The War of the Dragon Lady (20 page)

With that, the delegates stood, nodded to each other cordially, like city councillors breaking up after a municipal meeting, and departed, as the cannon still crackled in the background.

‘Thank you, Brigadier,’ said Fonthill. ‘I hope to God you can take the city, for failure means that the legations must surely fall. Will five thousand be enough, do you think?’

Dorward tugged at his beard and smiled. ‘Oh, I believe so. I have changed my mind. With the reinforcements we have received within the last few weeks and the way we have been able to repulse the attacks on the line in the last fortnight, I am convinced now that we can break out. Like a huge sortie, in fact. The city is just a couple of miles away and we can be upon it before the Chinese have had chance to prepare themselves. We now have some excellent men here in whom I have faith. You spoke well there, Fonthill. You persuaded us all.’

‘Thank you. May Jenkins and I join in the attack? We don’t want to kick our heels here.’

‘Of course.’

Fonthill overruled Chang’s protestations at being left behind – ‘You are only sixteen, dammit, and although you have behaved magnificently in helping us to get here, you are not a soldier and this will be infantry work’ – and he and Jenkins fell in with the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, both of them delighted to be reunited with a Welsh regiment after so many years.

The attack took place on the second day after the meeting of the military leaders and, initially, the breakout went impeccably according to plan. Simon and Jenkins were with the British and French, held in reserve to the Japanese and Americans who led the attack, which was launched towards the South Gate in the walls, while units of Russians and Germans harassed Chinese positions on the north bank of the river.

The Japanese broke cleanly through the Chinese lines around the settlements, scattering the Kansus in their path and making Fonthill feel that a breakout could have been achieved long before this. The little men trotted along impassively behind their long bayonets, making for the South Gate, which faced the settlements.

The city, in effect, was one large box, formed by its stout walls, and with one gate on each of its sides. Without siege artillery, there was no way that the attackers could breach the walls of the city and the attack was therefore concentrated completely on the South Gate. The fault in this tactic, however, soon presented itself. The only way to reach the gate was by advancing along a causeway that ran in a straight line for approximately a mile, spanning open country crossed with canals, patches of marshy bog, irrigation channels and lagoons. The Japanese leading the attack, therefore, presented an easy target to
the defenders firing down from the top of the walls. It was even worse for the 9th United States Infantry, newly arrived from fighting the guerrillas in the Philippines, who had to wade through the marshes to the right of the causeway.

Fonthill shook his head. ‘Dorward is an idiot,’ he said. ‘This is just offering men up for slaughter. He should have attacked at night, targeting at least two of the gates. God help those Japanese.’

‘Amen,’ muttered Jenkins. ‘To be honest, bach sir, I’ve never ’ad much faith in British generals, look you. What with Ishywander and all that lot in Zululand.’

‘The man must never have commanded in battle in his life – he must have been stuck out here throughout his career. He’s made an elementary mistake. We could be bogged down here for weeks before we get a chance to march on Peking. Damn and blast the bloody fool!’

As they watched, the fire from the ramparts of the city walls intensified and the Japanese began dropping like flies. To compound the matter, the Americans, struggling in the marshes, began moving to their left to find firmer ground on the causeway. Orders were shouted and the British and French began moving up behind the lead troops, deploying as best they could to deliver supporting fire upon the Chinese on the walls.

Fonthill and Jenkins were among the latter, crouching in the long marsh grass, attempting to target the distant and diminutive figures behind the puffs of smoke, high on the walls. The sun beat down and the humidity, intensified by the moisture engendered by the dykes and irrigation channels surrounding them, caused the perspiration to course down their foreheads and into their eyes. Their discomfort
was compounded by the flies that rose from the marsh and settled on them like black snowflakes. They spent as much time beating them off as aiming and firing their rifles.

And so the day wore on, with the Japanese and Americans retreating in the face of the strong defensive fire and then surging ahead intermittently, only to fall back again.

As dusk approached, Simon met a sweating Dorward. ‘Do you have any artillery you can bring to bear, Brigadier?’ he asked.

‘Only a couple of eighteen-pounders that we could ill spare from the defences of the settlements. Can’t get ’em near enough to make a difference.’

‘May I make a suggestion, sir?’

The two men eyed each other. They were roughly the same age and they might have been from similar backgrounds, except that Fonthill had formally left the army twenty years ago and Dorward, of course, had ploughed his way upwards through the officer ranks, albeit mostly in the Far East.

‘You can suggest what you like, Fonthill. But may I enquire about your experience in situations such as this?’

‘Of course you may. I served with the 24th of Foot and was at Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift in the Zulu affair. I did intelligence work with Roberts in Afghanistan and was in Kabul when the Residency was attacked. I was able to help Wolseley with his attack on the bePedi at Sekukuni and then at el-Kebir in Egypt. I commanded a couple of riverboats for Gordon at Khartoum, not that that did him much—’

Dorward held up his hand. ‘Good Lord! Now I know who you are, Fonthill. You’re the chap who got through to Gordon at Khartoum and was with Rhodes on the invasion of Matabeleland.’

Fonthill grinned. ‘Well Rhodes wasn’t exactly there, you know. He had a habit of turning up after the fighting was over.’

‘Yes, well even so.’ Dorward mopped his face with his handkerchief. ‘I certainly accept your experience. Frankly, I am not sure what to do next. The Japs and the Yankees have taken a terrible beating. I’ve lost something like seven hundred men.’

‘Yes. This looks a tough nut to crack. If I may say so, I think a frontal attack in daylight is ill-advised.’

‘So. What do you suggest?’

‘Wait until it is completely dark. Then, get the Germans and Russians to make a fuss, as though we’re going to attack the North Gate. Have you got any sappers with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And dynamite, too?’

‘Well, I believe so.’

‘Good. Make a big thing about retreating back down the causeway now, in the failing light. I think the Japanese and the Americans are probably a bit spent, by the look of it, so let them fall back. Then bring up the Welch Regiment quietly but hold them back. Give me enough dynamite to blow that bloody big South Gate open, then attack along the causeway with the Welshmen – they’re damned good soldiers but they’ll have to run fast – and break through what’s left of the gate.’

‘What? You would plant the explosives?’

‘Yes. Well, I would take my man Jenkins with me to complete the job in case I get knocked over. It needs two men. Any more would probably be spotted, even in the dark. I do think it’s the best plan, Brigadier.’

‘Very well. Come with me and we’ll talk to the sapper major.’

Simon explained the plan to the major, who listened, nodded and produced ten sticks of dynamite, wrapped innocuously in paper in two packets of five, each eight inches long and about one inch in diameter.

The major, a short, stout man with impressive moustaches, was pompously proprietorial about his explosives. ‘Look here,’ he said, ‘this stuff is extremely dangerous.’

‘Well,’ muttered Jenkins, who had come along to be briefed, ‘I suppose it would be, wouldn’t it, if it’s goin’ to blow somethin’ up, like.’

The sapper ignored him. ‘These sticks,’ he continued, ‘are made of three parts nitroglycerine and one part diatomaceous earth, or fossilised microscopic algae, with a small addition of sodium carbonate. The point about the earth is that it makes the nitroglycerine less shock sensitive, but the sticks are still extremely volatile and have to be handled with great care. For God’s sake don’t drop ’em on the way, otherwise the sticks will be completely wasted – and they are hugely expensive, don’t you know.’

Fonthill glared at Jenkins to prevent him from uttering the sarcastic put-down that was on his lips and asked instead: ‘From what I can see of these gates, they are extremely thick and about twelve feet high. Will this stuff do the job?’

‘Oh yes. Knock ’em down easily. Look. They should be detonated by using these two blasting caps fired by two long fuses, creating small explosions, triggering the larger ones.’

‘Where exactly should we put the sticks?’

‘Well, ideally, one group at the bottom and one about halfway up. But I don’t suppose you will be able to knock nails in the gate, will you?’

‘Doubt it.’

‘Put them at the bottom, then, where the two gates meet. Any questions?’

‘How long do we have after lighting the fuses?’

‘Say thirty to forty seconds. Ensure they don’t fizzle out, mind.’

‘Oh we will. We will. Thank you, Major.’

‘Right.’ The brigadier turned back to Fonthill and Jenkins. ‘I reckon you’ve got about an hour between now and when the moon comes up. Is there anything I can do for you before you go?’

‘No, thank you. Just make sure that the Welshmen come in at the run when the balloon goes up. We don’t want to give the Chinese time to shore up the gate again.’

‘Of course. Forgive me now if I go and arrange things. Thank you both, and good luck.’

Fonthill gingerly deposited the dynamite in a small hessian sack and they both walked to where the men of the Welch Regiment were resting.

‘Now, let me get this clear,’ said Jenkins. ‘When it gets really dark we just saunter up this causeway thing, steppin’ over the bodies that are litterin’ the place, like, an’ we just pop this dynamite stuff at the bottom of the gates, ring the bell an’ run away. Is that it?’

‘Roughly right, old chap. I realise I’ve rather landed you in on this one, and I shall quite understand if you feel it’s rather asking too much.’

‘No, bach sir, thank you very much. I’m supposed to be lookin’ after you on this postin’, ’cos I promised Miss Alice, so I’ll be goin’ with you. I’ll come just to make sure you don’t drop the stuff and make that bloody little major shit ’is breeches about the cost of it an’ all.’

‘Don’t be disrespectful about the major. He holds the Queen’s Commission. Right. We’ll take our rifles because we don’t want to be left unarmed when the gates go down. But we’ll sling ’em over our backs. Try and find us a pair of plimsolls, if you can in the time we have left. We want to move quietly – and run fast, if we have to. Off you go.’

Simon sat down and looked ahead of him. In the gathering dusk the walls of the Chinese City loomed high and impenetrable. Would the Chinese have a searchlight? They would be in trouble if they did. On reflection – and he gave a wry grin – they would probably be in trouble even if they didn’t. This was a ridiculous enterprise. Everything depended upon the defenders relaxing their vigilance, having given the Japanese and the Americans a good hiding and despatching them, or so it seemed, back to the settlements; that and their attention being diverted by the faux attack on the North Gate.

Then he and Jenkins must get enough cover in the darkness to steal up to the South Gate, literally under the noses of the guards on the walls. Ah well. It seemed the only way to persuade these stuffy old armchair generals in the settlements to stir themselves for the real battle – in Peking. He thought again of Alice. He had no illusions. If the Chinese did break through to the legations, then she would stand little chance, despite the protection offered by Sir Claude. He offered up a quick prayer for her safety and then settled back to wait for Jenkins, his mouth dry, despite the heat and humidity.

The Welshman arrived, well within the hour, bringing two bayonets in scabbards, and two pairs of unlaced canvas running shoes. ‘Didn’t know about your size. Bigger than mine, I thought, ’cos I’ve got dainty little feet. ’Ere, try them on.’

‘Oh, they’ll do. Now. We will begin walking along the causeway at first, then, when we get nearer, I’m afraid we shall have to take to the marsh on the side of the road. The long grasses there should provide us with a bit of cover. Once we hear the sound of the diversion from the French and Russian lines, we will edge nearer and then make a run for it along the causeway. Keep the bayonets sheathed in case they flash a reflection when the moon comes up.’

‘Matches?’ enquired Jenkins.

Fonthill threw back his head. ‘Oh, blast and damn!’

The grinning Welshman held up two boxes. ‘Oh, dearie me. I ’ave to think of everythin’.’

Simon thumped him in the chest, pocketed one of the boxes, shouldered the hessian bag to hang down his back the other side to his slung rifle, then offered his hand to Jenkins. ‘Good luck, old friend,’ he said.

‘Good luck, bach sir.’

Together, they began their walk in the darkness. The sun to the west had not long before slipped over the horizon, leaving a slight glow in the sky. But the moon had not yet risen and they made good time on the paved way, while they could. Then, to the north they heard the crackle of musketry and distant shouting.

Fonthill kept his eyes on the black walls ahead of him, dreading the sudden brilliance of a searchlight cracking open the darkness. They were now, he estimated, about a quarter of a mile from the gate.

‘Time to get off the causeway,’ he hissed to Jenkins. Immediately, their progress slowed as, shoulders bowed, they trudged through spongy grass and mud and then picked their way delicately through the shallow waters of the irrigation channels, stopping occasionally to
freeze and listen to ensure that the Chinese had not sent out picquets to prevent just such a surprise attack. It took them more than an hour to cover most of that quarter of a mile and they were within the shadow cast by the city walls as the moon rose behind them.