Was it to be the last night of this insane Boxerism, or merely the beginning of a still more terrible series of attacks with massed assaults pushed right home on us?  In any case, there was but one course—­not to cede one inch until the last man had been hit.  All the isolated post-commanders—­I had risen to be one—­decided that on us hinged the fate of all.  The very idea of a supreme command watching intelligently and overseeing every spot of ground was impossible.  It had been a war of post-commanders and their men from the beginning; it would remain so to the bitter end.  A siege teaches you that this is always so.

By ten o’clock every sleeping man had been pulled up and pushed against the barricades.  Privately all the doubtful men were told that if they moved they would be shot as they fell back.  Everywhere we had been discovering that in the pitch dark many could hardly be held in place.  By eleven o’clock the fire had grown to its maximum pitch.  It was impossible that it could become heavier, for the enemy was manning every coign of vantage along the entire line, and blazing so fiercely and pushing in so close that many of the riflemen must have fallen from their own fire.  From the great Tartar Wall to the Palace enclosure, and then round in a vast jagged circle, thousands of jets of fire spurted at us; and as these jets pushed closer and closer, we gave orders to reply steadily and slowly.  Twice black bunches of men crept quickly in front of me, but were melted to pieces.  By twelve o’clock the exhaustion of the attackers became suddenly marked.  The rifles, heated to a burning pitch, were no longer deemed safe even by Chinese fatalists; and any men who had ventured out into the open had been so severely handled by our fire that they had no stomach for a massed charge.  Trumpet calls now broke out along the line and echoed pealingly far and near.  The riflemen were being called off.

But hardly had the fire dropped for ten or fifteen minutes than it broke out again with renewed vigour.  Fresh troops lying in reserve had evidently been called up, and by one o’clock the tornado was fiercer than ever.  Our men became intoxicated by this terrible clamour, and many of them, infuriated by splinters of brick and stone that broke off in clouds from the barricades and stung us from head to foot, sometimes even inflicting cruel wounds, could no longer be held in check.  By two o’clock every rifle that could be brought in line was replying to the enemy’s fire.  If this continued, in a couple of hours our ammunition would be exhausted, and we would have only our bayonets to rely on.  I passed down my line, and furiously attempted to stop this firing, but it was in vain.  In two places the Chinese had pushed so close, that hand-to-hand fighting had taken place.  This gives a lust that is uncontrollable....  Everything was being taken out of our hands....