Captain Segawa, who bade that sad farewell to his younger brother at Taku-shan, was also there. Lieutenant Sone came along with a cartridge belt round his waist and a rifle in his hand. I asked him why he was so strangely armed. Upon which he said that he had lost his sword during the scouting of the previous night and had therefore armed himself like a private soldier. All the officers gathered together wished each other success and chatted cheerfully for a while. Only a few hours later, all of them had been killed except Major Matsumura and myself! Whenever I think of it, I still feel as if I saw their faces and heard their voices. Brave fellows! Poor men! My heart is full of strange emotions when I think of them. [Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XXVI.] THE FORLORN HOPE WE all fell in under the precipice and were waiting for the order of march, when a piece of paper reached me handed from man to man. I opened it and read:— “Yasukichi Honda was shot on the 19th, and when I offered him a drink of water he shed tears and asked me to give his compliments to Lieutenant Sakurai. (Signed) “BUNKICHI TAKEO.” This Honda had been my servant about a year before, and he was a faithful fellow. His last words were a farewell to me who had done so little for him. I was deeply affected by his loyal devotion. Even now I regret I had no chance of giving him a farewell hand-shake, and cannot help thinking how greatly he would have rejoiced if I could have given him one word of good-by while he was yet alive. I gathered my men around me and said: “I now bid you all farewell. Fight with all your might. This battle will decide whether Port Arthur is to fall or not. This water you drink, please drink as if at your death moment.” I filled a cup with water that was fetched by one or two soldiers at the risk of their lives, and we all drank farewell from the same cup. Soon we received orders to advance to a point half-way up the side of Panlung. We began to move on quietly; we who had already drunk together the death-cup went again through that same terrible ravine full of our dead comrades. This was the third time that we had traveled by this path, and none expected to walk over it a fourth time alive. To die under the flying Flag of the Rising Sun, and to die while doing splendid service to one’s country, was the wish and resolve of every heart. Before beginning this final march to the battle-field, we all made ourselves as light as possible; we carried with us just enough hard biscuit, “iron rations,” to support life for two or three days; the rest we left behind. My khaki uniform was decorated by a national flag hanging from my belt, a Japanese towel was tied around my neck. I wore no shoes, only tabi[56] on my feet, and my whole appearance was like that of a dancer at a summer festival in Tokyo. I carried with me my sword, my water bottle, and three hard biscuit. Thus armed and attired I was to appear on the glorious stage of death.