“One by one, Japanese shells tore into the Tsar’s fleet, destroying communications, superstructures and steering compartments.”

By Ron Singerton

“WE SAIL TOMORROW and our enemy flies the Russian flag.”

These were the famous words of the diminutive, disciplined and fearless Admiral Heihachiro Togo as he ordered his destroyer torpedo boats to attack the Tsar’s fleet at Port Arthur on Feb. 8, 1904.

Though barely a footnote in the history books, the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5, which began with the Port Arthur incident, was in fact the first major international conflict of the 20th Century.

The staggering losses inflicted on Russia, along with the starvation and despair suffered by its people as a result of the conflict, put Tsar Nicholas II’s empire on the road to revolution.

Japan’s stunning final victory, although costly, would propel the emerging nation towards both authoritarianism and militarism, and eventually culminate in a showdown with the United States for control of the Pacific.

The list of grievances, fears and recriminations between Japan and Russia that produced hostilities in 1904 were long-standing.

The Meiji Dynasty, having been restored in 1868 and led by the young emperor Mutsuhito, freed Japan from 300 years of self-imposed isolation. This renaissance coincided with a Western surge of neo-imperialism and neo-colonialism; expansionists in Tokyo wanted in on the action too.

In 1894, Japan went to war with China over control of Manchuria and Korea. Tokyo’s seizure of the strategically vital anchorage of Port Arthur (on the western tip of China’s Liaodong Peninsula) raised alarm bells in the world’s capitals. The harbor was seen as far too important to be ceded to a novice power like Japan. The Tsar’s diplomats demanded the territory be returned to Russia. A humiliated Tokyo reluctantly agreed. Vowing to never to face such a disgrace again, Japan poured the booty it extracted from China into modern battleships, cruisers and destroyers, many of them built in English shipyards.

Lingering resentment over Port Arthur was not the only bone of contention between Japan and Russia. The newly completed Trans-Siberian Railway created more tension. The line, which ran the breadth of Russia, would allow for the rapid movement of thousands of the Tsar’s troops straight to port of Vladivostok — a potential embarkation point for an invasion of Japan.

Tokyo rushed to counter the threat through a crash program of industrialization and militarization. Billboards across the country implored citizens to “build big guns” and marry Japanese ingenuity with Western technology. Japan slid into an autocracy where obedience and extreme deference to the now-disbanded samurai shifted to the emperor.

All males over 18 were conscripted, the country adopted a Prussian-style constitution, while the secret police, known as the Black Dragon Society, made certain of no dissent against the emperor. Spiritually, economically, militarily and intellectually, the land of the Rising Sun was, by 1900, on a war footing. The empire’s diplomats conspired to enhance Japan’s strategic position. A treaty with Great Britain in 1902 assured support from the world’s mightiest sea power.

For Russia, Japan was an unknown, underestimated and resented quantity. Far from embracing the commercial potential of the emerging empire like America and Europe were doing, St. Petersburg came to revile the small island nation, particularly after Nicholas II (prior to becoming Tsar) was nearly assassinated in Tokyo.

The Romanovs had been on Russia’s throne since the coronation of Mikhail III 1613. The family ruled an empire of 129 million peasants and nearly 800 privileged families, each with a vast fortune.

Tsar Nicholas II was regarded by his father, the despotic Alexander III, as a silly boy with childish judgements. Slight and insecure, he was given no training in the running of a country, believing that he need only answer to God. He grew up in the lavish Winter Palace of 1050 rooms and maintained that fate, or sudba, absolved him of all responsibility.

While life for the Tsar and the aristocracy consisted of military parades, grand balls and evenings at the theater, the empire’s commoners were barely scraping by. Crushing poverty and the constant threat of starvation was their lot.

While the Tsar’s army was the largest in the world, (often described as a “Steam Roller”) Russia’s navy struggled to keep pace with changing times. By 1904, most of the country’s fleet was obsolete. Its ships’ guns were still fired by hand-pulled lanyards rather than electrically. The training of crews, most of whom were conscripted from the interior, could only be conducted six months of the year when Baltic ports were not icebound. It was often said that what sailors were taught was forgotten by the time they went to sea the following year.

Recognizing Russia’s vulnerability, Japan drew up plans to retake Port Arthur. On Feb. 8, 1904, a flotilla of 30 warships and 20 torpedo boats under the command of the redoubtable Admiral Togo launched a surprise attack on Russia’s Pacific Squadron anchored there.

Suddenly finding themselves at war in a distant ocean against an unexpectedly formidable opponent, the Tsar’s admirals scrambled to assemble a second Pacific Fleet from its Baltic Squadron. The result was a 40-ship armada of cruisers, old ironclads, destroyers and armed yachts, led by the battleships, the Oryol, Borodino, Alexander III and the flagship, Knaiz Suvoroff. Command was handed to Vice-Admiral Zinovi Rozhestvensky, a 55-year-old veteran of Russia’s 1877 war with Turkey. His orders were to steam 18,000 miles from St. Petersburg to the Far East to defeat Japan, recapture Port Arthur and restore Russia’s honour. All told, the expedition would take seven months.

It would prove to be an epic voyage fraught with great peril. Worse, there would not be a single Russian-controlled coaling station en route. And although the fleet steamed along at a sluggish nine knots, its ships consumed a staggering 3,000 tons of coal daily. That precious commodity would be supplied along the way by German ships, but among the Russians, only the admiral knew when and where the replenishments would take place.

Shortly before setting out on Oct. 15, the captain of the Alexander III, an officer by the name of Bukhvostoff, gave an address to the fleet’s assembled officers during a massive banquet.

“We know that Russia is not a great sea power and that the public funds spent on ship construction have been wasted,” he admitted. “You wish us victory but there will be no victory. But we will know how to die and we shall never surrender.”

It was an ominous start for the fleet’s 10,000 sailors.

Weighed down with coal, the task force left the Baltic and entered the North Sea. On the night of Oct. 22 as the fleet steamed through the Dogger Bank off the English coast, lookouts trained the fleet’s searchlights on what they believed to be Japanese torpedo boats. Panicked gunners on the Borodino opened fire. Other ships joined into the cannonade, narrowly missing their own vessels but pounding the threatening vessels. When the guns finally fell silent, Rozhestvensky discovered that his crews had in fact opened fire on some English trawlers, sinking one of them and killing three. The following day, Great Britain ordered up steam in its 28 battleships and threatened war unless an immediate apology was issued.

Russian diplomats offered a tepid overture. An unpopular officer under Rozhestvensky’s command was blamed and sent back to St. Petersburg to stand trial.

Still seething, Britain denied the Russian fleet passage through the Suez Canal. As result, the Tsar’s ships would have to sail around the southern tip of Africa to reach the Indian Ocean and the Pacific adding thousands of miles and weeks onto the journey. The fleet headed south into the Atlantic.

By the end of December, the Russians raised the French colony of Hellville at Nossi Be on Madagascar. The fleet waited there as 10 additional vessels — coastal patrol boats — joined the fleet. Written off as “self-sinkers” for their inability to withstand fire, it was hoped the newcomers would serve as targets and draw enemy fire, affording the Russian capital ships precious extra time to target the Japanese dreadnaughts. As the fleet made the rendezvous, the weary crews went ashore for some leave. Many plied themselves with booze and prostitutes. Meanwhile, half a world away, Togo’s sailors weren’t carousing, they were training and retraining for the coming battle.

With the arrival of the obsolete reinforcements to Madagascar, the Russian navy was once again on the move. Back at sea, morale on board plummeted and discipline collapsed. Some crews mutinied. It was only through a series of summary executions that order was restored. But of course, no amount of discipline could prevent the equipment failures, accidents and breakdowns plagued the ships as the fleet crawled across the Indian Ocean.

By the spring, the squadron had reached Hong Kong. By this point, however, the ships and their crews were in no shape for action after their trans-hemispheric voyage. Rozhestvensky knew he needed desperately to put into port where he could rest his men and refit the ships for the coming campaign. Discovering that his force had been denied entry to the British-held port (London was still angry over the Dogger Bank fiasco), the admiral had no choice but to shepherd his exhausted fleet to the Russian port of Vladivostok, nearly 3,000 sea miles to the north. But to do so would mean steaming through Japanese waters. What Rozhestvensky did not know was that Togo had learned of the Russian’s approach and was already waiting to ambush the exhausted armada.

In the 65-mile strait between Korea and Kyushu lies an island named Tsushima. On that narrow slice of land sit two enormous stone outcrops that resemble donkey ears, hence the Japanese name.

On May 26, the Russian fleet entered the strait. With their long voyage nearing its end, thanksgiving services were held on board the ships. Tots of vodka were doled out for the enlisted; glasses of champagne poured for the officers. Despite the many months of misery, the crew was again in a mood to celebrate.

“To the health of the Emperor, to Russia!” they cried. The men would finally get to fight and soon, live or die, it would be over. Indeed, they rejoiced that the empress had provided holy water to anoint the guns as well as icons of Saint Andrew.

The revelers had no idea that just over the horizon lay the small but powerful Japanese fleet, its ships fully manned and ready for action. Togo, with five battleships and 27 cruisers at his disposal, intended to strike at a time of his own choosing and he awaited the 38-ship Russian fleet to clear the Straits of Tsushima.

Dawn of May 27 saw a thick blanket of fog hanging over the strait. Rozhestvensky hoped it might screen his tired fleet from enemy patrols.

At 6 a.m., the lookouts spied an enemy reconnaissance cruiser emerge from the gloom. Gunners immediately opened fire on the target, but it quickly sped away. A few hours later, just before 2 p.m., the main Japanese fleet was sighted bearing down on the Russian squadron from the North. Rozhestvensky ordered his crew to prepare for action. The Battle of Tsushima was underway.

Within moments, several Russian battleships and cruisers were firing on the enemy vessels. Togo’s flagship, Mikasa, was struck 19 times in the initial broadsides. Yet the Japanese admiral ordered his vessels to swing about and “cross the T” of the enemy fleet, returning a series of devastating salvos on the Russians in the process.

While Togo was maneuvering his warships, a string of confusing orders from Rozhestvensky drove the Russian navy into chaos. The admiral signaled his first and second divisions to abruptly turn 90 degrees to starboard and increase speed. He then bewilderingly commanded his battleships into a single line-ahead formation. As his vessels scrambled to change course and take up their new positions, order in the fleet fell apart. All became sitting ducks for Japanese guns.

Rozhestvensky’s disastrous decisions cost the Tsar’s navy any advantage it had; Togo made the most of the opportunity and had his ships pour fire onto the hapless enemy vessels.

Exhausted, confused, and yet strangely indifferent to the unfolding calamity, Rozhestvensky’s inaction allowed the Japanese admiral to dictate the course of the battle.

Although the Russian commander showed remarkable effectiveness in directing his fleet on its lengthy journey, his officers were stunned at how quickly he fell apart once the shells were flying.

Togo, however, was far more resolute and led an extremely disciplined fleet. He had, as a young officer, trained for two years on a British battleship and intently studied the legendary Royal Navy commander Lord Nelson and the tactics of the 1805 Battle of Trafalgar. Now the intrepid admiral employed these same methods and, to the Russians’ dismay, succeeded in driving his ships through the enemy line to break up their formations, all the while bringing 500 of his fleet’s guns to bear against the Tsar’s ill-fated armada.

One by one, Japanese shells tore into the Russian fleet, destroying communications, superstructures and steering compartments. Vessels became burning hulks brimming with desperate crews, some firing furiously, but most terrified. The dead and dismembered littered the decks.

For 24 hours, the carnage continued as one Russian ship after another “turned turtle” and sank into the frigid sea.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon on May 28, Admiral William Pakeham, a British observer on the Japanese battleship Fuji, watched in amazement as the Borodino sustained a direct hit. “The shell burst,” he wrote. “Fire spurted to the height of her funnel tops, leaving only a dense cloud that brooded over the place she had occupied.”

By nightfall 30 of the Tsar’s ships were on the bottom of the Tsushima Strait, including all four of the mighty battleships. Nearly 4,400 Others were either captured or driven into neutral ports. Only three small vessels slipped past the Japanese juggernaut and arrived in Vladivostok.

Rozhestvensky was badly wounded and captured. He was visited in a Japanese hospital by Togo who complimented his bravery and that of his crews, but observed that the noble sacrifice made by Russia’s sailors was in vain, for their ships were terribly outclassed.

The battle of Tsushima effectively concluded the war. The land campaign in Manchuria and the Battle of Mukden (one of the largest in history) also precipitated Russia’s final defeat. By the time of Tsushima, both nations were exhausted and desired a succession of hostilities.

The Russo-Japanese war was concluded in New Hampshire; the treaty was facilitated by President Theodore Roosevelt who received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts.

The conflict cost Japan $100 million dollars and the lives of 250,000 troops. Under terms of the peace, Tokyo was awarded the Liao-Tung peninsula, along with an agreement by Russia to recognize her importance in Korea and a pledge by the Tsar to withdraw Russian troops from Manchuria. Many in Japan wanted more. In fact, upon learning of such meager spoils, riots erupted in the Japanese capital. The unrest was far greater in Russia.

In St. Petersburg, the Tsar attributed the historic defeat to God’s will. As penance, he promised to never again reside in the Winter Palace.

For his part, Rozhestvensky became the face of Russia’s defeat at Tsushima. He resigned from the service and died of a heart attack in 1909.

The war left Russia shattered. Food riots in 1905 compounded by the horrific murder by Russian cavalry of unarmed civilians led by Father Gapon, only deepened the peasant’s growing hostility towards the Tsar and the aristocracy. The Russian monarchy survived the upheaval, but resentment by the empire’s have-nots persisted for years. Nicholas rode a resurgence of patriotic fervor brought on by the outbreak of the Great War in 1914. But the deep divisions and suffering of the people lay just beneath the surface. It would boil over in in 1917 ultimately bringing down the Romanovs for good.

Perhaps the country that gained the most from the Russo-Japanese war was the United States. Unrest in Russia sent thousands of refugees fleeing to America, where they prospered, thrived and added to the greatness of their adopted homeland.

The tumultuous events that took place in Japan and Russia in the early years of the 20th Century as well as the titanic battle of Tsushima are discussed in Ron Singerton’s epic novel, A Cherry Blossom in Winter, available on Amazon in paperback and e-book. It recently won the Chanticleer book review’s Goethe First Place Blue Ribbon and was on the 2017 Shortlist for the best post 1750 time period.“This is a sweeping work about the clash between Western and Eastern cultures, pretended morality and grand passions…The author’s observations about Russian society and his grasp of its good and bad points would likely have gained an approving nod from Tolstoy. This is first-rate storytelling!” — John Danielski, author of The King’s Scarlet and Blue Water Scarlet Tide.

For additional reading on the subject of Tsushima the author recommends The Russo-Japanese War at Sea 1904-5, Volume Two, Vladimur Semenoff, Leonaur Publishing, 2014 (translated)

The Imperial Russian Navy, Vladimir Krestjaninov, Unicorn Press, 2013 (translated)

The Fleet That Had to Die, Richard Hough, Viking Press, 1958.