Chapter Fifty-One: Neutrality

The outbreak of war between Japan and Russia had long been within Feng Chengqian’s expectations; it simply arrived a little later than he had anticipated.

At the end of 1904, Feng Chengqian had even sent a telegram to Tirpitz, instructing him to keep a close watch on the Japanese navy and to seize any opportunity to secure the Empire’s interests when necessary. However, the war had not yet erupted. It seemed that Japan was exercising remarkable patience, in no hurry to challenge Russia before the completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway.

Evidently, Feng Chengqian’s assessment was mistaken.

Before 1905 had even begun, relations between Japan and Russia grew suddenly tense as the Japanese Combined Fleet began to assemble. At year’s end, the Tsar ordered the Black Sea Fleet to the Far East to reinforce the Pacific Squadron, intending both to strengthen his forces and to exert pressure on Japan, hoping to keep the Japanese in check.

Yet this move backfired.

The Russian Black Sea Fleet was not particularly formidable at the time. When the Tsar’s orders came down, both of its main battleships were undergoing maintenance and could not be dispatched eastward; only a handful of cruisers could be mobilized. More importantly, Russia’s reinforcement of its Far Eastern fleet convinced Japan that Russia was preparing for war, and would strike if the need arose.

The result was that Japan chose to take the initiative.

For Russia, the war came as a complete shock.

On April 7, a British steamer entered Port Arthur, and Japan began evacuating its nationals—an unmistakable sign of impending war. Yet the Russian governor, Alexeyev, ignored it completely, and even the fleet’s chief of staff, Witgeft, believed hostilities would not break out.

At that point, only a few hours remained before war would begin.

That evening, the Russians in Port Arthur were celebrating Admiral Stark’s wife’s name day, entirely off their guard. Three Japanese destroyer squadrons slipped into the harbor and, using torpedoes, dealt crippling blows to three Russian warships. Only at dawn, when the Russians discovered the wrecks of their ships near the harbor, did they realize war had begun.

On April 8, two Russian warships encountered the Japanese fleet outside Incheon harbor and were forced to scuttle themselves.

Stunned by the surprise attack, the Tsar was furious, yet he did not punish his favored governor, Alexeyev. Instead, he appointed Stepan Osipovich Makarov as commander of the Far Eastern Fleet, replacing the negligent Admiral Stark, while Witgeft remained as chief of staff.

Evidently, even at this stage, the Tsar did not take the war seriously.

If responsibility were to be assigned, Stark was not the first who should suffer—it was Alexeyev.

In early May, Makarov arrived in Port Arthur, set about reorganizing the fleet, and took active measures to boost morale, achieving a series of notable successes.

Under Makarov’s leadership, the Russian Far Eastern Fleet grew bolder with each engagement, and the tide of battle began to turn.

Unfortunately, Makarov’s luck was poor. Less than a month into his command, he was killed in action while leading the fleet out of port to confront the enemy.

When Tirpitz’s message arrived, Feng Chengqian was silent for a long while before remarking to Crown Prince Wilhelm that Russia was certain to lose this war.

That evening, Feng Chengqian visited the Potsdam Palace.

The outbreak of war between Japan and Russia commanded the Kaiser’s full attention. Within the Empire, a fierce debate had erupted over whether to support Russia, with ministers quarreling endlessly.

Plainly, the Kaiser himself was caught in a dilemma.

The Franco-Russian alliance was now a reality; to support Russia would be to strengthen it, worsening Germany’s position on the continent. The opposition argued that if Russia emerged victorious, it would only seize the chance to expand its influence in Europe. At that point, the Tsar would hardly remember Germany’s help, and in the face of self-interest, Russia would never become reconciled with the Empire.

The problem was, if Germany did not support Russia, was it to support Japan instead?

One must not forget that Japan’s willingness to wage this war hinged in large part on a key factor: three years ago, Japan had formally entered into an alliance with Britain.

Clearly, supporting Japan was out of the question.

If Germany maintained neutrality, it would be difficult to profit from the situation. After all, this war would surely produce a victor and a vanquished, and a neutral party would win the goodwill of neither.

“Your advice is to remain neutral?” the Kaiser asked.

“At least, we must appear to be neutral on the surface,” Feng Chengqian replied.

The Kaiser hesitated. “But—”

“Your Majesty, do you believe Russia can prevail?”

The Kaiser said nothing; strategically, his view differed little from Feng Chengqian’s. Even if he did not believe Russia would be quickly defeated, he did not think Russia would emerge victorious.

“If Russia is likely to lose, we should support them—but discreetly.”

“Why?”

“Britain has its reasons for allying with Japan. On the continent, Britain is gradually siding with France and Russia to check our power. But in the Far East, especially in China, Russia remains Britain’s greatest rival. The aim of the Anglo-Japanese alliance is to use Japan to contain Russia, preventing Russia from gaining ascendancy in China. Admittedly, this has soured Anglo-Russian relations, but not to a decisive degree. Russia’s core interests are always in Europe; even if it suffers reverses in the Far East, it will not break with Britain. Besides, with France mediating and the direct threat we pose, Russia will have to swallow this bitter pill.”

The Kaiser nodded, grasping Feng Chengqian’s meaning.

“The key is what we hope to gain,” the Kaiser mused.

“Precisely,” Feng Chengqian said. “If we can use this war to secure several years of development, so much the better.”

The Kaiser hesitated again.

“If Russia is defeated, it will distance itself from Britain in the short term. We can seize the opportunity to draw Russia closer. At the very least, we should make Britain feel the direct threat of a Russo-German alliance, forcing Britain to focus more on the continent—in fact, to improve relations with Russia. At that point, we should make the first move—propose to Britain measures such as jointly limiting naval armament expansion. As a pretext, we can invoke the prevailing economic situation, declaring that we all need time to address economic concerns and cannot expand our navies for now, putting Britain at ease. In this way, we may gain several years for development.”

“You’re right—a matter of utmost importance.”

“The crux of the matter is to convince Russia that, in this conflict, we are a trustworthy ally.”

“How can we do that?”

“If Russia is defeated at Port Arthur, its first priority must be to regain control of the sea; otherwise, the advantage of its army will come to nothing.”

“You mean…”

“At that point, the Tsar will have no choice but to send the Baltic Fleet to the Far East,” Feng Chengqian said with a smile. “If they avoid the Suez Canal, the journey is nearly twenty thousand nautical miles. Russian warships have poor endurance and few colonial ports along the way. If Russia requests assistance, we should support them—allowing their fleet to dock at our colonial ports to resupply coal, even providing a few colliers to accompany them to the Far East. Of course, the Russians must pay for the coal themselves.”

“It’s best to let private companies handle it.”

“Of course. We must proceed discreetly.”

Frederick III laughed. “An excellent plan. If it helps us improve relations with Russia, that alone is a great gain.”

“Then all we must do is wait patiently.”

The Kaiser nodded. “I’ll discuss it with Bülow. You need not concern yourself with the rest.”

Feng Chengqian agreed, for he had no intention of meddling further. His only task was to offer the most appropriate advice to the Kaiser when the time was right.

It was not long before Feng Chengqian’s predictions came true.

After Makarov’s death, Witgeft was appointed fleet commander. This once-boastful officer became timid and withdrawn, and the Russian Far Eastern Fleet’s morale wasted away in endless waiting. Even though the fleet could still fight the Japanese Combined Fleet to a standstill, it dared not sortie, preferring to cower behind the coastal batteries. Unable to breach Port Arthur’s shore defenses, the Japanese fleet could only maintain a siege.

By mid-June, the Tsar decided to dispatch the Baltic Fleet to the Far East.

When news arrived, the Russian ambassador had already presented a diplomatic note to Chancellor Bülow, and the Tsar himself had sent a telegram to the Kaiser, requesting the German Empire’s assistance. The Kaiser responded enthusiastically, not only permitting the Russian Baltic Fleet innocent passage through the Baltic Sea but also offering to open colonial ports along the route for coaling. If needed, the Empire would even send colliers to accompany the fleet.

In London, however, the Russian ambassador was rebuffed.

Despite French mediation, the British government, citing neutrality, refused to allow the Russian fleet passage through the Suez Canal, arguing that such an act would violate neutrality.

Meanwhile, the land war was raging fiercely.

Though the Russian army fought valiantly and was not seriously outnumbered, its manpower and supplies could not reach the front in time due to limited sea transport. The Japanese, by contrast, could efficiently move troops and supplies to the front by sea. After more than two months, the Russian position had become extremely unfavorable.

In truth, Japan’s situation was also dire.

In early May, four Russian armored cruisers broke out from Vladivostok and entered the Sea of Japan, sinking more than ten Japanese transport ships in a single month. This temporarily halted Japanese maritime logistics and even affected domestic order, placing great pressure on Japan. By late June, even food supplies in Japan were running short; the emperor himself was forced to practice austerity.

Thus, the Russo-Japanese War reached its first critical juncture.

The question now was whether the Japanese could capture Port Arthur and destroy the Russian Far Eastern Fleet before the arrival of Russia’s Second Pacific Squadron—the Baltic Fleet. If they failed, then, upon the arrival of the Second Pacific Squadron, Japan would lose command of the sea and, with it, the war.

Could the Japanese capture Port Arthur in time? Would Russia’s Second Pacific Squadron reach the Far East before it was too late?