The Battle of Doggerland
  • Prelude to the Battle[1]
    In the early morning of the 24th of October, 1904, just two days after the incident in Doggerland, the Russian Baltic Fleet had reorganized itself to steam north and around British waters, after admiral Zinovy Rozhestvensky was becoming increasingly paranoid about a British attack, and pushed all of his ships to move at their maximum speed. This caused severe issues, as the dim light in the morning paired with the intense smoke put some ships off course, who were unable to rejoin the fleet for hours after the detachment. To make matters worse, the Imperator Nikolai I suffered a fire in her engine room, and was forced to halt to avoid an explosion. Nebogatov, hearing of the malfunction, ordered the Admiral Ushakov and Admiral Seniavin to remain with the Imperator Nikolai I. Meanwhile, all of the Second Destroyer Division, Transport Squadron and almost the entirety of the First Cruiser Division, save for the Vladimir Monomakh, were unaware of the order to move on a distant curve away from Britain, and instead turned back to continue on their original course.

    By 0700, daylight had revealed the mess that the Russians had gotten themselves into, and their forces were horribly disorganized. Regardless, Rozhestvensky demanded that the fleet press onwards, despite warnings from his officers. At 0710, British destroyers Derwent, Waveney and Erne, acting as scouting forces, had detected the bulk of the Russian’s forces after seeing their smoke plumes. The Derwent was immediately ordered to rush back towards the rapidly approaching battleship detachment and notify them of the Russian’s locations, while the Waveney and Erne remained, tailing the Russians at a safe distance.

    As the morning went on, a severe fire had broken out on the Navarin, and the flames were dangerously close to reaching the magazine. At 0750, Captain Baron B.A. Fitingof gave the orders to abandon ship, and warned all other ships nearby to distance themselves in the event of an explosion. Several minutes later, the fire had choked itself of oxygen, and was reduced to a smoulder. Despite this, the Navarin was empty of hands, and Fitingof believed her engines to be irreparably damaged, and the ship was left abandoned in the waters.

    Crewmen of the Oryol spotted the smoke of the Waveney and Erne at 0820, and immediately began to relay the information to the rest of the detachment. In less than six minutes, the detachment turned to begin attacking the Waveney and Erne. The Izumrud, which had been trailing behind due to concerns of its own engine, was the first to fire at the Erne. All eight of it’s 120mm shells failed to reach Erne, but the ship’s captain ordered a hasty departure, and the Waveney followed suit. Rozhestvensky, embarrassed by the pitiful performance of his fleet thus far, called for the pursuit of the fleeing destroyers.

    The British ships proved to be far faster, as the Russian ships were bulkier, struggling to break their formation in order to see through the smoke, and to occasionally slow in order to fire at their targets. Chasing the ships for two straight hours, and expending hundreds of shells, the Russians had made the gravest--and last--mistake in their voyage.


    The Battle Begins
    At around 1030, the British battleship Exmouth, tailed by the recently repaired cruiser Hogue, were acting as the forward spearhead for the other battleships, hoping to meet with the cruisers that were immediately departing from port. Having heard of the news from the Derwent, the crew of the Exmouth was on high alert, and the Hogue remained close behind to support her larger companion.

    Spotting smoke on the horizon, the Exmouth angled itself slightly, preparing for an engagement. To their surprise, observers were able to identify the oncoming ships as the Waveney and Erne, who were clearly under threat of some kind, due to their erratic maneuvers and the amount of smoke from their engines. Exmouth’s preparations were made just in time, as observers spotted the arrival of the Izumrud, Sissoi Veliky and Svetlana. Two shells, believed to have been fired from the Sissoi Veliky struck the Waveney amidships, detonating her magazine. The Waveney was lost with all hands in less than two seconds.

    Immediately, the Exmouth opened fire with its two 12-inch guns, as well as a barrage from its 6-inch batteries, aimed towards the Sissoi Veliky, the largest target and killer of the Waveney. One of the 12-inch shells slammed into the bow of Sissoi Veliky before exploding, tearing a massive hole in its front. Three of the 6-inch guns hit her in various places on her starboard side, causing fires to break out on the deck.

    The Russian ships returned fire, and the Exmouth took severe damage on its deck and starboard side, but continued to fight against the oncoming Russians. Once in range, the Hogue began to fire upon the Russians but to little effect, its 6-inch guns unable to zero in on any of the Russian ships. Turning course in order to assist its allies, Erne launched two 18-inch torpedoes in the direction of the Svetlana, before adjusting once again to avoid being hit with enemy shells. One of the torpedoes struck Svetlana’s rear, destroying its propulsion and opening almost its entire aft section to the ocean. The second torpedo suffered a malfunction, and sank before reaching its target.


    As Exmouth continued to trade fire with the oncoming Russian ships, a fatal blow was struck to the Izumrud, as a 6-inch shell glanced across her deck before striking the bridge section. The resulting detonation immediately killed the captain and much of the ship’s command, as well as causing numerous fires. Seeing no other option, the crew of Izumrud abandoned ship. Meanwhile, Svetlana, already disabled in terms of movement, began to list heavily towards her port-aft sections, and her crew was ordered to abandon ship as well. Sissoi Veliky, though severely damaged, was ordered by its Captain Mikhail V. Oserov to continue fighting with the Exmouth.


    Landing a series of lucky strikes, two 12-inch shells from the Sissoi Veliky pierced the starboard hull of the Exmouth and detonated. The ship lurched violently before rapidly listing to starboard. Within minutes, the Exmouth had nearly capsized, and its crew was forced to abandon ship.


    With two enemy ships destroyed, but her powerful ally lost, the Hogue was ordered to turn back and link up with the arriving battleships. Observers from the Hogue spotted a huge set of smokestacks on the horizon, signaling the arrival of the bulk of the Russian fleet. Rozhestvensky was horrified to see the damage done to the three ships, and before he could order a counter barrage, the Sissoi Veliky’s deck fires had gotten out of control, and reached the engine compartment. The Sissoi Veliky’s engines exploded, causing the ship to snap apart. Some of the crew survived, but many were either killed in the explosion, or pulled into the water as the ship began to sink.


    Immediately after the destruction of yet another Russian ship, the main force of the British battleships, alongside a couple cruisers, had begun to approach. The battle had finally begun in earnest. Though outnumbered by nearly three to one, the British were undeterred, and pressed forward into the fray. By 1245, the British battleships Russel and Formidable, flanked by the cruisers Donegal and Cumberland engaged the Russian ships that acted as the initial force, the battleship Oryol, and four destroyers, Byedovy, Buiny, Bravy and Buistry. This engagement was heavily one sided, as the Russel and Formidable were able to cross their guns, hitting the Oryol repeatedly on both sides, causing the ship to sink in a matter of minutes after the initial barrage. Byedovy and Buiny, miscalculating their initial maneuvers, collided with one another, causing the Buiny to crush its bow, and Byedovy to lose its engines.


    Formidable pushed forwards, with Cumberland close behind, when the Imperator Aleksander III fired its guns towards the battleship. The two ships traded shells for minutes, before the Formidable turned to rejoin the rest of the fleet. Cumberland was able to land a hit across the Imperator Aleksander III across its aft section, causing a small fire that prevented pursuit.


    Derwent, having caught up with the rest of the battle, launched a torpedo in the general direction of the Russian ships, hoping to strike something. Their hopes were answered as the first torpedo caught the Russian cruiser Zhemchug amidships, snapping her spine. Fearing the possibility of a second torpedo, the cruiser Vladimir Monomakh turned course and began steaming away from the battle before being hastily ordered back to the fight, costing the Russians precious time and manpower.


    Russian battleships Borodino and Admiral Nakhimov began to engage the Russel, believing that their combined firepower would repeat the British success against Oryol. The initial shots against Russel missed, until a number of shells detonated beneath the waterline, causing Russel to begin taking on water. Thinking quickly, the Russel’s captain ordered a full spread of the ship’s torpedoes towards their attackers. Two of the torpedoes missed, while the other two scoured the Borodino’s bow, completely tearing the front off the ship. Similar to the Vladimir Monomakh, the Admiral Nakhimov turned to rejoin the rest of the Russian force that was rapidly collapsing.


    Bravy and Buistry, left exposed after the destruction of their surrounding ships, turned and fled from the fight, much to Rozhestvensky’s dismay. With only a handful of ships remaining, Rozhestvensky ordered what was left of his battlegroup to begin to retreat, and make their way towards whatever forces remained in the North Sea, and eventually return to the Baltic.


    The greatest insult to the entire Russian navy came, as when the Russians turned to flee northward, the British cruisers Berwick and Cornwall had managed to flank them from behind, cutting off their escape. Imperator Aleksander III, Oslyabya, Admiral Nakhimov and Vladimir Monomakh, their crews exhausted, bloodied and dismayed, announced their surrender. Unable to deal with the hideous losses, and ashamed at his defeat, Rozhestvensky quietly ordered the flagship Knyaz Suvorov to surrender. Before the ship had properly lowered its flags and signaled the British, Rozhestvensky returned to his cabin, and fatally shot himself.


    The Battle of Doggerland was over.


    [1] I know that there are some SEVERE discrepancies in regards to ship damage, armaments, and simply time to engage one another. I will attempt to fix these as we go on, as this is the first time I’ve ever really written a naval battle.

    Also, if this seems like the Russians were hit violently with the Stupid Stick, just go read the OTL Battle of Tsushima.
     
    European Reaction
  • Reaction in Europe

    The rapid retaliation by the British to declare war on the Russians sent a ripple effect through Europe only hours after the news reached the great cities of the continent. Fears of a new, multi-national war across Europe were inflamed, and nations like Belgium and Greece pulled their military commanders in for briefings on potential defense plans. The nation most shaken by the declaration was none other than France.

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    President of France, Émile Loubet

    Since 1894, France and Russia had remained staunch allies as the “Triple Alliance” between Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy had grown into a serious concern for the leaders of both nations. France’s humiliating defeat but two generations prior led to the creation of the German Empire, who had, with little competition, become a world power that straddled itself across the center of the continent. France was not just concerned with the Germans, but the British as well, as the Fashoda Incident in 1898 nearly led the two nations to war.

    However, Loubet found himself in a difficult position. Though allied to the Russians, and thus obligated to join alongside them in the event of a declaration of war, France had already failed to uphold their part of the bargain earlier that February, when the Empire of Japan and Russia came to blows. Britain was a much more immediate and much more intimidating threat than the Japanese, as the British were able to do more damage than capture far-off colonies. Though strong, the French navy paled in comparison to the British, and the British control over the Suez canal and Gibraltar made the Mediterranean a death trap for the French in the event of a war.

    On the other hand, if France were to remain neutral, it would not only be a betrayal of a trustworthy ally, but an embarrassment to France’s diplomatic standing on the world stage, and could lead to any number of treaties being broken preemptively. The possibilities of civil upheaval at the action were obvious, as it would leave France essentially isolated in the event of a war between the republic and the Triple Alliance.

    What concerned Loubet the most was the fact that Germany and Austria-Hungary were not a part of any deal with the Russians, British or French. Should the French enter the war on the side of the Russians, what would that mean for the rest of Europe? Would the Germans enter the war alongside the British to knock down their rival one more peg? Would it not bring in the Austrians and the Italians, who would swarm over the Alps into France’s underbelly? What of the Ottomans, would they seize the opportunity to tear away at Russian possessions in the Black Sea? All of these questions and more ran through Loubet’s mind for days after the war broke out between Britain and Russia.

    A delegation from the German Empire arrived in Paris on Friday, the 28th of October, 1904, to meet with president Loubet, to discuss both nation’s positions on the “War between the Empires” (as it was called in many European newspapers). For two days, the French and Germans debated, sometimes ferociously, over how to deal with the ongoing crisis. Meanwhile, tabloids in both nations speculated wildly over what possible agreement both sides could come to. The debates came to a screeching halt when French foreign minister, Théophile Delcassé--a known anti-German radical in the French government--outright slapped Oswald von Richthofen, the German foreign minister over the possibility of both sides remaining neutral in Russian affairs. Calling Richtofen a “Foolish moron and adversary of human decency”, Delcassé was physically removed from the meeting.

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    German foreign minister Oswald von Richtofen

    Insulted, Kaiser Wilhelm II recalled the delegation from France, and condemned Delcassé’s “violent rhetoric and actions that will no doubt lead to European insanity”. Loubet was both infuriated and terrified, and after having Delcassé removed from office, attempted to send his own delegation to Berlin, which was immediately refused. Unable to stay in the awkward position of having not chosen a side, Loubet took it upon himself to make the decision.

    On the 31st of October, 1904, French President Émile Loubet announced that France would dissolve its alliance with Russia, and remain neutral in the war “unless French assets or civilians are in immediate and pressing danger.” The announcement, once reaching St. Petersburg, sent Tsar Nicholas II into a deep depression, and the monarch was not seen for nearly a week afterwards. The following day, Germany, despite the tensions in the conference, announced that the Triple Alliance would also remain neutral.

    War in Europe was averted.

    For now.
     
    The Coming Storm
  • The Coming Storm
    With the possibility of conflict on the European continent avoided, Britain began making plans for the inevitable attacks on Russian assets in the Far East. The Royal Navy had made quick work of the remaining Russian ships that were unable to escape into the Baltic in time, and had set up a patrol route across the North Sea, much to the chagrin of the Danish and Swedish. No Russian ship dared to pass through the Skagerrak, and the British were unable to secure a deal to enter the Baltic sea themselves. As a result, the “western front” of the war had come to a screeching and anti-climactic halt.

    Meanwhile, in the Mediterranean, the British began to mobilize most of their Mediterranean fleet to make headway through the Suez Canal and towards India, where they could eventually rendezvous with the China Station under the command of Vice-Admiral Sir Gerard Noel. With approval from British high command, Noel began contacting Japanese admiral Tōgō Heihachirō, and organizing a possible joint naval action against Vladivostok. Tōgō relayed the request to his superiors, and both sides prepared to form a single fleet that would “spell the end of the Russian menace in the east.”

    As the British fleet prepared to enter the fray in the east, the army was beginning to lag behind. Debates took place over who and what to send to Asia, some arguing that sending troops from mainland Britain would “lead to a similar, pathetic situation that the Russians have just stumbled into.” Counter-arguments posed suggested that relying entirely on colonial or dominion forces could “drain them of precious manpower in the event of a larger conflict in the future.” However, Edward VII, who had authority over all major military decisions, proposed that the primary force consist of colonial troops, and eventually that British soldiers would arrive to bolster them “in the future”.

    With the United Kingdom and its empire preparing for war, a number of divisions were rapidly assigned to form the “First Eastern Intervention Group”, to consist of soldiers from India, Australia and Canada. Though it would take many weeks for the full group to be formed, as the soldiers would not only have to be shipped from their homelands, but also organized as a cohesive army group and sent towards the fighting in northern Asia. As the Japanese continued to struggle over the capture of Port Arthur, the British felt that a capture of Vladivostok would lead to a full-scale collapse of the Russian war effort against Japan, and lead to peace talks.

    By the 10th of November, much of the China Station had joined the Japanese first squadron under Tōgō Heihachirō, and Noel met with Tōgō aboard the Mikasa, roughly 175 kilometers from Vladivostok itself. With nearly all of the Russian eastern fleet destroyed, the British and Japanese faced little to no threat, and were almost leisurely with their approach towards the Russian city.


    The following day, with the Mediterranean fleet still more than two weeks away due to a freak storm, the joint Anglo-Japanese fleet steamed towards Vladivostok, preparing to lay siege to the city. Early on the morning of the 11th of November, the Anglo-Japanese forces were in range of Russky Island, they found themselves under fire from numerous artillery emplacements that were hastily erected by Russian defenders. Though most of the guns were of some significant caliber, their distance from their targets and lack of proper rangefinding led many of the shells to land harmlessly into the water. One shell did manage to hit the Japanese destroyer Akebono, crushing a smokestack and setting a severe fire on the deck that took some time to put out. The responding naval barrage was unable to silence all of the guns, and the ships and guns traded shells for several hours before Tōgō ordered his ships to push forwards.

    The harassing coastal fire continued, and grew more serious, as dug-in Russian defenders in the fortresses across the northern half of Russky island became significant, and the large coastal guns were able to do more damage to the oncoming vessels. No ships were sunk in the defense, but two Japanese vessels, the cruiser Nisshin and destroyer Asagiri were heavily damaged, and were forced to limp back towards the rear of the formation. With help from the British, the Japanese shelled the fortifications repeatedly, keeping the defenders from being able to do any more damage.

    The ports of Vladivostok itself were already in range of the division’s guns, but as the ships drew closer, they were met with a bizarre sight. A number of Russian fishing vessels had been purposefully scuttled or abandoned, with large chains linking them together, making it difficult for some ships to pass through without having to ram through them. In the ports themselves, the Rossia and Gromoboi--the only ships to have any real combat capability following the battle off Ulsan--were positioned in a way that they blocked the immediate view of the oncoming vessels.

    The defending guns roared to life, and took the ships off guard, though most missed. After a few minutes of counter-fire, the engines of both Russian ships suddenly detonated, and huge fires sprung up across the water of the main port of Vladivostok. In a desperate move to prevent accurate shots into the city, the Russian defends sacrificed their only remaining vessels to create a huge smoke screen.

    This did not deter the attackers, however, who simply chose to plunge shots through the smoke and into what they suspected to be good targets. Coastal batteries continued to fire on the Anglo-Japanese fleet, but their shooting was in vain, as any ships damaged simply cycled themselves out, replaced with ships that remained in reserve. However, any significant advancement towards the city was halted by Tōgō, fearing the possibility of mines like that outside of Port Arthur.

    For eight hours, Vladivostok was viciously shelled by the British and Japanese, laying waste to hundreds of buildings and setting numerous, destructive fires. Hundreds were killed, thousands wounded, and thousands more fled the city for its outskirts. Civilian casualties continued to rise as the fires grew out of control. The setting sun of the 11th of November was obscured by a huge wall of thick, dark smoke of what was once Vladivostok’s harbor, and much of the city itself.

    Unbeknownst to the allied fleet, a large number of Russian troops had been making their way to Vladivostok, rushed to the east after the British declaration of war. The troops quickly received word of the destruction of Vladivostok before they arrived the following day, as refugees from the city crowded the railway lines, hoping to escape to safety.

    Though the Russian navy may have been bloodied, beaten and humiliated, the Russian army was still fresh and ready for battle. And now, they were out for blood.

    It's hard to find an accurate map for Vladivostok at this time in history, so my apologies for blatantly incorrect information.
     
    The Lightning
  • The Lighting
    On the 13th of November, with Vladivostok under siege from the sea, and Port Arthur having nearly surrendered, Japanese high command pulled the 119th Infantry Division and 131st Independent Mixed Brigade of the Fourth Army, and ordered them to link up with the entirety of the Second Army, to be under the command of Count Oku Yasukata and make headway towards Vladivostok. Having only just been able to regroup from the battle of Shaho less than a month prior, the Second Army hadn’t fully recovered its losses, and was not at full strength. This did not concern Japanese high command, who believed that the city lacked proper defenses, and could fall within “hours after the first Japanese soldier set foot in the city streets”, as stated by Yasukata.

    Though the army was still days away from reaching the city, the Japanese vessels shelling Vladivostok began to pull away for a full rearming. A number of ships had received damage from gun emplacements along the shoreline, where Russian defenders used the cover of night to move their field guns to different positions. Meanwhile, the British cruiser Leviathan was struck in the bow after a small group of Russians, using a paddle boat and a crude spar torpedo, put a 20cm diameter hole roughly a meter above the waterline, forcing Leviathan to return to Japanese dockyards to undergo repairs and ensure no structural damage was done.

    With only a handful of ships still remaining, the bombardment of Vladivostok came to an end, and instead a full-scale blockade was put in place to ensure that no trading vessels were able to enter, though almost all of the city’s port had been reduced to rubble, making it useless. Britain, knowing that the window to launch a proper attack before the full onset of winter was soon to close, the forces that would make up the invasion of eastern Russia had finally begun to organize.

    With the Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians still preparing their troops to be shipped out, British high command chose to begin utilizing the recently formed divisions from India. Composed mainly of infantry battalions, with a handful of artillery detachments, the “First Indian Force” was organized in Vizagapatam on the 15th of November. The First Indian Force contained the 1st Peshawar, 3rd Lahore, 4th Quetta and 6th Poona divisions, numbering roughly 52,000 men in total. Under the control of none other than Field Marshal Horatio Herbert Kitchener, the man in charge of the military reforms of India, the First Indian Force left Vizagapatam the following day, steaming towards Fukuoka, their arrival point before landing in Vladivostok.

    Meanwhile, the Russians were more than aware of the approach of both the Japanese and British armies. Though badly bloodied by fighting along the railways in Manchuria, the Russian forces began receiving huge numbers of reinforcements traveling along the Siberian railroads. Arriving over two of travel since the British declaration of war, and awkwardly shuffling between mismanaged railways, the Russian army sent a large number of fresh and battle-ready soldiers. The 3rd Grenadier, 4th Infantry, 18th Infantry, 3rd Guards and 2nd Guards Cavalry, numbering well over 70,000 men, had made positions near Vladivostok. Digging in around the outskirts, a huge series of concentric defensive lines overlooked the city on the winding hills and forests. Though not officially given a name, due to their hasty arrival, the Russian defenders were placed under the command of Lieutenant General Aleksei Alekseyevich Brusilov, an experienced commander in the Russo-Turkish war.

    Though the defensive lines were well prepared, Brusilov was more than aware of the threat of naval bombardment, and chose to spread his lines apart accordingly. Entrenching was made difficult as the dropping temperatures made the dirt hard, and Brusilov’s men were forced to begin removing trees to use the logs as fortifications. With only a week or two, possibly less, Brusilov waited patiently for his enemy to arrive. Several thousand more Russian troops--some surviving divisions from previous battles in Manchuria--were set to arrive by mid-December.

    The British and Japanese had chosen their fight. Russia was ready to respond. Like the arrival of a storm in the distance, the lighting began to flash, but the thunder had yet to be heard.
     
    The Battle of Vladivostok (Part 1)
  • The Battle of Vladivostok, Part I

    On the 6th of December, 1904, the guns roared to life across the harbor of Vladivostok. Advancing from the northeast, the first elements from the Japanese ground forces. The initial naval bombardment was light, meaning to “shake up” the Russians in their defensive positions, and make the rapid advancement of Japanese infantry much smoother. This did not go according to plan.


    Thanks to the odd terrain, bitter cold and general disorder in and around the city, British and Japanese intelligence was limited to telescopic lenses and night time infiltration, that lead to many scouts being captured and executed as spies. Vladivostok itself was not totally abandoned, and a large number of Russian civilians, both men and women, essentially volunteered to assist in the defense. A huge series of trenches began to expand into the city’s inner limits, with barricades made from rubble found along the damaged harbor and factories. These defenses were expanded slowly but surely, and the Japanese ships in port believed that a short lived barrage would break apart the fortifications and the battle would be over. They were wrong.


    The bombardment--only lasting around 10 minutes--ceased, and the Japanese infantry advanced at a rapid pace in order to take over the first line of trenches. Russian soldiers began to start shooting, and the “lack of overwhelming fire” drove the Japanese to quicken their pace and seize the moment. Out of nowhere, nearly three dozen Japanese soldiers of the advancing echelons suddenly descended into the ground and were impaled on sharpened stakes. Over the previous nights, Russian partisans had constructed false trenches, covering them in thin walkways that were placed over fire-hardened wood stakes. This trap worked only the first time, as officers not only pressed their soldiers forward, but that only a small number had been made. These “悪魔の歯”/”Devil’s Teeth”[1] were nonetheless notorious, and some groups of Japanese infantry had become wary about approaching the Russian lines.


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    Russian soldiers before the battle of Vladivostok


    A major order was given to the Russian defenders by general Brusilov, generally referred to as the “Одиночная Пуля, Одиночная Цель”/“Single Bullet, Single Target”[1] command. In essence, the orders were given that Russian soldiers were to limit themselves to firing on targets less than 100 meters away, and to use at most one or two bullets before “waiting to re-assess one’s aim”. This was in order to prevent the wasting of the ammunition that was already in horribly short numbers due to the miserable transference of supplies over the railways in siberia. Soldiers were also demanded to “call out” their targets, to stop multiple soldiers from shooting at the same target. This order was not followed perfectly, but the idea had caught on as the battle continued.


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    Japanese soldiers on the march to Vladivostok in late November


    The Japanese began to pour their numbers into the attack, believing that the overwhelming numbers would “wash over the Russians like a tide”, and pushed harder and harder towards the defenses. The Russians however, uphill and entrenched, had a massive advantage over the Japanese, and began to rake the attackers with machine gun and rifle fire. What few field guns were left fired their rounds sparingly, though many of them landed in the large concentrations of Japanese infantry. Though most of the Japanese Second Army had yet to fully dedicate itself to the battle, the initial infantry attacks cost them dearly. Only a few hours had passed, and nearly 7,000 Japanese soldiers had been killed or wounded. Upon hearing the news, Yasukata ordered the withdrawal of the attack, and attempted to coordinate further naval barrages.


    How it happened is still unknown, whether it was Yasukata not knowing that his troops had not fully left the field, or that naval officers became overzealous in their desire to fire upon the Russians. Nonetheless, the Japanese ships still in the harbor began to bombard the forward Russian positions with impunity. The Russians began to take heavy casualties of their own, but the exposed and disorganized Japanese were shredded by the falling shells, and the withdrawal became a panicked route. More than 2,000 more Japanese had been killed or maimed in the barrage, and once the attack had ceased, the bloodied attackers returned to their lines in shocking disarray.


    Infuriated, Yasukata ordered that the Japanese fleet “explain its actions and be called to justice.” Insulted, Tōgō responded to Yasukata’s demands with a simple and yet brutal reply.

    Tōgō Heihachirō said:
    I understand that your inability to bring your own troops out of harm's way has led them to be taken needlessly like grain by a scythe. I, however, do not make such idiotic decisions, and will instead move my men as far away from you as possible, lest there be another tragedy of your making that I am forced to witness.


    Almost an hour after that response, which was difficult to deliver due to poor communication to the mainland, as well as the messengers fearing reprisal for such an emotionally charged response, the Japanese ships began to withdraw from Vladivostok’s harbors. What few British vessels were present were confused, having been left out entirely from the conversation between army and navy, and followed the Japanese out. This was the first, but not the last, of the intense rivalry between the Japanese army and navy.


    Yasukata, now unable to utilize the larger guns of the ships, resorted to field guns brought in from Manchuria, and began to bombard the Russian positions for hours. The gunnery officers, though trained well and experienced in previous combat, were forced to deal with short supplies. The hasty advance of the Second Army and its newly attached divisions did not allow for any form of rest or resupply, and the number of shells was shockingly low. Though central Manchuria was just as cold as Vladivostok in winter, the Japanese were totally unprepared for the freezing cold that blew out of the northeast, and it showed in their total lack of winter supplies. Expecting the war to be over quickly, the Japanese army did not deploy large numbers of coats, gloves or wrappings for their troops, causing many of them to suffer frostbite or go into hypothermia.


    The Japanese began to try and entrench their own positions, though the ground had nearly frozen completely, and only small dugouts could be made. By the end of the first day, the Japanese ended their attack on the Russian positions, waiting for all of their troops to gather for an “encirclement”, though what plan they had made to do that was unknown to the lower ranking field officers. After but a single day of fighting, the Japanese had taken well over 10,000 casualties, in comparison to the 4,000 Russian losses[2]. The nightmarish embarrassment of the Japanese that day had yet to end, as when night fell the “Бригада Сопротивления”/”Resistance Brigade”[1] quietly made into the Japanese encampments.


    Though numbering less than one hundred men, these partisans raised hell amongst the Japanese camps. Piecemeal patrols, combined with the frigid darkness, allowed many of the Russians to slip through undetected. Carrying a hodgepodge of weapons, which included Russian or Japanese rifles, shotguns, revolvers, knives, axes and even pitchforks, the Russians began rampaging through Japanese defenses, catching them totally by surprise. Lanterns were tossed onto tents or supply boxes, setting them ablaze in the dry air. Some partisans had even brought lamp oil, and began dousing Japanese soldiers in it, setting them on fire and inflicting horrible wounds.


    Despite the surprise and ferocity of the attack, the Japanese quickly overwhelmed the attackers, and many of the “Resistance Brigade” were killed in their attempt to escape, or were captured by the Japanese and summarily executed, though Yasukata would later court martial those that did so. The raid had nonetheless done its job, shaking up the Japanese attackers and making things far more difficult than they wanted it to be. A fire ripped through a number of tents protecting munitions, and the rattle of bullets cooking off could be heard as far as the Russian lines.


    Brusilov, proud of his men and their achievements, had nonetheless issued a dire warning.

    Aleksei Brusilov said:
    Understand this, soldiers of Russia and defenders of our great nation. This battle has but only just begun, and the Japanese will be at us again come the morning, with greater numbers and fire in their hearts. They will come with everything they have, as we have backhanded them across the cheek, and made their face red with anger. Do not let this victory blind you to this. Keep your head held high, and your rifle by your side, and Russia will stand victorious. Let us see how willing both the Japanese and the English are to trade blood for dirt.


    Brusilov’s warning would be heeded, as the Japanese prepared for their next assault, and the First Indian Force was only days away from landing. The battle to decide the fate of the war, and the fate of the next century, was about to begin in ernest.



    [1]Translations wrong? Please point these out!!!

    [2]I know it might seem tilted in one direction or another, but this is early 20th century warfare, bodies meant nothing.


    Also, as this TL goes on, I will become more “broad” and less specific in my writings, as handling individual divisions and units during large scale campaigns, or tracking literal hour-by-hour aspects of a battle is tiresome for both writer and reader.
     
    The Battle of Vladivostok (Part 2)
  • The Battle of Vladivostok, Part II
    The second day of the battle began immediately at dawn, with the Japanese field guns pounding the Russian defenses wildly, officers demanding a full-scale bombardment rather than waiting to conserve munitions, the thought being that supplies would be on their way soon enough. As reinforcements began to trickle in, coming from the two additional divisions to the Second Army, Yasukata became increasingly concerned. These reinforcements were exhausted, bedraggled and low on their own supplies, and Yasukata had them remain stationed behind the front lines for the time being. Several battalions of infantry, mobilized at the first light of day, charged forwards under the cover of artillery fire towards the Russian defenders.

    Overnight, a thin layer of snow had covered the ground, making the advance slow and awkward, as many soldiers slipped or fell. As the Japanese infantry grew closer to the Russian defenses, the field guns ceased firing to avoid a mistake like the previous day. Furious with being made fools of, the officers of the Japanese infantry pushed their men to the limits, and the attack became a full scale sprint towards the Russian lines. The Russian defenders, though bloodied by the bombardment, began to open fire, saving their bullets just like before. Now, the Russians were able to see the full results of Brusilov’s orders, and the Japanese paid dearly. The Japanese assault was slowed even more when the Russian field guns, having been pulled away from the bombardment, began opening fire on the advancing infantry, aiming only for clustered groups of men. Thinking that they could avoid taking too many casualties from the shelling, the Japanese began to spread their lines, which only made them easier targets for the Russians.

    However, unlike the previous day, this assault did actually reach the initial lines of the Russian defense, and a brutal melee ensued. Japanese infantry poured into the trenches, pushing with bayonets, revolvers or knives, both sides barely able to actually bring their rifles to bear in the close quarters. The Russians had the advantage, yet again, as the Japanese had exhausted themselves with their rapid advance. Though fueled with adrenaline and rage, the Japanese were simply too tired to fight efficiently, and the battle within the trenches was a hideous bloodbath for both sides. Nonetheless, Russian infantry not in immediate danger were ordered to fall back to positions in the rear, abandoning their trenches to the Japanese.

    Having completed their first objective, the Japanese took over the front line trenches with gusto, and used the small moment of reprieve to trade shots with the Russians. Knowing that trying to hit entrenched infantry, no matter how close, was folly with what little ammo they had, Russian officers ordered only a small number of riflemen and machine gunners to return fire against the Japanese. Within the first trench, most of the remaining Russians had been killed, wounded or managed to retreat. Sending a number of messages back towards their starting positions, the Japanese called forth the next group of infantry to push forward in a “grand spearhead”.

    With only a few hundred meters between the two trenches, the Japanese took their time to move as many men into position as possible, taking a few hours to regroup themselves and make a harder push towards the Russians. Harassing fire from the Russians made it difficult to scout their enemy, and by mid afternoon, the advance began in a huge wave, with more than 8,000 men pushing in a massive “human wave” to overwhelm the Russians. To their shock, only a few hundred Russians remained in the second trench, and said few Russians inflicted immense losses, sweeping their machine guns across the advancing Japanese, who were, by a Russian account, “so tightly packed that it was possible to kill two or more with a single bullet”.

    Despite their efforts, the Russian defenders were forced on a vicious fighting retreat towards trench lines that were far less robust. Losses were high on both sides, as the Japanese pushed onwards through rifle, machine gun and artillery fire, and the Russians were simply outmanned and outgunned. Exhausted again, the Japanese slowed their advance, giving the Russians a short period of respite to organize themselves in the last few trenches. Unable to fit all of his soldiers safely in defensible positions, Brusilov made the decision to send much of his men into the city. Though the city had been heavily damaged by the fighting, and none of his soldiers had any experience in urban fighting, Brusilov felt that the winding streets and close quarters would make it difficult for the Japanese to make any significant gains.

    With the navy no longer present, and the field guns unable to arc over the hill, the casualties for the Japanese began to stack rapidly. By the late afternoon, nearly half of the attacking force had been killed or wounded, with Russian casualties still far behind. The bitter cold began to take its toll on the tired and bloodied Japanese infantry, who were ordered to fall back towards the previously captured trenches, once again to regroup and collect their wounded. Strewn between the attackers and defenders was a gruesome pile of bodies, that both sides were afraid to remove from the field for fear of being fired upon.

    Afternoon turned to night, as Russian defenders slowly began to trickle into the outskirts of the city. Machine gun and rifle fire were traded sporadically between the two forces as both sides attempted to reassess their situation, and plan for the next day’s battles. Yasukata, though still enraged by the friendly fire from the Navy, sent word to Tōgō Heihachirō, requesting the return of naval forces to provide support. Yasukata would be given his naval support, but not from Tōgō, but instead the arrival of the British. Hearing word of the losses of the Japanese, and horrified at the friendly fire incident, Kitchener ordered the naval transports to rush towards Vladivostok, and coordinated his advance with as many British vessels in the area as possible.

    The morning of the 8th of December was greeted with the naval ensign of the Royal Navy waving proudly in the waters outside of Vladivostok. Immediately, with first light, the British guns began firing upon the Russian trenches and the city itself, this time taking great care to make their shots precise. Shells landed near perfectly at the beginning of the barrage, with Russian trenches outside of the city being ripped apart, causing enormous casualties for the Russians. Yasukata, still worried about friendly fire, and doubly afraid of causing international incident, chose to move his men further away from the battlefield to avoid any unnecessary deaths. In the city, the shelling was less effective. Though many of the squat buildings had been flattened, much of the Russian defenders spread themselves thin, and were ordered to regularly change their position at random. This caused significant confusion for the Russians, but the lack of deaths was a fair tradeoff.

    By mid day, the barrage ceased, and the British prepared to make their landings. With the Japanese making slow advancements from the northwest, the Russians continued their fighting retreat towards the city center. Large rowboats, capable of holding a dozen men, were strapped to the sides of the British transport ships. Elements of the 6th Poona Division quickly began to board the craft, and were dropped into the water. Lacking any form of amphibious landing capabilities, and believing that the harbor defenses of the Russians had been silenced, the Indian troops and their British officers made headway towards the harbor. In the eyes of the British, the battle was essentially over the instant any British soldiers made their entrance into the city, as the Russians would be totally surrounded and incapable of retreat.

    The rowboats attempted to cut through the maze of scuttled and sunken ships that still dotted the harbor, as neither side had been able to clear them since the arrival of the combined fleet weeks earlier. Growing closer to the shoreline, British commanders came to the horrifying realization that the Russians were not silenced at all, but had in fact been waiting for the attackers to come in range. Machine guns and rifles opened up, picking off soldiers in their boats, who tried to change their pace or angle to avoid being fired upon. Panicking, some rowers tried to rapidly change direction, causing their boats to capsize, sending all hands into the frigid waters of Vladivostok’s harbor. Many of the soldiers, having come from central India, had no experience with the kind of cold, and the sheer shock of the water caused them to drown. Field guns that had been evacuated into the city sent shells directly into some of the boats, which according to onlookers “reduced the men into clouds of pink mist”. Some of the officers ordered their men to begin rowing back towards the transports, which simply exposed their backs to the Russian defenders.

    Out of the nearly 1,000 men that had made their rapid advance towards the harbor, more than 700 of them were killed, wounded or lost to the waters. Furious and panicking, the British began to shell the shoreline of the city to try their best to stop the Russian guns from firing. Though there was no friendly fire took place, the shelling was largely ineffective, as the defenders quickly retreated from the harbor and scattered. As the rowboats returned, the British elected to send the soldiers to the eastern side of the city, landing far enough away as to avoid being intercepted by the Russians. Three hours of shelling took place as the soldiers of the 6th Poona and 4th Quetta divisions landed unmolested on the eastern beaches near Vladivostok.

    The British, having been forced to delay their advance, chose to hastily organize their men and begin an attack with the Japanese. Communication between the two sides was difficult, as a massive language barrier made it almost impossible to properly coordinate their attacks, and the Kitchener ordered his men to take the initiative, with or without Japanese support.

    Seeing the disarray of the British, Brusilov was more than pleased, if not still aware of the situation. Though he did not tell anyone but his closest staff, Brusilov knew that the defense of the city was a losing battle, and no matter how hard he and his men fought, the city would fall. However, he refused to simply admit defeat, and would make sure to make the British and Japanese bleed as much as possible. Ordering his men to dig in for the final assault, Brusilov quietly made for the retreat of as many men outside of the city as possible come nightfall.

    Organized and whipped into a frenzy after numerous speeches by their officers, the soldiers of the First Indian Force began moving towards Vladivostok, with the Royal Navy sending ripples of artillery fire to break up as much of the Russian defenses as possible before the assault began. The British had made the same mistake as the Japanese, and failed to deploy proper winter gear to their troops, and many of the Indian troops suffered dearly because of it. Nonetheless, their officers pressed them forward. Seeing that the British had taken the initiative, Yasukata rallied his troops and forced one final wave of men to assault the outskirts of the city.

    As the sun began to touch the horizon, 3,000 British-Indian and 11,000 Japanese infantrymen made an enormous push into Vladivostok. The Russian defenders, running low on ammunition, scattered throughout the city, and filled with the fires of patriotism, made their last stand. The attackers picked up their pace as hails of bullets tore through their ranks, machine guns making quick work of the packed together infantry. Forces of the 4th Quetta were the first to breach the Russian lines at the edge of the city, taking heavy losses as they advanced over the hasty fortifications and silenced the line of machine guns.

    To their dismay, another row of guns and defenders, having simply bided their time, opened fire on the men who were now exposed down a corridor of city streets. What would be known as the “Slaughter of Vladivostok” began. Unwilling to give the Russians a moment to rest, Kitchener demanded that his troops continue to attack, and push harder into the city as night began to fall. Disorganized, and now panicked by the losses, British officers ordered the Indian troops to charge into the nests of Russian defenders. The losses were tremendous, and nearly 800 men were killed in less than an hour. Morale plummeted amongst the British, who despite their orders halted their advance and attempted to recover from the shocking brutality that was urban combat.

    Meanwhile, the Japanese simply ignored their losses. Whether it was out of fear of letting the British seize victory, or simply sheer resolve, the Japanese swarmed through the city streets, even when night shrouded the city in darkness. Fires that were started by the shelling lit the streets, though not enough to prevent instances of friendly fire, and a number of Japanese soldiers were killed by their own, or even by the British. Unable to see their foe, both the British and Japanese chose to slow their advances and dig in. Though inflicting serious damage against the attackers, the Russians had begun to take savage losses of their own. Thousands of Russian defenders lay dead or wounded in the streets, and the fighting retreat towards the city’s center led many more to be cut down.

    Pockets of resistance fought valiantly throughout the city, but the sheer number of British and Japanese attackers overwhelmed them. Hours of intense fighting throughout the night and into the early morning continued, as firefights turned to bayonet duels, which turned to vicious hand to hand battles. The sun rose on the city of Vladivostok on the 9th of December, and the streets of the once quiet city were filled with the bodies of Russians, Japanese and British-Indians. Men on both sides were sickened by the fighting, and the intensity of the night battles came to a stand still. Digging into whatever pieces of cover they could find, a brutal stalemate lasted throughout the morning and afternoon.

    Brusilov, who had prepared carefully for just such a battle, was disgusted by the bloodshed. Knowing that his men would be unable to continue the fight for much longer, Brusilov sent unarmed messengers through the lines to announce the surrender of his forces to the attackers, and the Russian defenders threw down their weapons, raising white flags. Over the course of the afternoon of the 9th of December, the Russians were marched out of the city by their British and Japanese captors.

    As the soldiers solemnly, quietly and bitterly exited the city, they left behind more than 10,000 British, Japanese, Indian and Russian corpses to be taken by the freezing cold. Victory had been achieved. The Battle of Vladivostok was over.

    And so was the war.
     
    The Treaty of Chicago
  • The Treaty of Chicago
    On the 10th of December, seeing that Vladivostok had fallen, the Russian government had made up its mind. Under the orders of Tsar Nicholas II, a cable was sent to both London and Tokyo, announcing that the Russian Empire had officially surrendered, and was ready for peace. Immediately, news of the surrender was sent across the nation, and to all Russian commanders able to receive the information. Over the course of two days, the war came to a quiet halt, as the last Russian garrisons were marched out of their holdings in Port Arthur and parts of their railways in Manchuria. During the two day “Drift to Peace”, an intense debate was held between the British and Japanese governments on where to host the peace talks.

    If the talks were held in London, the Japanese would be “subservient to western interests”, while if the talks were held in Tokyo, the British would “receive a raw and unfair deal weighed heavily in favor to the Japanese”. Either way, the Russian delegation understood that it would be on the receiving end of intense punishment from both governments. As the debate went on, the British and Japanese were approached by an interesting third party, the United States.

    US President Theodore Roosevelt, having been observing the Russo-Japanese War since its beginning, recognized that the British and Japanese had “unique and conflicting interests that could not reasonably be realized in the courts of Europe or Asia.” The three parties agreed to the proposal, and a meeting was scheduled to be held in the city of Chicago, Illinois on the 22nd of December, 1904. The British were the first to arrive on the 20th, taking some time to enjoy the sights of the bustling city of the midwest. The Japanese and Russians both arrived on the 22nd, due to storms and complications of moving such a far distance to the United States. With the discussions already delayed, all parties involved were rushed to meet in the Chicago city hall, taking the chambers in a private meeting the following morning at 7 AM.

    For several hours, as the three parties struggled through translators to discuss peace, the Russian delegation remained almost completely silent. Beyond embarrassed, the Russians were outright humiliated by their complete lack of military successes, and were dragged to the negotiations “like a man to the hangman’s noose”. Intense debates took place until the late evening, where a break was taken for a short dinner. The Japanese and British delegations dined together in a large restaurant, with many American reporters attempting to enter and interview the diplomats. Meanwhile, the Russians took to have dinner in their hotel rooms, many choosing to dine alone.

    Despite all of the troubles and debating between the British and Japanese, the following morning saw the final segment of negotiations, and the Treaty of Chicago was set to be signed on the 24th of December, 1904. On Christmas Eve, the delegations of the United Kingdom, the Empire of Japan and Russian Empire agreed to officially end the “Russo-Japanese War”, “Anglo-Russian War” or the “War of the Empires”. The treaty saw the following:
    - 300 Million Pounds Sterling worth of
    - 175m to Japan
    - 125m to Britain
    - 175 Million Pounds Sterling worth of:
    - Coal
    - Steel
    - Bauxite
    - Grain
    - Raw Iron
    (In Any Combination, in equal 87.5m shares to both Britain and Japan)
    - Pacific fleet to exceed no more than 150,000 tons of displacement
    - Baltic Fleet to exceed no more than 250,000 tons of displacement
    - Black Sea Fleet to exceed no more than 200,000 tons of displacement
    - Sakhalin and Kurils to be ceded to Japan in their entirety
    - All Russian railways in Manchuria to be handed to Japan in their entirety
    - Vladivostok to become an "Open Port City" for 75 years, with a regiment of Japanese and British soldiers as legation
    - No Russian troops to be stationed within 150km of Vladivostok
    - To renounce all territorial claims on Japan

    The Russian Empire was brought to its knees before the ink had even dried. With such a brutal demand made by the British and Japanese, the Russian economy would essentially cease to exist in only a number of years. Should the Russians break any aspect of their treaty, the Russians would face “immense monetary and possibly military retaliation from the other signatories”.

    The news rippled through the Russian public like an earthquake, and protests broke out immediately in major cities like St. Petersburg, Kiev and Moscow. The Russian government would be forced to strip money away from the public, and seize assets from banks, private companies and farms. Knowing that the stability of the Russian Empire sat on a knife’s edge, Tsar Nicholas had to find a scapegoat. On the 29th of December, only two days from the entrance of the new year, Tsar Nicholas II called for the arrest of “Officers and soldiers that deliberately failed in their military duties to the Russian Empire and its people.” Hundreds of commanding officers were to be transported back to St. Petersburg, and what remained of the admiralty had been arrested and imprisoned, awaiting the inevitable show trials.

    In Irkutsk, with his remaining troops, General Brusilov was approached by a small contingent of police officers, who handed him the orders delivered by telegram. The officers soon found themselves in shackles, tossed into the train station by Brusilov’s soldiers. Approaching the telegraph office, Brusilov sent a cable to “any and all who would listen”.
    Alexsei Brusilov said:
    On this day, the history of our great nation has been decided not by its people, not by its soldiers, not even by its generals. Instead, Russia’s course into the future has been decided by autocrats and nobles, who’s birthright and birthright alone have given them the power to call for the arrest of those that paid dearly defending their name. No longer will I, nor my men, allow such decisions to be made by buffoons that gain their power by wearing a crown or sitting upon a throne. I call upon all leaders whose names are upon the list of traitors to rally their men and to rally their people. Russia will no longer suffer under the yolk of a monarch, but will be lead into the future by the voices of the common man!”

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    Modern recreation of the First Officers Battalion standard

    Raising a makeshift flag, Brusilov and his men had formed the “Первый Офицерскій Батальонъ/First Officers Battalion”, and had declared themselves the “true and noble protectors of the Russian people”, and continued westward.

    The Russian Revolution had begun.
     
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