Meanwhile, on the place itself the fight was desperate. One moment success was ours, the next it passed to the foe. At times it seemed as if all were lost. But no! not yet. Gathering themselves together, inspired by their officers, reinforced from the reserve, our men made a final effort and hurled the enemy down. The hill was again ours. What took place there cannot be written of with an ordinary pen--it could only be described in blood. The hopes and fears, the gallantry, the----words fail me. Some of the details are perhaps known to General Tretiakoff, the hero of that spot, and those under him. It was just now, when it seemed to be touch-and-go with the hill, that a rumour was spread to the effect that Kinchou had been recaptured by Russians--by Trans-Baikal Cossacks. It was nonsense, of course, but the men were so worn out and so hungry for good news from the north that the hope of relief by General Kuropatkin, cherished deep down in their hearts, made them believe. The third day's fighting came to an end; darkness set in, and the position was not yet lost. At tea-time on the morning of the 30th it was still ours--Smirnoff had kept his promise. The fourth day was but a repetition of the preceding three. Shells of all sizes, from 11-inch to small quick-firers, rained upon the place. All cover, or anything that looked as if it might afford shelter, had long ago been turned into heaps of stones, iron, beams, rubbish, and mangled bodies. During the night shelters of sorts had been scraped up, only to be swept away by the first breath of iron which accompanied the morning light. The fury of the assault reached its zenith at 4 p.m. Fortunate it was that the enemy's demonstrations on the east were weak, and so enabled us to withdraw troops from that front to assist here. Bayonet fighting again took place for some hours, but at four the Japanese were compelled to fall back. The hill was still ours, but its slopes were thickly strewed with more dead, more dying. In four days we had, excluding dead, lost 37 officers and 4,000 men wounded. Among the dangerously wounded was the gallant Colonel (now Major-General) Tretiakoff, of the 5th Regiment, wounded in head and chest. When those near him implored him to go to the rear to get his wounds dressed, he refused, muttering, 'I will die where my regiment dies.' On the morning of December 2, Colonel Irman, on receipt of a message from the top of 203 Metre Hill, telephoned to Smirnoff: 'All the assaults have been repulsed, and the hill is completely in our hands.'