THE Russo-Japanese War! This tremendous struggle is now happily at an end, and the hundreds of thousands of brave and loyal officers and men have come back from the fields with laurels on their heads, and welcomed by a grateful nation. What a triumphant air! How happy they look! But in their hearts is something behind the joy. At the back of their smiles lie hid the deep sorrow and the often forced-back tears for the multitudes of their comrades who, for the cause of their country and of His Majesty, have turned their bodies into the earth of lone Manchuria and cannot share in the delight of the triumphal return. Toward the end of the Sinico-Japanese War, a certain detachment was ordered home, and before sailing paid a final visit to the graves of their dead comrades. One private stepped out of the ranks and stroked the tombstone of his special chum, saying with falling tears:— “Dear Kato! I am going back to Japan. We have faced wind and rain together and fought in the hail-storm of bullets together, and you died instead of me, and I am going home in safety. I feel as if I were not doing right. I am very sad to leave you here alone—but be happy, dear Kato, Liaotung Peninsula is now ours! Your bones are buried in the Japanese soil. Be at ease. Understand, Kato?—I have to go.” He talked as if to a living friend. Every word was from the bottom of his heart, trying to comfort the departed spirit of his patriotic comrade. His loving bosom was full of a sense of the eternal separation of the living from the dead. He was silent and in tears for a while, then wiped his eyes and cheeks, offered water to the grave from his water bottle, and reluctantly resumed his place in the ranks. That detachment who sailed home from Liaotung Peninsula a decade ago learned on their way that the peninsula was wrested from them. Poor Kato, who died with a smile for his country, did he die in vain? And was his heroism all for nothing? The rage and disappointment of his comforter may well be imagined, for after all loyal Kato’s ashes were not buried in the Japanese soil. For ten years we had been waiting and preparing for a chance of chastising the unjust. When the invincible Imperial Army first landed on that battle-ground of ten years before, how eagerly they must have been welcomed by the spirits of their dead friends who could not find a permanent rest buried in a place which was once theirs and then was not. When I landed on the peninsula and printed my footsteps on its earth, I cried out with a spontaneous joy: “This is also Japanese soil! Bought by the blood of our brave fellows at arms!” I paid constant attention while at the front to find traces of those buried there during the previous war, but could not find even a rotten piece of wood marking such a spot. But I felt sure that their spirits were always with us and guiding us in the battles, stirring us up to do our very best for the country and for the sire.