Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov
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the mountain was buzzing, the earth shuddered. In our positions exploded enemy shells. Measured group shots lasted about ten minutes. Then the sounds of gunfire and explosions merged. Our batteries responded vigorously. He stopped shaking, he was numb. Riding rifles and gunners rose all around and anxiously examined the sky in the north. Suddenly, on the left, a deafening and dense click, as if here – twenty to thirty paces – struck thunder. The horses crouched, began to tear, shaking the guard post. Litter ran to Podkovin, who was getting tired and relaxed.
– I heard! What are these things?
– The enemy ships fire their long-range cannons.
– How are they allowed? – confusedly said the daily.
– In the morning they will disassemble and drive off.
Podkovin scraped dirt from his overcoat, rolled up and tied his overcoat to the front end of the carriage.
– I’ll go look at the hill. – He may hit the hill.
– It is clear, maybe, but later, and after our battery starts to shoot.
Riders harnessed horses, and Podkovin ran to the top of the mountain. Samson Peak hung its teeth over the low-lying Russian fortifications. Numerous spurs of sinister tentacles moved into the hollow. Across the entire isthmus, the fires of enemy volleys flickered continuously. From a distance they seemed to be a trembling grid of illuminated advertising, on which intricate fiery signs ran from right to left and vice versa. In the dark expanse of the sea, long flames of crimson flames flashed in pairs: the gunboats fired. On the Nanshan hill was visible the dancing of lights from the bursting enemy shells and shots of serf guns. Looking closely, Podkovin realized that the enemy half-ring of fire was narrowing, threateningly approaching a lonely position.
Our right flank, including the Lime Mountain, began to operate at dawn. The enemy moved his infantry battalions as well as the batteries rather closely. Simultaneously operated variegated guns. The fire is – amplified, then calmed down. Apparently, while some batteries were active, others moved closer. From the very beginning of the artillery duel, the Japanese guns began to hammer ours. About thirty Russian field-firing guns till ten o’clock in the morning were almost inactive. The places chosen for them were unsuccessful. The first battery of Lieutenant Colonel Sablukova, when trying to drive on the Lime Mountain, was fired upon by the enemy.
Podkovin could not tear himself away from the exciting picture unfolding before him. The Japanese chains advanced confidently and pushed on the right flag. “They will break through – and all is lost. Will not ours hit them?”
– Look look! On the hill, which is to the right of us, the flags are shown, “said Gunner Pavlov, who rose after Podkovin in a whisper,” They are spies!” We go down.
The soldiers of the artillery convoy revived, they waited for orders to transfer the battery to a new location.
“The big fight has begun,” the rider Borodkin said hoarsely, frail and small.
– They say, on one of our projectile ten Japanese arrives.
– Where is the shoe? The senior fireworker shouted.
– Here.
– Sit on the left prong of the reserve carriage and immediately ride with the bag to General Fok or Nadein. They should be at Nanguin Station. After receiving written and oral instructions, return here. Be sure to find the generals.
– Yes, Mr. Fireworks.
Podkovin spurred his horse and hid in a ravine, on which there was a path to the railway. The horse ran fast. Feeling the bag behind the overcoat cuff, Podkovin breathed a sigh of relief: the sounds of cannonade here in the hollow were less sharp.
The sun was shining brightly, it was warm. The guns still thundered threateningly, but only those that were far away. Suddenly, in front, a little to the left, sharp cannon strikes swept through the mountains, exactly the same that awakened Podkovina at dawn.
– Is there really enemy fleet here?! – He exclaimed and, driving the horse, rushed to the village.
On the country road from the battlefield to the station, the train of the fifth regiment was stretching, and after it the sailors dragged the bolt from Cana’s gun.
– The gun is good. It would give heat to Japanese gunboats, but did not have time to install it, the sailors explained Podkovin. Suddenly the train stopped.
“General Fok is going to the position,” the message ran from one soldier to another.
“Yes, it seems late,” the sailors grinned. – Slept the old man.
Fock pranced around the gig and shouted:
– Who ordered the movement of the regimental convoy? Colonel Tretyakov?! Immediately return the gigs back. Cartridges are needed only for positions.
Podkovin drove off to the side, waiting for the moment to get closer to the general. Fock spun in the saddle. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips quivered, his hands nervously fingered the reins. He was losing his temper. The main phases of the battle went without him. It turns out that almost all the guns shot down. The gunners, wounded and healthy, left their batteries on the orders of Colonel Tretyakov.
“How did this all quickly happen? – thought the general. – Damn it! Letters and telegrams of Kuropatkin made a decay. Nobody cares about maintaining their positions, about restoring the battle… Everyone is thinking about retreating to the fortress, And what about the Far One? What are we going to do with the damned miscarriage, with the toy Witte?”
Fock abruptly turned the horse and saw the shoe standing at him.
– Come here, what is it?
– From the commander of the second battery of the fourth rifle East-Siberian artillery brigade, Colonel Laperov.
– How are you doing on the left flank? Far Japanese?
– Very far.
– Far away, you say? I knew it would strike in the evening. Tell the colonel to keep a keen eye on the shore and not leave the Tafashi heights until further notice. Moving to the village of Modza is not worth it. Let him choose a safe position in this area.
Podkovin repeated word for word the order of the general.
“I’ve already seen you somewhere.” Do you want to smoke?
– I do not smoke, Your Excellency.
“Write what I said,” the general said to the adjutant, “and add that reinforcement to the left flank will be sent immediately.”
2
The hottest battle was in the morning on the right flank. The third battery of Lieutenant Colonel Romanovsky, who was injured in the battle of May 3, drove to a closed position at a height near the village of Ludyuten. On this day, both the battery servants and the command staff behaved very carefully. The hollow hid the cannons, and from the slide, which was somewhat to the right, Japanese moving regiments and guns, arrogantly advanced along the eastern shore of the Hunueza Bay, were clearly visible.
The morning rays of the sun very well illuminated the folds of the terrain and the accumulation of the enemy in them.
“Today is a holiday on our street,” said the bombardier Erofeev, who was wounded during the skirmish on May 3.
Gunner Petrov came running from the observation slide, supporting the connection