Autumn in Manchuria was treacherous. Night frosts shackled the earth, turning yesterday's mud into hard, jagged ridges, while the morning mists in the lowlands were so thick that at ten meters, a rider could not distinguish a tree from a Japanese infantryman. The air was biting and dry, searing the lungs with every deep breath, causing the horses to twitch their ears anxiously.
In the Japanese headquarters, located in a clean fanza on the outskirts of a village, work did not cease for a single minute. A detailed topographical map of the Sha River basin was spread out on a long table. Marshal Ōyama Iwao silently studied the positions of the Russian troops.
One of the officers pointed with a pencil at a gap in the defensive line:
—"Here, at the junction of the enemy's 1st and 4th Corps, a dangerous gap of five to six kilometers has formed."
—"Our scouts confirm: there are no major redoubts there, nor any regular patrols. Only sparse Cossack scouting parties."
Ōyama did not hurry to answer. He knew that the Russian soldier was strong in stubborn defense, if given time to burrow into the ground.
—"Kuropatkin expects us to strike head-on."
—"He thinks in categories of the last century. But we will not grant him that luxury. For us, every hour of delay is an extra shell in their cannons."
One of the generals responsible for logistics frowned:
—"If they quickly transfer reserves to the Sha River by rail, our forward units will find themselves under attack by superior forces."
—"They won't."
—"Their staff machine is a rusted mechanism. By the time an order passes the chain to the divisional commanders, we will already be on their flanks."
—"We strike into this gap tonight. Issue the order to the regiments: move without lights, maintain total silence."
At the same time, in the Russian headquarters, the atmosphere was fundamentally different. The room was filled with the acrid smoke of cigarettes and the noise of arguing voices.
—"Where is the data from the 1st Siberian Corps?"
—"Why do I learn about the movements of Japanese columns from rumors from Chinese traders and not from official reports?"
—"Your Excellency, communication with the forward units is constantly interrupted."
—"Patrols either do not return at all or bring contradictory information."
Pavlo stood in the shadows near the entrance. He saw that the headquarters had completely lost control of the situation. The army was turning into a blind giant. Pavlo took a step forward, drawing attention.
—"General, sir, permission to report."
—"Ah, Skoropadskyi. Speak quickly, we have little time."
—"According to reports from my scouts, Japanese activity on the left flank has increased severalfold."
—"This does not look like a routine check of outposts. They are methodically knocking out our patrols, creating an information vacuum."
—"They are blinding us, General."
The general huffed, adjusting his uniform collar:
—"Pavlo Petrovich, do not paint such a grim picture. You are a cavalryman; you see ambushes everywhere."
—"According to our data, the main enemy forces are at least thirty kilometers from here."
—"With their artillery, they cannot cover such a distance faster than in twenty-four hours."
—"They could abandon the heavy wagons and strike with light infantry," — a staff captain chimed in from the corner.
Pavlo felt rage boiling inside him. These people lived in a world of paper reports.
—"Permission to conduct deep reconnaissance with my own forces?"
—"Do what you want, Skoropadskyi, just don't drag us into unnecessary skirmishes."
Pavlo stepped out of the fanza, feeling the icy wind flush the smell of tobacco away. He walked quickly toward the hitching posts.
—"To horse!"
—"Uryadnik, to me! Take four of our best men. Move!"
Fifteen minutes later, the party had already left the headquarters' location. They moved along the ridges of the hills. Pavlo rode in front, scanning the horizon with his binoculars. The uryadnik reined in his horse and pointed to the bottom of a shallow gully:
—"Pavlo Petrovich, look at that track. There, near the dry creek."
Pavlo dismounted and stepped closer, examining the ground.
—"These aren't Chinese peasant wagons."
—"The depth suggests they were carrying something heavy. And judging by the horse's stride, they were moving at a trot. Most likely field artillery."
—"And they weren't heading south," — the uryadnik added. —"They're pushing straight toward our positions."
They moved on. Pavlo ordered them to dismount and leave the horses behind a rock outcropping. With the others, he crawled to the edge of the cliff. Five hundred meters away, a column of Japanese infantry emerged. Thousands of soldiers in full combat gear.
—"There are thousands of them..." — whispered one of the Cossacks.
—"Don't move, stay still," — Pavlo ordered through gritted teeth.
But at that moment, a Japanese patrol emerged from behind the slope. Six riders were only forty meters away. The Japanese officer immediately noticed the movement on the ridge.
—"Contact!" — the uryadnik shouted, bringing his carbine up.
The Japanese soldier fired almost without aiming. The bullet passed right by Pavlo's ear.
—"Fire!" — Pavlo barked, drawing his revolver.
The dry crackle of shots tore through the silence. The first volley from the Cossacks knocked two Japanese riders out of their saddles. Pavlo pulled the trigger twice, seeing the bullets hit the Japanese sergeant.
—"Back to the horses! Fast!"
—"Don't let them pin us down!"
They vaulted into their saddles and tore away. Bullets clicked against the stones around them. When they finally broke away and ascended a high point, Pavlo looked through his binoculars again. Endless columns were moving on all the roads to the south.
—"Lord..." — the uryadnik whispered. —"There's no less than forty thousand of them in the first echelon alone."
—"The staff talked about thirty kilometers," — Pavlo smirked bitterly. —"And they're already here. In two hours, their vanguard will start leveling our positions."
Pavlo quickly calculated the time. There was no time left for bureaucracy.
—"Uryadnik!"
—"Take two men and gallop at full speed to our regiment's location. Rouse everyone."
—"Tell the commander: I personally saw three Japanese divisions; they are ten kilometers from the trenches."
—"Tell them to deploy the squadrons for battle without waiting for orders from above. Understood?"
—"Understood, Pavlo Petrovich! We'll get it done."
—"And where are you going, Your Honor?"
—"I'm heading to the neighbors, the 12th Infantry Regiment. If they don't occupy Hill 150 right now, they'll just be crushed."
—"Go!"
Pavlo spurred his horse. He knew he was violating regulations, but the price of a mistake was too high. Ahead, the infantry positions appeared. Soldiers were peacefully cooking porridge, unaware of the enemy's proximity. Pavlo flew into the center of the camp:
—"Officer! Where is the battalion commander?! To me!"
A lieutenant ran up, staring at the lathered officer covered in dust.
—"Drop the porridge!" — Pavlo shouted. —"The Japanese are eight kilometers from here! In an hour, this place will be hell."
—"Get the men up to the high ground now! Move!"
The lieutenant froze in bewilderment:
—"But... Colonel, sir... there was no order from headquarters..."
—"I am your order!" — Pavlo barked, leaning down from his saddle. —"If you want to live to see the evening—do it!"