Into that deadly zone men rushed again and again to their fate. The frenzy of battle had seized them and they heeded not the prostrate forms under their feet. The trenches spurted fire and death, for the men who held them were brave, and their orders were to die to the last man rather than leave the position. They were the 37th Imperial Regiment fresh from Europe. Their faces were untanned by the heat and cold of Manchuria; their uniforms were new and clean, and the gold crowns on their shoulder-straps were untarnished. We had been told more than once that the Japanese had not met the flower of the Russian army, and that from Europe would come another race of soldiers who would roll back the tide of war to the very walls of Tokyo. Here were the men from Europe: soldiers of the Imperial Regiment, brave as lions and sworn never to surrender. Long and stoutly they fought till the trenches ran blood. Again and again the Japanese returned to the assault, and again and again they were driven back leaving a trail of dead. Fiercer and fiercer grew the conflict. At last the remnant of the Russians, losing hope of keeping the trenches, withdrew behind the walls of the compounds and into the houses. Here they had great advantage and availed themselves of it to the utmost. In vain the Japanese threw away their lives. Every wall was a fortress manned by fearless and resolute men. “Who is ready to die for his country?” cried the colonel in command of the left flank. “Who will set fire to the houses?” Instantly came answer. “I will lead the forlorn hope!” said Captain Sumita, and from the ranks stepped two hundred soldiers. Captain Sumita placed himself at their head and forward they went shouting their dread battle cry. One mad rush and they were over the trenches and under the wall. Many had fallen, and from walls and houses swept a tornado of bullets. Reckless of life a handful of men struggled to pass the fatal barrier. One by one they dropped until not a man in that forlorn hope remained. The desperate enterprise had failed, and the enemy was still in possession of the houses. Near the front of the hamlet is a pool of stagnant water, close to which lay the Russian commander--wounded. To him an appeal was made. “Why should your brave men sacrifice their lives?” asked an officer. “They have done enough to prove their courage. They are surrounded and cannot escape. Go into the village and advise them to surrender.” The wounded Russian gave the answer that might be expected of a gallant soldier. “My orders were never to leave this place alive. My men must and will fight to the end.” A wounded sergeant was appealed to. He went into the village with what message none can say.