Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov

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Portartur. 1940 - Boris Trofimov


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shouted and rode away.

      Savitsky wanted to follow him, but he was stopped by a train soldier:

      – Your Excellency, two horses killed.

      The colonel let the horse gallop to catch up with the division commander.

      – Your Excellency, two horses harnessed in cartridges, loaded with cartridges, killed. There is a danger for others.

      – To deliver cartridges to the Tretyakov in public.

      – Why ammunition for the position, there is their warehouse. – What do you think the head of the position is lying and the warehouse does not burn?

      – Cartridges are burning with a bang, Your Excellency, like fireworks.

      – Investigate. If there are cartridges in stock near Battery No. 10, send the gigs to the rear.

      Climbing onto the highway, Fock walked slowly. The general threw uneasy glances at the foothills of Samson, in the nearest ravines, at the railway track, looking for the location of the enemy’s batteries and chains. Looking around and crouching a little at the whistle of bullets, he considered the batteries maimed and already abandoned by the Russians.

      Behind the battery number 10, the road went through completely open terrain, and there were at least four hundred steps to the nearest trenches. The general sat on a stone. The enemy shells now fell solely on the trenches and the ravines adjacent to them. Clouds of dust and smoke hung over the heads of the defenders. Lead balls and sharp fragments poured thickly on top, abruptly whipping along the walls of trenches and wooden shelters. It was impossible to stick your head out. Shrapnel rain was replaced by explosions of shells.

      “Find Colonel Tretyakov, I need to see him,” Fock ordered and immediately wrote a telegram to Stossel:

      “Now I am in position; examined left batteries. They are literally bombarded with shells. The enemy sent his artillery and rifle fire to the northern front. As the arrows hold, I can not imagine, but keep well done. Almost all the guns are silent, ‘the division commander wrote further,’ therefore the 5th regiment will not be able to keep another day in this position. One thing remains – to withdraw the entire detachment and attack hand to hand, as our artillery currently cannot assist the northern front, or use the night and retreat …”

      – But where is the Tretyakov?

      The general lowered his head.

      “You understand, Your Excellency, the head of the division, the commander of all the land forces of the Kinzhou Isthmus… You understand, the esteemed General Fock… You didn’t have control of the battle, you don’t have it now! And at this moment there is no, you old fool… You were demobilized by Kuropatkin’s letter… You fell under the influence of a sleek commander. Oh you are a genius, a genius”…

      Fock lowered his head even lower.

      A sharp shot from enemy gunboats made him wince and straighten up:

      – Again this is unforeseen. But where is the Tretyakov?

      6

      When the Belly returned, he was immediately called to the commander of the battery.

      – Saw the division chief? How on the right flank? Tell me more.

      – From a position the wounded go, only them a little. The fortress guns shoot single-handedly, but the third battery of our brigade, the Beaver gunboat and the battery on Izvestkovaya Mountain shot down the enemy’s left flank, so that the Japanese

      guns abandoned and sitting in the ravines. – Having told in detail about everything he had seen, Podkovin added: – Now everyone is afraid for the left flank, there the Japanese gunners help.

      – What do the soldiers say? You talked to the wounded.

      – Trenches thickly fall asleep with shells. Their cannons are two versts from our shooters. Shrapnel is thicker than rain, but so far there is no great harm. In the trenches visors are arranged, so that the bullets slap uselessly.

      Colonel Laperov exchanged glances with staff captain Yasensky.

      “The commandant of the city of Kinzhou, Captain Eremeev,” continued Podkovin, “he turned out to be a brave man.” It was hard for him with a handful of soldiers in the city. But he retreated only on orders. Now he is again on the left flank in the most advanced trenches. Brave captain, and still safe and sound.

      – What else did the soldiers tell?

      Podkovin hesitated.

      – Speak, do not be shy.

      “They learned that I am an artilleryman, and they ask: why were there so few good cannons in such a formidable position as Kinzhou?.. Why are they poorly sheltered?” Why are there few shells? Asking where you hid your firearms? They say that they would get closer to the trenches… Davit, they say, a Japanese with machine guns and light shells…

      – OK, go! Keep your horse ready. There may be urgent orders.

      7

      Captain Eremeev remained at the tenth company in the advanced trenches of the northern line. It was the “forehead” of a fortified position. The arrows saw the hordes of the Japanese approaching them. The enemy shells, continuously falling from above, forced them to hide. Acrid smoke covered the field of fire. Its artillery beat occasionally. Reinforcements did not fit.

      – What is it that our generals have forgotten us? – the noncommissioned officer of the fifth company addressed to Yeremeyev. – Look, behind the riverbed, at the very water there is a reinforced movement of Japanese infantry. Shields some expose.

      – No, do not forget, – smiled Eremeev. – Waiting. What is the use of filling people in trenches now? It is necessary to save reserves, and then in the twilight – to counterattack. Of the entire division in position, read, one-fifth of the regiment. Japanese shields will consider and report to headquarters.

      It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. With binoculars, Yeremeyev saw a row of wooden dummies on the shallows.

      “Shields for averting eyes,” he guessed, “they want to deceive our artillery.” Who is lightly wounded, that and send with the report.

      Under the cover of shields, the Japanese soldiers were moving along the chest in the water.

      “Fire over the heads of the enemy, to the left of the shields,” Yeremeyev ordered.

      Along the seashore from Tafashinsky heights, a shell boomed and hit the shields. After five seconds, the first pair of shrapnels exploded to the left, just above the heads of the attackers. Three seconds later, eight shrapnels were showered with lead bullets by the entire enemy force. The sea was boiling up, the shields stood intact, like dumb witnesses to the shooting.

      Soldiers of the fifth and tenth companies clearly saw the death of the front ranks of the attackers. But the back came new forces. The enemy soldiers held their guns and cartridge belts high above their heads. From a distance it was difficult to determine the accuracy of the shooting of our gunners, but the Japanese guns falling into the water spoke eloquently of this.

      The wounded and surviving Japanese crawled ashore, but they were shot from the lower trenches by hunting teams of the thirteenth and fourteenth regiments.

      A whole battalion of cannons advanced on the water. Laperov’s field battery, having shot, hit the enemy. The Japanese could not move quickly on the water: the living stumbled over the dead, the wounded floundering. Waves of the tide, flying


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