CHAPTER XV

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RIVALRY FOR WORLD POWER

Even more significant in its relation to sea power than the revolution in armaments during the 19th century was the extraordinary growth of ocean commerce. The total value of the world's import and export trade in 1800 amounted in round numbers to 1-1/2 billion dollars, in 1850 to 4 billion, and in 1900 to nearly 24 billion. In other words, during a period in which the population of the world was not more than tripled, its international exchange of commodities was increased 16-fold. This growth was of course made possible largely by progress in manufacturing, increased use of steam navigation, and vastly greater output of coal and iron.[1] At the end of the Napoleonic wars England was the only great commercial and industrial state. At the close of the century, though with her colonies she still controlled one-fourth of the world's foreign trade, she faced aggressive rivals in the field. The United States after her Civil War, and Germany after her unification and the Franco-Prussian War, had achieved an immense industrial development, opening up resources in coal and iron that made them formidable competitors. Germany in particular, a late comer in the colonial field, felt that her future lay upon the seas, as a means of securing access on favorable terms to world markets and raw materials. Other nations also realized that their continued growth and prosperity would depend upon commercial expansion. This might be accomplished in a measure by cheaper production and superior business organization, but could be greatly aided by political means—by colonial activity, by securing control or special privileges in unexploited areas and backward states, by building up a merchant fleet under the national flag. Obviously, since the seas join the continents and form the great highways of trade, this commercial and political expansion would give increased importance to naval power.

[Footnote 1: Coal production increased during the century from 11.6 million tons to 610 million, and pig iron from half a million tons to 37 million. Figures from Day, History of Commerce, Ch. XXVIII.]

Admiral Mahan, an acute political observer as well as strategist, summed up the international situation in 1895 and again in 1897 as "an equilibrium on the [European] Continent, and, in connection with the calm thus resulting, an immense colonizing movement in which all the great powers were concerned."[1] Later, in 1911, he noted that colonial rivalries had again been superseded by rivalries within Europe, but pointed out that the European tension was itself largely the product of activities and ambitions in more distant spheres. In fact the international developments of recent times, whether in the form of colonial enterprises, armament competition, or actual warfare, find a common origin in economic and commercial interests. Commerce and quick communications have drawn the world into closer unity, yet by a kind of paradox have increased the possibilities of conflict. Both by their common origin and by their far-reaching consequences, it is thus possible to connect the story of naval events from the Spanish-American to the World War, and to gather them up under the general title, "rivalry for world power."

1. THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR

To this rivalry the United States could hardly hope or desire to remain always a passive spectator, yet, aside from trying to stabilize the western hemisphere by the Monroe Doctrine, she cherished down to the year 1898 a policy of isolation from world affairs. During the first half of the 19th century, it is true, her interests were directed outward by a flourishing merchant marine. In 1860 the American merchant fleet of 2,500,000 tons was second only to Great Britain's and nearly equal to that of all other nations combined. But its decay had already begun, and continued rapidly. The change from wood to iron construction enabled England to build cheaper ships; and American shipping suffered also from lack of government patronage, diversion of capital into mare profitable projects of Western development, and loss of a third of its tonnage by destruction or shift to foreign register during the Civil War. At the outbreak of that war 72 per cent of American exports were carried in American bottoms; only 9 per cent in 1913. Thus the United States had reached the unsatisfactory condition of a nation with a large and rapidly growing foreign commerce and an almost non-existent merchant marine.

[Footnote 1: Naval Strategy, p. 104.]

This was the situation when the nation was thrust suddenly and half unwillingly into the main stream of international events by the Spanish-American War. Though this war made the United States a world power, commercial or political aggrandizement played no part in her entry into the struggle. It arose solely from the intolerable conditions created by Spanish misrule in Cuba, and intensified by armed rebellion since 1895. Whatever slight hope or justification for non-intervention remained was destroyed by the blowing up of the U. S. S. Maine in Havana harbor, February 15, 1898, with the loss of 260 of her complement of 354 officers and men. Thereafter the United States pushed her preparations for war; but the resolution of Congress, April 19, 1898, authorizing the President to begin hostilities expressly stated that the United States disclaimed any intention to exercise sovereignty over Cuba, and after its pacification would "leave the government and control of the island to its people."

It was at once recognized that the conflict would be primarily naval, and would be won by the nation that secured control of the sea. The paper strength of the two navies left little to choose, and led even competent critics like Admiral Colomb in England to prophesy a stalemate—a "desultory war." Against five new American battleships, the Iowa, Indiana, Massachusetts, Oregon and Texas, the first four of 10,000 tons, and the armored cruisers Brooklyn and New York of 9000 and 8000 tans, Spain could oppose the battleship Pelayo, a little better than the Texas and five armored cruisers, the Carlos V, Infanta Maria Teresa, Almirante Oquendo, and Vizcaya, each of about 7000 tons, and the somewhat larger and very able former Italian cruiser Cristobal Colon. Figures and statistics, however, give no idea of the actual weakness of the Spanish navy, handicapped by shiftless naval administration, by dependence on foreign sources of supply, and by the incompetence and lack of training of personnel. Of the squadron that came to Cuba under Admiral Cervera, the Colon lacked two 10-inch guns for her barbettes, and the Vizcaya was so foul under water that with a trial speed of 18-1/2 knots she never made above 13—Cervera called her a "buoy." There was no settled plan of campaign; to Cervera's requests for instructions came the ministerial reply that "in these moments of international crisis no definite plans can be formulated."[1] The despairing letters of the Spanish Admiral and his subordinates reveal how feeble was the reed upon which Spain had to depend for the preservation of her colonial empire. The four cruisers and two destroyers that sailed from the Cape Verde Islands on April 29 were Spain's total force available. The Pelayo and the Carlos V, not yet ready, were the only ships of value left behind.

[Footnote 1: Bermejo to Cervera, April 4, 1898.]

On the American naval list, in addition to the main units already mentioned, there were six monitors of heavy armament but indifferent fighting value, a considerable force of small cruisers, four converted liners for scouts, and a large number of gunboats, converted yachts, etc., which proved useful in the Cuban blockade. Of these forces the majority were assembled in the Atlantic theater of war. The Oregon was on the West Coast, and made her famous voyage of 14,700 miles around Cape Horn in 79 days, at an average speed of 11.6 knots, leaving Puget Sound on March 6 and touching at Barbados in the West Indies an May 18, just as the Spanish fleet was steaming across the Caribbean. The cruise effectively demonstrated the danger of a divided navy and the need of an Isthmian canal. Under Commodore Dewey in the Far East were two gunboats and four small cruisers, the best of them the fast and heavily armed flagship Olympia, of 5800 tons.

The Battle of Manila Bay

Fig. 58
APPROACHES TO MANILA

With this latter force the first blow of the war was struck on May 1 in Manila Bay. Dewey, largely through the influence of Assistant Secretary of the Navy Roosevelt, had been appointed to the eastern command the autumn before. On reaching his station in January, he took his squadron to Hong Kong to be close to the scene of possible hostilities. On February 25 he received a despatch from Roosevelt, then Acting Secretary: "Keep full of coal. In the event of declaration of war Spain, your duty will be to see that Spanish squadron does not leave the Asiatic coast, and then offensive operations in the Philippine Islands." On April 25 came the inspiring order: "Proceed at once to Philippine Islands. Commence operations particularly against the Spanish fleet. You must capture vessels or destroy. Use utmost endeavor." The Commodore had already purchased a collier and a supply ship for use in addition to the revenue cutter McCulloch, overhauled his vessels and given them a war coat of slate-gray, and made plans for a base at Mirs Bay, 30 miles distant in Chinese waters, where he would be less troubled by neutrality rules in time of war. On April 22 the Baltimore arrived from San Francisco with much-needed ammunition. On the 27th Consul Williams joined with latest news of preparations at Manila, and that afternoon the squadron put to sea.

On the morning of the 30th it was off Luzon, and two ships scouted Subig Bay, which the enemy had left only 24 hours before. At 12 that night Dewey took his squadron in column through the entrance to Manila Bay, just as he had steamed past the forts on the Mississippi with Farragut 35 years before. Only three shots were fired by the guns on shore. The thoroughness of Dewey's preparations, the rapidity of his movements up to this point, and his daring passage through a channel which he had reason to believe strongly defended by mines and shore batteries are the just titles of his fame. The entrance to Manila is indeed 10 miles wide and divided into separate channels by the islands Corregidor, Caballo, and El Fraile. The less frequented channel chosen was, as Dewey rightly judged, too deep for mining except by experts. Yet the Spanish had news of his approach the day before; they had 17 guns, including 6 modern rifles, on the islands guarding the entrance; they had plenty of gunboats that might have been fitted out as torpedo launches for night attack. It does not detract from the American officer's accomplishment that he drew no false picture of the obstacles with which he had to deal.

At daybreak next morning, having covered slowly the 24 miles from the mouth of the bay up to Manila, the American ships advanced past the city to attack the Spanish flotilla drawn up under the Cavite batteries 6 miles beyond. Here was what an American officer described as "a collection of old tubs scarcely fit to be called men-of-war." The most serviceable was Admiral Montojo's flagship Reina Cristina, an unarmored cruiser of 3500 tons; the remaining half dozen were older ships of both wood and iron, some of them not able to get under way. They mounted 31 guns above 4-inch to the Americans' 53. More serious in prospect, though not in reality, was the danger from shore batteries and mines. The United States vessels approached in column, led by the Olympia, which opened fire at 5.40. In the words of Admiral Dewey's report, "The squadron maintained a continuous and precise fire at ranges varying from 5000 to 2000 yards, countermarching in a line approximately parallel to that of the Spanish fleet. The enemy's fire was vigorous, but generally ineffective. Three runs were made from the eastward and three from the westward, so that both broadsides were brought to bear." One torpedo launch which dashed out was sunk and another driven ashore. The Cristina moved out as if to ram, but staggered back under the Olympia's concentrated fire. At 7.35, owing to a mistaken report that only 15 rounds of ammunition were left for the 5-inch guns, the American squadron retired temporarily, but renewed action at 11.16 and ended it an hour later, when the batteries were silenced and "every enemy ship sunk, burned or deserted."

Fig. 59
BATTLE OF MANILA, MAY 1, 1898

As reported by Admiral Montojo, the Spanish lost 381 men. The American ships were hit only 15 times and had 7 men slightly injured. Volume and accuracy of gunfire won the day. Somewhat extravagant language has been used in describing the battle, which, whatever the perils that might naturally have been expected, was a most one-sided affair. But it is less easy to overpraise Admiral Dewey's energetic and aggressive handling of the entire campaign.

Manila thereafter lay helpless under the guns of the squadron, and upon the arrival and landing of troops surrendered on August 13, after a merely formal defense. In the interim, Spain sent out a relief force under Admiral Camara consisting of the Pelaya, Carlos V and other smaller units, before encountering which Dewey planned to leave Manila and await the arrival of two monitors then on their way from San Francisco. After getting through the Suez Canal, Camara was brought back (July 8) by an American threat against the coast of Spain.

Soon after the battle a number of foreign warships congregated at Manila, including 5 German ships under Admiral von Diedrichs, a force superior to Dewey's, and apparently bent on learning by persistent contravention all the rules of a blockaded port. The message finally sent to the German Admiral is reticently described by Dewey himself, but is said to have been to the effect that, if the German admiral wanted a fight, "he could have it right now." On the day of the surrender of Manila the British and the Japanese ships in the harbor took a position between the American and the German squadrons. This was just after the seizure of Kiao-chau, at a time when Germany was vigorously pushing out for "a place in the sun." But for the American commander's quiet yet firm stand, with British support, the United States might have encountered more serious complications in taking over 127,000 square miles of archipelago in the eastern world, with important trade interests, a lively insurrection, and a population of 7 million.

The Santiago Campaign

In the Atlantic, where it was the American policy not to carry their offensive beyond Spain's West Indies possessions, events moved more slowly. Rear Admiral Sicard, in command of the North Atlantic squadron based on Key West, was retired in March for physical disability and succeeded by William T. Sampson, who stepped up naturally from senior captain in the squadron and was already distinguished for executive ability and knowledge of ordnance. Sampson's first proposal was, in the event of hostilities, a bombardment of Havana, a plan approved by all his captains and showing a confidence inspired perhaps by coastal operations in the Civil War; but this was properly vetoed by the Department on the ground that no ships should be risked against shore defenses until they had struck at the enemy's naval force and secured control of the sea. An earlier memorandum from Secretary Long, outlining plans for a blockade of Cuba, had been based on suggestions from Rear Admiral (then Captain) Mahan,[1] and his strategic insight may have guided this decision. On April 22, Sampson, now acting rear admiral, placed his force off Havana and established a close blockade over 100 miles on the northern coast.

[Footnote 1: Goode, With Sampson Through the War, p. 19.]

The problem for American strategy was now Cervera's "fleet in being,"—inferior in force but a menace until destroyed or put out of action—which, as before stated, left the Cape Verde Islands on April 29, for a destination unknown. A bombardment of cities on the American coast or a raid on the North Atlantic trade routes was within the realm of possibilities. Difficulties of coaling and an inveterate tendency to leave the initiative to the enemy decided the Spanish against such a project. But its bare possibility set the whole east coast in a panic, which has been much ridiculed, but which arose naturally enough from a complete lack of instruction in naval matters and from lack of a sensible control of the press. The result was an unfortunate division of the fleet. A so-called Flying squadron under Commodore Schley, consisting of the Brooklyn, Massachusetts, Texas, and 3 small cruisers, was held at Hampton Roads; whereas, if not thus employed, these ships might have blockaded the south side of Cuba from the beginning of the war. A northern patrol squadron, of vessels not of much use for this or any other purpose, was also organized to guard the coast from Hampton Roads north.

On May 4, with Cervera still at large, Sampson lifted his guard of Havana—unwisely in the opinion of Mahan—and took his best ships, the New York, Indiana, Iowa, and two monitors, to reconnoiter San Juan, Porto Rico, where it was thought the missing fleet might first appear. Just as he was bombarding San Juan, on the morning of May 12, the Navy Department received a cable from Martinique announcing Cervera's arrival there. Havana and Cienfuegos (on the south side of Cuba and connected with Havana by rail) were considered the only two ports where the Spanish fleet could be of value to the forces on the island; and from these two ports both American squadrons were at this time a thousand miles away. Schley hastened southward, left Key West on the 19th, and was off Cienfuegos by daylight on the 21st. It was fairly quick work; but had the Spanish fleet moved thither at its usual speed of 6 knots from its last stopping-place, it would have got there first by at least 12 hours. The Spanish admiral, finding no coal at Martinique, had left a crippled destroyer there and moved on to the Dutch island of CuraÇao, where on the 14th and 15th he secured with difficulty about 500 tons of fuel. Thence, in all anxiety, he made straight for the nearest possible refuge, Santiago, where he put in at daybreak on the 19th and was soon receiving congratulations on the completion of a successful cruise.

Fig. 60
WEST INDIES
Movements in the Santiago campaign.

By the next day Sampson, having hurried back from San Juan and coaled, was again in force off Havana. There he received news of Cervera's arrival in Santiago. Since Havana could not be uncovered, he sent instructions to Schley—at first discretionary, and then, as the reports were confirmed, more imperative—to blockade the eastern port. Though the commander of the Flying Squadron received the latter orders on the 23d, he had seen smoke in Cienfuegos harbor and still believed he had Cervera cornered there. Accordingly he delayed until evening of the next day. Then, after reaching Santiago, he cabled on the 27th that he was returning to Key West to coal, though he had a collier with him and stringent orders to the contrary; and it was not until the 29th that he actually established the Santiago Blockade. Sampson, his superior in command (though not his senior in the captains' list), later declared his conduct at this time "reprehensible"[1]—possibly too harsh a term, for the circumstances tried judgment and leadership in the extreme. Cervera found Santiago destitute of facilities for refitting. Yet the fact remains that he had 10 days in which to coal and get away. "We cannot," writes Admiral Mahan, "expect ever again to have an enemy so inept as Spain showed herself to be."[1*]

[Footnote 1: Letter to Secretary, July 10, 1898, Sampson-Schley Documents, p. 136: "Had the commodore left his station at that time he probably would have been court-martialed, so plain was his duty.... This reprehensible conduct I cannot separate from his subsequent conduct, and for this reason I ask you to do him ample justice on this occasion." A court of inquiry later decided that Commodore Schley's service up to June 1 was characterized by "vacillation, dilatoriness, and lack of enterprise."]

[Footnote 1*: Lessons of the War with Spain, p. 157.]

The "bottling up" of Cervera cleared the situation, and the navy could now concentrate on a task still difficult but well defined. Sampson brought his force to Santiago on June 1, and assumed immediate command. A close blockade was instituted such as against adequate torpedo and mine defenses would have been highly dangerous even at that day. Three picket launches were placed about a mile off shore, three small vessels a mile further out, and beyond these the 5 or 6 major units, under steam and headed toward the entrance in a carefully planned disposition to meet any attempt at escape. At night a battleship stood in and played its searchlight directly on the mouth of the channel. The latter was six miles in length, with difficult turns, and at the narrowest point only 300 feet wide. Lieut. Hobson's gallant effort on June 3 to sink the collier Merrimac across the channel had made its navigation even more difficult, though the vessel did not lie athwart-stream. Mine barriers and batteries on the high hills at the harbor mouth prevented forcing the channel, but the guns were mostly of ancient type and failed to keep the ships at a distance. On the other hand, bombardments from the latter did little more than to afford useful target practice.

The despatch of troops to Santiago was at once decided upon, and the subsequent campaign, if it could be fully studied, would afford interesting lessons in combined operations. On June 22, 16,000 men under General Shafter landed at Daiquiri, 15 miles east of Santiago, in 52 boats provided by the fleet, though the War Department had previously stated that the general would "land his own troops."[2] "It was done in a scramble," writes Col. Roosevelt; and there was great difficulty in getting the skippers of army transports to bring their vessels within reasonable distance of the shore. Since the sole object of the campaign was to get at and destroy the enemy fleet, the navy fully expected and understood that the army would make its first aim to advance along the coast and capture the batteries at the entrance, so that the mines could be lifted and the harbor forced. Army authorities declare this would have involved division of forces on both sides of the channel and impossibilities of transportation due to lack of roads. But these difficulties applied also in a measure to the defenders, and might perhaps have been surmounted by full use of naval aid.

[Footnote 2: Goode, With Sampson Through the War, p. 182.]

Instead, the army set out with some confidence to capture the city itself. El Caney and San Juan Hill were seized on July 2 after a bloody struggle in which the Spanish stuck to their defenses heroically and inflicted 1600 casualties. By their own figures the Spanish on this day had only 1700 men engaged, though there were 36,500 Spanish troops in the province and 12,000 near at hand. In considerable discouragement, Shafter now spoke of withdrawal, and urged Sampson "immediately to force the entrance"[1]—in spite of the fact that the main purpose in sending troops had been to avoid this very measure. In view of threatening foreign complications and the impossibility of replacing battleships, it was imperative not to risk them against mines.

[Footnote 1: Ibid., p. 190.]

Food conditions were serious in Santiago, but Cervera was absolutely determined not to assume responsibility for taking his fleet out to what he regarded as certain slaughter. A night sortie, with ships issuing one by one out of an intricate channel into the glare of searchlights, he declared more difficult than one by day. Fortunately for the Americans, in view of the situation ashore, the decision was taken out of his hands, and Governor General Blanco from Havana peremptorily ordered him to put to sea. The time of his exit, Sunday morning, July 3, was luckily chosen, for Sampson, in the New York, was 10 miles to eastward on his way to a conference with Shafter, and the Massachusetts was at Guantanamo for coal. The flagship Maria Teresa led out at 9.35, followed 10 minutes later by the Vizcaya, and then by the Colon, Oquendo, and the destroyers Furor and Pluton, each turning westward at top speed.

Fig. 61
BATTLE OF SANTIAGO, JULY 3, 1898

Simultaneously the big blockaders crowded toward them and opened a heavy fire, while stokers shoveled desperately below to get up steam. To the surprise of other vessels, Schley's ship, the Brooklyn, after heading towards the entrance, swung round, not with the enemy, but to starboard, just sliding past the Texas' bow. This much discussed maneuver Schley afterward explained as made to avoid blanketing the fire of the rest of the squadron. The Oregon, which throughout the blockade had kept plenty of steam, "rushed past the Iowa," in the words of Captain Robley Evans, "like an express train," in a cloud of smoke lighted by vicious flashes from her guns. In ten minutes the Maria Teresa turned for shore, hit by 30 projectiles, her decks, encumbered with woodwork, bursting into masses of flame. The concentration upon her at the beginning had shifted to the Oquendo in the rear, which ran ashore with guns silenced 5 minutes after the leader.

Shortly before 11, the Vizcaya, with a torpedo ready in one of her bow tubes, turned towards the Brooklyn, which had kept in the lead of the American ships. A shell hitting squarely in the Vizcaya's bow caused a heavy explosion and she sheered away, the guns of the Brooklyn, Oregon, and Iowa bearing on her as she ran towards the beach. The Colon, with a trial speed of 20 knots, and 6 miles ahead of the Brooklyn and Oregon, appeared to stand a good chance of getting finally away. The New York, rushing back toward the battle, was still well astern. But the Colon's speed, which had averaged 13.7 knots, slackened as her fire-room force played out; and shortly after 1 p.m. she ran shoreward, opened her Kingston valves, and went down after surrender. She had been hit only 6 times.

In the first stage of the fight the little yacht Gloucester, under Lieutenant Commander Wainwright, had dashed pluckily upon the two destroyers, which were also under fire from the secondary batteries of the big ships. The Furor was sunk and the PlutÓn driven ashore.

There is hardly a record in naval history of such complete destruction. Of 2300 Spaniards, 1800 were rescued as prisoners from the burning wrecks or from the Cuban guerillas on shore, 350 met their death, and the rest escaped towards Santiago. The American loss consisted of one man killed and one wounded on the Brooklyn. This ship, which owing to its leading position had been the chief enemy target, received 20 hits from shells or fragments, and the other vessels altogether about as many more. An examination of the half-sunken and fire-scarred Spanish hulks showed 42 hits out of 1300 rounds from the American main batteries, or 3.2 per cent, and 73 from secondary batteries. Probably these figures should be doubled to give the actual number, but even so they revealed the need of improvement in gunnery.

Sampson was right when he stated earlier in the campaign that the destruction of the Spanish fleet would end the war. Santiago surrendered a fortnight later without further fighting. An expeditionary force under General Miles made an easy conquest of Puerto Rico. On August 12, a protocol of peace was signed, by the terms of which the United States took over Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines (upon payment of 20 million dollars), and Cuba became independent under American protection. The war greatly strengthened the position of the United States in the Caribbean, and gave her new interests and responsibilities in the Pacific. In the possession of distant dependencies the nation found a new motive for increased naval protection and for more active concern in international affairs.

2. THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR

At the time when the United States acquired the Philippines, the Far East was a storm center of international disturbance. Russia, with the support of Germany and France, had, as already noted, combined to prevent Japan from fully exploiting her victory over China. The latter country, however, had every appearance of a melon ripe for cutting; and under guise of security for loans, indemnity for injuries, railroad and treaty-port concessions, and special spheres of influence, each European nation endeavored to mark out its prospective share. Russia, in return for protecting China against Japan, gained a short-cut for her Siberian Railway across Northern Manchuria, with rail and mining concessions in that province and prospects of getting hold of both Port Arthur and Kiao-chau. But, at an opportune moment for Germany, two German missionaries were murdered in 1897 by Chinese bandits. Germany at once seized Kiao-chau, and in March, 1898, extorted a 99-year lease of the port, with exclusive development privileges throughout the peninsula of Shantung. "The German Michael," as Kaiser Wilhelm said at a banquet on the departure of his fleet to the East, had "firmly planted his shield upon Chinese soil"; and "the gospel of His Majesty's hallowed person," as Admiral Prince Heinrich asserted in reply, "was to be preached to every one who will hear it and also to those who do not wish to hear." "Our establishment on the coast of China," writes ex-Chancellor van BÜlow, "was in direct and immediate connection with the progress of the fleet, and a first step into the field of world politics... giving us a place in the sun in Eastern Asia."[1]

[Footnote 1: From London Spectator, Dec. 26, 1897, quoted in Morse, International Relations of the Chinese Empire, Vol. III, p. 108.]

Fig. 62
THEATER OF OPERATIONS, RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR

Thus forestalled at Kiao-chau, Russia at once pushed through a 25-year lease of Port Arthur, and proceeded to strengthen it as a fortified port and naval base. England, though preoccupied with the Boer War, took Wei-hai-wai as a precautionary measure, "for as long a time as Port Arthur shall remain a possession of Russia."[1] France secured a new base in southern China on Kwang-chau Bay, and Italy tried likewise but failed. Aroused by the foreign menace, the feeling of the Chinese masses burst forth in the summer of 1900 in the massacres and uprisings known as the Boxer Rebellion. In the combined expedition to relieve the legations at Peking Japanese troops displayed superior deftness, discipline, and endurance, and gained confidence in their ability to cope with the armies of European powers.

[Footnote 1: Ibid., III, 118.]

In the period following, Germany in Shantung and Russia in Manchuria pursued steadily their policy of exploitation. Against it, the American Secretary of State John Hay advanced the policy of the Open Door, "to preserve Chinese territorial and administrative entity... and safeguard for the world the principle of equal and impartial trade with all parts of the Chinese Empire."[1] To this the powers gave merely lip-service, realizing that her fixed policy of isolation would restrain the United States from either diplomatic combinations or force. "The open hand," wrote Hay in discouragement, "will not be so convincing to the poor devils of Chinese as the raised club,"[2] nor was it so efficacious in dealing with other nations concerned. Japan, however, had strained every energy to build up her army and navy for a conflict that seemed inevitable, and was ready to back her opposition to European advances by force if need be. In 1902 she protected herself against a combination of foes by defensive alliance with England. She demanded that Russia take her troops out of Manchuria and recognize Japanese predominance in Korea. Russia hoped to forestall hostilities until she could further strengthen her army and fleet in the East, but when the transfer of ships reached the danger point, Japan declared war, February 8, 1904, and struck viciously that same night.

[Footnote 1: Note to the European Powers, July 3, 1900.]

[Footnote 2: Thayer, Life of Hay, II, 369.]

As in the Spanish-American War, control of the sea was vital, since Japan must depend upon it to move her troops to the continental theater of war. Nor could she hold her army passive while awaiting the issue of a struggle for sea control. Delay would put a greater relative strain on her finances, and give Russia, handicapped by long communications over the single-track Siberian Railway, a better chance to mass in the East her troops and supplies. Japan's plan was therefore to strike hard for naval advantage, but to begin at once, in any event, the movement of troops overseas. At the outbreak of war her fleet of 6 battleships and 6 armored cruisers, with light cruiser and destroyer flotillas, was assembled at Sasebo near the Straits of Tsushima, thoroughly organized for fighting and imbued with the spirit of war. Japan had an appreciable naval superiority, but was handicapped by the task of protecting her transports and by the necessity—which she felt keenly—of avoiding losses in battle which would leave her helpless upon the possible advent of Russia's Baltic reserves.

Russia's main naval strength in the East consisted of 7 battleships and 3 armored cruisers, presenting a combined broadside of 100 guns against Japan's 124. The support of the Black Sea fleet was denied by the attitude of England, which would prevent violation of the agreement restricting it from passing the Dardanelles. The Baltic fleet, however, was an important though distant reserve force, a detachment from which was actually in the Red Sea on its way east at the outbreak of war.

Just as clearly as it was Japan's policy to force the fighting on land, so it should have been Russia's to prevent Japan's movement of troops by aggressive action at sea. This called for concentration of force and concentration of purpose. But neither was evident in the Russian plan of campaign, which betrayed confusion of thought and a traditional leaning toward the defensive—acceptance on the one hand of what has been called "fortress fleet" doctrine, that fleets exist to protect bases and can serve this purpose by being shut up in them; and on the other hand of exaggerated "fleet in being" theory, that the mere presence of the Russian fleet, though inactive, would prevent Japan's use of the sea. Thus in October, 1903, Witjeft, chief of the Port Arthur naval staff, declared that a landing of Japanese troops either in the Liao-tung or the Korean Gulf was "impossible so long as our fleet is not destroyed." Just as Russia's total force was divided between east and west, so her eastern force was divided between Vladivostok and Port Arthur, with the Japanese in central position between. Three armored cruisers were in the northern port, and 7 battleships in the other; and all Russia's efforts after war broke out were vainly directed toward remedying this faulty disposition before it began. The whole Russian fleet in the East, moreover, was, it is said, badly demoralized and unready for war, owing chiefly to bureaucratic corruption and to the fact that not merely its strategical direction but its actual command was vested in the Viceroy, Alexieff, with headquarters on shore.

Operations Around Port Arthur

On January 3, 1904, Japan presented practically an ultimatum; on February 6 broke off diplomatic relations; on February 8 declared war; and on the same night—just as the Czar was discussing with his council what should be done—she delivered her first blow. By extraordinary laxity, though the diplomatic rupture was known, the Port Arthur squadron remained in the outer anchorage, "with all lights burning, without torpedo nets out, and without any guard vessels."[1] Ten Japanese destroyers attacked at close quarters, fired 18 torpedoes, and put the battleship Tsarevitch and two cruisers out of action for two months. It was only poor torpedo work, apparently, that saved the whole fleet from destruction. A Russian light cruiser left isolated at Chemulpa was destroyed the next day. The transportation of troops to Korea and Southern Manchuria was at once begun. Though not locked in by close blockade, and not seriously injured by the frequent Japanese raids, bombardments, and efforts to block the harbor entrance, the Port Arthur squadron made no move to interfere.

[Footnote 1: Semenoff, Rasplata, p. 45.]

Both fleets suffered from mines. Vice Admiral Makaroff, Russia's foremost naval leader, who took command at Port Arthur in March, went down with the Petropavlosk on April 13, when his ship struck a mine laid by the Japanese. On May 14, on the other hand, the Russian mine-layer Amur slipped out in a fog, spread her mines in the usual path of Japanese vessels off the port, and thus on the same day sank two of their best ships, the Hatsuse and Yashima. Mining, mine-sweeping, an uneventful Russian sortie an June 23, progress of Japanese land forces down the peninsula and close investment of Port Arthur—this was the course of events down to the final effort of the Russian squadron on August 10.

Fig. 63
HARBOR OF PORT ARTHUR

By this time Japanese siege guns were actually reaching ships in the harbor. Action of any kind, especially if it involved some injury to the enemy navy, was better than staying to be shot to pieces from the shore. Yet Makaroff's successor, Witjeft, painfully and consciously unequal to his responsibilities, still opposed an exit, and left port only upon imperative orders from above. Scarcely was the fleet an hour outside when Togo appeared on the scene. The forces in the Battle of August 10 consisted of 6 Russian battleships and 4 cruisers, against 6 Japanese armored vessels and 9 cruisers; the combined large-caliber broadsides of the armored ships being 73 to 52, and of the cruisers 55 to 21, in favor of Togo's squadron. In spite of this superiority in armament, and of fully a knot in speed, Togo hesitated to close to decisive range. Five hours or more of complicated maneuvering ensued, during which both squadrons kept at "long bowls," now passing each other, now defiling across van or rear, without marked advantage for either side.

At last, at 5.40 p.m., the Japanese got in a lucky blow. Two 12-inch shells struck the flagship Tsarevitch, killing Admiral Witjeft, jamming the helm to starboard, and thus serving to throw the whole Russian line into confusion. Togo now closed to 3000 yards, but growing darkness enabled his quarry to escape. The battle in fact was less one-sided than the later engagement at Tsushima. On both sides the percentage of hits was low, about 1% for the Russians and 6 or 7% for their opponents. Togo's flagship Mikasa was hit 30 times and lost 125 men; the total Japanese loss was about half that of the enemy—236 to 478.

Much might still have been gained, in view of the future coming of the Baltic fleet, had the Russians still persisted in pressing onward for Vladivostok; but owing to loss of their leader and ignorance of the general plan, they scattered. The cruiser Novik was caught and sunk, another cruiser was interned at Shanghai, a third at Saigon, and the Tsarevitch at Kiao-chau. The rest, including 5 of the 6 battleships, fled back into the Port Arthur death-trap. Largely in order to complete their destruction, the Japanese sacrificed 60,000 men in desperate assaults on the fortress, which surrendered January 2, 1905. As at Santiago, the necessity of saving battleships, less easily replaced, led the Japanese to the cheaper expenditure of men.

On news of the Port Arthur sortie, the Vladivostok squadron, which hitherto had made only a few more or less futile raids on Japanese shipping, advanced toward Tsushima Straits, and met there at dawn of August 14 a slightly superior force of 4 cruisers under Kamimura. The better shooting of the Japanese soon drove the slowest Russian ship, the Rurik, out of line; the other two, after a plucky fight, managed to get away, with hulls and funnels riddled by enemy shells.

The complete annulment of Russia's eastern fleet in this first stage of hostilities had enabled Japan to profit fully by her easier communications to the scene of war. Its final destruction with the fall of Port Arthur gave assurance of victory. The decisive battle of Mukden was fought in March, 1905. Close to their bases, trained to the last degree, inspired by success, the Japanese navy could now face with confidence the approach of Russia's last fleet.

Rojdestvensky's Cruise

After a series of accidents and delays, the Baltic fleet under Admiral Rojdestvensky—8 battleships, 5 cruisers, 8 destroyers, and numerous auxiliaries—left Libau Oct. 18, 1904, on its 18,000-mile cruise. Off the Dogger Bank in the North Sea, the ships fired into English trawlers under the impression that they were enemy torpedo craft, and thus nearly stirred England to war. Off Tangier some of the lighter vessels separated to pass by way of Suez, and a third division from Russia followed a little later by the same route. Hamburg-American colliers helped Rojdestvensky solve his logistical problem on the long voyage round Africa, and German authorities stretched neutrality rules upon his arrival in Wahlfish Bay, for the engrossment of Russia in eastern adventures was cheerfully encouraged by the neighbor on her southern frontier. France also did her best to be of service to the fleet of her ally, though she had "paired off" with England to remain neutral in the war.

With the reunion of the Russian divisions at Nossi BÉ, Madagascar, January 9, 1905, came news of the fall of Port Arthur. The home government now concluded to despatch the fag-ends of its navy, though Rojdestvensky would have preferred to push ahead without waiting for such "superfluous encumbrances" to join. Ships, as his staff officer Semenoff afterward wrote, were needed, but not "old flatirons and galoshes"; guns, but not "holes surrounded by iron."[1] After a tedious 10 weeks' delay in tropical waters, the fleet moved on to French Indo-China, where, after another month of waiting, the last division under Nebogatoff finally joined—a slow old battleship, 3 coast defense ironclads, and a cruiser. Upon these, Rojdestvensky's officers vented their vocabulary of invective, in which "war junk" and "auto-sinkers" were favorite terms.

[Footnote 1: Rasplata, p. 426.]

Having already accomplished almost the impossible, the armada of 50 units on May 14 set forth on the last stage of its extraordinary cruise. Of three possible routes to Vladivostok—through the Tsugaru Strait between Nippon and Yezo, through the Strait of La Perouse north of Yezo, or through the Straits of Tsushima—the first was ruled out as too difficult of navigation; the second, because it would involve coaling off the coast of Japan. Tsushima remained. To avoid torpedo attack, the Russian admiral planned to pass the straits by day, and fully expected battle. But the hope lingered in his mind that fog or heavy weather might enable him to pass unscathed. He had been informed that owing to traffic conditions on the Siberian railway, he could get nothing at Vladivostok in the way of supplies. Hence, as a compromise measure which weakened fighting efficiency, he took along 3 auxiliary steamers, a repair ship, 2 tugs, and 2 hospital ships, the rest of the train on May 25 entering Shanghai; and he so filled the bunkers and piled even the decks with fuel, according to Nebogatoff's later testimony, that they went into action burdened with coal for 3,000 miles.[2]

[Footnote 2: Mahan, Naval Strategy, p. 412.]

Fig. 64
ROJDESTVENSKY'S CRUISE, OCT. 18, 1904-MAY 27, 1905

The main Russian fighting force entered the battle in three divisions of 4 ships each: (1) the Suvaroff (flagship), Alexander III, Borodino and Orel, each a new battleship of about 13,600 tons; (2) the Ossliabya, a slightly smaller battleship, and three armored cruisers; (3) Nebogatoff's division as given above, with the exception of the cruiser. Then there was a squadron of 4 smaller cruisers, 4 other cruisers as scouts, and 9 destroyers. The Japanese engaged in two main divisions of 6 ships each (4 battleships and 8 armored cruisers), backed by four light cruiser divisions of 4 ships each. The Russian line had the advantage in heavy ordnance, as will appear from the following table, but this was more than compensated for by the enemy's superiority in 8-inch guns and quick-firers, which covered the Russians with an overwhelming rain of shells. Of guns in broadside, the Japanese ships-of-the-line had 127 to 98; and the cruisers 89 to 43.

Ships Main Batteries Q.F.
12 10 9 8 6 4
Japan 12 16 1 30 160
Russia 12 26 15 4 3 90 20

On the basis of these figures, and the 50% superiority of the Japanese in speed, the issue could hardly be in doubt. Admiral Togo, moreover, had commanded his fleet in peace and war for 8 years, and had veteran subordinates on whom he could depend to lead their divisions independently yet in coordination with the general plan. Constant training and target practice had brought his crews to a high degree of skill. The Japanese shells were also superior, with fuses that detonated their charges on the slightest contact with an explosive force like that of mines. Between the enemy and their base, the Japanese could wait quietly in home waters, while the Russian fleet was worn out by its eight months' cruise. At best, the latter was a heterogeneous assemblage of new ships hastily completed and old ships indifferently put in repair, which since Nebogatoff joined had had but one opportunity for maneuvers and had operated as a unit for only 13 days.

On the night of May 26-27, as the Russian ships approached Tsushima through mist and darkness, half the officers and men were at their posts, while the rest slept beside the guns. Fragments of wireless messages—"Last night" ... "nothing" ... "eleven lights" ... "but not in line"—revealed enemy patrols in the waters beyond. Semenoff on the Suvaroff describes vividly "the tall, somewhat bent figure of the Admiral on the side of the bridge, the wrinkled face of the man at the wheel stooping over the compass, the guns' crews chilled at their posts." In the brightly lighted engine-rooms, "life and movement was visible on all sides; men were nimbly running up and down ladders; there was a tinkling of bells and buzzing of voices; orders were being transmitted loudly; but, on looking more intently, the tension and anxiety—that same peculiar frame of mind so noticeable on deck—could also be observed."[1]

[Footnote 1: The Battle of Tsushima, p. 28.]

The Battle of Tsushima

At dawn (4.45) the Japanese scout Sinano Maru, which for an hour or more had been following in the darkness, made them out clearly and communicated the intelligence at once to Togo in his base at Masampho Bay, on the Korean side of the straits, and to the cruiser divisions off the Tsushima Islands. This was apparently the first definite news that Togo had received for several days, and the fact suggests that his scouting arrangements were not above criticism, for it took fast steaming to get to the straits by noon. Cruiser divisions were soon circling towards the Russians through the mist and darting as swiftly away, first the 5th and 6th under Takeomi and Togo (son of the admiral), then the 3d under Dewa, all reporting the movements of the enemy fleet and shepherding it till the final action began. Troubled by their activity, Rojdestvensky made several shifts of formation, first placing his 1st and 2d divisions in one long column ahead of the 3d, then at 11.20 throwing the 1st division again to starboard, while the cruisers protected the auxiliaries which were steaming between the lines in the rear.

This was the disposition when, shortly after one o'clock, the Japanese main divisions appeared to northward about 7 miles distant, steaming on a westerly course across the enemy's bows. Since morning Togo had covered a distance of 90 miles. From his signal yards fluttered the stirring message: "The fate of the empire depends upon to-day's battle. Let every man do his utmost." Ordering all his cruisers to circle to the Russian rear, and striking himself for their left flank, which at the moment was the weaker, Togo first turned southward as if to pass on opposite courses, and then at about two o'clock led his two divisions around to east-northeast, so as to "cross the T" upon the head of the enemy line.

Fig. 65
BATTLE OF TSUSHIMA, MAY 27, 1905
Japanese
IDivision(Togo) IIDivision(Kamimura)
Mikasa, B.S. Idzumo
Shikishima, B.S. Iwate
Asahi, B.S. Adzumo
Fuji, B.S. Asama
Nisshin, A.C. Tokiwa
Kasuga Yakumo
Russians
IDivision IIDivision
Suvaroff Ossliabya(flag)
AlexanderIII
Borodino IIIDivision
Orel

Just as Togo's flagship Mikasa straightened on her new course, nearly north of the Suvaroff, and 6400 yards distant, the Suvaroff opened fire. It has been suggested that at this critical moment the Russian admiral should have closed with the enemy, or, leading his ships on a northwesterly course, laid his starboard broadsides on the knuckle formed by the Japanese turn. But the position of the enemy cruisers and destroyers, and worry over his transports, guided his movements. Moreover, he had not yet completed an awkwardly executed maneuver to get his ships back into single column with the 1st division ahead. The Ossliabya and other ships of the 2d division were thrown into confusion, and forced to slow down and even stop engines. Under these difficulties, the Suvaroff sheered more to eastward. As they completed their turn the Japanese secured a "capping" position and could concentrate on the leading ships of both the 1st and the 2d Russian divisions, 4 ships on the Suvaroff and 7 on the Ossliabya. Under this terrible fire the Ossliabya went down, the first modern battleship (in the narrow sense of the word) ever sunk by gunfire, and the Suvaroff a few moments later fell out of line, torn by shells, her forward funnel down, and steering gear jammed. "She was so battered," wrote a Japanese observer, "that scarcely any one would have taken her for a ship."

With an advantage in speed of 15 knots to 9, the Japanese drew ahead. The Alexander, followed by other Russian ships in much confusion, about three o'clock made an effort to pass northward across the enemy rear, but they were countered by the Japanese first division turning west together and the 2d division in succession at 3.10. The first and decisive phase of the action thus ended. Both fleets eventually resumed easterly and then southerly courses, for considerable periods completely lost to each other in smoke and haze.

Plunging through heavy seas from the southwest, the Japanese cruisers had in the meantime punished the Russian rear less severely than might have been expected. Two transports went down in flames, two cruisers were badly damaged, and the high-sided ex-German liner Ural was punctured with shells. On the other hand, Dewa's flagship Kasagi was driven to port with a bad hole under water, and Toga's old ship Naniwa Kan had to cease action for repairs. Hits and losses in fact were considerable in both the main and the cruiser divisions of the Japanese, their total casualties numbering 465. Late in the afternoon the Russian destroyer Buiny came up to the wreck of the Suvaroff, and lurched alongside long enough for Rojdestvensky, wounded and almost unconscious, to be practically thrown on board. He was captured with the destroyer next day. In spite of her injuries, the Suvaroff held off a swarm of cruisers and destroyers until at last torpedoed at 7.20 p. m.

The Russian battleships had meanwhile described a large circle to southward, and at 5 p. m. were again steaming north, accompanied by some of their cruisers and train. Attacked once more between 6 and 7 o'clock, and almost incapable of defense, the Alexander III and Borodino went down, making 4 ships lost out of the 5 new vessels that had formed the backbone of Rojdestvensky's forces. In the gathering darkness. Nebogatoff collected the survivors and staggered northward.

Of slight value in the day engagement, 21 Japanese destroyers, with about 40 torpedo boats which had sheltered under Tsushima Island, now darted after the fleeing foe. In the fog and heavy weather they were almost as great a menace to each other as to the enemy. Russian ships without searchlights escaped harm. Of three or perhaps four Russian vessels struck, all but the Navarin stayed afloat until the next day. Admiral Custance estimates 8 hits, or 9% of the torpedoes fired. There were at least 6 collisions among the flotillas, and 4 boats destroyed.

On the morning of the 28th the remains of the Russian fleet were scattered over the sea. Nebagatoff with 4 battleships and 2 cruisers surrendered at 10.30. Of the 37 ships all told that entered Tsushima Straits, only the following escaped: the cruisers Oleg, Aurora, and Jemschug reached Manila on June 3; a tug and a supply ship entered Shanghai, and another transport with plenty of coal went clear to Madagascar; only the fast cruiser Almaz and two destroyers made Vladivostok.

Among the lessons to be drawn from Tsushima, one of the clearest is the weakening effect of divided purpose. With all honor to Admiral Rojdestvensky for his courage and persistence during his cruise, it is evident that at the end he allowed the supply problem to interfere with his preparations for battle, and that he fought "with one eye on Vladivostok." It is evident also that only by a long period of training and operating as a unit can a collection of ships and men be welded into an effective fighting force. Torpedo results throughout the war, whether due to faulty materials or unskilled employment, were not such as to increase the reliance upon this weapon. The gun retained its supremacy; and the demonstrated advantage conferred by speed and heavy armament in long range fighting was reflected in the "all-big-gun" Dreadnought of 1906 and the battle cruisers of 1908.

Immediately after the Russian navy had been swept out of existence, President Roosevelt offered to mediate, and received favorable replies from the warring nations. By the treaty signed at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on September 5, 1905, Russia withdrew from Manchuria in favor of China, recognized Japan's paramount position in Korea (annexed by Japan in 1910), and surrendered to Japan her privileges in Port Arthur and the Liao-tung Peninsula. In lieu of indemnity, Japan after a long deadlock was induced by pressure on the part of England and the United States to accept that portion of the island of Saghalien south of the parallel of 50°. Thus the war thwarted Russia's policy of aggressive imperialism in the East, and established Japan firmly on the mainland at China's front door. At the same time, by the military dÉbÂcle of Russia, it dangerously disturbed the balance of power in Europe, upon which the safety of that continent had long been made precariously to depend.

REFERENCES

Spanish-American War

Notes on the Spanish American War (a series of publications issued by the Office of Naval Intelligence, U. S. Navy Department, 1900).

Sampson-Schley Official Communications to the U. S. Senate, Gov't Printing Office, 1899.

The Downfall of Spain, H. W. Wilson, 1900.

With Sampson Through the War, W. A. M. Goode, 1899.

A History of the Spanish-American War, R. H. Tetherington, 1900.

Russo-Japanese War

International Relations of the Chinese Empire, 3 vols., H. B. Morse, 1918.

The Battle of Tsushima (1906), Rasplata (1910), Captain Vladimir Semenoff.

Japanese Official History, translated in U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, July-August, September-October, 1914.

The Ship of the Line in Battle, Admiral Reginald Custance, 1912.

The Russian Navy in the Russo-Japanese War, Captain N. Klado, 1905.

Official British History of the Russo-Japanese War, 3 vols., 1910.

The American Merchant Marine, Debaters' Handbook Series, N. Y., 1916 (with bibliography).

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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