to the faith, your own person will be absolved from all misfortunes; it you gain five adherents to the faith, your whole family will be absolved from all evils; and if you gain ten adherents to the faith, your whole village will be absolved from all calamities. Those who gain no adherents to the cause will be decapitated; for until all foreigners have been exterminated the rain can never visit us.
Those who have been so unfortunate as to have drunk water from the wells poisoned by foreigners should at once make use of the following divine prescription, the ingredients of which are to be decocted and swallowed; when the poisoned patients will recover: Dried black plums—half an ounce; Solatium dulcamara—half an ounce, and Enconimia ulmoides—half an ounce.
More detachments of sailors and marines Horn the continuously augmented foreign men-of-war at Taku continued to arrive at Tientsin. On or about June 6 the railroad one between Pekin and Tientsin was cut. This, of course, was serious. Then definite hews was received that the Boxers were burning railroad stations and foreign missions; that some missionaries had been murdered and native Christians were hurrying towards Tientsin for protection. These occurrences resulted in the Newark sending ashore a second company of fifty bluejackets under the command of Ensign C. E. Gilpin.
Our vigilance increased, especially at night. The part of Tientsin occupied by the foreigners was divided into sections, each guarded by a different nation. Many streets were barricaded. Our men slept out in the open, the field piece at hand ready for immediate action. Sentries were stationed at points on the large plain guarding all approaches from that direction, and on the Taku road, the main thoroughfare between me native and foreign cities. Attempts to run a train through to Pekin met with failure. Telegrams indicated that the situation was becoming more and more serious. Additional legation guards were asked for. There was no way of getting them to Pekin except by marching the intervening eighty miles.
On the evening of June 8 the telegraph line had been cut, completely isolating Pekin from the rest of the world. A meeting of foreign consuls and naval commanders assembled that evening to estimate the situation and determine on a course of action. I know that Captain McCalla was at that meeting. Who the others were my record does not show. Nor did I ever get first hand from Captain McCalla just what happened. The generally accepted version is that the meeting was getting nowhere when Captain McCalla lost patience and arose. He is imputed to have made a statement to this effect: “I don’t care what the rest of you do, but my legation is in danger and I am going immediately to start for its relief.” Be that as it may, I was aroused at midnight by Ensign Wurtsbaugh and instructed by him to call all hands at four o’clock, pack effects, have breakfast, and be ready to march to the railroad station at six o’clock.
When we arrived at the station, expecting to find plenty of rolling stock available, much to our surprise we found the main track and sidings occupied by several trains containing the battalions of Her Britannic Majesty’s Ships Centurion, Endymion, and Aurora. We learned they had left their ships at midnight, made the long boat trip to Taku (they evidently crossed the bar at high tide), made up the trains, and arrived ahead of us.
It had always been something of a puzzle how the representative of the British Navy at the meeting of that night got the word to the ships of the prospective move toward Pekin. In an endeavor to clear this up I recently wrote to Admiral Jellicoe, asking him if he had attended the meeting, and requesting such information as he was willing to give. I quote from his reply.
As regards the meeting you mention. I do not know anything of what took place at Tientsin. What occurred to my knowledge was this:
I left Tientsin during the afternoon to rejoin the Centurion off Taku. I was told shortly before leaving Tientsin from our Embassy that all was quiet and that no danger to the legations was anticipated. On arrival at Tongku I went across to the United States telephone post to ask if they knew of any boats going out to the fleets by which I could take passage off. I was then told that our legation wanted to speak to me on the phone. Sir Claude MacDonald spoke to me and said that a crisis had arisen and unless a force was sent to Pekin at once, the legations would probably be attacked. Thereupon I signalled off to Sir E. Seymour by searchlight: Gravy news from Pekin. Prepare landing parties, and went off to the Centurion in a United States steam launch. En route I called alongside the Fame and Whiting destroyers, ordered them to raise steam at once and come out to the fleet ready to tow landing parties ashore. I sent a message by the United States steamboat to the United States flagship to say what had occurred.
So to go back to the railroad station at Tientsin. Not only did the British have control of all the rolling stock, but Vice Admiral Seymour had placed Captain E. H. Bayley of the Aurora in charge of the station and all the equipment. Well do I remember Captain McCalla’s irritation at this state of affairs. There were some words between him and Captain Bayley as to the respective rights of the two nations to occupy the trains. Captain McCalla demanded space for his battalion in the first train. Captain Bayley held this was impracticable. Finally Captain McCalla wanted to know by what right Captain Bayley had taken control, and he was informed that Admiral Seymour had made him the boss. To which Captain McCalla retorted that he wished it clearly understood that Captain Bayley could not boss him.
Things were finally straightened out and the American detachment, consisting of 112 officers and men, were given space in the first train. Our men were placed in two cars —the provisions, water and ammunition in a flat car, and the American officers in that Part of Admiral Seymour’s baggage car not occupied by Admiral Seymour’s baggage. The Italian and Austrian detachments, both of which were smaller than the American battalion, were also given space in the first train. The Americans had provisions for six days. Just what the other detachments had, I do not know, but some started with the intention of living on the country. Not such a strange thing when it is considered that the most of us expected to be in Pekin within two days.
It was not until afternoon that the trains finally got underway and started us on a sixteen day campaign between Tientsin and Pekin with experiences before us far beyond our wildest imaginations.
The Advance Toward Pekin
In which is given an account of the destructive work of the Boxers; their attacks; our organization; how we repaired the railroad; and the events which caused the abandonment of the advance.
The First Thirty-five Miles. Embarked in the trains which started from Tientsin for Pekin on June 9, 1900, for the purpose of relieving our besieged legations were the naval battalions of eight different nations. It was not until several days later that our maximum strength of approximately 2,100 was reached. Of this number the British, Russians and Germans formed the much larger part. The Americans with a total of 112 officers and men came next; followed by the Japanese, French, Austrians and Italians with still smaller contingents. With the little American battalion were the following officers: Captain Bowman H. McCalla, Ensign Daniel W. Wurtsbaugh, Ensign Charles E. Gilpin, Naval Cadet Joseph K. Taussig, Naval Cadet Charles E. Courtney, Paymaster H. E. Jewett, Gunner Clifford H. Sheldon, and Warrant Machinist Mullinix.
For artillery we had one new three-inch breech loading field-piece and a Colt automatic on a tripod mount. All men were armed with the Lee straight-pull rifle of only .22-inch caliber. The officers wore swords and carried revolvers.
Pulling out from the railroad station early in the afternoon, the trains proceeded in a normal manner for twenty-five miles. The country was flat, dotted with the innumerable grave mounds of centuries. The ground was dry and sun baked, the crops insignificant and parched. The plain was studded with villages and cities as far as the eye could reach. There were no single houses anywhere. All the Chinese lived in closely crowded communities. There were no fences except around the village yards. But the rice fields, which were dry, were divided into rectangles by mud walls from two to four feet high and about a foot thick. This part of the country certainly made a sorry appearance due largely to the extended drought for which the foreigners were being held responsible by the Boxers.
At Yang Tsun, the first important city, which is eighteen miles from Tientsin, we passed a large number of troops encamped on the banks of the Pei-ho River. They were a part of the Chinese Imperial Army under General Neigh. These troops appeared well tented and in excellent condition. Presumably they were protecting the railroad against possible raids by the Boxers. However, it was but a passive defense, effective only close to the camp, as we were soon to find out.
Seven miles beyond Yang Tsun occurred the first forced stop. Here we found a few rails and ties torn up, probably the work of a marauding band of Boxers. These were replaced in short order and we proceeded. From then on, during the next five miles, we encountered frequent recurrences of the few missing rails and ties. While in each case the time for repairs was not long, there were so many stops, progress became necessarily slow. Towards evening we arrived at a long trestle spanning a wide dry valley that is undoubtedly often flooded by the waters of the Pei-ho in the rainy season. Some ties were burned at both ends, but otherwise no damage had been done.
This railroad was under British supervision, so the trains were on the left track. This was fortunate, as, for some unknown reason, most of the damage had been done to the other track, which we did not stop to repair. With the American battalion was a lithe six-foot coal passer who had previously worked as a section hand on a railroad. He was the only one in the whole force who knew how to drive a spike. For the first few days he was worth his weight in gold. After that there was so much spike driving to be done, Chinese coolies were hired for this purpose.
It was decided to encamp by this trestle for the night. A double line of sentries with pickets were posted around the trains. Detachments turned to and gathered the partly burned railroad ties for fire wood. While engaged in this work we came across the trunks of three dismembered bodies, the heads, legs, and arms being scattered about. This gruesome sight, evidently the work of Boxers, had a salutory effect on the vigilance of our sentries. But even now we did not anticipate the troubles before us. As we sat around the camp fire eating our supper of corned beef and hardtack there were remarks of this nature: “Well, tomorrow evening we will have supper in Pekin.” “I’ll be a pretty sight to dine at the legation with the Minister and the ladies,” spoken by one who glanced down at his very soiled uniform. “I hope there are enough beds at the Legation to go round”; this by one as he turned in fully dressed on the hard ground.
The next morning at five o’clock the Americans and British commenced to repair the trestle. This being completed the trains moved on. But now our progress was very slow. The farther from General Neigh’s army at Yang Tsun, the bolder had the Boxers become. And their destructiveness increased with their boldness. By three o’clock we were near Lofa Station which is thirty-five miles from Tientsin. Here we had our first experience with the Boxers. An alarm was given by some one shouting, “Man the Cars!” Immediately there was confusion. Some contingents got in the cars, and some under the cars. Captain McCalla ordered us to form skirmish line alongside the train. We then advanced and saw ahead about a dozen Chinamen whom we recognized as Boxers by their red caps, belts, and anklets, and by their red and white flags. Each one carried a huge knife or long spear. They slowly and steadily advanced making many salaams and gestures—a most picturesque group. We had heard these poor superstitious creatures thought they were bullet proof and that their peculiar movements turned the missiles aside giving them nothing to fear. When fire was opened they had no time to appreciate the fallacy of their belief. In a few moments they were riddled with bullets, all, of course, being killed. Our skirmish line then advanced through a nearby village but saw no more Boxers. The village had been temporarily abandoned.
Shortly before dark we arrived at Lofa. This was a watering place for the engines. But the waterworks were demolished, the station destroyed, and both tracks and switches badly torn up. So this, our second night’s camping site, still left forty-five miles between us and the legations at Pekin.
It was good fortune that the first attack by the Boxers was on so small a scale. Up to this time there was no organization of the various contingents to guarantee our common and mutual protection. The little episode of the afternoon demonstrated the necessity for such an organization. So a meeting of all the commanders was held, the result being the following order issued by Vice Admiral Seymour.
At Lofa Station
Agreement made at a meeting of officers in command of different nationalities on Monday, June 11.
(1) That some further organization is required to keep up proper discipline and be prepared in case of meeting an emergency.
(2) That though we are a mixed force of eight different nations, we are all united in two objects which are: (a) To open communication by railway with Pekin and thus insure the safety of our legations and national interests at that city. (b) To assist the Chinese Government to restore peace and order in this part of China.
(3) That in view of (1) we arrange and agree as follows: (a) That the senior officer of each train, whatever his nation, be treated as commander thereof. (b) That the instructions I have addressed to that train be sent to him. He will be in easy communication with the officers commanding the forces in his train, and will at once confer with them, (c) That whenever we stop for the night, as soon as may be after sunset, pickets and sentries be posted on the plan sent herewith, unless special circumstances demand other arrangements. (d) That whenever the trains stop, sentries of each nation be posted round the trains on the same plan as for the night, but only as many as seem required to control the movements of our men. (e) That no men be allowed behind the line of sentries unless accompanied by or passed out by an officer of their own service, who will then be responsible for their conduct and safety.
(4) That in order to preserve the railway as it is opened, we leave as we go on a picket at each station or place advised by Mr. Currie,* composed from each nation in turn, according to their number, and beginning with the British as there are most of them.
(5) That a system of signals be arranged between each train.
(6) That when a watering place is reached, as here, arrangements as to who shall first use it be made by the commander of each train if they are alone; and if all are together by him in consultation with Captain Jellicoe, my Flag Captain.
(7) That some simple system of bugle calls be considered by an officer of each nation this forenoon and when agreed on adopted for present use; also of steam whistle of the engine for the trains to show what they are about to do.
(8) Watering the engines to be arranged by the officer commanding each train when it is required by the engine driver, or for any other work to do with the train.
E. H. Seymour, Vice Admiral, and
Commander-in-Chief
The plans for sentries and pickets were carried out in a modified form, experience showing that it was desirable to have them much closer to the trains than specified in the order. The American outposts abutted on the British at one end and the French at the other. I confess to having had a feeling of timidity when visiting the posts toward the French as I did not have much confidence in my ability to make a French sentry understand me, should I unexpectedly be challenged. All the men understood that the Boxers had very few firearms, but carried knives, swords, and spears. It had been our experience in previous campaigning in the Philippines that the men could face a rifle with much more equanimity than a knife. This is especially so at night. The large number of grave mounds in the flat fields where we usually bivouacked were exceptionally well adapted for sneaking Boxers to approach, should they care to do so. So whenever practicable we stationed our outposts in pairs, and in approaching them one had to be most careful as they were apt to be very quick on the trigger.
The water supply was beginning to be a serious problem. All the water used came from wells, and that for drinking purposes had to be boiled. It first had to be tested to insure freedom from poison. The Chinese coolies impressed into service about this time for repairing the railroad never hesitated to drink the water. This, of course, was the best possible test. No wells were found to have been tampered with in any way. It was evident that the Chinese, who invariably deserted their villages on our approach, intended to return as soon as we passed on. While many of the wells were artesian, their flow was very meager owing to the long dry spell then prevailing. At Lofa it became necessary to water the engines. The pumping apparatus having been demolished, a thirty-yard bucket line was formed. For six hours, long into the night, our very weary men labored to fill the 4,500 gallon tender.
I had never before, nor since, experienced such dry weather. Without exception everybody’s lips were parched, and most of them split. To add to the discomfort, the wind, unduly heated from passing over the sunbaked ground, was laden with a fine dust that irritated and made it impossible for us to keep clean. More water for drinking purposes had to be allowed than had been anticipated, and our allowances for washing correspondingly reduced. At night the radiation was excessive, causing a chill in the atmosphere that required those on watch to keep in active motion. The men of the Newark battalion were equipped with both rubber and woolen blankets which made the sleeping comfortable.
As it now became apparent that our advance to Pekin would take much longer than originally anticipated, steps were taken to insure the necessary food and stores reaching us. A supply train, to be in charge of Paymaster Jewett and guarded by a few marines, was scheduled to leave our position daily in the evening for Tientsin and to return the following morning. This train for several days passed back and forth through General Neigh’s army at Yang Tsun. It brought us plenty of canned goods and mineral water so there was no complaint about food. It also brought car loads of rails, ties, spikes, and fish plates, from the train yards at Tientsin. And, what was best of all, it brought about 100 Chinese coolies to work on repairing the railroad.
The leading train now became known as the “Construction Train,” and was placed in charge of Captain McCalla. Already the great force and energy of the American captain had made an impression on the British admiral. And I can assure my readers it made even more of an impression on his own officers and men, who from early morning to late at night were kept continuously at work.
In accordance with the Lofa agreement, the British left a garrison of 100 men from the Endymion at that place. It was not long before “Fort Endymion” was painted in large letters on the wall of the station compound.
Lang Fang. The next town of importance was Lang Fang, five miles beyond Lofa, and just half way between Tientsin and Pekin. The intervening tracks were in fairly good condition, but on reaching Lang Fang we found both tracks torn up for at least a mile, a very serious situation that would require a number of days’ work. Up to this time, the British and Americans, with the aid of the Chinese coolies, had done all the repair work on the tracks. It was extremely hard work, consisting of digging out the rocky road bed, carrying the ties sometimes for a distance of more than a hundred yards, lifting the heavy rails and setting them in place, and driving spikes. It was novel work for sailormen; but the rapidity of construction was marvelous. Only every second tie was placed. Then one rail was laid in an approximately straight line and spiked down, no plumb line being used nor leveling done. The other rail was laid parallel by means of gauges. The finished product had a somewhat sinuous appearance but served the purpose for getting the trains along at slow speed.
While at Lang Fang the Boxers made their first real serious attack on our trains. A large body of them—several hundred in number—suddenly appeared out of a nearby village and orchard. Armed with spears and knives, and with banners waving, they approached the trains at a full run. Before them flew five Italian sailors, who, contrary to the orders, had gone foraging beyond the picket line. Down the track came the Italians running for their lives. But they were not speedy enough, and all were cut down by their pursuers. The sight of foreign blood apparently had a maddening effect on the Boxers. On they rushed pell-mell, helter skelter for the train. The alarm having been given, the British and Americans rushed to the front. The rapidly advancing Chinese were close aboard when fire was finally opened. Soon the rifles started to pop and the Boxers to drop. On they came, however, until hand to hand encounters began taking place. Captain McCalla took his orderly’s rifle and shot several Boxers as they bore down on him with waving knives. One British officer stuck his sword in a Boxer’s mouth. For a while the situation seemed desperate. Now, the rapid rat-tat-tat of a machine gun added its welcome noise to the din. Hundreds of bullets were swept across the front of the Chinese mob. They began to waver. Then as suddenly as they had at first appeared, they turned and fled. It is remarkable that our only casualties were the five Italians caught in the orchard. The Boxers left 102 dead on the field. There were no wounded.
Lang Fang and Lofa were evidently hotbeds of the Boxers. Simultaneously with the attack at Lang Fang, another mob assailed the garrison of 100 British sailors at Fort Endymion. Here they met with a similar repulse, leaving approximately 100 dead.
We made a collection of knives, spears, and banners. On one of the banners was printed in Chinese ideographs, “Death to all Foreigners: by order of the Government.” Things were taking a more serious aspect. How many of these Boxers were there? Were they receiving the support of the Chinese Government? While no regular troops had taken action against us, as far as we knew, and while they were presumably protecting the railroad in the rear, they certainly were doing nothing to prevent the Boxers from attacking us and from demolishing the railroad between us and Pekin. All efforts to communicate with that city proved futile. It was absolutely impossible for any foreigner to get through this Boxer country. Nor could any of the Chinese coolies be persuaded to make the attempt. One messenger did get through to us from Pekin. He was an old servant who, by disguising himself as a rag picker, slowly worked his way from village to village and delivered his precious message from Mr. Squires, the secretary of the American Legation. The message stated that all the legations were hard pressed and in a critical condition, and urged us to advance as rapidly as possible. The old Chinaman was entrusted with a message giving our whereabouts and hopes.
A new plan was now made. It became apparent if we continued to repair the railroad all the way to Pekin and keep our line of communication open to the rear, the time of arrival at Pekin would be indefinitely postponed and we might get there too late. It was accordingly agreed to repair the road only so far as Anting, fifteen miles from Lang Fang. From there we would abandon the railroad in the evening and make a forced night march of about twenty-five miles to Pekin. But several days were still consumed in making repairs to the road beyond Lang Fang. The construction train was sent ahead. Preceding it went a reconnoitering party of British marines. The main body remained at Lang Fang owing to the watering facilities. The track was badly torn up and in some places the entire road bed removed. One small single span was completely down. This we repaired by using rails for levers and gradually building up under the span with ties until the needed level was reached.
From this time on it became the policy to burn every village that harbored Boxers. They made wonderful blazes. Foraging parties were organized to kidnap mules, horses, carts and other impedimenta for our expected forced march. The one horse and five mules obtained by the Americans later became of great value.
About three miles from Anting was a village where more than the usual amount of damage had been done to the tracks. The British marines found quantities of railroad material stored in the narrow village streets. They surprised a large party of Boxers in the inn and killed them all. The town was burned. Then the unexpected happened. Captain McCalla received orders from Admiral Seymour to bring the construction train back to Lang Fang. A new and most serious situation had arisen. The track near Yang Tsun had been torn up for miles. The Chinese army which had been encamped there presumably protecting the railroad had disappeared, we knew not where. Our communications were cut in the rear leaving our little force of 2,100 sailormen in the heart of China with nothing to rely on for ultimate extraction excepting a very limited amount of ammunition and supplies and an unlimited amount of resource and courage. The construction train put back as near Yang Tsun as the torn-up tracks would permit. Here, on the morning of June 17, one week after leaving Tientsin, we found ourselves repairing the railroad only twenty miles from that place. And instead of working towards Pekin, we were going the other way. For two days we labored, the main body in the other trains remaining at Lang Fang. We had had no word from Pekin or Tientsin for some time. We knew nothing of what was going on between Tientsin and the sea. And, as we learned later, nothing of our whereabouts was known to the naval commanders in the ships off the Taku Bar.
The afternoon of June 18, while the construction train was still working in the neighborhood of Yang Tsun, all the other trains carrying the entire force returned to that place. That morning while at Lang Fang they had been attacked by a large body of Boxers supported by Imperial Chinese troops. There was a fierce battle in which it was estimated the Chinese lost 500 killed, while the allies lost several killed and about forty wounded. It was the first time that gun fire had been employed against us. Captain von Usedom, of the German Navy, the senior officer at Lang Fang, knew that regular Chinese troops had taken part in the engagement as several of their standards were captured. Seeing that it would be futile to attempt to make Pekin under these circumstances, and even to hold Lang Fang, he had ordered the retreat to Yang Tsun, burned all the rolling stock in his rear and thereby placed twenty-five miles between the advancing Chinese Army and our little force. It was a desparate situation.
At a meeting of the senior officers it was decided to choose the lesser of the two evils —an estimated Chinese army of 30,000 on the Pekin side, and one of 10,000 on the Tientsin side—and try to get back to Tientsin. Yang Tsun is eighteen miles from Tientsin by the railroad and about thirty miles by river. We had no land impedimenta. The Germans had seized three large junks suitable for conveying the wounded and such few stores as remained. We Americans obtained several smaller boats into which were placed knapsacks, haversacks, and blankets.
The morning of June 19 saw us ready for the start back to Tientsin, the river route being chosen. Our legations at Pekin were left to their own salvation.
The Retreat to Tientsin
Being a narrative of the reason for the retreat; our organization; fighting in the open; through the City of Pietsang; the capture of Hsiku arsenal and the happenings there; our relief; and the final leg back to Tientsin.
The Reason for the Retreat. The reason for the sudden turning of the Chinese armies against us was not known at the time. Nor did we find out until after our return to Tientsin. What happened was this:
The naval commanders off Taku had no information from the legations at Pekin nor from our little relief expedition for several days. All effort to communicate with us failed. They held a meeting and, unfortunately, made a decision based on false premises. They assumed that the Chinese armies were against us. Therefore the only thing to do was to consider that a state of war existed, to bombard the Taku forts, land a large force, and proceed to the relief of Pekin. All the naval commanders agreed to this procedure excepting the American, Rear Admiral Louis Kempff. He held that such drastic action was unwarranted, and refused to allow the United States ships to take part in the bombardment. Later events proved that Admiral Kempff was absolutely right in the stand he took.
It was this bombardment of the Taku forts by the allied navies that turned the Chinese armies against us. This action prevented our relief column from reaching Pekin within the next few days, placed us in a position where it was impossible to go on, and presented a situation that was desperate. That our little force was not completely annihilated was due to the combination of circumstances, the chief of which, on looking back over the intervening years, were as follows:
- The excellent organization of the eight nationalities into one tactical body with unity of command.
- The skill and tact of Vice Admiral Sir E. H. Seymour which resulted in efficient cooperation in a common cause without causing jealousies.
- The great dynamic energy of Captain McCalla, who, more than any one else, appeared to appreciate the value of time, and who, in consequence, insisted each day on pushing on, long after most of the others would have stopped.
- The poor fighting qualities of the Boxers and of the Chinese troops; and, of still more importance, their manifestly poor leadership.
The Retreat Begins. The morning of June 19 found all detachments busy preparing to move. It was a grave undertaking. All realized that this was a retreat. Our expedition was a failure; our legations were in dire straits; and we, ourselves, were in a predicament from which we would be lucky to escape.
Nothing was to be carried except absolute necessities. One horse was given to Vice Admiral Seymour; Captain McCalla rode a small white mule. The other mules were used as pack animals to carry water, stores, and ammunition for the three-inch field piece. Each American bluejacket carried 180 rounds of rifle ammunition in his belt, and seventy rounds in his haversack. The haversacks were then jammed with canned goods and hardtack. The only artillery in the whole force were the American three-inch field gun and two British muzzle loading nine-pounders.
The Americans were complimented by being detailed as the advance guard. Next to us were the British. The order of the other detachments I do not know. The only ones I did not see at some time during the retreat were the Austrians and Italians, who formed the rear guard.
Captain McCalla organized his advance guard as follows: First a point of three marine sharpshooters with a first sergeant in charge; at a distance of 100 yards a support of ten marines with Paymaster Jewett in charge; another 100 yards and a reserve of twenty men with Naval Cadet Taussig in charge; 100 yards behind came the main body as infantry and artillery with Ensigns Wurtsbaugh and Gilpin and Naval Cadet Courtney; the Colt automatic was in charge of Gunner Sheldon.
At noon we started. It having been decided to follow the left bank of the Pei-ho, we crossed on the bridge and ferried the field piece in a junk. As each nationality crossed we advanced sufficiently to make room for them in our rear. It was not until four o’clock that the whole force was ready and the real movement towards Tientsin began. Progress was slow, the bugle frequently sounding a halt. The junks which were carrying the greater part of the stores and reserve ammunition were difficult to handle owing to the inexperience of their crews. They frequently ran aground until their navigators became more expert.
Night found us only a few miles from our abandoned trains, the positions of which were marked by flame and smoke. They had been set on fire to prevent falling into the enemy’s hands. The sentries being posted we turned in for a few hours’ sleep, the only disturbance being the routine watch standing and the frequent heehawing of the five mules.
At six in the morning the column was again under way. Fairly good progress was made until ten o’clock. The advance guard was then resting, waiting for the main body to close up. The point reported a body of men advancing towards us. Captain McCalla directed me to take a few men and reconnoiter. Passing through a recently deserted village on our left, it was seen that the approaching group was composed of about 200 Boxers. The field piece was rushed to the fore, and skirmish line formed behind a mud wall. At first only banners could be seen owing to a rise in the road. The Boxers, when within about 800 yards, opened fire with what we estimated at approximately thirty rifles, the bullets flying high over our heads. As we did not return the fire, on they came. When within 500 yards our field piece spoke. At the first shot the Boxers halted. Two more shots and they turned and fled into a village a short distance in their rear. We advanced on the double across the open space and through the village. Not a Boxer was to be seen. They had a most uncanny way of disappearing.
This section of the country was particularly well adapted for defense. The numerous villages, the flat fields interlaced with mud walls, and the thousands of grave mounds, made it possible for the Chinese to harass us without exposing themselves. From this time on they would retire from village to village and open fire from concealed positions. In many instances their rifles would be thrust through the mud walls of houses. We would halt and form skirmish line. Then one or two volleys would be fired followed by the order to charge. On the double we would rush forward only to find the village deserted, the Chinese having taken position in the next town, a few hundred yards away. Besides the thirty or forty rifles used against us, there were two jingals that threw any kind of missile the Chinese could lay their hands on. The sound of these projectiles passing overhead was anything but pleasant. One finally hit our gunner’s mate who was with the Colt automatic. It turned out to be a large bolt nut.
On several occasions it was necessary for Admiral Seymour to order flanking parties across the river before it was deemed wise to charge. Late in the afternoon we were brought to a halt at a village where the enemy rifle fire, judging by the noise, had been greatly augmented. The American skirmish line was strengthened by the addition of first the British, and then the French and Japanese. Our field gun and the British nine-pounders were placed in action. Still the ragged volleys from the village continued. The Germans took up a position in the rear of the skirmish line and fired over our heads. This was not at all comfortable. Before their fire was stopped one of their bullets struck one of the marines of our point in the back. As he was carried to the rear he shouted: “Hey, fellows, here goes a dead marine killed by a damned Dutchman.” This incident is recorded here as it shows, after a lapse of many years, how anything with an amusing tinge which happens under conditions of stress, clings to one’s memory.
The Japanese captain was the first to divine what was going on in the Chinese village. He simply shouted: “Fire crackers!” The order was given to fix bayonets, followed by the charge. The mixed line of American, British, French and Japanese rushed forward on the double, all yelling at the tops of our voices. We passed through the village, and, as usual, not the vestige of a Chinaman was to be seen. Fire crackers were added to the list of defensive weapons.
Here occurred an incident, repeated later on several occasions, that was a good example of Captain McCalla’s keen perception of the seriousness of the situation, and his appreciation of the value of time. We were all extremely fatigued, almost ready to drop in our tracks. An orderly from Admiral Seymour arrived with this message: “The Admiral says he thinks this would be a good place to stop for the night.” Captain McCalla’s instantaneous reply was: “Tell the Admiral there is another village just beyond which we can make in a few minutes.” He immediately gave the order to advance and was heard to say, half to himself and half to us: “We must push on; we must push on!”
This continuous urge to push on saved us at least one full day in our finally reaching safety; and this one day might well have been all that stood between us and annihilation.
That night we witnessed a spectacle never to be forgotten. It was decided to bivouac between two villages and the river. To make our position secure, both towns were set on fire. All through the night the conflagration raged, throwing a lurid light over the weary sailors sleeping by their stacked arms. No enemy could approach without detection at a long distance. For the time being, a sense of security prevailed.
Through Piet sang. At daylight we found before us about a mile of open plains with the city of Pietsang beyond. This we traversed unmolested, but on nearing the city fire was opened from a point in the river bed where there was a sharp turn to the right. To the usual musketry fire, which now showed appreciable increase in volume, was added that from field pieces throwing shrapnel. There was no longer any doubt that regular Chinese troops were opposing us.
The city of Pietsang occupies both banks of the Pei-ho. It was evident, in view of what had just taken place, that a force would have to be despatched across the river. The Russians, Germans and Japanese were ferried to the right bank; a heavy shrapnel fire was opened on the Russians as they landed forcing them to take shelter behind some joss houses. When they were joined by the Germans and Japanese the advance started on both sides of the river simultaneously.
We on our side, the American, British, and French, proceeded close to the river bank, keeping under cover of houses whenever possible and firing on the Chinese whenever seen, which was seldom. Bullets and shell were flying thick, but most of them seemed to pass overhead. We slowly advanced through the entire city, the Chinese retreating before us and finally making a determined stand in a strong position about 500 yards beyond the edge of the city. Here we were held in check for some time. The French sailors were now mixed in with our skirmish line. Well do I remember how difficult it was to get them to cease firing when the order was given. After dislodging the Chinese from their strong position we advanced by quick rushes from mud wall to mud wall. There would be a halt, a few volleys, a rush forward, and so on. On more than one occasion a French rifle was thrust between my feet and fired as I mounted the low walls to give the signal to cease firing. For two hours we continued this fatiguing work, covering about two miles. Judging by the cartridges the Chinese left behind we estimated their strength in numbers to be many times our own.
Although we were now having a few casualties it looked as if we could push the Chinese back indefinitely. And here again vivid recollections of Captain McCalla come to mind. He was here, there, and everywhere on his white mule. Often exposing himself in order to encourage his men, he frequently afforded a good target for the Chinese. Once, while all of us were well covered by one of the many mud walls, he stopped his mule close to where I was lying on the ground. Immediately the bullets began to whiz by. “Captain,” I said. “They are using you for a target!” And his laconic reply was: “Now, don’t mind me; don’t mind me,” and moved on. But he seemed to have a charmed life as evidenced by the fact that one bullet passed through his hat, one hit his sword scabbard, and one grazed across his back. Later on, however, he was struck in the foot by a piece of shrapnel. While this did not prevent his carrying on, it gave him considerable trouble for some time afterwards.
There was a sudden cessation of the opposition, and, for a short time we advanced without molestation. It was the calm before the storm. We were following the river levee on top of which was a road. It now made a sharp turn to the right. Here the Chinese made their most determined stand up to this time. From a large village, which was uncovered to the front by the turn in the levee, they opened up on us. Then suddenly a troop of cavalry, about 300 strong, appeared on our left flank. They opened fire with carbines. The range was too great, and we could see the puffs of dust made by the bullets hitting the ground. The three-inch field piece had been hauled on the levee for use against the Chinese in the village ahead; but, owing to the heavy enemy fire, had to be withdrawn under cover of the embankment. Its fire was then directed at the cavalry. A few well aimed shots were sufficient to disperse that threat. It now became necessary to cross the levee in order to gain protection from the Chinese in the village ahead. The men who had been dragging the field piece were exhausted. Captain McCalla directed that my section exchange places with them. While the change was taking place the movement across the levee began. The men who had been relieved from the field piece were already passing over and I followed close behind. On gaining the top of the levee I saw our men lying down supposedly under cover of the bank, firing into the village ahead. Bullets were flying thick, but we had become so used to them they passed on almost unnoticed. Great then was my surprise when I felt a tremendous blow on my right hip which knocked me flat. I was the only one on the top of the levee at the time. In my desire to get under cover as soon as possible, and not being able to get up, I slid down the levee bank on the side towards the river. There I remained, for how long I have never known, but until picked up some time later by a British lieutenant and a couple of bluejackets.
It seems that on crossing the river to obtain shelter from the village ahead, we exposed ourselves to the fire from the Chinese in a village on the opposite bank. We did not know that the Russians, Germans, and Japanese on the other side of the river had not advanced as fast as we had. Accordingly for a time we were in the serious predicament of having the enemy on three sides of us. The result was more casualties than had heretofore been experienced, and a renewed sense of our desperate situation.
After driving the enemy from their position a halt was called for much needed rest and food, and to take stock. A number of wounded men and a few dead had been collected in one spot. The dead were buried; and the wounded taken to the river and placed on the junks. My billet was on top of a lot of boxes containing canned goods.
We Americans had no doctor with our detachment. This unfortunate state of affairs was because the Newark’s senior surgeon, Dr. A. C. H. Russell, was ill on board ship when the expedition started, and the junior surgeon, Dr. Lippitt, was with the besieged marines in Pekin. To the British doctors, who had more of their own to attend than they really had time for, fell the lot of looking out for us. Of course, from now on, having a compound fracture of the right thigh close to the hip joint, I remained on the junk. About four hours later Surgeon MacNamara of the Endymion set my leg, wrapped a bandage around it (there were no splints available) gave me an injection of morphine, and moved on to the next patient.
That day, June 21, there was no further advance, and as usual there was no disturbance during the night. However, the Chinese began their attacks again as soon as the movement started in the morning. All that day the little column, with its increasing number of casualties, struggled forward in the same manner as on the previous day. The three-inch field piece was consigned to the river, all its ammunition having been exhausted. It had proved a most valuable weapon, and its loss was serious. The care of the wounded was getting to be more and more of a difficult problem. The junk ahead of the one I was in ran aground in a very precarious position. Several of the wounded were again struck by bullets. A British midshipman* and several bluejackets extricated the junk from its dangerous position, only later to have it struck by a shell and sunk. The wounded were transferred to the other two junks thereby filling them almost to the limit of their capacities.
Camp was broken at 2:00 a.m., it being hoped that a night movement would prove more rapid. But it was not to be so, as the harassment soon commenced. It looked like another long day of continual fighting with now rapidly depleting ranks, ammunition, and food.
At Hsiku Arsenal. At about 9:00 A.M., the fire from the Chinese suddenly ceased and for a short time the column proceeded unopposed. This we knew augured something unusual. The column was approaching a number of substantial looking buildings surrounded by a high wall and a moat. Two Chinamen hailed from the top of the wall asking who we were and what we were doing. The answer, through an interpreter, was, “Peaceful foreigners going to Tientsin.” Instantly a heavy fire was opened from the compound.
This place, of course, could not be left in our rear. It had to be taken. A large flanking party of British Royal Marines under command of Major Johnstone was sent far to the rear where it crossed the river, and made a wide detour. While the main body was keeping the Chinese busy, this flanking force after what to us seemed an interminable period, suddenly appeared in the rear of the compound giving the Chinese a startling surprise. It must be that they thought these marines composed an entirely new force, and a much larger one than it really was, for without more ado the Chinese abandoned their wonderfully strong position and fled. There is no doubt but that the stupidity of the Chinese in not letting us pass and then attacking from our rear saved our little force from complete annihilation. Our ammunition was almost exhausted so that we would soon have had to resort to the bayonet entirely. The Americans had only twenty-five rounds per man left, and this was more than any of the other detachments could boast.
We found ourselves in possession of the Hsiku arsenal. Here was enough artillery for an army. There were stacks and stacks of modern rifles—Winchesters, Mausers and Manlichers; and hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition. There were field guns and siege guns by the score. There were magazines containing immense stocks of both black and smokeless powder. That this place was so easily taken seemed a miracle. It was our salvation. All detachments were set to work fortifying. Within a short time it was felt that we could withstand the attacks of many thousands of Chinese as long as the food held out.
All the wounded officers, excepting Captain Jellicoe who had been shot through the lungs and had to remain in a sitting posture, were placed in a large room which contained numerous siege guns and boxes of ammunition stacked to the ceiling. I was between a Russian lieutenant and a German lieutenant, while near my feet was a British midshipman. The German officer, Lieutenant Schlieper, spoke good English, so we spent much time complimenting one another on the efficiency of the other’s battalion. And I learned much about his family consisting of a wife and two children whose pictures he had along and proudly exhibited.
Shortly after dark it was decided to send a small detachment of British marines, under Lieutenant Bates, through to Tientsin. This was unsuccessful, the entire squad being captured and decapitated. It was evident that we were in for a siege. Rockets were fired in hopes they would be seen in Tientsin and interpreted as signals from us. But they were not answered. In fact, we did not know whether Tientsin was in the hands of the Chinese or of the foreigners.
The next day the Chinese besiegers kept up a continuous bombardment of shrapnel, but made no assault. This might have been due to the dust storm that was raging. Outside it was blinding, while inside the buildings the dirt found its way through the windows which had no glass, and the shutters of which had to be left open to give light. It did absolutely no good to wash. We wounded, with our begrimed clothes and faces, were terrible looking sights. But as there were large quantities of medical stores in the arsenal we were all made more comfortable; in my own case by a splint which suited my particular fracture.
The second night rockets were again fired and this time it was reported that answering signals were seen from Tientsin. So we hoped for a speedy relief.
The following day, June 25, a cloud of dust was seen approaching. It did not come from the direction of Tientsin. Rumors immediately ran rife. First one would come in and tell us it was a relief column approaching; and then some one else would say, “no, it is Chinese cavalry.” For an hour or more we were left in suspense and doubt. Finally there was no mistaking that the approaching dust cloud was caused by our relief forces. I will make no attempt to describe our feelings when this fact became known, but leave that to the imagination of the reader.
The American portion of this contingent consisted of a battalion of marines under the late Major General (then major) Littleton W. T. Waller, and a company of bluejackets under the now Rear Admiral (then lieutenant) Noble E. Irwin. We learned from them that they had succeeded in reaching Tientsin only a few days before, after a hard march and much fighting in which they suffered a number of casualties. They had set out from Tientsin for our relief at one o’clock in the morning and had met with little resistance. However, they went astray owing to lack of knowledge of the roads and our exact whereabouts. This accounted for their approach from the wrong direction.
The Last Leg. The problem of the return had now to be solved. It was impossible to follow the river as it flowed through the native city of Tientsin, and there were several forts on its banks. So it was decided to proceed direct overland, starting that afternoon as soon as the wounded could be made ready. Many men were set to work making improvised stretchers. The French hammocks were stowed in the bottom of one of the junks. These proved to be the very things needed. I was fortunate in having the Welch Fusiliers give me a real stretcher with legs that saved me much discomfort whenever we were set down on the ground.
Ammunition was plentiful for the rifles of all detachments excepting the Americans who were equipped with the .22-caliber Lee straight pull. It was with a sigh of relief that these rifles, which had given much trouble were thrown away, and Manlichers supplied in their places.
Practically all the able bodied men of the original Seymour Relief Expedition were required to carry the large number of wounded, as there were over a hundred stretcher cases. It was a woe-begone looking assemblage that passed out of the arsenal at four o’clock that afternoon, the long line of stretcher bearers being guarded on all sides by the relief force. Progress was very slow owing to the necessity for the stretcher carriers frequently to rest. By dark we were only two miles from the arsenal. Here we bivouacked in the open for the night; within sight of the flame and immense column of black smoke and within hearing distance of the reports of the explosions, as the Hsiku Arsenal, with its millions of dollars’ worth of war supplies, burned to the ground.
The wounded were set down where the halt was called, with the stretcher bearers sleeping around. The wind blew hard stirring up the dust and making it very uncomfortable. At three in the morning the sombre procession was again on the move. Fortunately the Chinese made no attacks upon us. After sunrise it became exceedingly hot and the stretcher bearers had a hard time, requiring frequent reliefs. At ten o’clock we came to what was left of the Tientsin railroad station, from which place we had started for Pekin sixteen days previously. It was in ruins, with only a few broken walls left standing. All houses in the neighborhood showed the effects of shell fire. There was no activity on the bund. Not a stroke of work was going on nor was a Chinaman to be seen. The city seemed deserted, excepting for now and then a few foreign troops.
On crossing the pontoon bridge into the foreign city of Tientsin, the Seymour Relief Expedition automatically broke up. Each detachment went its own way, returning to their ships off Taku as soon as practicable.
Of our 112 Americans who started from Tientsin, five had been killed and twenty-six were wounded. The wounded were disposed in various places in the foreign city of Tientsin, to be frequently moved as the snipers sought them out, and then finally taken to improvised hospitals at Tongku and Taku.
Thus ended one of the most remarkable episodes of modern history. Our legations were still in jeopardy and so remained for another two months until relieved late in August by the allied armies composed of many thousands of troops.
Great credit must be given to Vice Admiral Seymour for bringing his shattered force back to Tientsin. But without detracting from his due, I feel convinced that he never would have succeeded had not Captain Bowman H. McCalla been in command of the American battalion which led the allied advance on that memorable retreat.
* Mr. Currie was Chief Engineer of the railroad.
*This midshipman later received the Victoria Cross for his conduct on this occasion.