Field Marshal Oyama recognised that the situation demanded desperate measures. Though anxious to await the fall of Port Arthur before taking the offensive, he felt that his hand had been forced. Orders were, therefore, given for a general attack. When I left the field on the night of the 10th it was manifest that passive resistance was at an end, and that darkness would bring important developments. During the night an attack was made by the Guards Division against the heights in front of Bastion Hill. The enemy had adopted several ingenious devices to guard against surprises. In some places they had stretched wires and chains charged with electricity of high potentiality. Their latest artifice was a string of camel bells, against which an unwary enemy stumbling announces his approach, and is welcomed with a volley. Despite this warning and the use of hand grenades the attack was so far successful that at daybreak we had strengthened our hold on the hills North of Yentai, though the Russians continued to occupy Bastion Hill and the spurs in front. With dawn the battle began. A mist hung over the plain and clung to the skirts of the hills, making it impossible to see what progress was on our front. Out of the white vapours came the rattle of rifles and the roar of artillery resounding through the valley like a tornado. The Pride of the Morning scattered, and the sun lit up the scene with a gentle radiance. Before us lay the broad valley with its sheaves of giant millet among the brown furrows and yellow stubble. The villages were deserted save for a few of their blue-gowned habitants who stood in terrified groups behind the outer walls. Chentow, a large village nearest the hills, was under fire from two batteries at the foot of Bastion Hill. Behind the walls lay our riflemen listening to the angry snarl of the shrapnel as it burst overhead, and laughing as they felt the solid stone masonry throb and sputter under the leaden hail. Our batteries had moved from under the hills near the coal mine. One stood in the open South-west of Chentow masked by millet, striving to silence Bastion Hill and drawing upon itself the concentrated fire of sixteen guns.