Part 23

"Suddenly, on the night of April 1, things became uneasy. I was riding at the head of the column. All our shooting implements were cleared for action, because there was danger of an attack by Bedouins, whom the English here had bribed. When it began to grow a bit light, I already thought: 'We're through for to-day'; for we were tired--had been riding eighteen hours. Suddenly I saw a line flash up before me, and shots whizzed over our heads. Down from the camels! Form a fighting line! You know how quickly it becomes daylight here. The whole space around the desert hillock was occupied. Now, up with your bayonets! Rush 'em! * * * They fled, but returned again, this time from all sides. Several of the gendarmes that had been given us as an escort are wounded; the machine gun operator, Rademacher, falls, killed by a shot through his heart; another is wounded; Lieutenant Schmidt, in the rear guard, is mortally wounded--he has received a bullet in his chest and abdomen.

"Suddenly they waved white cloths. The Sheik, to whom a part of our camels belonged, went over to them to negotiate, then Sami Bey and his wife. In the interim we quickly built a sort of wagon barricade, a circular camp of camel saddles, rice and coffee sacks, all of which we filled with sand. We had no shovels, and had to dig with our bayonets, plates, and hands. The whole barricade had a diameter of about fifty meters. Behind it we dug trenches, which we deepened even during the skirmish. The camels inside had to lie down, and thus served very well as cover for the rear of the trenches. Then an inner wall was constructed, behind which we carried the sick men. In the very centre we buried two jars of water, to guard us against thirst. In addition we had ten petroleum cans full of water; all told, a supply for four days. Late in the evening Sami's wife came back from the futile negotiations, alone. She had unveiled for the first and only time on this day of the skirmish, had distributed cartridges, and had conducted herself faultlessly.

"Soon we were able to ascertain the number of the enemy. There were about 300 men; we numbered fifty, with twenty-nine guns. In the night, Lieutenant Schmidt died. We had to dig his grave with our hands and with our bayonets, and to eliminate every trace above it, in order to protect the body. Rademacher had been buried immediately after the skirmish, both of them silently, with all honors.

"The wounded had a hard time of it. We had lost our medicine chest in the wreck; we had only little packages of bandages for skirmishes; but no probing instrument, no scissors were at hand. On the next day our men came up with thick tongues, feverish, and crying 'Water! water!' But each one received only a little cupful three times a day. If our water supply was exhausted, we would have to sally from our camp and fight our way through. Then we should have gone to pot under superior numbers. The Arab gendarmes simply cut the throats of those camels that had been wounded by shots, and then drank the yellow water that was contained in the stomachs. Those fellows can stand anything. At night we always dragged out the dead camels that had served as cover, and had been shot. The hyenas came, hunting for dead camels. I shot one of these, taking it for an enemy in the darkness.

"That continued about three days. On the third day there were new negotiations. Now the Bedouins demanded arms no longer, but only money. This time the negotiations took place across the camp wall. When I declined, the Bedouin said: 'Beaucoup de combat,' (lots of fight.) I replied:

"'Please go to it!'

"We had only a little ammunition left, and very little water. Now it really looked as if we would soon be dispatched. The mood of the men was pretty dismal. Suddenly, at about 10 o'clock in the morning, there bobbed up in the north two riders on camels, waving white cloths. Soon afterward there appeared, coming from the same direction, far back, a long row of camel troops, about a hundred; they draw rapidly near by, ride singing toward us, in a picturesque train. They were the messengers and troops of the Emir of Mecca.

"Sami Bey's wife, it developed, had, in the course of the first negotiations, dispatched an Arab boy to Jeddah. From that place the Governor had telegraphed to the Emir. The latter at once sent camel troops, with his two sons and his personal surgeon; the elder, Abdullah, conducted the negotiations; the surgeon acted as interpreter, in French. Now things proceeded in one-two-three order, and the whole Bedouin band speedily disappeared. From what I learned later, I know definitely that they had been corrupted with bribes by the English. They knew when and where we would pass and they had made all preparations. Now our first act was a rush for water; then we cleared up our camp, but had to harness our camels ourselves, for the camel drivers had fled at the very beginning of the skirmish. More than thirty camels were dead. The saddles did not fit, and my men know how to rig up schooners, but not camels. Much baggage remained lying in the sand for lack of pack animals.

"Then, under the safe protection of Turkish troops, we got to Jeddah. There the authorities and the populace received us very well. From there we proceeded in nineteen days, without mischance, by sailing boat to Elwesh, and under abundant guard with Suleiman Pasha in a five-day caravan journey toward this place, to El Ula, and now we are seated at last in the train and are riding toward Germany--into the war at last!"

"Was not the war you had enough?" I asked.

"Not a bit of it," replied the youngest Lieutenant; "the Emden simply captured ships each time; only a single time, at Penang, was it engaged in battle, and I wasn't present on that occasion. War? No, that is just to begin for us now."

"My task since November," said Mücke, "has been to bring my men as quickly as possible to Germany against the enemy. Now, at last, I can do so."

"And what do you desire for yourself?" I asked.

"For myself," he laughed, and the blue eyes sparkled, "a command in the North Sea."

* * * * *

Japan was bound by alliance with Great Britain to join with her to attack any aggressor, and to carry out her pledges she, at the outbreak of the war, prepared to capture the German stronghold Tsing-tao, the capital of the concession of Kiao-chau, which Germany had obtained from China, and had converted into a German possession.

CAPTURE OF TSING-TAO

A. N. HILDITCH

Battle Sketches by A. N. Hilditch, Oxford University Press.

Tokyo, capital of Japan, lies at the head of Tokyo Bay, in the south-east of Nippon. Its two million inhabitants are distributed among houses and streets which present curious intermixtures of Japanese and European architecture, customs, or science. The jinrikisha notably has been displaced largely by tramcars which, carrying all passengers at a uniform rate of four sen, make it possible to travel ten miles for a penny. It is an industrial city, but on account of occasional earthquakes no very large buildings line the thoroughfares. The traveller can here observe to advantage the strange characteristics of the most stoical race upon earth, or can contrast, if he will, the courteous, imperturbably serene disposition of the most martial nation of the East with the present disposition of the most rabidly bellicose nation of the West. When Japanese and German, indeed, met in conflict before Tsing-tao in the autumn of 1914, there was seen, in the Japanese soldier, during a campaign of peculiar hardship and difficulty, a revival of the qualities of the old Samurai, with his quiet courage, his burning patriotism, his patience, his habitual suppression of emotional display singularly distinct from those of the modern Goth. Nor was the statesmanship which brought about that conflict less admirable. Japan's alliance with Great Britain was at once a solemn pledge and the guiding principle of her foreign policy. August 1914 found British interests and the vast trade that centred at Hong-kong in danger: German armed vessels prowled the seas, and the German naval base of Tsing-tao was busy with warlike preparations. Great Britain appealed to Japan to free their joint commerce from the menace. The Japanese Prime Minister, Count Okuma, might well hesitate, however, before recommending intervention. Was he the right minister to direct a war? He was nearer eighty than seventy years old, and recently had been for seven years in retirement: his Government had a minority in the Diet, and to the Genro his name was anathema: he claimed the allegiance of no party, and the powerful military and naval clans, Choshiu and Satsuma, were openly hostile. He had been raised to power a few months before by public demand for progressive government. There were considerations other than domestic or personal, indeed, which might have tempted some statesmen to hold their hands. To temporize while events revealed themselves in Europe would be safer than immediate action; while to remain neutral might lead to the transference to the Japanese of much trade with China now in British hands, inevitably hampered by the menace of German commerce-destroyers. Nevertheless, Count Okuma's Cabinet came to a bold and loyal decision. Baron Kato, the Foreign Minister, reassured Great Britain of active Japanese aid, and on August 15 sent an ultimatum to Germany. The latter was requested to withdraw at once all German armed vessels from Eastern waters, and to deliver to Japan before September 15 the entire leased territory of Kiao-chau, with a view to its eventual restoration to China. The ultimatum was timed to expire at noon on August 23. That day arrived without satisfaction having been given to Japan. Within a few hours the 2nd Japanese squadron steamed off towards Tsing-tao.

Before the outbreak of hostilities with Great Britain, Vice-Admiral the Graf von Spee, who commanded the German Pacific squadron, had steamed away from Tsing-tao with most of his ships. To use Tsing-tao as a naval base while engaging in commerce-raiding seemed a sound and a practicable plan, since the British and Australian naval forces, though superior, were hardly strong enough simultaneously to blockade the harbour and to search the seas. The plan was, however, rendered impossible by the Japanese ultimatum, and the Admiral, after having lingered for some weeks in the Western Pacific, departed for other seas and other adventures. Such was the result of Japan's action, and thus dangerous were the tactics that Japan's action had frustrated. For Tsing-tao, situated upon one of the two peninsulas, divided by two miles of waterway, enclosing the bay of Kiao-chau, with its safe and spacious anchorage for vessels of any size, constituted one of the most important naval bases on the Chinese coast. It had, indeed, been described as the key to Northern China. Dominating the eastern coast of the Shantung peninsula, the port formed the centre of the semicircular area known as Kiao-chau, extending on a radius of 32 miles around the shores of the bay, with a population of 60,000. This area was, under the Chinese German agreement as to Tsing-tao, influenced and controlled by Germany, though not strictly subject to her, and regarded as neutral territory. Its surface was mainly mountainous and bare, though the lowlands were well cultivated, but in parts it was rich in mineral wealth, large but undeveloped supplies of coal being present. In winter the port, connected to the junction of Tsi-nan by a German-built railway, was the natural outlet for the trade of Northern China. The heights which surrounded the bay offered admirable sites for fortification, while the land-approaches to Tsing-tao were guarded by formidable defences stretched across its peninsula. In many quarters the stronghold was regarded as a second Port Arthur. The Germans had paid particular attention to defence, so much so, indeed, that over five-sixths of the white inhabitants were engaged in military occupations. Five thousand German marines constituted the normal garrison, though the outbreak of war in August called about a thousand more men--volunteers, reservists, and sailors--to the colours. The complement of the Kaiserin Elizabeth, an Austrian cruiser sheltering in the harbour, left for Tientsin, having received orders to disarm their ship, but returned in time to join the defenders. The garrison was amply provisioned for five or six months, and well provided with weapons, stores, and munitions. Most of the German ships off the Chinese coast at the outbreak of war, indeed, had made immediately for Tsing-tao, and discharged upon its wharves many thousand tons of cargo. When war with Japan became inevitable, therefore, the defenders could anticipate a successful resistance, provided the expected instantaneous victories in Europe materialized. Elaborate preparations were made for the defence. The harbour mouth was blocked by three sunken vessels, enabling only small craft to enter. Chinese villages within the leased territory, and the bridge where the railway crossed the boundary, were destroyed, partial compensation being paid to the inhabitants. Native labourers were engaged to throw up earthworks to strengthen the town fortifications. Many foreigners, women, children, and non-combatants, meanwhile, had left the town. On Friday evening, August 21, at roll-call, the Governor, Captain Meyer-Waldeck, read out a message from the German Emperor exhorting the garrison to defend the town to their utmost, and to do their 'duty to the last'. It was listened to stoically. The following day a diversion occurred which opened hostilities propitiously for the Germans. The British destroyer Kennet, encountering the German destroyer S. 90 off the coast, gave chase. The S. 90 immediately made for port, and the Kennet, in the ardour of pursuit, closed in unawares within range of the German land batteries. The latter opened fire, and before she could draw off the Kennet sustained ten casualties, though little material damage. Next day the term of the Japanese ultimatum expired. It was doubtful at what point the Japanese would begin operations, or what tactics they would adopt. The fear was prevalent among Germans that the enemy would enter Chinese territory to reach the town from the land: newspapers under German influence, indeed, circulating in Chinese coast towns, started a press campaign with the object of stirring the Chinese Government to oppose by force any Japanese landing in her territory. Outposts were placed by the Germans along the shores of the neutral zone to watch for developments: they descried, on August 24, the approach of Japanese warships.

Vice-Admiral Sadakichi Kato, who commanded the approaching squadron, immediately upon arrival took measures to protect himself against danger from mines. Seven islets clustering round the mouth of Kiao-chau Bay were occupied, to form a convenient local naval base, while mine-sweepers swept the surrounding seas. No less than a thousand mines were taken from the water. A blockade of the whole Kiao-chau coast was declared, as commencing from 9 a.m., August 27, and war vessels patrolled the shores, some seventy miles long. Action soon began, and continued during ensuing days, with shells that at intervals screamed towards the town. The position was, however, reconnoitred carefully. Japanese airmen went up frequently to scan the fortifications and to drop bombs. All protruding structures, spires and factory-chimneys, had been levelled to the ground by the Germans so as to afford no mark for fire. Bombs were dropped on the railway station and on one of the numerous barrack buildings. The operations continued spasmodically into September, while Kato was awaiting the approach by land of a co-operating army, which had now disembarked on the northern coast of the Shantung peninsula, about 150 miles due north of Tsing-tao.

The landing was effected on September 2, without hindrance or opposition on the part of the Chinese. The Government, following the precedent of the Russo-Japanese War, immediately published a declaration refusing to hold itself responsible for the obligations of strict neutrality in areas that formed, within Lung-kow, Lai-chau, and the neighbourhood of Kiao-chau Bay, passage-ways essential to the belligerent troops. It was, of course, incumbent upon the Powers involved to respect Chinese property and administrative rights. Japan, therefore, was permitted to make use of the main roads to transport an army to the rear of Tsing-tao. The forces landed composed a division numbering 23,000, and commanded by Lieutenant-General Mitsuomi Kamio. An advance-guard was sent forward without delay, but soon found its way rendered impassable by torrential floods which at this time swept down upon and devastated the province of Shantung, bridges, roads, and even villages being submerged and destroyed, with great loss of life, largely owing to Chinese official incompetence. The Japanese, after covering 20 kilometres in two days, reached a stream so swollen that crossing was impossible. The artillery had to return to Lung-kow. German diplomacy, meanwhile, exasperated at its inability to prevent a Japanese landing, had not been inactive.

The German and Austrian ministers at Peking, on hearing of the Japanese landing, protested strongly. China, it was claimed, ought to have forestalled and resisted the landing, but instead had deliberately extended the war-zone in order to facilitate Japanese movements. She would be held responsible for any injury to the German cause or property. To this China replied that, if it was incumbent upon her to prevent by force Japan operating in her territory, it was equally her duty to prevent by force Germany fortifying and defending Tsing-tao. China had endeavoured, indeed, but unsuccessfully, to preclude belligerent operations in her territory: only after the Japanese landing, when she was powerless to do otherwise, had she extended the zone of war. As to the responsibility, she reiterated her previous declaration. The baffled Germans fell back on threats: the right was reserved to visit upon China dire consequences for her alleged breach of neutrality. The incident, thrown into striking contrast with Germany's offer to Belgium, marked the unscrupulousness of German diplomacy, but stirred also many doubts among the foreign communities in China, in which the British, allied as they were to the Japanese, formed a predominating element. An anomaly of the situation was that British local interests had long conflicted with Japanese national interests. Japan's activities had, at every stage of her recent history, reduced British opportunities. Japanese trader competed with British trader for the markets of China, and Japan's share of the annual trade expansion was increasing, that of Great Britain decreasing. High tariffs and preferential rates had closed Corea and Manchuria to British enterprise. It is easy to estimate in what commercial jealousy and rivalry such circumstances had resulted. While the expediency of the British-Japanese alliance was fully recognized, and its consequences admitted to be the freedom of the China seas from menace of commerce-destroyers, nevertheless the fact remained that the hostilities against Tsing-tao would constitute a fresh impulse to Japanese expansion. The operations in Shantung were watched with critical eyes by many British in the foreign settlements of China. The floods had, meanwhile, subsided considerably, and on September 12 Japanese cavalry reached Tsimo, ten miles outside the Kiao-chau zone. No trace of the enemy north of the Pai-sha River had been seen, beyond a German aeroplane that occasionally passed overhead on reconnoitring flights. On the following day a number of sharp skirmishes with outposts occurred, and one Japanese patrol found its way to the small town of Kiao-chau, situated at the head of the bay, some 22 miles from Tsing-tao itself. The brushes with the Germans became of daily occurrence, and in one of them a high official of the German Legation at Peking, who had volunteered for service, was killed. On September 17 the Japanese attacked Wang-ko-huang, 13 miles from Tsimo, the enemy being in a fortified position and provided with machine-guns. At sunset, however, they abandoned the village and withdrew under cover of darkness, leaving behind quantities of equipment and supplies. A little later a development came about that brought the dissatisfaction of British traders to a head. About September 18, after hostile patrols had been driven away from the shore by the fire of destroyers, Japanese artillery and troops were landed at Laoshan Bay, north of Tsing-tao, just within the leased territory. Why was it necessary that troops should have been landed on the northern shore of the peninsula of Shantung, 150 miles from their objective, when guns could be disembarked with perfect safety on the eastern shore, not 40 miles from the objective, and within the German zone?

The British were not as critical of Japan's strategy as they were suspicious of her policy. Dark suggestions got afoot that she had ulterior designs upon the whole Chinese province of Shantung. Such views could not but have reached the ears of the British authorities at Wei-hei-wei and elsewhere, nor could they have been deaf to previous murmurs. Diplomatic circles, however, could extend little sympathy to the critics. Nevertheless, it was undeniable that the latter were aggrieved, and that their attitude might produce unfortunate effects. If Great Britain herself took some share in the Tsing-tao operations, greater sympathy with their purpose might be induced, and a better state of feeling in the Orient between the two peoples might possibly result. It must have been some aim such as this that prompted the dispatch of a British force to the Tsing-tao area to co-operate with General Kamio, a step which the earlier symptoms of the British discontent cannot but have influenced. On September 19, however, 1,000 of the 2nd South Wales Borderers, a force so small as to be nominal, under Brigadier-General Barnardiston, left Tientsin and proceeded to Wei-hei-wei. Transport mules having here been taken on board, the expedition on September 22 coasted down the eastern shore of Shantung, and next day landed at Laoshan Bay. A month later, as will be seen, they were joined by 500 of the 36th Sikhs.

Meanwhile, it was probably about this time, or shortly after, that the Triumph, a British battleship of nearly 12,000 tons displacement, 19-1/2 knots speed, and four 10-inch guns primary armament, joined the Japanese squadron off Tsing-tao. A spasmodic bombardment had been maintained during the preceding weeks, and seaplanes had been busy, bombing and range-finding. The wireless station, the electric-power station, and several ships in harbour were damaged by explosive missiles. Little could be done, however, from the sea alone, and the attack by land, owing largely to transport difficulties, had still to develop. But the weather was now improving considerably. Another set-back to Japanese military ardour was, indeed, constituted by the marked reluctance of the Germans to form a line of resistance. German outposts, upon encountering hostile patrols, invariably retired after offering faint opposition. When the British troops, after a circuitous march of 40 miles, much hampered by bad roads, came up in the rear of the Japanese, then preparing to assault the enemy's advanced positions on high ground between the rivers Pai-sha and Li-tsun, the part that it had been arranged they should take in the Japanese attack, on September 26, fell through owing to a disinclination of the Germans to fight. Their resistance was so meagre that the Allies were hardly engaged, and next day gained without difficulty the easterly banks of the Li-tsun and Chang-tsun rivers, only seven miles north-east of Tsing-tao. The enemy at all points fell back, and the advance upon the town continued. The Japanese had now drawn their lines across the neck of the narrow peninsula upon which Tsing-tao stands. There were indications that the main forces were now in contact. The only obstacle, but a formidable one, between the invaders and the forts themselves was constituted by the dominating height of Prince Heinrich Hill, from whose crest, rising some five miles from the town, all the forts could be bombarded. General Kamio estimated that three days of fighting would be required for its capture: it was as all-important to the defence as to the attack, and was sure to be strongly held. The forts themselves, of the latest type, were elaborately constructed, and equipped with concrete and steel cupolas, mounting high calibre pieces. They commanded both landward and seaward approaches to the town, those nearest the invading Japanese being situated upon, and named Moltke Berg, Bismarck Berg, and Iltis Berg. Earth redoubts and trenches between formed the German line of defence. Plans for the most considerable engagement, the assault of Prince Heinrich Hill, that had so far taken place, to begin on Sunday, September 27, were made by the Japanese General. It developed more speedily than had been expected. German artillery opened a terrific cannonade upon the Japanese lines, while three warships shelled the attacking right wing from the bay. The German fire was heavy and accurate. Japanese warships and aeroplanes, and also the British battleship Triumph, however, created a diversion that relieved the assaulting forces. Two of the forts were shelled from the sea, and suffered serious injury, a barrack-house and other buildings being, moreover, damaged. For many hours the great guns, thundering their challenges from sea and land and estuary, maintained continual uproar. Darkness began to gather. Fighting continued into the night, and early next morning was renewed. But the defenders seemed to lack enthusiasm. It is doubtful, indeed, whether their forces were sufficiently numerous to hold with strength their advanced positions, and at the same time to man adequately their main fortified positions. During the morning of the 28th the Germans withdrew from Prince Heinrich Hill, leaving fifty of their number and four machine-guns in Japanese hands, and many dead upon the slopes. The Japanese casualties numbered 150. By noon the whole position was in the attackers' hands, and the beleaguered town, visible from the height, was now face to face with siege. German officers who knew all the points, weak and strong, of the defences, could not but realize their inability to withstand the siege guns which Japan would sooner or later bring to the attack. But the heavy artillery was yet far away. A month was to elapse before the pieces could be dragged across the difficult country, and emplaced in prepared positions on Prince Heinrich Hill.

This month, which covered the whole of October, saw many interesting incidents, and betrayed no signs of idleness on the part of besiegers or besieged. The Germans, indeed, proved extraordinarily prodigal in ammunition, firing on an average 1,000 to 1,500 shells daily, a fact which lent support to the current view that, while undesirous of incurring their emperor's displeasure, they realized the hopelessness, so far as Tsing-tao was concerned, of their emperor's cause. Warships in the bay assisted the cannonade from the forts, and Lieutenant von Pluschow, the airman of the single aeroplane the town possessed, ventured forth at intervals to reconnoitre or to bomb. Life in the town itself continued to be quite normal. Japanese and British, meanwhile, drew their lines closer and closer to the fortress by sap and mine, though hindered greatly by terrible weather, and occasionally having slight encounters with the enemy. In one of these, on October 5, a German night-attack was heavily repulsed, forty-seven dead being left behind by the attackers. At sea the operations were also spasmodic. At the end of September a landing force occupied Lao-she harbour, in the vicinity of Tsing-tao, where four abandoned field-guns were taken possession of. Mine-sweeping had constantly to be maintained, under fire from the shore, and proved a dangerous task. Several vessels thus engaged were sunk or damaged, though with comparatively few casualties, through coming into contact with mines. Some German gunboats, however, among them the Cormoran and the Iltis, were apparently sunk about this time, either deliberately by the Germans, or from the fire of the Japanese guns. A torpedo flotilla bombarded one of the barracks, moreover, to some effect, while Japanese aeroplanes were also active. Von Pluschow twice attempted to attack vessels of the blockading squadron, but unsuccessfully, and on one occasion a Japanese aeroplane pursuing him gave a German balloon, floating captive above the town, some critical moments before it could be hauled to safety. A few days later, about October 7, the rope which held this balloon was, during the spasmodic firing, severed by a shot, and the great bag floated away, apparently across the bay in the direction of Kiao-chau town and the railway line inland. In this quarter, indeed, over the line itself, serious friction had arisen between the Japanese and the Chinese authorities.

The line ran from Tsing-tao and Kiao-chau to the junction of Tsi-nan, a distance of about 250 miles, passing through the towns of Wei-hsien and Tsing-chau. It was German built and almost wholly German owned. From some points of view it might reasonably be said to constitute an adjunct, if not a part, of the leased territory itself. In any case the Japanese claimed that, since the outbreak of war, the line had been consistently utilized to bring reservists, supplies, and ammunition to the town. The Austrian crew of the disarmed Kaiserin Elizabeth, both when they left and later returned to Tsing-tao, had used this means of transit. The railway, being still under German control, constituted a menace in the Japanese rear, which the latter, upon consolidating their position towards the end of September, took measures to remove. After occupying Wei-hsien, they began to arrange for the seizure of the whole line as far as Tsi-nan itself. Hints of such action drew forth protests from China, whose Government, however, adopted too compromising an attitude. The Japanese Government was firm. China's right to formal protest was admitted, but the occupation was stated to be an urgent military necessity, and without any prejudice to Chinese claims after the war. Since China was unable to enforce the neutrality of the line, flagrantly violated by the Germans, the Japanese had no alternative but to bring it under their own control. The Chino-German Treaty of 1898 and the German Government's charter clearly proved that the railway was essentially German. A compromise, hastened by the unhesitating and thorough measures taken by the Japanese to effect the occupation, was arrived at. The Japanese were temporarily to control the administration, while the Chinese conducted the traffic, of the railway. Its fate, since China did not admit the contention that it was purely German, was to be decided after the war. A bellicose attitude noticeable in Chinese military circles became very marked when, three days later, on October 6, unquestionably in breach of the arrangement, Japanese soldiers arrived at Tsi-nan, and took over the control of the rolling stock on the Shantung line. It was alleged at Peking that this force had declared martial law in the town, which contained, indeed, many German sympathizers who, rumour added, had destroyed several collieries there in their anxiety to obstruct the Allies. But the Chinese Government submitted under further strong protest, and with a request that the troops should be withdrawn. The Japanese action occasioned, however, further distrust among British residents in the Orient. Meanwhile, a second British force, consisting of 500 Sikhs, was being prepared to reinforce General Barnardiston.