The Sun and the Mirror: A Japanese Spin-Off of the Superpower Empire TL by Maverick

MrP

Banned
The following is part of the Superpower Empire: China 1912 canon. You can read the original TL here. I am reposting it on Maverick's behalf and with Hendryk's approval.


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The Sun and the Mirror:
A Japanese Spin-Off of the Superpower Empire TL by Maverick



1. At the Crossroads of History​



If only the world
Would always remain this way
Some fishermen
Drawing a little rowboat
Up the river bank


-Minamoto no Sanetomo


As it had been with the year of 1914 and the continent of Europe, the year of 1912 was for a turning point for Asia, one which found Empires old and new at the Crossroads of History and the balance of power in the region irremediably changed. In China, the Qing Dynasty was brought to an end by the forces of Revolution after 268 years in power, replaced at first by a republic and then by the foundation of a new Empire; in India, the poet Rabindranath Tagore, finally accepted as the greatest living writer of Bengal after more than 30 years of work, found himself dissatisfied and set off to the West, to London and America, just as his Gitanjali was to be released in English and earn him the Nobel Prize in Literature the following year; in Thailand, the young King Rama VI faced an unsuccessful rebellion by young officers of his army and navy, perhaps inspired by events in China; and in Japan, the life and reign of the Emperor Meiji came to an abrupt end on the night of July 29th, after more than 45 years on the throne.

The Emperor, whose life had been signaled by some of the most momentous events in Japan’s history, had been born a mere eight months before the arrival of the Admiral Matthew Perry to the shores of Kanagawa, had lived to see the ‘Opening’ of his country to the world after two centuries of isolation, as well as the dying Shogunate’s attempts to reform, ascended to the Throne at the age of 16 upon the death of the Emperor Kōmei and then became the first Emperor restored to power after 500 years of rule under the shogunates and the daimyō, an event that much like the ascension of the Emperor Jianguo in China, proved to be a turning point that meant the end of an old, decrepit system and the entry of a new, young and dynamic power to the world stage.

The Meiji Restoration of 1868 was not only the defining event of modern Japanese History, but also a defining moment for modern Asian history as a whole: for Asia, from Beijing to Istanbul, it was a shining example; for Europe, an ominous portent. In less than fifty years Japan had shaken the weight of a centuries-old feudal regime, taken to the ways of Europe, created modern industries and institutions based on lessons the country had learnt from the West, built a modern army and navy, carved a sphere of influence around herself, ending those of China and Russia in Korea, Manchuria and Taiwan, in the process establishing a nascent Empire that could rival the nascent Germany, the proud Britain, the sclerotic China of the Manchus and the decaying Russian of the Tsars. The end of the Unequal Treaties imposed upon the arrival of the West in the 1850s, the victories over China and Russia, the alliance with Great Britain, the conquest of Korea and Kwantung, it all meant but one thing: that Japan was part of the brave new world of the great empires.

Yet things were not as bright as they seemed: in the West, the great powers of Europe and America still refused to recognize Japan as an equal; in the Empire itself, despite the reforms and attempts at normalization, real power remained in the hands of a few –the army and the navy, the elder statesmen of the Meiji Oligarchy and the Genrō-, and while elections were held regularly and political parties been a part of the national life for the past two decades, voters still represented but a tiny fraction of the total population and the big decisions that guided the Empire’s destiny were still being made behind closed doors by the Great Men that had led the forces of the Restoration and never left their grasp of power weaken, nor allowed it to pass to other hands. What was more, the forty glorious years of growth and modernization had come at a great cost: after the bloody civil wars and rebellions that followed the Restoration, came foreign adventures, and with them grew the appetite of Japan’s leaders and public for more; and with the appetite, the army and navy grew, in size and ambition, just as the treasury dwindled in equal proportion.

Emperor%20Meiji%20funeral_zpseia5jqgu.jpg

The funeral of Emperor Meiji.

Thus, the death of the Emperor on the summer of 1912 saw a Japan still struggling to find its place in the new century and in the new world. The country that saw the young Emperor Yoshihito, known to history as the Emperor Taishō, ascend to the throne on July 30th, was not only radically different from the country that had seen his father born and restored, but also increasingly different from the country that had triumphed over Russia at Port Arthur and Mukden 7 years prior, and for many it was clear that the time of the elder statesmen and the oligarchs had gone, and that the time of the people had come.

Amongst those who understood the precarious situation in which Japan was placed was the Prime Minister, the Prince Saionji Kinmochi, a cultured, Liberal reformist who stood for constitutional and democratic government, in direct opposition to the Genrō, the elder statesmen that had guided the forces of the Meiji Restoration and seized the great offices of the state, sidelining all those who opposed them, steering the nation in the path that they saw fit and monopolizing the institutions of the Meiji Government, occupying the office of Prime Minister since the office’s creation in 1885, and then, with the turn of the century, passing it over their protégés: Katsura Tarō, a general in the Imperial Army and political heir of Field Marshal Yamagata Aritomo, and Saionji Kinmochi, a statesman and member of the court nobility of Kyoto, whose mentor had been the liberal statesman and first Prime Minister of Japan, Itō Hirobumi. (1)

In the conflict between the conservative elements of the Oligarchy that wished to maintain their privilege, represented by the leader of the five surviving Genrō (2), Field Marshal Yamagata Aritomo, and those who advocated for reform and constitutional government, also stood the other forces of Japan, old and new: the Imperial Army and Navy, the political parties, the Labor unions and workers’ movement, the great business and financial conglomerates and interests, ultranationalist and imperialist circles, cliques and secret societies, both within and outside the institutions of government.

The clouds had been gathering for years, decades even, but few people anticipated the storm. The first cracks in the edifice of Meiji government had already shown four years before, when the Prince Saionji’s first ministry was brought down by the arch-conservative Yamagata on July of 1908, a precedent that the Prime Minister more than kept in mind when he was asked by the Emperor Meiji to form a new government on August of 1911. But little had changed since then: the death of the Emperor had done nothing to bring a feeling of national unity, but rather it precipitated a crisis long in the making.

The trigger would finally come in the form of the national budget. Years of military adventurism and unchecked government spending had left the financial situation of the state in a critical condition, its resources limited, and further hampered by diminished reserves and little credit that could not cover the constant expansion demanded by the army, the navy and the public administration. Compounding the problem was the Prime Minister’s own party, the Rikken Seiyūkai (Friends of Constitutional Government) at the time the dominant force in the Diet, which stood for a “positive policy” of government spending in public works and internal reforms in the name of economic development since its very inception. Opposing them was the Imperial Army, and behind them General Katsura and Field Marshal Yamagata; an increased budget was a permanent demand of theirs, and an expansion program calling for the creation of two more army divisions their aim for the proposed budget.

Trapped between a rock and a hard place, the Prince Saionji opted for a policy of austerity and retrenchment. The cabinet postponed several expensive public works projects, such as the improvement of port facilities, initiated tax reforms and reduced public spending, but found a major impediment in the Imperial Army and Navy, both of which were committed to their own seven-year programs for expansion: 350 million yen for the Navy, 50 million for the army. The cabinet found both unaffordable, but the army was the one to act. As the debate for the 1913 budget raged in the diet, the Army Minister Uehara Yūsaku resigned from his post, leaving a vacant position in the cabinet that the Prime Minister was unable to fill: the army simply refused to even nominate a successor for Uehara, and under the conditions of the Meiji Constitution, only active-duty generals could occupy the Ministry. The Imperial Army’s intransigence meant that Saionji was unable to form a cabinet, and as such the Prince was forced to resign, along with the rest of his cabinet, on December 21st.

Thus reentered the scene general Katsura Tarō, who had already served as Prime Minister between 1901 and 1906, and between 1908 and 1911, and was asked to form a new government. But the return of the problematic army man only served to worsen the crisis. Seen as the choice of the Genrō and the army clique, the return of Katsura proved wildly unpopular with the public, which believed he defended only for the interests of the Imperial Army rather than the people or even the country at large. His role as Yamagata Aritomo’s protégé and heir only heightened the suspicions that he was appointed once more to the premiership as a ploy to weaken the constitutional government and maintain the privileges of the army and the oligarchy.(3)

Faced with a Seiyūkai majority in the Diet (4), growing discontent amidst the general public and opposition from the Imperial Navy, it was clear from the beginning that the Katsura Cabinet would be forced to fight an uphill battle to get any sort of program implemented, and what had a first seemed like a great victory for the militarists had in fact left them in a dangerous position. But unlike the moderate Saionji, Katsura proved more forceful and direct in his approach to the problems at hand: thus, when the Navy, incensed by the army’s unruly behavior and their inter-service rivalry, refused to provide Katsura with a Navy Minister, the former army General did not hesitate and immediately turned to the Emperor himself for an edict forcing the Navy’s hand, a move that Saionji had refused to consider. The solution, a proverbial cutting of the Gordian Knot, nevertheless did little more than further escalating the crisis, as it prompted the opposition parties into action: led by the majority party, the Rikken Seiyūkai, and the two great parliamentarians Ozaki Yukio and Inukai Tsuyoshi, the constitutional parties joined in the Kensei Yōgo-kai, the “Movement to Protect the Constitutional Government”.

Aided by the press, businessmen and public opinion, the alliance of the Constitutional Parties denounced Katsura’s greed and opportunism –having abandoned the Emperor’s service as Lord Chamberlain to grab the political spotlight- and his lack of commitment to the Constitution, having used the Emperor himself to salvage his position. Katsura responded by following the example of the late Itō Hirobumi, who 12 years before had done the unthinkable for a member of the Genrō and founded a political party, the Rikken Seiyūkai. Unable to face the opposition parties without a structure of his own, the Prime Minister gathered a clique of talents not involved in the Constitutional Movement against him: with the Count Gotō Shinpei, a seasoned bureaucrat and politician, as his right-hand man, he used a faction of the Rikken Kokumintō (Constitutional Nationalist Party) along with the Chūō Club (Central Club) as foundation of the new party, termed the Rikken Dōshikai (Constitutional Fellow Thinkers’ Association) on February of 1913.

The situation, nevertheless, soon moved beyond Katsura’s control: popular anger spread and the people took to the streets. Just as the Prime Minister conspired behind the scenes in a vain attempt to rein in the Diet, thousands of protesters rioted in the streets of Tokyo, surrounding the building of the National Diet and attacking police stations, as well as the offices of pro-government newspapers. Similar protests and rallies had been common in the past days and weeks, but the violence reached on February 10th was unprecedented.

In the Diet, where Katsura’s new party was still very much a minority, an alliance of the two biggest parties in the lower house -the Seiyūkai and the Kokumintō-, prepared a motion of no confidence. His position now untenable, the Prime Minister tried one last gamble: an appeal to the Emperor himself. Through his own rival, the Prince Saionji, Katsura let the opposition parties know that the Emperor himself requested that the non-confidence vote be put to rest. This, nevertheless, proved to be the last straw for the Constitutional Parties and the political opposition in the Diet. To use the Emperor in such a self-serving, selfish manner, and put personal interests over the well-being of the nation, was too much for the party leaders to tolerate, and thus they refused to comply with the Emperor’s order.

On February 20th, Katsura Taro was forced to resign, after barely two months in office. The crisis was for the most part over, the winter of discontent had largely passed and Japan entered into a new phase of its history.



Notes:

1. These being the first four Prime Ministers of Japan and members of the Genrō: Ito Hirobumi, Kuroda Kiyotaka, Yamagata Aritomo and Matsukata Masayoshi. The only Genrō not to serve as Prime Ministers were Inoue Kaoru, Saigō Tsugumichi and Ōyama Iwao.

2. By 1912, Only Inoue, Ōyama, Yamagata and Matsukata were alive. Katsura was added in 1911, year in which he left government for a second time, being made a Prince in the peerage and Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal. Saionji would be appointed a member of Genrō in 1913.

3. By 1913, though, Katsura had already broken with Yamagata and allied with party politicians instead, which the Genrō saw as a threat and a cancer for the national body of Japan.

4. In the elections held on May 15th of 1912, the Seiyūkai won 211 seats in the House of Representatives; the Rikken Kokumintō (Constitutional Nationalist Party) won 95, the Chūō Club (Central Club) 31 and political independent held 44 seats.
 

MrP

Banned
2. After the Rain


This body
grown fragile, floating,
a reed cut from its roots...
If a stream would ask me
to follow, I'd go, I think.


-Ono no Komachi


The victory of the constitutional parties during the Taishō Political Crisis, although vaunted as a watershed moment for Japanese history and the most vital step towards true democratic government since the Meiji Restoration, could not, in the short-term, deliver what the leaders of the party movement had hoped –an end to the cabinets of aristocrats and bureaucrats and the establishment of a party cabinet representing the will of the Diet and the people in its stead-, no matter how much effort was made and how much pressure was put on the government. The downfall of the Katsura Cabinet had put an end to direct rule by the Genrō and their successors, but then came the question of who would succeed them.

The Prince Saionji Kinmochi, who upon his resignation had been elevated to the position of Genrō by the Emperor Taishō, was the natural choice, but the experience of the year before made him reluctant to return to government for a third time, and instead he approached the issue with a different plan in mind. Knowing that he was very much in minority position in the Genrō, which, following Yamagata’s lead, remained adamant in their opposition to the idea of a party cabinet, and even to the existence of the political parties themselves, Saionji turned to the factions that had emerged as the most powerful in the aftermath of the crisis, the Imperial Navy and the Rikken Seiyūkai, and recommended that admiral Yamamoto Gonnohyōe be given the task of forming a new cabinet. On February 20th, the admiral became the 8th Prime Minister of Japan, with the backing of the Seiyūkai majority in the Diet.

1749f852-cb00-4253-9b89-05c4dc6e3ebb_zpsu9hwknuk.jpg

Yamamoto Gonnohyōe.

Yamamoto, who had played a role in the Crisis and the downfall of Katsura as leader of the Navy clique (1), had also been one of the main proponents of a Navy-Seiyūkai entente for the past few years, along with his successor at the Ministry, Saitō Makoto, the Seiyūkai leader Saionji Kinmochi, and his successors, Hara Takashi and Matsuda Masahisa. Common interests and enemies abounded, as it was not hard for Yamamoto to link his own plans for naval expansion to the Seiyūkai’s own “positive” economic policy, especially in the aftermath of the war with Russia, while presenting the Army, under the aegis of Field Marshal Yamagata and General Katsura, as competitors for power and funding, as well as enemies of national progress. By 1912, the informal alliance had evolved into a working ‘Coalition’ of sorts, the Seiyūkai members in the Diet supporting the Naval Expansion Plan at the expense of the Army, bringing down Saionji and unleashing the crisis that paralyzed Japan throughout the winter of 1912-1913. But in the end, the alliance had emerged as the victors and Yamamoto’s Cabinet was the first in Japanese history in which a majority of the ministers were party politicians.

The agreement, by which three of the Cabinet’s ministers would be nominated by the Seiyūkai, while other three Yamamoto appointees would agree to join the Party, was accepted by an overwhelming majority, but opposed by two of the most influential men within the party, Ozaki Yukio and Okazaki Kunisuke, who left the party along with 26 other members of the Diet in protest of the alliance, which did not create a true party cabinet. The loss of the defectors, which would form the “Seiyū Club” did not threaten the Cabinet’s plurality in the Diet, although it did deprive it of their absolute majority -a fact that would cause problems for the cabinet down the line-. In the end, three major Seiyūkai leaders would occupy important positions within the Cabinet: Hara Takashi (Home Affairs), Motoda Hajime (Communications) and Matsuda Masahisa (Justice), while other four ministers would join the party: Takahashi Korekiyo (Finance), Yamamoto Tatsuo (Agriculture and Commerce), Okuda Yoshindo (Education) and Tokonami Takejiro (President of the National Railways).

The first test for the Yamamoto Cabinet came with the debate for the national budget, the same issue that had brought down Prince Saionji a mere months before. The Imperial Navy’s ambitious plans for expansion, which called for seven years and up to 350 million yen, had been one of the cornerstones for the Navy-Seiyūkai alliance, and for better or worse, the allies needed to stand together on the issue. Thus, only two days after the reopening of parliament on February 27th, Yamamoto submitted the Navy’s 6 million yen expansion plan, the first stage of the larger program. The ¥6 million plan immediately came under attack, and many in the opposition questioned the Navy’s ambiguous responses regarding whether it was but a stepping stone towards their goal of a ¥350 to ¥400 million plan. (2) But even as Navy Minister Saitō acknowledged the truth and the parliamentary opposition united against the budget increase, the Seiyūkai remained steadfast and the budget was passed, after much debate and a narrow margin, 186 to 181 on the lower house on March 15th, passing the House of Peers a few days later, on March 29th.

Confident in the strength of the ‘Coalition’ after this first test, Yamamoto turned his energies into consolidating Seiyūkai support through a variety of administrative and political reforms, in the hopes of solidifying the alliance, and perhaps bring some of the defectors back into the fold. Chief amongst them was the reform of the law that regulated the appointment of military-service Ministers, by which only active-duty generals and admirals could hold the posts of Ministers of the Army and the Navy, respectively. Codified in law at Yamagata’s behest in 1899, it gave the armed forces enough power to coerce the Cabinet and bring down any government should their (mostly budgetary) demands not by met, simply by refusing to appoint a Minister. The constitutional parties and public opinion behind him, Yamamoto achieved the desired revision of the law in May, having convinced the Navy Minister, one of his own men, and outmaneuvered the conservative elements within the army, by appealing directly to the Emperor, who endorsed Yamamoto’s plan, and with him, also came the Privy Council and the Army. (3)

The symbolic value of this victory over the Imperial Army faction was also accompanied by several meaningful reforms in other areas: Civil Service Reform, also long sought after the Seiyūkai, was accomplished with similar use of force and veiled threats of appealing directly to the Emperor, thus breaking the hold of Yamagata Aritomo and the Genrō over the bureaucracy, and opening it to Seiyūkai patronage. Following the Privy Council’s acceptance of Yamamoto’s proposal, seven bureaucrats of vice-ministerial rank joined the party, along with a number of lesser officials. Furthermore, the cabinet pursued a policy of fiscal retrenchment, as had been done under Saionji, trimming roughly ¥66 million from ordinary and extraordinary expenditures. (4)

All of this had made the Prime Minister a popular man, praised by the press, the public, party leaders, the chambers of commerce of Osaka and Tokyo and the nation as a whole, and had left him with the necessary strength to face the challenges that 1914 would bring: the debate for the Naval-Expansion Program, and the Great War.

The first, a plan long-cherished by the officers of the Imperial Navy, had been the subject of not only a long seduction of Seiyūkai members over the years, but also of a spectacular public relations campaign launched by the Navy in late 1913 in preparation of Yamamoto’s announcement of the Expansion Plan. Centered around a Grand Manoeuvre of the Fleet and the introduction of the Battleship Kongō, the largest afloat in the world at the time, with thousands of dignitaries and citizens in attendance, the Navy’s work in exploiting and channeling the public’s pride and nationalism towards their own ends, presenting the 55 vessels of the Imperial Fleet that had gathered at Yokosuka for the Grand Manoeuvre as a great symbol of the nation’s progress and might. By the time the proposed budget was submitted later that month, it was clear that the campaign had more than paid-off, Yamamoto and the Navy being at the peak of their popularity and strength. (5)

The plan was, nevertheless, not without its detractors. Across the aisle, the rest of the constitutional parties opposed such an ambitious program, whereas the Imperial Army once again left their objections to such favoritism be heard as lowly as possibly, arguing for a balance between the two branches and criticizing what they saw as the Navy’s attempt to attain supremacy over them through the use of politics. Such opposition was particularly worrisome to Hara Takashi, leader of the Seiyūkai, who most of all wished not to see the fall of the Saionji Cabinet repeated, and urged Yamamoto and the Navy men to compromise and show restraint. Finally, it came down to the Finance Minister, Takahashi Korekiyo, to reach an appropriate solution. While Takahashi proposed that the expansion request could be divided into three parts, the first being accepted outright and the last two agreed upon in principle, Hara and others within the party remained nervous. Tensions within the party and the Navy had never truly disappeared, and now the Naval Program threatened the core of the alliance itself. A further compromise was reached between Hara, Yamamoto and Navy Minister Saitō to cut the expansion by ¥30 million, the cost of one battleship to be built in 1917, and then between the leaderships of the Army, the Navy, the Party and the House of Peers, by which the Cabinet committed itself to an army expansion program in 1915.

By a margin of 205 to 164, the budget passed and once again, the Navy-Seiyūkai Coalition had triumphed, but the joy would prove short-lived.

On June 28th of 1914, a mere three months after the budget debate that had threatened to split the government in half, news came from Europe: the Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been assassinated in Sarajevo by Serbian Nationalists. A month later, the whole of Europe was engulfed in war.

All it had taken for the peaceful and prosperous nations and empires of Europe to descend into a frenzy and the edifice of peace to crack under its own weight had been a small grenade, in the hands of a sickly Serbian boy just shy of 20 years of age, who could have never suspected the true consequences of his action. For Europe, the ingenuously, dangerously crafted system of alliances soon meant that almost no country would be spared from the war: nation against nation, empire against empire, royal houses thrown against their own cousins for the sake of two men, a dead prince and a sickly boy, that history would later deem fit to declare “fool-hardy idealists”. But for Tokyo and Nanjing, the European War was not merely a distant tragedy, the tragedy of other men in faraway lands, but also an opportunity served to them in a golden platter.

The great and exhilarating enthusiasm with which millions of men greeted the prospect of war in Europe and donned the uniforms and national flags, eager for glory, honor or revenge, was instantly matched in China and Japan by their leaders, their men of letters, their opportunistic adventurers, hungry for spoils. “…a divine aid of the new Taishō era for the development of the destiny of Japan” described the Marquis Inoue Kaoru, one of the Genrō. And in the aftermath of the greatest political crisis the Japanese had faced in decades, such aid was not to be turned down: not a week had passed before the Japanese and the British, by virtue of the treaty of alliance signed in London in 1902, began making preparations for a joint effort in the Pacific. August 23rd finally saw the Japanese government officially declare war on Germany.

As per the agreed strategy, Japan and Britain would collaborate in neutralizing the German East Asia Squadron, based off Tsingtao under the command of Admiral Maximilian von Spee, and seizing the German colonies in the Pacific. In the first week of September, the Imperial Japanese Navy was mobilized to capture the German possessions north of the Equator –the Marianas, the Carolinas, the Marshall Islands-, and especially to neutralize Germany’s naval communications center at the island of Yap, an important hub for cable telegraphy and home to one of the most important repeater station of Germany’s global radio network. Further South, Australian and New Zealand troops marched on German New Guinea and took the radio station at Rabaul, along with Samoa and the New Bismarck Archipelago.

In the end, however, the true event of the season was not the run of admiral von Spee’s East Asia Squadron or the capture of a couple of German outposts in the Pacific, but the Siege of Tsingtao at the hands of the Imperial Chinese Army, the most important and most talked-about battle in the area, as well as the one with the most overarching implications. 12,000 men, veterans of the Beiyang Army, the nigh-entirety of the recently created Chinese Army Flying Corps and a good portion of the Imperial Navy converged on the German stronghold; the new dynasty had spared no expense in showcasing her military might, and it showed. From August 19th to November 1st, as the world looked in awe as millions of men race to their deaths at the Marne, Tokyo watched every move made and every step taken in Shandong, just as Washington and Melbourne did with the Imperial Japanese Navy in the Pacific. (6)

But while the adventurers and imperialists saw Japan’s chances for expansion in China dashed by the display of the Qian Army, others had different views. Within the Yamamoto Cabinet, there were those who, like Seiyūkai leader Hara Takashi, believed that Japan could only prosper and make way in the world through international cooperation, and as such, a strong China could only serve Japan’s interests. A similar view was held by the archconservative Genrō Yamagata Aritomo, a man obsessed with the idea of an impending “racial war” and apocalyptic visions of a future battle between the “colored” and “white” races, in which Japan could only count with one ally: China. (7) But while Pan-Asianists and other enemies of Western Imperialism in the region cheered as the German garrison in Tsingtao surrendered to general Lu Yongxiang on November 1st and saw it as a portentous sign that the time of the European powers in the East was nearing its end, others were much more cautious in their estimations and saw the bare facts: there was a strong, resurgent China in the mainland, and a strong, rising Japan across a very narrow sea.

For the time being, however, things were good. As the autumn of 1914 gave way to winter and the European armies settled in their trenches and the Chinese hung their banners over the walls of Tsingtao, Yamamoto Gonnohyōe looked back at the year that had passed and felt invincible. As Prime Minister, he had accomplished more than he had ever set out to do and as discussions began for the 1915 budget, it seemed as if nothing was beyond his reach. Events, as they often do, would prove him wrong.


Notes.

1. Yamamoto’s role in the crisis was not merely that of successor of Katsura, as he played an active part in the events that preceded the fall of the conservative cabinet on February 20th: on the morning of the 10th, in the midst of the crisis, he appeared uninvited at Katsura’s residence and told the Prime Minister he should resign, and was, in the days leading to his eventual resignation, allegedly colluding with Seiyūkai leader Hara Takashi and negotiating the nature of the future ‘Coalition’ Cabinet.

2. This was the famed 1910 plan to build an “Eight-Eight Fleet”, by which the Imperial Navy would be equipped with eight first-class battleships and eight first-class armoured cruisers or battlecruisers, later cut to seven battleships and three armored cruisers in the face of political pressure and mounting opposition, before being authorized one battleship and four battlecruisers in 1911.

3. Yamamoto’s appeal to the Emperor had not been a first option, but rather a response to an army attempt to bypass the Prime Minister and Cabinet by an appeal of their own, forcing Yamamoto to counter-appeal and ask the Emperor to both endorse his position and ignore that of the army.

4. This was also accompanied by a streamlining of the bureaucracy by eliminating just over 5,000 civil service positions.

5. Unlike the Imperial Japanese Army, which held grand parades twice a year, the Grand Manoeuvres of the Fleet were held once every three years, involving most of the Imperial Navy’s vessels, in enormous and grandiose displays made to coincide with their appeals to increased budgets. The 1913 Grand Manoeuvre was a special occasion not only due to admiral Yamamoto being Prime Minister, the presence of the new Emperor or the official presentation of the Battleship Kongō, but also because it served as an acknowledgement of the new forces in Japan’s politics: the public, the masses, invited to the joyous celebration as part of the propaganda campaigned prepared by the IJN and the Yamamoto Cabinet.

6. See "Ten Thousand Homes in Far Shandong".

7. The Great War, explained Field Marshal Yamagata to the other Genrō and the Cabinet on August 8th, was a battle between the Germanic race and the Slavs, the “Latin Race” weighting in on the side of the latter.
 
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MrP

Banned
How far did Maverick write? How often do you plan on posting?
There are ten more chapters like this one completed, and Maverick might add an eleventh one. "The Sun and the Mirror" will cover the history of Japan until the start of the Second Sino-Japanese War.

I'll probably post the others at the rate of one every two days, though it will depend on how eager readers are for updates, old boy :)
 

MrP

Banned
I have high expectations, since the original Chinese story has been rather..... slow.
Hendryk has a couple of updates about Yakutia that he's asked me to post once he's done with them. But it's all quiet on the Chinese front, aye.
 

Japhy

Banned
I'm glad to see this finally getting underway. The history of Japan in the Timeline is really only second to that of China in the world of Superpower Empire China, so its great to see it getting a highly detailed look into what happens to it in the face of all of the changes with its neighbor.

Its going to be a very different and very unique decent of Japan into Fascism and Ultra-Militarism here to say the least.
 

MrP

Banned
So far the alterations have been subtle, and it took some knowledge of Japanese history to spot them. But with this update the butterflies really start flying.


3. War for whose sake?


One of the bowmen in an archery contest stands trembling for a long time before shooting; when finally he does release his arrow, it goes in the wrong direction.

-Sei Shōnagon


The enthusiasm with which the Great War had been greeted by some circles in Japan, a war that many had seen as a chance for a new 1904, had by the winter of 1915 began to fade and give way to wariness and skepticism regarding the affair. While the Yamamoto Cabinet had been more than happy to exploit the opportunity presented by the European crisis to push for further military spending, fulfilling some very necessary obligations contracted with his rivals in the Imperial Army at the same time, others were less than thrilled by Japan’s entry and role to play in the war. In the Diet, the combined opposition parties had found some very compelling voices in the form of very skilled parliamentarians: Inukai Tsuyoshi of the Kakushin Kurabu (1), Ozaki Yukio of the newly-minted Seiyū Club and Kato Kōmei of the Rikken Dōshikai. Undeterred by the Cabinet’s successful reforms and popularity, this uneasy triumvirate embarked on the thankless task of making the Navy-Seiyūkai entente accountable for their actions, and to turn public opinion against the government’s war policy.

After all that effort in advertising and vaunting the great and powerful Imperial Navy and passing increased spending for bigger and better ships, what did the Yamamoto Cabinet had to show for it? Led by the mighty and invincible Battleship Kongō, all the Navy had accomplished was the occupation of the largely unprotected German colonies in the Pacific, which surrendered without any resistance nor casualties on either side, and provided support in the pursuit of admiral von Spee’s East Asia Squadron, finally destroyed by the Royal Navy off the coast of Argentina, just as Japan’s ships did their part covering the Central Pacific and the Central American Coast, not a single shot being fired in the campaign outside of target practice and drills. And still, Prime Minister Yamamoto and Navy Minister Saitō had the gall to not only defend the unprecedented spending made on armaments and expansion, but even to present the Army’s own plan, requesting spending for two extra divisions. The winter of 1914-1915 was thus spent defending and attacking the 1915 Budget, and its call for even greater military appropriations. (2)

By February of 1915, just as the Imperial Navy was busy assisting Great Britain in suppressing a mutiny by Indian troops in Singapore and the Diet was discussing the intervention, as well as a bill establishing a jury system in the trial of serious offences, the government was hit by very troublesome news from the mainland: the French and Chinese governments were negotiating the terms for direct Chinese involvement in the European War, including the possibility of sending troops to fight in France and Russia. For Japan, this decision changed the game in its entirety, although no one could really tell in which way. Yet the question remained, how would Tokyo react?

The possibility of Chinese troops fighting in Europe, which had been floating in the air since the last weeks of 1914, put Yamamoto Gonnohyōe in a difficult situation, and it provided him with both a unique opportunity and a unique problem. Was Japan to be upstaged by an upstart new regime? Was Tokyo to be replaced by Nanjing in the eyes of the world, and Japan’s alliances with the European Powers stolen by the Emperor Kang? But what to patriots and adventurers was a clear-cut issue, to politicians, the press and the public was much more divisive. The chance to justify increased military spending and honoring the commitment made to the Privy Council regarding the Imperial Army’s plan was clearly welcomed, but at the same time, the news sent the Cabinet into a near panic. How to justify sending Japan’s gallant and brave young men to fight and die in the trenches of Europe, to fight in the distant wars of other men, for reasons that did not truly concern the Japanese? And how to truly match the Chinese, should they mobilize 100,000 men or even 200,000 as some were speculating? (3)

The issue, hotly debated by the Cabinet behind closed doors and later at the Diet, was decried by many as a smoke screen meant to justify further military spending, and by the time the possibility of sending troops to Europe was brought before the House of Representatives in early March of 1915, it was clear that no agreement could be reached. The tense environment that followed the end of winter had left the Lower House of the Diet divided, and, after a couple of defections and the absence of a handful of members, the Seiyūkai found itself holding only a razor-thin edge. To prevent the growingly acrimonious debate from bringing down the budget negotiations, still ongoing since December, Yamamoto dispatched Hara to negotiate with Inukai and the defectors led by Ozaki. The government’s overspending and the increased tributary load imposed on Japan’s citizens were the main points of contention behind which the opposition rallied, while Hara was forced to defend a budget he personally found to be dangerously close to bringing an end to the Navy-Seiyūkai cabinet. The ensuing compromise, which called for further administrative retrenchment and a revision of the Army’s own expansion plan, was seen by some as a capitulation and by others as a betrayal. For those that had seen the ruling ‘Coalition’ behind Yamamoto as a threat to their own privileges from the very start, it was seen as a golden opportunity. (4)

In the House of Peers, still dominated or allied to the Conservative pro-army elements around Genrō Yamagata Aritomo, the enemies of the Yamamoto Cabinet made it perfectly clear that they would not stand for such blatant favoritism towards the Imperial Navy in direct neglect of the Army, and voted against the proposed budget. The returned bill, voted by an overwhelming majority of 240 to 44, retaliated by slashing the Navy’s own budget and calling for revision of their seven-year expansion plan. Sensing an opportunity, elements of the opposition press and parties began to mobilize the public against the Cabinet’s budget, excessive military spending and the taxes needed to support it. In the Lower House, the Seiyūkai was now divided on the issue of supporting what appeared to be unpopular measures that benefited the armed forces rather than the public’s (or the party’s) interests. Without the support of both houses, the budget failed; on March 22nd of 1915, Yamamoto Gonnohyōe tendered his resignation.

The little dance of 1913 had started anew: Yamamoto started by nominating Seiyūkai president and Home Minister Hara Takashi, certain that he would keep his word and maintain the alliance between the Navy and Party, but the Genrō remained as opposed to the possibility of a party cabinet as they had been two years prior, and so they turned to one of their own, Saionji Kinmochi, who once again refused but was at the same time unable to support Hara. On March 9th, Prince Tokugawa Iesato, the president of the House of Peers, had been summoned to the palace and received unofficial instructions to form a cabinet, but he also declined. After some deliberation, the Genrō finally found a suitable candidate in the Count Kiyoura Keigo, a former bureaucrat and now a member of the Privy Council.

The Kiyoura Cabinet, formed almost exclusively -the exceptions being the military-service ministers-, by members of the House of Peers, was heavily criticized by the main parties in the Diet, the press and the public in general, derided as the “Cabinet of Peers” and the “Cabinet of Barons.” The “Transcendental Cabinet”, as it was officially termed, faced its strongest opposition in the Lower House of the Diet, the House of Representatives, where the three major parties now found a common cause in attacking the aristocratic and anti-democratic Kiyoura Cabinet. As such, the Three Parties maintained the initiative in the Diet, while the Prime Minister remained dependent on the House of Peers, a small fraction of opportunists in the Lower House and the Privy Council. And while the forces seemed about evenly matched in paper, the “Cabinet of Peers” was swimming against the tides of history.

By July, the situation had become untenable, and the Prime Minister had limited options: to dissolve the parliament without a party or proper structure of his own beyond a fractious league of defectors and speculators was to invite disaster, and to negotiate with the opposition was proving increasingly problematic by the day. Finally, on August 8th, Kiyoura Keigo resigned, after little more than four months in office. The shadow of 1913 loomed over everyone’s heads: three Prime Minister in a year, and it was not even spring.

On August 6th of 1915, just days before the cabinet’s fall, the Grand Old Men once again approached the Prince Tokugawa Iesato, son of the last Shōgun and President of the House of Peers, as well as the leaders of the constitutional parties, and a compromise was made in the name of national unity: the Prince would form a "transcendental cabinet" of a non-partisan nature, with the support of the three-main parties in the Diet, and guarantee a fair election the following year. For Tokugawa Iesato, head of the Tokugawa Clan and adoptive son of the last Shōgun, Yoshinobu, this was an opportunity to redeem himself and his family. "Yoshinobu destroyed the Tokugawa house; I shall rebuilt it", he famously said on August 9th, the day after his ascension to the position of Prime Minister, the 10th in Japan’s history.

3c5b60c5-db35-4337-847d-e1e892f59e26_zpsdlnoe4kv.jpg

Tokugawa Iesato.

Well aware of the significance of the mission given to him, Prince Tokugawa had accepted the difficult responsibility given to him with the intention of unifying the various factions in the court and the Diet through a conciliatory approach of moderation and compromise which could allow him to at least weather out the situation until the next election. The circumstances, nevertheless, seemed to conspire against him, as the first issue at hand upon his ascension to the premiership of Japan was the same one that had, in a way, brought down the Yamamoto Cabinet in the spring: the issue of an expeditionary force to serve in Europe. What in March had been a cockeyed excuse based upon rumors and speculation, became a worrisome political reality in the first week of May, as the first three battalions of the Third Tianjin Regiment, some 2,500 men, were shipped to France in the steamers Polynésien, Himalaya and Latouche-Tréville. (5) The news caused varying degrees of concern amongst the public and the press, worried that Tokyo would soon follow Nanjing’s example, the Cabinet and the Diet, which went into a near-frenzy in the first few days as the implications of China’s move became clear, and finally, amongst the Genrō and the Privy Council, the emperor’s most trusted advisors.

Little had been done under Kiyoura regarding the matter, or any matter, in fact, as every step he took was against the majority of the Diet, in lockstep over some affairs but as malleable as dough when it came to others. As it had happened in 1914, some argued for caution, others for inaction, and others for an immediate response. But as the days turned to weeks and to months, the lack of response from the Kiyoura Cabinet became troublesome in itself, and the feeling that China was in a way “upstaging” Japan, and that a show of Chinese strength in the face of Japanese passivity would endanger not only Japan’s standing, but also the country’s relation to the western powers, especially the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, spurred the pro-intervention faction against Kiyoura. Under Tokugawa, though, the question returned: should Japan intervene and how? For Tokyo, the answer was difficult to swallow, but only one existed: Japan had to intervene, and they had to match China.

The creation of what would become known as the Japanese Expeditionary Army in 1915 faced numerous problems since inception: the Cabinet needed to mediate between the Imperial Army and Navy, both of which argued over budgetary concerns and the size of each service’s contribution to the war effort; the major parties in the Diet had to be convinced and many agreements and deals made behind closed doors were needed to get the necessary votes, and finally, the public opinion had to be courted through a well-organized propaganda campaign, in the face of the cold reception the plan received upon its announcement. The alternative, to do nothing, was agreed amongst nearly everybody to have been far worse, and yet, the debate persisted (not only for the duration of the war, but for historians as well): was it truly necessary to send Japanese soldiers to fight and die for the benefit of other countries, countries that did not even recognize Japan as their equal?

Between August and November of 1915, the Cabinet tried to answer that and many questions, but the main one had been settled back in May: if the Chinese fought, the Japanese had no choice but to do so as well.


Notes:

1. The Kakushin Kurabu (Reform Club) was formed with the rump elements of the Rikken Kokumintō upon the defection of over half its membership in the Diet to Katsura Taro’s Rikken Dōshikai in 1913.

2. There were, though, other points of contention and criticism in 1914 and early 1915, including the minor row with Australia following the occupation of Yap, in which Prime Minister Yamamoto made the premature promise of putting the island and the other German colonies occupied by the IJN under British and Australian authority, before being forced to backtrack due to opposition from both sides of the aisle in the Diet and Cabinet. Alleged corruption charges involving Seiyūkai officials involved in local and mid-level offices, regarding the public works, especially regarding the naval expansion bills, also abounded at the time.

3. The issue was further complicated by the influence of a strong germanophile element within the Imperial Army, based on the previous German assistance in the creation and expansion of the Imperial Japanese Army, in drafting the Constitution of 1890, the exchange of students between Japan and Germany, etc.

4. Others were far less cautious in throwing numbers around, as seen in an article penned by French columnist André Chéradame for L’Illustration, which called for the deployment of 800,000 Chinese troops on the Eastern Front, a proposition that many dismissed as a fantasy and even interpreted as evoking images of invading oriental hordes and other “Yellow Peril” propaganda notions.

5. See "Gallant Men from the Eastern Lands".
 
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Daewonsu

Banned
Seems quite pushing things with the butterflies, but not completely ASB-level. Enjoying it so far. Still, this part is quite interesting:

By February of 1915, just as the Imperial Navy was busy assisting Great Britain in suppressing a mutiny by Indian troops in Singapore

Is this historical? I don't know of such a mutiny.
 

MrP

Banned
Seems quite pushing things with the butterflies, but not completely ASB-level. Enjoying it so far.
As far as I'm aware, Maverick aimed for plausibility, and even though I'm no expert on Japanese history myself, I didn't see anything that seemed unrealistic. Where do you think he's pushing things?
 

Daewonsu

Banned
As far as I'm aware, Maverick aimed for plausibility, and even though I'm no expert on Japanese history myself, I didn't see anything that seemed unrealistic. Where do you think he's pushing things?

While the English wiki writes "there was a strong movement to have Tokugawa Iesato nominated to be his successor", in reality the Tokugawa family and media were unanimously against such a thing ("一族会議でことごとく反対されたためこれを受けるには至らなかった"). By 1915 when Iesato is supposed to be PM, he was president of the Meiji Shrine Foundation, putting him in a "neutral" position unable to take power. You'll have to butterfly away both the opposition and his becoming president of the Meiji Shrine Foundation for Iesato to rise to power.
 

MrP

Banned
While the English wiki writes "there was a strong movement to have Tokugawa Iesato nominated to be his successor", in reality the Tokugawa family and media were unanimously against such a thing ("一族会議でことごとく反対されたためこれを受けるには至らなかった"). By 1915 when Iesato is supposed to be PM, he was president of the Meiji Shrine Foundation, putting him in a "neutral" position unable to take power. You'll have to butterfly away both the opposition and his becoming president of the Meiji Shrine Foundation for Iesato to rise to power.
I've forwarded your comment to Maverick, and he suggests discussing it directly at With Iron and Fire, the forum Hendryk has set up to pool contributions to his TL. ('With Iron and Fire" is the official new name for this TL, but since everyone here knows it as "Superpower Empire: China 1912", I went with that name in the thread title for the sake of convenience).

If you accept, you'll get to have a look at all the coming chapters of "The Sun and the Mirror" :)
 

Daewonsu

Banned
Not sure if I want to go through the hassle. So far I don't see anything too far into the ASB realm, so I'll just enjoy things as they come.
 

MrP

Banned
Not sure if I want to go through the hassle. So far I don't see anything too far into the ASB realm, so I'll just enjoy things as they come.
It's quite all right. You're welcome to join us over there any time, and meanwhile I'll make sure to let Maverick know of any further comment on his work.
 

MrP

Banned
4. The Fog of War


Summer grass
Where warriors dream


-Bashō


The Europe Expeditionary Army (Yōroppa Haken Gun), known to the west as the Japanese Expeditionary Army, officially came into being on September 13th of 1915, with a strength of 27,000 men, drawn mostly from the 18th Infantry Division. The Chrysanthemum Division, as it was known, was reinforced by two additional infantry regiments (the 29th and the 54th) and given independent command, under Lieutenant General Kamio Mitsuomi. The size and scope of the Expeditionary Force, negotiated between the French and Japanese governments, were the result of difficult compromise after very heated debates within the Tokugawa Cabinet: Unable to match China man for man, Tokyo was determined to outdone them in terms of experience and quality, with an army that had already proven itself fighting Russia some ten years before, led by a general with over 40 years of experience. In contrast to China, Japan offered a seasoned mid-to-senior level officers corps; where China offered raw recruits from a newly minted army, Japan offered professionalism and experience.

To match the Europe Expeditionary Army, the Imperial Japanese Navy would contribute to the war effort in the Mediterranean Sea, as per the request made by the British Government in September of 1914. Not to be outdone by the Army, the Imperial Navy resolved to send their twin prides, the brand new battleships Kongō and Hiei, the most powerful and technologically advanced ships afloat at the time, and along with them, three Chikuma class cruisers –the Chikuma, the Yahagi and the Hirado-, and ten Kaba-class destroyers, all launched between 1911 and 1914. Command of the European Expeditionary Fleet, also known as the First Special Task Fleet, was given to Admiral Yamaya Tanin, who had previously led the South Seas Squadron in the Pacific campaign and the occupation of Yap, the Carolines and the Marshall Islands.

The creation of the Expeditionary Army -Japan’s largest overseas military commitment since the war against Russia-, was, as could be expected, met with considerably more enthusiasm abroad than it had been in Japan itself. Thus, while recriminations and protests ensued within the Diet and the streets of the capital, negotiations between the Imperial Government and the Allied Powers, invariably reduced to more “private” conversations between Tokyo and London were hold to determine the place of the Japanese forces in the battlefront. By the terms of the agreement, the Europe Expeditionary Army would be put under the aegis of the British Expeditionary Force, as opposed to the Chinese who served under the French; more specifically, Kamio Mitsuomi’s Army would be deployed along the Imperial Forces sent by Australia, South Africa, India, Canada and New Zealand to support Great Britain, being placed under the General Sir Henry Rawlinson’s Fourth Army, in the French region of Picardie. The Expeditionary Squadron under Admiral Yamaya Tanin would, in the meantime, also be sent to reinforce the United Kingdom’s War effort: the Battleships Kongō and Hiei, along with the three battle cruisers, to the Grand Fleet in the Home Islands; the ten destroyers to Malta, under British operational control.

The departure of the Expeditionary Forces on January 14th of 1916, used by the government as a show of force and spectacle, (1) as well as its arrival on French soil on March 17th, were subject to considerably less fanfare than that seen by their Chinese counterparts: nearly a year had passed, and war-weariness was beginning to set in, the optimism of whose that had confidently predicted that the war would be “over by Christmas” long since buried. At the time of the arrival of the Japanese forces at Marseille, just as the dusk was still settling at Gallipoli, all eyes were turned to Verdun, which had already claimed the lives of 50,000 men in less than a month. Yet still, the people of France cheered at the sight of the gallant men from far-away lands that had come to help them, even if they wore foreign uniforms and had come with their own ways, and the French authorities greeted them with as much effusiveness as it could be mustered under the circumstances. Following the pleasantries and ceremonies, the Japanese soldiers were moved to the North by train and placed in a quiet, scenic corner of the French countryside in order to acclimatize and become acquainted with the war they were to fight.

The idle life in the countryside was from the start destined to be short-lived, for the Japanese soldiers to first encounter the battlefields of Europe would do so in one of the bloodiest and most emblematic battles of the Great War, at the Somme. The plan was, in its own way, simple enough: initially conceived as part of a grand plan meant to crush the Central Empires by attacking three fronts at once, by June of 1916 it had become a gamble meant to relieve the enormous pressure put upon Verdun, where a war of attrition threatened to devour an entire generation of Frenchmen and Germans. (2) As part of the attack on the German positions at the River Somme, in Picardie, the Japanese forces first became involved as part of an Anglo-Australian attack meant to take the town of Fromelles from the 6th Bavarian Reserve Division. The Battle of Fromelles showed the first contrast between the forces involved: while the Australian Fifth Division, which had barely arrived a few weeks before and been to the trenches for a week, suffering from problems with the equipment and lack of training, accounted for half of the casualties suffered at the battle (3), the Japanese proved better prepared for the conditions of the battle and suffered far less casualties because of it.

The Japanese soldiers and officers were no strangers to sieges, trench warfare or the inclemency of fighting in the cold weather: the war in Manchuria ten years prior had left them with institutional experience in a type of war in which the armies of Europe, their Dominions and their colonies were simply not experienced. In contrast, Japanese experience in the area extended not only to doctrine and know-how, but also to the equipment brought with them to deal with the conditions of the Western Front: heavy artillery, in the form of pieces such as the Type 38 10 cm Cannon, the Type 38 15 cm howitzer and even a couple of Type 45 240 mm howitzers. Having taken the lessons learned at the Siege of Port Arthur to heart, the Japanese understood the value of heavy caliber howitzers and mortars in offensives against strongly fortified enemy positions in a way their British and French counterparts at the time could not. However, one new lesson the Japanese learned on the Western Front was the need to provide protective headgear to their soldiers: after suffering high numbers of head wounds caused by shrapnel in the opening weeks of the Somme offensive, they placed emergency orders for British helmets, and by the end of the year were producing their own copies of the Brodie design.

Wn21-19.jpg

Japanese artillery on the Western Front, Spring 1916.

The differences would be more clearly appreciated at the Battle of Delville Wood, where the 23rd Infantry Brigade under General Yamada was to support an offensive by British and South African forces between July and August, taking part in the capture of Longueval and the Delville Wood, but especially at the Battle of Flers–Courcelette, the first time the full Expeditionary Force would be deployed to battle. Part of the third and final general offensive undertaken by the British within the Somme campaign, the objective of the operation was to punch a hole in the German line via use of massed artillery and infantry attacks. Launched on November 15th of 1916, the offensive saw 12 divisions attack the heavily fortified German positions. The battle was in itself significant not only for being the first proper engagement in which the Japanese Expeditionary Army participated, but also for two reasons: it was also the debut of the Canadian Corps, which captured Courcelette, and the Mark I, the world’s first combat tank.

High hopes had been placed on the “Land Battleship” project, the promised weapon that would finally break the deadlock of the trenches and cut through the impregnable German lines, but compared to its fellow new arrivals, the Canadians and the Japanese, the Mark I had a less than fortunate baptism by fire. While to the North the Canadians took Courcelette, and in the center Kamio Mitsuomi made use of logistic and overwhelming fire power to take Flers, to the south the attacks faltered due to poor weather and lack of intelligence, the 49 brand-new Mark I tanks being insufficient to turn the tide by themselves.(4) Having been rushed before the design was mature and enough numbers could be secured, it was felt that the weapon’s secrecy had been sacrificed for naught, yet the last of the Land Battleships had not been seen.

Despite the lackluster performance of the tank, the battle continued: following the fall of Courcelette, Martinpuich and Flers, the Canadian, New Zealand, British and Japanese forces advanced towards the fortified villages of Gueudecourt, Lesbœufs and Morval. While the Canadian Corps moved on the left flank and fought a bloody battle for Le Sars, and Anglo-French troops on the right flank moved on Morval and Lesbœufs, General Kamio Mitsuomi and the full strength of the Europe Expeditionary Army moved against Guedecourt with New Zealand and British support. Between September 19th and September 23rd, the Japanese forces spearheaded the attack, making good use of the 145 heavy artillery pieces they had with them and advancing line by line on a timed program. On September 20th, Generals Yamada and Horinehi broke through Goat Trench and made some headway towards Gird Trench before being repelled by a German counterattack. Finally, between the 22nd and the 23rd, Gird Trench and Gird Support fell, and in the early hours of the 24th, the combined forces of the 23rd Infantry Regiment and the 22nd Cavalry pushed into the town. (5)

In the aftermath of Flers-Courcelete and Gueudecourt, the Japanese Expeditionary Army was left with 2,420 casualties, but with high morale after the victory of September 24th. There was, however, no time for celebration: as much of a victory as the falls of Gueudecourt and Lesbœufs,-and with them the third line of German defenses at the Somme-, had been, the fighting at the Somme was far from over. In the time that it had taken the allied forces to break through the three defensive lines set up by the German Army, a fourth had been built along the Transloy ridge, beyond which two more lines were also in construction. The prospect of victory as distant in the twilight days of September as it had been on the first of July, the Allied forces nevertheless embarked on a final round of offensives.

The Battle of Le Transloy began in earnest on September 26th, with British, Canadian, Australian, New Zealand, South African, French and Japanese forces launching attacks towards German positions at Warlencourt, Sailly-Saillisiel and Le Transloy. Amidst good weather conditions, the allies made headway towards the German line, and after the British had captured Sailly-Saillisiel on September 28th, it seemed as if the Le Transloy line would be breached soon. The German defenses, nevertheless, proved tougher than anticipated, and the Allied advance was halted amidst preparations for a methodical bombardment to take place on October 2-5. Rain and the arrival of German reinforcements put a halt to the Allied advance. Further west, the Japanese Expeditionary Army had been sent along with the Canadian Corps to attack German positions along the Ancre River; while four Canadian divisions mounted successive attacks on the Regina Trench, the Japanese Expeditionary Army conducted an attack on the Butte de Warlencourt, an ancient burial mound alongside the Albert-Bapaume road. The capture of the Butte on October 10th was the last major contribution of the Imperial Japanese Army to the Battle of the Somme. Japanese forces further contributed in the last stages of Le Transloy, but the battle was largely indecisive and the line did not break.

The Battle of the Somme officially came to an end on November 17th of 1916, after four and a half months of grueling, bloody, nightmarish combat. For generations hence, the Somme would be known as one of the costliest battles of the war, with nearly 1,200,000 casualties for both sides: 625,906 allied, 469,000 German. For the Empire and people of Japan, the battle had meant 4,670 casualties, of which 1120 had died in battle or been lost in action. The battle had dwarfed Mukden, the biggest land battle since the Battle of the Nations, and even the eleven-month-long carnage of Verdun; in the end all the allied forces had to show for so much sacrifice was an advance of 6 miles (9.8 kilometers) on a front of 16 miles. As if to add further insult to injury, the German retreat behind the Siegfriedstellung -popularly known as the Hindenburg Line-, in March of 1917 would result in more French territory being given up by the Central Empires than that which had been gained by the three previous years of allied effort. (6)

But as the soldiers of the Japanese Expeditionary Army slugged through the mud of the trenches at the Somme, their counterparts in the Expeditionary Fleet faced a somewhat more fortunate war: just as the Somme seemed like a replay of Mukden for the soldiers of the Imperial Army, for the Imperial Navy the North Sea was like a new Tsushima. Admiral Yamaya Tanin’s Squadron had been greeted with great pomp and circumstance upon their arrival, the Kongō and Hiei in particular making a great impression on the British public and press as the ships were paraded along the British coast on the way to Scapa Flow. And just as Kamio Mitsuomi’s Chrysanthemum Division had arrived just in time to participate in the offensive at the Somme, Admiral Yamaya’s arrival seemed to coincide with the greatest naval engagement of the war: the Battle of Jutland.

IJN%20Kongo_zpskrep1rok.jpg

IJN Kongo.

As it had been the case with the Somme, the German intent behind Jutland was to break a desperate deadlock: by luring out, trapping and destroying a sector of the Grand Fleet in the North Sea, the High Seas Fleet hoped to negate the Royal Navy’s material advantage on a localized battle in which it would not have to face the full British forces, ending the disparity and allowing the Germans to break the British blockade that had been strangling the German economy since the beginning of the war. The plan was, nevertheless, doomed from the start: the British had learned of the operation from signal intercepts (7) and in spite of not fully knowing Germany’s intentions, they were fully prepared for the battle. To counter Admiral Reinhard Scheer’s fleet of nearly a hundred ships, Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, commander of the Grand Fleet, mobilized 156 vessels, including the recently arrived battlecruisers of the Imperial Japanese Navy under the command of Yamaya Tanin.

Beginning in the afternoon of May 31st, the battle saw over 250 warships firing at each other well into the night. Fighting alongside Sir David Beatty’s Battle Cruiser Fleet and its Indefatigable, Lion and Queen Mary Class Battlecruisers, the most memorable Japanese contribution to the battle came in the form of the sinking of the battlecruiser SMS Seydlitz at the hands of the Kongō at 19:01, some seven hours after the initial contact between Beatty’s and von Hipper’s ships. In turn, the Hiei suffered moderate damaged after taking heavy fire from the SMS Derfflinger. By the early hours of June 1st -just as the bloodbath of the Somme commenced-, little more than half a day after the battle had begun, the greatest naval engagement of the war was over: nearly 10,000 men had died, and 26 ships had been sunk, including 5 battlecruisers (Indefatigable, Queen Mary, Invincible, Lützowand Seydlitz), 3 armoured cruisers (Black Prince, Warrior, Defence) and a dozen destroyers between both sides.

For Germany and Britain, the battle had changed nothing: the High Seas Fleet had returned to base, unable to challenge the Royal Navy, which remained in control of the situation in the North Sea and the Atlantic; the blockade continued, forcing Germany to increasingly desperate actions as its people and factories starved, including the unrestricted use of submarines, which would prove disastrous in the long term. But for the Imperial Japanese Navy and its officers deployed to Europe, the campaigns in the North Sea and the Mediterranean offered incredible opportunities to experience the evolution of naval warfare firsthand. Navy officers such as the future admirals Shiozawa Kōichi, Suetsugu Nobumasa –a strong proponent of submarine warfare after the war-, Niimi Masaichi, Kawase Shiro –an expert on the use of torpedoes and convoys after the war-, Eto Kyōsuke –naval artillery expert in the 1920s-, and Abo Kiyokazu. Future luminaries Ozawa Jisaburō (an ensign at the Hiei) and Nagano Osami (then the executive officer of the cruiser Nisshin, at Malta), as well as a young Takagi Takeo, would also see their first combat experience in the North Sea, although only after Jutland. (8)

1916 gave way to 1917 amidst many changes for the Japanese forces: during the winter, the Imperial Army’s 15th Division (the “Festival” Division) under General Yui Mitsue had arrived to reinforce the 18th, bringing the Europe Expeditionary Army to full Corps strength, with some 46,000 men under the command of Kamio Mitsuomi, who had been promoted to full general on December of 1916, in the aftermath of the Somme and Yui’s arrival; further north, the Kawachi and the Settsu, two Dreadnought battleships, were deployed to the Grant Fleet in replacement of the battlecruisers Kongō and Hiei, both in need of a heavy refit cycle by then. On land, the Japanese forces, reinforced with fresh troops and increased Heavy Artillery, were now placed under General John Gough’s Fifth Army in order to participate in the offensive against Arras, on April of 1917, part of Robert Nivelle’s infamous Offensive. At sea, the First Special Task Fleet would see no engagement that could match Jutland, while in the Mediterranean the Destroyer Squadron continued to be deployed in escort missions and anti-submarine operations. And yet, ironically, the much quieter 1917 would see far more costly for the Japanese than glorious Jutland: the Kaba-class destroyer, Katsura, was sunk on July, and fate later shared by the Battleship Kawachi on November 9th, at the hands of a German U-Boat.

Japanese luck was not particularly better at Arras, where General Gough’s leadership made many yearn for the good old days of Henry Rawlinson and the Somme. Charged with reinforcing the British and Australian forces attacking Bullencourt, Yui Mitsue’s troops were to be smashed directly against the Hindenburg Line along with the Australian 4th Division and the British 62nd Division in a narrow front offensive which Gough hoped would make up for the lack of manpower. The lack of proper artillery support and the unreliability of the tanks employed in the offensive further undercut any possibility of a real breakthrough. The early fall of Bullencourt on April 11th, achieved thanks to heavy Australian casualties, was followed by a foolhardy attempt to press on towards Riencourt, where the 4th Division was cut off and a pitched battle ensued between the counter-attacking German forces, the Australian 4th and the Japanese 15th Divisions. And while the 18th Division and the Australians fared better at the defense of Lagnicourt and the second battle of Bullencourt, ultimately the four weeks at Arras would prove nearly as bloody for the Japanese Expeditionary Army as the four months at the Somme: of the 28,710 casualties sustained by the British Fifth Army at Arras, 4,176 were Japanese.

The loss of the Kawachii and the grueling bloodbaths at the Somme and Arras notwithstanding, -and the heavy toll on public opinion that such losses meant-, the Imperial Army officers behind the Expeditionary Force had many reasons to be satisfied, not only with the performance of the Japanese forces abroad, but also with the gains made, measured in Tokyo not in terms of inches and trenches won from the Germans, but in knowledge. First at the Somme and then at Arras, Japanese officers had seen Tanks employed in action to varying degrees of success (and failure) and expressed some interest, with some engineers and technicians being brought from home so as to study the vehicles, although it wasn’t until the Battle of Cambrai that the higher ranking officers at Tokyo began heeding the recommendations of the officers on the field and paid sufficient attention to the development of armored warfare. Japan’s first tank battalion (9), officially commissioned in December of 1917, would first see the light of day after months of training in the latter stages of the German Spring Offensive, equipped with British Mark V tanks and French-made Renault FT-17s used to mixed results at the Somme and subsequent engagements.

The limited results did little to deter the enthusiastic Japanese officers, however, as two full engineering regiments and experts were shipped to France and the United Kingdom to both observe and participate in the development of tanks and other armored vehicles. Japanese involvement, although minimal compared to that of the United States and Great Britain, in the Tank Mark VIII project -the “Liberty” Tank-, gave the Imperial Army years of expertise and know-how in the field of armored warfare and design, even if the tank itself never became the standard heavy tank of the allied powers and was never deployed in battle. Of the 125 built, however, 15 were sent to Japan after the war, to form the core of the 1st Japanese Armored Regiment, along with the FT-17s and Mark V’s that had survived the war or had been purchased in its aftermath. But perhaps most important of all was the influence that the Great War had on an entire generation of Japanese soldiers: first-hand experiences in Europe would leave the Imperial Japanese Army with hundreds of officers returning home as proponents of modernization and mechanization, many of whom would be part of the small but enthusiastic cadre of armored warfare and advocates within the 1920s Imperial Army, most of which would eventually coalesce in the “Tank Study Group” (Sensha Kenkyokai).

The technical and doctrinal revolution in the ground, for which the foundations were laid as early as Flers-Courcelete, would be more than matched by the other great lesson the war had left Japan, however: the importance of aerial warfare.

Just as IJA officers, observers and attaches marveled at the sight of the first tanks at the Somme and took notes; elsewhere other men paid attention to the skies. The importance of aviation had been clear for the Imperial Army since Manchuria, clear enough for them to send men such as Captains Tokugawa Yoshitoshi and Hino Kumazo to Europe to study the issue, and many of Japan’s first pilots were already flying over the skies of France under La Tricolore (10), yet the birth of the Empire’s first air force, the Imperial Army Air Service, can be more accurately pinpointed to November of 1916, when the first couple of Farman biplanes and a Nieuport 11 fighter first were first flown by Japanese pilots, sporting Japanese roundels while on a Reconnaissance mission near Arras. By mid-1917, after the bloody battle, the Imperial Japanese Army Air Corps, as the Air Service had been first known, would be expanded to two fighter squadrons, upgraded to Nieuport 24s and even a Breguet 14, Japan’s first bomber, acquired a mere weeks before November 11th and never used in the war proper.

By Armistice Day, there were over 47,180 Japanese soldiers fighting in European soil under the overall command of General Kamio Mitsuomi, backed by a force of 30 tanks –most of them the French FT 17 model- and two squadrons of Nieuport and SPAD fighters, nearly four times the size of the remaining Chinese forces in France, most of which had been repatriated in order to face the looming threat of revolution in Siberia. For China, this meant an opportunity to reassert itself in a new theater closer to home, but it also meant abandoning its allies on the eve of victory; for Japan, staying to the bittersweet end meant not only a place, no matter how small, at the victors’ table and subsequent parades, but it also meant seeing the trenches overcome, the impregnable Hindenburg Line broken, along with the might German Army, and a new era in the history of warfare inaugurated. And it also meant witnessing what the victory had wrought: upheaval and revolution, the masses rising, the monarchies of Central and Eastern Europe overthrown, even the Prussian and German throne, an example and guide for many in Japan , being left vacant in the ensuing chaos.


Notes:

1. The Prime Minister, the Emperor, the Cabinet Ministers, Generals and Admirals, members of the Diet, the Leaders of the Opposition and nearly 10,000 citizens were present for the occasion, in a display even larger than the Grand Manoeuvre of 1913.

2. The performance of the Chinese Expeditionary Corps at the Bois des Caures sector and Mort-Homme in Verdun, under Colonel He Peihong ‘s Second Division, was also of great interest to Japanese observers for various reasons, chiefly amongst which was assessing the true capabilities of the Chinese Army after the display at Tsingtao.

3. Allied casualties at the Battle of Fromelles mounted to 7,170, of which 5,508 were Australian, two whole battalions being destroyed in battle and having to be rebuilt from scratch.

4. Of the 49 Mark I tanks deployed at Flers-Courcelette, only 32 were in conditions to be used in the attack (7 had failed to start), of which only nine made it to the German lines. Their use nevertheless proved fundamental as it provided feedback on the design and use of tanks, as well as their potential for warfare.

5. The comparison between the performance of Japanese and other allied divisions at Flers–Courcelette may also bring up comparisons between the performances of Rawlinson and Foch on the first day of the Somme, in which the French enjoyed an advantage in Heavy artillery and advanced line by line, on a time programme, losing only 5,000 to 7,000 men, while the British lost 57,000 to 70,000.

6. Operation “Alberich”, taking place in March 17-20, meant the abandonment of the Noyon and Bapaume salients, a fall back of 40 kilometers (25 miles) eastward, shortening the German front by 40-45 kilometers (25-28 miles) and save the manpower of 13 divisions. Alberich also saw the use of a scorched-earth policy regarding the territory left behind: Railways and roads were destroyed, trees cut down, water wells poisoned, whole towns destroyed and 125,000 able-bodied French civilians were taken and used for labor elsewhere in occupied France.

7. Since 1914, the Allied powers had access to German codebooks, after the cruiser SMS Magdeburg had been boarded by the Russian Navy in 1914, the ship having run aground of Russian territorial waters.

8. Around the same time, future admiral Shimada Shigetarō was serving as naval military attaché in Rome, Yonai Mitsumasa served in the same capacity in Russia; Hara Chūichi served as part of the crew of the Kongō, as did Gotō Aritomo and Mikawa Gunichi.

9. Eventually upgraded to a full Tank Brigade within the 18th Division on November of 1918, mere days before the Armistice.

10. Amongst those who volunteered to fight for France: Kiyotake Shigeno, who had learned to fly in France in 1912 and then volunteered to fight in the French Air Service in 1914; Isobe Onokishi and Kobayashi Shukuosuke, who had been transferred from the Japanese Navy to the French Foreign Legion and then to the Aviation Service; Yamanaka Nobuo and Moro Goroku.
 
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Amazing update.
I don't think the original TL covered much on Korea - perhaps there can be more description on how things were in Korea ITTL?
 
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