Yes, I had eaten and slept with the dear regimental commander from our first arrival and had fought at his side. In the bivouac, exposed to rain and dew, the colonel had shared his mat with me so that I might sleep the better. Even his scanty food he divided with me, smiling as cheerily as if he were eating with his family at home. I had always feared that the colonel, who was used to sleeping on a comfortable couch at home, might contract an illness from this bed and pillow of grass. With three thousand lives in his hand, the life of the regimental commander is very precious, and the morale of the whole regiment depends largely upon his health. I had tried my best to serve him attentively and make him as comfortable as the uncomfortable circumstances of the battle-field would allow. Some time ago, while we were at Changchia-tun, I prepared hot water in a water jar and offered him the first hot bath he had had since leaving Japan. He was pleased with it from the bottom of his heart, and I shall never forget his glad countenance of that moment. Now I had to part with the colonel who was as dear to me as my own father, and my grief was without limit. Of course I still belonged to one of his companies and I was still his subordinate. It was not a real separation, but I felt as if I were going far away from him. When I heard these farewell words of his, I felt my throat choked with tears and could not raise my head for a while. It was also a great sorrow for me to part with the regimental colors that I had taken care of through thick and thin. When I looked at the faded, torn standard now hanging to the left of the colonel, I could not help feeling that among the three thousand men whose hearts all stir at the sight of that flag, I had a right to a special emotion in the presence of the regimental insignia. After a moment of thoughtful silence, I sorrowing over my separation from the flag and the colonel, and the colonel apparently regretting his parting with me, I said earnestly: “Colonel, I will show you what a splendid fight I can make—” I could not say anything more and, turning on my heel quietly, walked off a few steps and then ran to my servant and said: “I am now ordered to go to my company. You, in consequence, must leave me, but I shall never forget your kindness. Remember me as your true elder brother to eternity. I cannot say anything more. Fight like a brave soldier.” Bunkichi Takao, my servant soldier, wept bitterly and said he could never leave me. That, however, could not be. I soothed and comforted him, saying that he must obey his superiors’ commands faithfully and not be behind anybody else in doing and suffering, and that the box we had made together before the battle of Taku-shan was certainly to be used this time. I, too, was very reluctant to lose him, and my heart was full of emotion. “Lieutenant, do you really think of me as your younger brother?” Takao said, in tears; and I too shed hot tears.