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Post by mycophobia on Jun 25, 2020 15:37:36 GMT -6
Wow, that's an excellent dive into the banner system and truly an impressive bit of story telling. A minor point, plain white banner, as a direct banner under the control of the emperor, do not have their own ruling dukes like the five lower banners. However it is probably true that Gūwalgiya clan would have significant influence in that banner (as a matter of fact, their influence spans many banners and is not just limited to plain white. For example, the infamous Obai is from the bordered yellow banner instead). In anycase, looking forward to how things develop from there
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Post by ieshima on Jun 25, 2020 19:38:02 GMT -6
Wow, that's an excellent dive into the banner system and truly an impressive bit of story telling. A minor point, plain white banner, as a direct banner under the control of the emperor, do not have their own ruling dukes like the five lower banners. However it is probably true that Gūwalgiya clan would have significant influence in that banner (as a matter of fact, their influence spans many banners and is not just limited to plain white. For example, the infamous Obai is from the bordered yellow banner instead). In anycase, looking forward to how things develop from there Thank you for the pointer. Much of the research for the Banners came from poorly translated sites, so when it listed the eight most influential clans of the empire and all eight of them conveniently lined up with an individual Banner, I just assumed that those families led the all of the clans. Looks like I was partially correct.
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Post by ieshima on Jul 1, 2020 19:25:34 GMT -6
We have been approached by members of the Chinese military offering exceptionally large sums in exchange for the rights to produce several of our products under license in China. With the increasing conflicts between their new government and that of the Germans, they are also approaching several companies looking for opportunities. It would be beneficial for us to agree to their offer. Beyond that, it would be a snub to the madman in Berlin, which is something we can all agree with. Your thoughts?
-Internal Memo of the Compagnie Madsen A/S, June 5th, 1902
Near Chengdu, Imperial China, July 11th, 1902
The tent was a full-blown sweat box. Its canvas hung damp and heavy from the supports, barely keeping the never-ending armada of mosquitos at bay. The brass thermometer perched precariously on, well, almost falling off, the small mountain of maps stacked on a nearby camp table stated smugly that it was just shy of 36℃. The India ink in the pot had congealed into a surface layer more akin to tar than a liquid. Despite this, Anthony Lucas forced his pen through the thin film and into the still usable ink at the bottom with a sigh. Gently shaking off the excess ink, he crossed yet another hopeful deposit from the map, deliberately ignoring the pair of overdressed officials slowly melting across from him.
“Mr. Lucas,” Panted the younger and less richly appointed of the two in thickly accented english, “The court has become concerned over your lack of success in your efforts. It had been hoped that you could replicate your successes in America, but the time that it is taking- “
“Is completely unacceptable, Mr. Lucas.” Interrupted the senior of the two officials in much better english. “The Emperor has granted you a very generous contract on the assumption that you knew what you are doing. But instead of results, all that have given are excuses and requests for more funds. Our investigation into your efforts and behaviors have shown nothing but failure and waste.” The haughty courtier smirked. “Rest assured that when we return to the capital, we will inform his imperial majesty of these issues.” The older man stood from his camp stool and walked from the tent, his younger companion rushing to follow. “Good day, foreigner,” Came the final condemnation from over his shoulder, as the canvas slumped back into place.
Lucas sighed, as much of what the two local officials had said was true. Despite months of hard work and a promising start, salt dome after salt dome had yielded nothing. The world-renowned engineer had made a name for himself in Texas the previous year but had received a paltry fraction of the wealth generated from his accomplishments. The offer from the Chinese government had seemed too good to pass up, and so the Croat born ex-naval officer had moved yet again, abandoning his home in America to travel across yet another ocean in search of personal success. But it appeared that just like at Spindletop, luck had passed Lucas by. By this time next month, he would be out on his ear, no funds, no job, and with a new child to care for everything seem hopeless.
From outside there came a noise. It wasn’t a pleasant noise. In fact, it was a very unpleasant noise. One that, had it been delivered in pleasant company, the deliverer would be removed quite rapidly. Imagine, if you will, that someone dropped a very large custard pie down a very long flight of stairs, while another someone attempted to unclog a nearby toilet with a stick of dynamite. Add a dash of cheering, a pinch of frightened rapid-fire Chinese, quite a few harsh swearwords delivered in a Midwestern twang, and the very unfortunate, and continuous, sound of splattering mucus. You would come close to the noise that permeated through the tent walls. To Mr. Lucas, who made quite the mess of his field office in his haste to get outside, it was as if a choir of angels had descended from the heavens singing his praises.
The sight outside was one of frantic, excited activity, as men quickly dashed to and fro in order to seal off the gushing fountain of muddy black oil raining from the sky. The handful of workers unfortunate enough to be near the well head when it blew were doused from head to toe in slick, clumpy filth, grins of determined elation shining white on their faces as they threw their bodies against the wrenches on the drill pipe. Lucas stood still in the dark rain, his smiling face raised to the sky as the success of their efforts, his efforts, fell from the clouds.
There was an angry splutter from his left that drew his attention back down to earth. The two officials hadn’t made it far, and it didn’t look like they had made it cleanly either. Their expensive silks and embroidered gold were dripping in oily mud as they stood glaring first at the wellhead as the rig workers finally managed to cap the gusher, and then at Lucas. They looked for all the world like a pair of cats who had been left outside during a summer rainstorm: filthy, flustered, and furious at mankind in general. He couldn’t help himself. Between gasping breaths and peals of laughter, he managed to wheeze out a single sentence.
“Best of luck with the Emperor!”
The pair of bureaucrats scowled, before attempting a dignified wheel around to resume their walk to the waiting carriages. The attempt was somewhat marred by the slick ground, as both men ended up in a mutual, oily heap within a few steps. Anthony Lucas, now Baron Anthony Lucas as per the agreement made with the Imperial Court, soon joined them, his legs having given out from sheer mirth.
Newly filled oil barrels waiting to be loaded onto ships, Canton, 1904
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 7: The Economic Expansion of 1903
While it would not be incorrect to state that the Chinese economy was stunted and backwards compared to that of European nations at the turn of the century, said economy was still a considerable force on the world stage by simple stint of the fact that much of the vaunted European economy was dependent on trade stemming from the far east. China was a critical market, supplying rare luxuries and raw resources to Europe in exchange for finished goods and materials that could only be made through heavy industry. Steam engines, artillery, advanced instruments, and steel. Everything had to be shipped from Europe, siphoning millions in taels from the empire’s coffers in a perverse mirror to the Canton system of the mid-1800’s. Steel in particular was of great importance, for while China was capable of producing the metal, it could only make it in small batches of very low quality. For a nation seeking to modernize, being dependent on a distant and fickle source of critical components was a situation that could not stand, and Shikai had no intention of letting it exist for much longer.
The first few stumbling steps towards that future had already been taken. With the court gutted of any serious opposition, and with the last stragglers of the Banner clans having fled from the country, the Emperor and his supporters were free to continue their plan of modernizing the nation. The continued reconstruction of Peking, Tientsin, and other cities damaged by the rebellion was proceeding, though at a slow pace due to the lack of skilled labor and trained craftsmen. Thankfully, much of the destruction had been contained in the north with the majority of the lush south, with its massive trade ports of Canton and Macau, beginning to thrive under the new reforms and a wave of foreign experts hired by the court. Anthony Lucas and his oil were only a single instance of ongoing renaissance in southern China.
In order to connect the blossoming south with the recovering north, massive infrastructure works were ordered, chief among them being the restoration and expansion of the Grand Canal. This ancient waterway once snaked through China, connecting the capital at Peking with the now crucial port city of Shanghai and its new naval base, a distance of over 1000 miles. However, thanks to rampant corruption and mismanagement, much of canal had fallen into disrepair and disuse and by the turn of the century most of its length had reverted into shallow, mosquito infested swamps. Now brand-new steam dredges chewed their way along the canal, and surveyors and engineers marked out new channels for future digging. Working through the winter of 1902 to 1903, extensive progress had been made and in May the Emperor himself, traveling by royal barge, made yet another journey to Shanghai to personally open the new naval academy. Yet much of the traffic on the canal was not as noble.
Finally looking to utilize the vast mineral resources of the country, Shikai bribed, cajoled, threatened, and encouraged many local and foreign industrialists to take up the dirty yet essential work of mining. Despite initial setbacks, and a few minor disasters, barges laden with coal, copper, and iron ore began plying their way up and down the canal. Seeking to further bolster the infrastructure of his nation, the former general instituted a new series of bills specifically aimed at railroads. The new legislation was a two-pronged effort into further modernization. The first was directed at local officials and businessmen, who were encouraged to expand the rail networks in their provinces. Those who succeeded were granted considerable tax exemptions for extended periods of time, on the condition that the biannual inspections of the new Imperial Railway Council didn’t find any violations of the equally new railway standards. The massive railway boom that resulted soon swamped the new council, which had to double the number of inspectors twice within a decade just to keep up.
The second prong of the railway bills was somewhat less successful, as it involved offending practically every foreign power with any stake in China. Shikai was not a fool, and only a fool would be blind to the fact that the rapidly awakening China had joined the world stage as what could be described as a seventh major power, upsetting the already faltering power balance further. Yet despite this fact, none of the other great powers were forced to obligate large swathes of their territory or essential parts of their economy into the hands of another nation. As such, the second half of the new legislation upset close to a century of standards by forcing the foreigners to the table to face terms.
It was, in all honesty, very simple. If the foreign nations wanted to retain their control over the various railways and concessions they had, they could do so. On the conditions that at least half of the managing board of said railways were made up of Chinese citizens, and that all foreign owned businesses would be subject to the same laws, rules, and taxation that any comparable Chinese business already faced. Beyond that, they were permitted to operate as they had before. This, naturally, resulted in multiple capitals across Europe doing a fair reenactment of Vesuvius in short order.
The backlash from these new bills was somewhat tempered by the obvious fact that despite the new limitations, taxes, and restrictions, the foreigners were still allowed to maintain control over their “property” and were still reaping in considerable sums of Chinese silver. Of course, this was little consolation to the heads of said companies, who treated any cut to their already bloated income as if it was a mortal injury. There was also the principle behind it. An upstart nation on the far side of the globe should not dictate terms to the halls of Europe, regardless of how powerful that nation had become. The sheer number of telegrammed orders from Europe to the diplomats in Peking actually fried swathes of the Eastern Telegraph Company’s mammoth network, causing serious delays in global communications for several weeks as threats of economic sanctions and military intervention proceeded to go nowhere. By the time these issues had been resolved, Shikai had already formulated a response, one that largely boiled down to “Try me.”
Unsurprisingly, the nation who did try was Imperial Germany. Incensed by the thought of allowing anyone, especially a pathetic barbarian kingdom, to hamper his dream of a world spanning German Empire, Kaiser Wilhelm II publicly stated that no German company would cater to the demands of a foreign tyrant and that any threats made against German supremacy would be met by force. The subsequent seizure of dozens of German companies in late fall, including the critical Shantung Railway, was instead met by a minor, though still serious, stroke. By the time the Kaiser’s health had recovered it was December of 1903, and his son and standing regent, Crown Prince Wilhelm III, had already dispatched the men of the 1st and 2nd Seebataillon to the concession city of Tsingtao in preparation of war.
Despite these actions, the balance rested on a knife edge for the rest of winter. The concession state, extending fifty miles from the city itself, was quickly surrounded and cut off from the rest of the Shandong Peninsula by several divisions of the ever-expanding Grey Standard army. However, no effort was made to actually cross the border into the incredibly mountainous pocket of German controlled territory, as Shikai did not want to tempt fate and find himself fighting two great powers at once because he was too aggressive. This delay allowed the defenders, the three marine regiments formed for the first time into a single understrength See-Brigade, to continue to dig in and fortify their already formidable stronghold. But as the winter snows began to thaw, relations between the two powers began to improve. Peace would prevail.
Wouldn’t it?
Author’s Note: Lucas, Oil, and War
Anthony Francis Lucas is, simply put, the father of oil. A Croat born American, Lucas was a master engineer, prospector, and inventor. He deserves most, if not all, of the credit for the discovery of the oil fields at Spindletop in Texas. This discovery sparked the American oil boom in the early 1900’s and made oil-based products and fuel a viable alternative for much of the world. In the process of revolutionizing the planet, Lucas also found time to develop safety measures for his wells, like blowout preventers and faster hydraulic drills, all of which are still used today. In short, if you interact in anyway with anything made from oil, thank Anthony Lucas.
As for the oil itself, the game decided to deliver three back-to-back “Oil discovered in X location” messages over three turns. One, fortunately, was in southern China, which makes the extra oil deposit I added to the Liaotung Peninsula in my modified files rather redundant.
For the war bit, I honestly expected Germany to declare much sooner than they actually did. They’d been hovering at the 9-to-10 tension range since early 1902, with 11 being at the “I declare war now” line. Of course, they also spent three turns at 11 before actually declaring, so what do I know. As for what they did after they declared, I’m going to leave that for later. Though, them declaring did come as a relief, as most games I play see me at war by the end of 1901 if not earlier.
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Post by ieshima on Jul 8, 2020 20:32:02 GMT -6
Paul,
I trust that my letter finds you in good health and spirits. Your mother still frets for you safety despite our mutual assurances. The tales that you brought back from China the first time seem to have been taken to heart. In honesty, I expect to see you back home before summer. However, if war should happen, I know that you will keep the honor of our family. That said, your brothers have gotten themselves in trouble again…
-Personal letter from Baron Karl von Lettow-Vorbeck to his son, Captain Lettow-Vorbeck, 2nd Seebataillon, Tsingtao, German Concessions
Near Tanschan, German Concessions, February 8th, 1904
The mud made everything worse. Attempting to sneak, sorry, patrol well behind the nominal border of the German concessions without being seen was already difficult enough. Add the risk of slipping in the thick, cold muck and suddenly Leng was wishing that he hadn’t volunteered to come on this mission. The night seemed to become more and more dangerous with every step that they took away from the Chinese lines.
He couldn’t help but send a nervous glare at the back of the officer who was leading this little adventure. Dressed in dark black instead of the blue-grey that the rest of the patrol was wearing, he stood out like a sore thumb in the strange, half-moonlit shadows that they crept through. Who knew that black on not black didn’t blend well? Odds were that he was going to be the one to get them discovered. There was also the fact that, simply put, he was an unmitigated ass.
Most officers were, but when the new lieutenant and his escort of black-clad soldiers showed up demanding support for the mission, it left more than a few of the rank and file adjusting their thoughts on the resident sadists. Worse still, his proposed idea was truly insane. A patrol, behind the German border, to investigate a suspected strongpoint at a crossroads village that may or may-not have a garrison on high alert. But the officer came prepared when no one in the battalion had stepped forward. A nice little slip of paper, signed and stamped by the Secretary of the Army himself, saying that anyone who volunteered and survived would receive not only bonus pay but also an increase in rank. Even with that incentive, Leng was one of only a handful who stepped forward.
Now he was regretting that choice with every slipping step. He didn’t need to be a corporal. He didn’t need the extra thirty taels of silver. He really didn’t need to be traipsing through the muddy darkness following a madman into certain death. He really really didn’t-
He almost walked straight into the man in front of him, the treacherous train of thought having dulled his attention to worldly manners. Even in the deep shadows they were in, he could see the glare that the Banner soldier directed back at him. As well as the obscene, insulting gesture he made. That was somewhat deserved, Leng thought guiltily as the soldier pressed something into his hands. Binoculars. Worth more than he made in a year thanks to the incredibly complicated glass inside the frames. He was certain, in a panicked hilarity, that the manufacturer was German. It only added to the irony that a soldier trained by Germans, to German standards, armed with a German rifle, dressed in a German style uniform, and holding field glasses made in Germany, was now spying on a German military position in anticipation of war.
The edge of the tree line was just that. An edge. A drop of ten feet down into some mounded snow drifts. And less than a hundred feet from that was a campfire with a handful very cold Germans huddled around its warmth. Well behind them sparkled the lights of the town, flickering as dozens of soldiers bustled amongst the buildings. The binoculars brought everything into close relief.
“They’re leaving.” Leng whispered to the soldier next to him. “Everything’s being loaded onto wagons.” His shoulder was jostled as the corporal grabbed paper and pencil from his pack. “How many wagons?” He whispered back; antipathy gone under the demand for professionalism.
“At least a dozen.” Leng replied quietly. “Some might have already left.”
The soldier in black scribbled something down. “The defenses?”
“Just some dugouts. They’re breaking down a machinegun near the wagons.”
Another scribble. How could he see what he was writing, it was to dark to read! “How many men?”
“No more than few platoons.”
A third scribble. “Anything else?”
“N- wait, wait! There’s something past the wagons.” Leng whispered, leaning closer to the edge to get a better view.
The quick flip of a page. “Ready”
“Guns. At least two. Limbers and caissons included.” The scribbling continued as he leaned forward further. “I think there’s a third behind that shed but I ca-“ With the sound of shifting sand, the ledge gave way, sending Leng over the side before he or anyone else could react.
He landed in the snow with a muffled crunch, rifle flying away to clatter into the underbrush. His eyes filled with a damp whiteness as the bank closed over his head. For a few moments, Leng sat there, encased in the cold, damp blanket that surrounded him. It was almost peaceful, in a way. Until guttural shouting and grasping hands reached down through it, pulling him back into the night to come face to face with a group of very angry looking faces.
He didn’t need to speak German to understand what was being said. The assorted bayonets and rifle barrels pointing at him spoke volumes. They were demanding to know why a Chinese soldier was currently five miles behind their border. Frankly, Leng didn’t know either. All he did know is that he was most certainly not going to be sent back across that border peacefully. Or alive.
There came a muffled crunch of boots on snow from above them, and all of them, Leng and the Germans, looked up. Arrayed in a loose half-circle was the rest of Leng’s squad, rifles pointing down at them. Well, he thought to himself as the foreign soldier grabbing his collar let go, at least he wouldn’t have to be worried about torture.
A volley of shots rang out into the night, and the snow ran red.
Dead. I’m dead. They shot me and I’m dead.
Another pair of hands grabbed him, shoving the cooling body of the German off him. Leng opened his eyes to look at his savior. The Banner lieutenant, hands now on either shoulder, shook him gently. “Are you injured?”
“F-fine.” He stammered back; the front of his uniform stained with blood that wasn’t his.
“Good.” The sound of ringing bells and shouting rose up from the village. “We must leave, quickly.”
Excerpts from Under Siege: Tsingtao in the First Sino-German War, Chapter 5: War
The start of the conflict saw much posturing on the part of both sides. While China could not deny the fact that combat had occurred, or the fact that said combat took place well behind the German border, they could and did claim that the patrol had become lost in the dark of the night and was attacked when it encountered the picket station by mistake. They had simply returned fire to save their lives. The German’s countered this with the hard evidence of six bodies and a suspicious lack any belonging to the Chinese. Regardless of who was in the right or who appeared to be in the right, the slow thawing of relations over the winter was immediately replaced with an inferno when Baron von Kettler delivered a formal declaration of war on the 12th of February. Yuan Shikai’s gamble to cow the foreign powers into releasing some of their stolen power back to China had backfired, but there was still every opportunity for the Empire to come out ahead.
The same reasoning that allowed Shikai to refuse the myriad demands for concessions in 1901 was still applicable here. China, with it’s modern military, held a local advantage thanks to the obvious fact that it was actually present in China and the German military wasn’t. It would take weeks for a convoy of German troop transports to make it to China by themselves, and if they were left unguarded then the Chinese navy would sink them well before they could land. The German High Seas Fleet was more than capable of traveling with them, but it would delay the sailing by several months or more. That left the forces in China on their own until help could be sent.
The German East Asian squadron had been greatly expanded due to the steadily worsening relations between the two nations. Commanded from the battleship Brandenburg and supported by two armored cruisers of the capable Hertha class, it was still greatly outnumbered by the forces of the Chinese Sea Fleet. Furthermore, the homeport of the German fleet was the concession city of Tsingtao, located firmly on the Chinese mainland, and it could easily be blockaded by the Chinese fleet.
However, while the Chinese could surround Tsingtao, they would be hard-pressed to actually take the city. With the arrival of the 1st and 2nd Seebataillons, and the consolidation of the scattered troop contingents stationed across China, the formal garrison of the city numbered close to 6,000 men. This was further bolstered by reservists and volunteers from the German population, bring the number of defenders closer to 9,000. This was not an inconsiderable force, and it was further aided by the natural and manmade defenses that were present throughout the concession state.
Map of the German Concessions
The territory of Tsingtao was extensively mountainous, the rocky and difficult terrain intersected by several rivers and streams. It was perfect terrain to conduct a defensive battle in, and the defending forces were more than willing to use it to their advantage. While it was unfeasible for them to try and defend as the border of the state, as even with reinforcements there was simply too much ground to cover, the Germans had prepared numerous lines of defense throughout the rugged hills, leaving them with multiple options. The line they decided to hold was a series of low hills along the wide Licun River, a strong, natural defensive position made stronger by rows of barbed wire, trenches, and carefully sited bunkers. Anchoring the entire defensive line on the south coast was the towering escarpment of Prinz Heinrich Hill. Easily 1,200 feet tall, the mountain was turned into a veritable fortress, with extensive networks of defenses running across, over, and through it. Its height made it an excellent spotting position for the massive 280mm howitzers stationed further back on Bismarck Hill, and for the smaller guns on Iltis Hill and Molkte Hill. From the peak, the Germans could direct accurate shellfire across the entire front.
The port’s harbor itself was safely ensconced on the inner side of Jiaozhou Bay, sheltering the German fleet from storms and unwanted combat. On the seaward side of the city several shore batteries prevented the Chinese battleships from coming too close, forcing them to stay at long range. Extensive minefields narrowed the approaches, making it all but impossible to safely enter without guidance from the city itself. Gigantic warehouses filled with food and ammunition ensured that the garrison could hold out for months on end. But despite all of this, it was inevitable that Tsingtao would fall without a serious change in the situation.
The Chinese Grey Standard Army easily outnumbered the garrison by a factor of ten and enjoyed the advantage of considerable logistic support. The majority local population of the concession was Chinese, and willing spies were plentiful, which would provide a considerable problem to the German defenders who were reliant upon Chinese labor to build their defenses. Of equal importance, while the Chinese forces had considerable experience fighting the Japanese, Russians, and revolutionaries to draw upon, the German marines were almost completely untested, and while much of the coming campaign would be decided by the terrain and local defenses, the lack of combat veterans would severely hinder the garrison.
In terms of overall fleet strength, as this would become the deciding factor in the war, on paper the Germans had the numerical advantage in the battleline. Twelve battleships to seven, as well as four capable armored cruisers that could easily bolster those numbers further, meant that if the Chinese line ever engaged with their opponents they would be outnumbered at least two-to-one. In terms of barrel count, it was 64 to 28 in favor of the Germans. Going off this alone, any casual observer would be safe in believing that battle at sea would end in the European nation’s favor. However, the actual qualitive situation was much different.
While the Germans did have a numerical advantage, eight of their twelve battleships were armed with 10” or 9” guns in their main battery, as were the four armored cruisers of the Hertha class. This was in direct comparison to the seven Chinese battleships, armed with 11” and 12” rifles and with a similar number of guns in the secondary battery. Furthermore, only the brand new Lothringen class had thicker armor than the Chinese warships. Combined, these two factors made the two sides far more even than mere numbers would present. Added to this was the fact that the Chinese forces would be fighting in their home waters, with extensive knowledge of the local environment. German forces would be at a distinct disadvantage, especially as the majority of their fleet would have to travel halfway around the world to reach the theatre. Furthermore, while the Germans could send a considerable force to bolster their Asiatic holdings, they would be forced by European politics to keep enough of their fleet at home to ensure that the French or Russians didn’t use the opportunity of a temporarily weakened enemy and attack. Presented with these absolutes, the Germans would find themselves facing nearly equal numbers, and a serious disadvantage in individual quality, in the coming months.
However, the clock, and world opinion, was firmly against the Chinese. Every day that the German flag flew over the city was another day that could see another outside power enter the war for their own gain. Shikai had stepped on more than a few toes to bring China to were it was, and many injured parties were willing to put aside old rivalries and join the Germans in putting the upstart dragon back in its proper, subservient place. Against the Germans alone, China was more than capable of waging a successful offensive. But if the Japanese, Russians, or British decided to join, then Empire would quickly find itself on the backfoot.
It all depended on how quickly the Dragon Banner replaced the German Eagle over Tsingtao.
Authors Note: Tsingtao and Early War Plans
As I said last week, I’m kind of grateful that war did come, as normally I’ve already fought at least one by this point. With that said, much of what I have covered in the chapter is fairly accurate to actual situation at the start of the war, with only a few artistic licenses.
Tsingtao is surprisingly tricky to write about, for most of the same reasons as everything else in this AAR. A lot of the information is either not available in the US, has been lost to history (or assorted book burnings by three separate nations), or is simply not translated into English. That makes the historical accuracy of this somewhat flawed. I can’t say for certain that what I described is what the actual situation would have been, but I’m fairly sure that it is close. The city itself was taken by a Japanese led siege in World War One. The German plans to hold the state did included a defensive line at the Licun River, but with a massive lack of men they were forced to abandon that line and fall back to the last line near the city before finally surrendering in late 1915.
My plans for the war are to take Tsingtao as quickly as possible, hopefully without risking my fleet in a battle with the Germans. Once the territory is taken, I can then focus on wearing down the Germans piece by piece. I would love to take some of the German possessions in the Pacific, namely the Carolines and Marianas, but Tsingtao is the real prize here. Taking that gets restores one of the stolen lands of China. I’m hoping to take Formosa/Taiwan, the Liaotung Peninsula, all of French Indochina, Hong Kong, and Weihaiwei before the game is over as a personal goal.
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Post by ieshima on Jul 15, 2020 23:10:29 GMT -6
Having studied the position myself, you are right. The Germans were kind enough to leave an opening in their defenses for us, even if they don’t recognize it. You have my permission colonel. Contact the workshops at Jinan and have them start work. I will approach Secretary Zhenbing to ask if he can spare some armor plate and a few guns for us. It’s a risky idea, but if this plan works, we will have a dagger right in the heart of Tsingtao.
-Communication between General Cao Kun, commander of the 3rd Division, and Colonel Wu Peifu, his subordinate, June 1904
Excerpts from Hai Long, The Man who Led China’s Fleet, Chapter 5: The 1st Sino-German War
The opening of the war caused a series of upheavals across China. In the cities of Tianjin and Peking the massive, brand-new arsenals began pouring smoke into the air as the demand for rifles, cannons, and cartridges skyrocketed. In the countryside, recruiting centers sprang up, offering promises of a modern education, good pay, and glory for any willing to join the ranks of the Grey Standard. Coaches packed with soldiers replaced boxcars on the new railroads, all of them heading north as fast as possible to join the siege at Tsingtao. Everywhere things were growing and expanding and increasing. Except in Shanghai. Things were decreasing there. In particular, the number of living senior officers and the naval treasury.
The start of the conflict revealed a deep and pervasive stretch of corruption that extended from the admiralty down to the common sailor. Essential equipment was discovered missing, presumed sold by those enterprising enough to risk a death sentence. Crews were grossly untrained, with many unaware of what their job actually was, let alone how to do it properly. Machinery was rusted shut or frozen in place, particularly onboard the armored cruiser Chengdu, which was forced to go into drydock to be reboilered instead of heading out to raid the German possessions in the Carolines. Critical reserves of ammunition and powder were simply nonexistent, having never been manufactured or delivered. Needless to say, this news was not taken lightly by Secretary Zhenbing.
The very public executions of several high-ranking admirals, as well as the punishments meted out to those of lesser ranks, served as a severe warning against corruption. However, it could not reverse the damage that had already happened. The navy, upon which so much hope and pride had been placed, was now about to face its first true challenge at far less than full strength.
The battlefleet, built around the Guizhou and Henan class battleships, was kept in Shanghai on the reasonable assumption that any fleet that attempted to reinforce Tsingtao would have to sail past the naval base. Likewise, should the German Asiatic squadron attempt a breakout, the battleships could sally forth and cut them off before they reached the safety of the open ocean. In contrast, the armored cruisers of the Chengdu class were dispatched to the southern coast to serve as raiders in the critical Straits of Malacca, a task that would also provide ample warning for any approaching German reinforcements. Joining them in raiding German merchant vessels were the much smaller Hai Yung class of protected cruisers. These ships, ironically built in German yards, were considered to be the weakest ships in the Chinese navy and had been replaced in the battlefleet by the much more capable Bayangol class. The foreign built ships were not expected to survive the deployment, a belief that was spoken openly amongst the fleet, much to the concertation of their crews.
Above: The paltry Hai Yung class
Below: The new, domestic-built Bayangol class
Despite this belief, it did not stop the Hai Yung and her sister, Hai Shew, from launching a daring raid against the German Marianas on their own initiative. Successfully shelling the island of Saipan and sinking several merchantmen in the archipelago, the two cruisers had to be towed back to Shanghai after their coal bunkers ran out near the northern coast of the Philippines. Nevertheless, the two ships met with a hero’s welcome for their exploits, much to the embarrassment of those who doubted their capabilities. Unfortunately, the single raid represented the only victory seen by the Chinese in the early months of the war.
Despite sailing out several times in response to suspected German movements, the battlefleet had failed to actually encounter any enemy vessels. Several raids conducted along the northern coast resulted in little physical damage, but the harm to national moral was high as the fleet repeatedly failed to catch the German raiders before they reached the shelter of Tsingtao’s guns. Of particular note was a full sortie by the German Asiatic squadron in late May, which was missed completely by the five Chinese battleships sent to intercept it. Had the foreigners taken the chance, the entire squadron could have broken out unopposed and made for the relative safety of German New Guinea, leaving the Chinese unable to follow. Thankfully, the squadron was hemmed in by an oncoming storm and was forced to return to port, passing by the frantic Chinese fleet a second time without a shot being fired.
Of even more concern was the reports of a massive German fleet rounding the Cape of Good Hope. Seven battleships accompanied by more than a dozen smaller ships were said to be guarding convoy of repurposed liners, supposedly carrying an entire corps of the elite German army. If they succeeded in breaking the blockade around Tsingtao, the campaign would grind to a halt and could potentially reverse, with the Grey Standard Army being forced onto the defensive. Thankfully, due a late storm season, the fleet was forced to shelter in Cape Town until the seas calmed. This delay gave the Chinese time, as the fleet would not arrive in the South Pacific until late June at the earliest.
Tsingtao had to fall before that happened.
Near Tsingtao, June 10th, 1904
At 0100 hours, the men were roused from their tents and shelters. As many of them were former farmers, there were few complaints about the early awakening. Most simply put on their boots, straightened their uniforms, shouldered their rifles, and got into line for breakfast. A thick porridge of rice supplemented with the bland army sausage that had become a staple in most meals. It was the addition of a glass of dark wine that clued the veterans into what would be coming that day. They bolted the harsh drink down with a grimace, the smarter of them immediately clearing a spot on the tables to clean their Mauser. Experience fighting rebels, Banner clans, and Russians had taught them well.
By 0235 hours the Generals had gathered their staffs together to go over the plans for the last time. Suspected strongpoints were marked, with avenues of advance shifted to avoid dangerous positions. Artillery barrages, planned and timed to the minute, were shifted and changed based on new evidence. Arguments broke out, were resolved, and then new ones rose up. The maps, marked and scarred from countless meetings, were stabbed, inked, and stamped one last time. Junior officers were dispatched back to their commanders with sealed orders.
At 0459 hours, the first of the Chinese guns roared. Early by a minute, thanks to a faulty stopwatch, it set off a massive cacophony as the other guns in its battery joined in. Hearing the blasts echo through the morning, other artillery emplacements joined in until, across the entire front, over 100 cannons, rifles, mortars, and howitzers were firing in chorus. In the German lines, hundreds of shells impacted into the trenches and dugouts, sending gouts of dirt and mud into the air.
At 0650 hours, the men of the Grey Standard army gathered in the Chinese trenches. The officers had given them their orders, pointing out areas of particular danger. Groups of volunteers carried disassembled ladders and ropes to help fjord the draught shallowed Licun River. Fresh recruits glanced nervously at grim faced veterans, still checking their rifles for malfunction. To the south, the elite Black Banner infantry, armed with grappling hooks and carbines, prepared to storm the rocky slopes of Prinz Heinrich hill. Miles offshore, the battleships of the Chinese fleet began to sight in on their targets, ready to provide heavy support against the dug in enemy. As the end of the hour neared the artillery, which had been pounding nonstop since five o’clock, began to quiet. The men began to move towards the ladders.
At 0700 hours, one thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight soldiers of the 1st and 2nd divisions stepped forward into hell.
Authors Note: Combat and the lack there of
Despite efforts to catch and crush the German Asiatic Squadron or it’s raiders before the reinforcements from Europe arrive, I have failed miserably. Even as I write, tiny pixelated battleships of the High Seas Fleet are moving through the Straits of Malacca. That said, the invasion of Tsingtao went off unopposed, annoyingly. I was hoping to draw the Brandenburg into gun range and smash her to ensure at least parity between my forces and the Germans. As it stands, I am very confused as to why China would need to conduct a naval invasion into a territory that it already shares an extensive land border with. For this obvious reason, there won’t be any daring, “Saving Private Ryan-ese” charges across a bullet swept beach just yet.
I did actually manage to get into a scrap with some German cruisers though…
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Post by ieshima on Jul 22, 2020 21:45:53 GMT -6
When you come before the enemy, you must defeat him, pardon will not be given, prisoners will not be taken! Whoever falls into your hands will fall to your sword! Just as a thousand years ago the Huns, under their King Attila, made a name for themselves with their ferocity, which tradition still recalls; so may the name of Germany become known in China in such a way that no Chinaman will ever dare look a German in the eye, even with a squint!
-Kaiser Wilhelm II addressing the East Asian Expeditionary Corps prior to is embarkation
60 miles off the coast of Japan, August 14th, 1904
Zhang swam slowly away from the burning wreck that Hai Shew had devolved into. Flames had engulfed the small cruiser’s superstructure, and a progressive list to port was becoming more pronounced now that the pumps had been abandoned. The stoker had an excellent view as he lazily backstroked away from his sinking ship. Men were scrambling to get over the side and away from the scorching heat. A knot of them were struggling to get a charred whaleboat off of its mountings. As he watched, another German shell landed amidst them, timbers and body parts flying from the detonation.
Hai Shew’s reign of terror over the Western Pacific had been brought to an end thanks to poor weather and a clever bit of trickery by the Germans. Running off the back of an impressive squall, the Chinese ship had stumbled across a protected cruiser of the Gefion class. Most of the enemy class still retained the 10.5 cm SK L/40’s they were originally built with, but some had been taken in for a refit and had replaced that paltry battery with 15 cm SK L/40’s, the same guns found onboard the Hai Shew. It was decided to take the chance to deprive the Kreigsmarine of a protected cruiser regardless of its armament, with the order for more speed being sent to the engine room as the Gefion began to race east after the squall line.
Above: The Hai Yung sister ship to Hai Shew
Below: The Gefion class cruiser Niobe
It was a trap, through and through. The German wasn’t attempting to hide in the storm. It was trying to draw them up against the Hertha class armored cruiser that the smaller ship had been escorting. When the first salvo of 9” shells slammed into the ocean alongside, the captain ordered an immediate turn to the west. Better to have his ship and crew interned in Japan than on the bottom of the ocean.
It was a long and, in the end, futile chase. The Hai Shew could outrun the Hertha at full steam, but the smaller cruiser was outpaced by the Gefion. As the Chinese started to draw away, the enemy protected cruiser moved to cut them off and keep them within the range of the giant chasing them. But every time the enemy drew alongside, they were driven off by a torpedo from the Hai Shew’s underwater tubes or a hail of accurate gunnery. It was a cruel dance of perpetual risks, and something had to give. Eventually, it did.
Above: The Hertha class cruiser Freya A lucky barrage had shredded the Gefion’s stacks, cutting her speed to a fraction of what it had been. But as Hai Shew had started to draw away, a salvo from the Hertha caught them at long range. Three of the four 9” shells found themselves onboard the Chinese cruiser. One tore away the forward mount on the starboard side, the 6” gun and its crew gone in a flash which sent shards of gun-shield and bone scything through the gunners on the port side mount. The second shrieked in and punched down through the thin deck platting to detonate deep within the aft boiler rooms, cutting pressure and scalding the stokers unfortunate enough to survive the initial destruction. The final shell obliterated the starboard side galleries, starting a massive conflagration in the loose 4” ammunition that quickly spread to the rest of the upper decks.
In less than half a minute, Hai Shew had been transformed from a competent, capable cruiser into a floating, burning charnel house. Any chance of escape was gone, as more and more enemy shells started to slam home. The captain recognized this and immediately gave the order to abandon. That was how Zhang ended up in the water, slowly swimming away from his sinking ship and towards the hopeful safety of the brig onboard the Hertha. He was not alone, as dozens of other sailors were also swimming towards the German ship, whose crew were busily attaching net clamps at the rail. Others were dragging the nets out from boxes near the hatchways and slotting them into…those weren’t nets.
Zhang dove under as the Maxims began to stich bullets into the sea.
Excerpts from Under Siege: Tsingtao in the First Sino-German War, Chapter 7: Perpetuity
The destruction of the cruiser Hai Shew was not initially known to the Chinese, due in large part to the fact that there were no survivors from her destruction. Concern was raised when she failed to return to port to resupply and drop off the crews of merchants she sunk while raiding. Initial suspicions were raised further when the Japanese consulate, diplomacy with which remained quite chilled, deigned to inform the Chinese government that some of their fishing vessels had come across corpses dressed in the uniforms of Chinese sailors, some with caps bearing the characters of the missing warship. Eventually, Berlin announced through the ever-neutral Swiss that the raider has been caught and sunk by elements of the High Seas Fleet. The lack of survivors was attributed to the squall that passed through the area at roughly the time of her sinking.
The loss of the cruiser was yet another minor blow to the Chinese war effort. The opening assaults on the Tsingtao garrison had ben thrown back with dreadful loss of life and little gain. The 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Divisions of the Grey Standard Army were severely mauled by the hard fighting, and despite briefly holding pockets of the German trenches, they were eventually forced out by determined counterattacks. Even the vaunted Black Banner troops failed to find purchase on Prinz Heinrich Hill, grim hand-to-hand combat with the 3rd Seebataillon on the steep slopes leaving the crack infantry units badly bloodied. Furthermore, while German coastal raids had finally been curtailed by the implementation of a close blockade around the port, the reinforcement fleet that had been seen rounding the Cape finally appeared in the Straits of Malacca.
Unable to contend with the heavy escort, seven German battleships and a menagerie of supporting forces, while also maintaining the blockade the Chinese were forced to let them pass through the Straits unmolested. Thankfully, the convoy did not try to sail north immediately, instead deciding to refuel and rest in German New Guinea. This pause allowed Zhenbing to quickly shuffle his forces, sending the battleship Guizhou and her sister Fujian south to protect the coast from the German ships while still maintaining the bulk of his forces in the north. Needless to say, the delay of the German fleet to attack when it had the chance remains one of the greatest ‘what-ifs’ in history, for if the East Asia Squadron had sortied to join them they would have had outnumbered the local Chinese forces to a considerable degree.
Despite this numerical advantage, oceanic combat was exceedingly rare. Occasionally squadrons would cross each other while on patrol, but the German ships would normally heave away before combat could engage. The few times that they chose to stay and fight, which was only when they had a distinct advantage in numbers or size over their opponents, instead devolved into the Chinese racing to the safety of the nearest port and its protective minefields. Needless to say, the continued lack of meaningful results on the Navy’s side was often brought up in the weekly meetings of the war cabinet.
However, it would be exceedingly unfair to state that the Navy was not doing its fair share in the war. Even though the German fleet continued to refuse combat, much to the annoyance of the Chinese admiralty, this had the effect of rendering it, unintentionally, largely toothless. The ships were in Pacific waters, that could not be denied. But for all the good that they were doing, they might as well be at anchor in Kiel instead of Simpsonhafen. This refusal to fight also allowed the two remaining ships of the Hai Yung class to wreak havoc on the German merchant marine, albeit at a reduced scale that eventually petered off to nothing as the few remaining merchant vessels quickly found themselves turned into involuntary coral reefs. Coupled with maintaining the blockade of Tsingtao and the continued protection of China’s extensive coast from aggressive raiders, the Navy was kept very busy.
Its shipyards were also kept busy. Fuzhou, having finished a full modernization program the previous year, was reacquainting itself with ship construction with the Hsin Pei class of torpedo boat destroyers. These ships, emphasizing gun power and torpedoes over speed, would go on to become the template from which all future Chinese destroyers would build from. At Shanghai, designs were being drawn up for another new class of protected cruiser to fill the slips after the Bayangol class commissioned. In a stark example of how far shipbuilding capabilities had progressed across the world, not just in China, the Anjiang class was of the same displacement as the older Hai Yung class, but was better armed and better armored. The arrival of another two protected cruisers would finally free the lackluster German-built ships of their fleet duties, allowing them to entirely focus on raiding enemy shipping lanes.
Above: The Anjiang class of protected cruisers
Below: The Hsin Pei class of destroyers
Time marched quickly on, late summer progressing swiftly into early autumn, and the army continued to launch assaults against Tsingtao in spite of dreadful casualties. Chinese troops were breaking the German lines with every assault, often thanks to the ferocity of the Black Banner platoons mixed into their ranks. Taking the first line of trenches or even the second line, as bloody a task as that was, was a common occurrence. But determined counterattacks supported by deadly accurate artillery, thanks to the lookouts and spotters on Prinz Henrich Hill providing a watchful eye across the entire front, meant that loosing those trenches was just as common. Of course, with every bullet, shell, and soldier lost in the fight, the Chinese could and did replace those losses. The same could not be said of the Germans, thanks to Zhenbing’s blockade, and gradually they began to be worn down in a grinding attrition.
Unfortunately, the rest of the world had not remained stationary while the Chinese and Germans sorted out their differences. Relations with the western powers, which had not had a chance to thaw before the war began, remained chilled despite efforts to warm them. Thankfully, ham-fisted German political maneuvering and posturing during the previous decades had left them with few friends and many enemies, forcing them to guard their backs for fear of finding a knife in them, or, more likely, a French army marching to Alsace-Lorraine. This same blunt, uncaring attitude towards the future had also had serious effects on the war itself.
Germany had, simply put, placed to many of its eggs in one basket. While their Pacific holdings were nowhere near the size of those held by the Dutch or British, they were not inconsiderable. The assorted island chains of the Central Pacific were home to countless sheltered lagoons and protective reefs. There were many advantageous harbors and anchorages that could have easily supported a squadron for several months. Hundreds of islets that could have served as coaling stations, dozens of towns and ports that could have housed armories or barracks for the crews. Germany could have easily supported full squadrons at practically any location in their colony, had any effort been made into actually preparing for such an event.
Instead of this, Germany had decided to pour hundreds of thousands of Marks into Tsingtao and the surrounding concessions, leaving the rest of German New Guinea to fend for themselves. This decision was haunting them now. There was German coal aplenty in the Pacific for their fleet. It was all in Tsingtao, behind a Chinese blockade. There were armories, stuffed full of shells of every type and caliber. In Tsingtao. There were warehouses crammed with food that wasn’t stale bread or moldy sausage just waiting to be eaten. If the fleet was willing to risk fighting the Chinese fleet to get to them. But instead, the battleships of the High Seas Fleet, the pride of the Kaiser and of German, were content to sit spinning slowly around their anchor chain until the inevitable occurred. It was to the great relief of the admiralty in Shanghai when the relief fleet, which was supposed to have put all their plans to naught, instead set sail for Europe in late November.
Interestingly, it was not the only important event to take place in November, as two other occurrences would make their mark in that month. In Britain, at His Majesty’s Dockyard Portsmouth, a new battleship was being built in extreme secrecy under the directive of the fiery and temperamental First Lord, Jackie Fisher. Despite the veils being woven to protect her, the new warship was rumored to be the strongest vessel in the world, one that would fear nothing on the waves. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in the landlocked workshops of Jinan, another “dreadnought” spit fire and smoke as she roared to life.
Authors Note: First Dreadnought and Anger
The first dreadnought makes its appearance. Appropriately named Prince of Wales too, she will make headlines I’m sure. 17,000 tons, I suspect that the Brits have gone for the AQY layout since they only have the ‘3 centerline turrets’ tech, so wing turrets are currently out. That said, I already have plans for my own, once this war ends and Britain becomes willing to accept my orders for new ships, though I may have to pay Director some royalties.
That said, what the Hell is going on with the lack of combat! The German fleet keeps refusing to do battle despite having numerical superiority over me, and the few times they do except it ends up being six or seven battleships versus a protected cruiser. Seriously, this is the least warlike war I have every fought.
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Post by ieshima on Jul 29, 2020 23:52:39 GMT -6
The German squadron has escaped us again. The storm aided their sailing and masked their voyage while our ships were forced to find safe shelter. The Admiral was incredibly angry. You could hear his shouting down in the engine room. Truthfully, I don’t mind not having to fight. I don’t want to get shot at, and I get paid either way.
-Personal diary of a Chinese sailor, January 3rd, 1905
Near Tsingtao, January 25th, 1905
Lulled by the gentle swaying, Leng grimly checked his rifle for the fifth time. All around him, crammed quite tightly into the tiny space, the other men of the 1st Brigade of the Black Banner did the same. The stiff, emotionless expressions of hardened veterans were the only one present on their faces in the half-shadowed confines. Sunlight streamed through the thin gun-slits that pierced the armor plate, casting them all in stripes of gold and black. Leng didn’t much care for the sight, as he slotted the bolt back into the stock with a well-oiled snick. The distraction wasn’t worth it at this stage.
Joining the Banner hadn’t been easy, even with the war and battles making the demand for fresh, reliable troops skyrocket. You had to be one of two things to wear the black uniform: the absolute best or connected to the best. Leng was most certainly not the second, being the third son of a farmer from Hubei meant that he didn’t spend much time rubbing elbows with generals or nobles. But, with a bit of trying and a few weeks of surviving the hell that was the battlefield, he had earned a reputation of quiet, dependable reliability. The men under his command, for the reward of promotion offered by the lieutenant had been genuine, quickly found that Corporal Leng suffered no excuses and demanded the best from his squad. The fact that he also demanded the best from himself helped prevent one of his charges from putting a knife in his back, and his dedication had permeated out into this company as well. In a short period of time, his unit had become regarded as one of the best in the Grey Standard Army. Of course, Leng didn’t want to stay under the Grey Standard anymore.
It took some difficulty to find the lieutenant who had led that patrol, back in the cold month of February, but Leng was determined. It was an act of sheer luck that did it, as they quite literally collided in the doorway of one of the many taverns that had sprung up near the army’s encampments. The offer of beer on his tab had both soothed the officer’s bruised temper and convinced him to hear out Leng’s plea. They parted as friends, quite tipsily it must be said, with the lieutenant promising to put in a good word. It must have worked, as Leng was soon transferred out of his unit and handed a fresh uniform in the infamous pitch black. A brief ceremony, in which he swore his allegiance to the President, the Emperor, and the Empire, in that order, and he was officially inducted into the Banner.
The men lurched to one side as they traversed a bend in the track, the veteran troops shifting to steady themselves without comment as the armored boxcar returned to an even footing. Three wagons ahead, in the choking, smoke-filled cab of the locomotive, the two stokers worked in tandem to shovel coal into the overweight engine. While bolting 1” armor plate onto every available surface had slowed the locomotive drastically, having been given enough of a runup to gain speed, the train was sprinting across the coastline railway. The engineer, faced streaked with coal dust and sweat from the inferno in the firebox, peered through the narrow vison slit to look ahead for the signal. Missing that in the twilight before the sunrise would leave him and everyone else onboard in a very precarious situation.
Infront of the charging locomotive, the navy volunteers crammed into the hastily modified railcar cursed the army for coming up with such a stupid plan while holding on for dear life. The shells latched onto the wagon’s walls rattled in the fittings, and the cannon they were meant for had already knocked two of the gun crew senseless when the constant jolting had wrenched the breech free. The ensign, right eye blacked from a rampaging gunsight, managed to catch a glimpse though the cause of his injury to see a scrap of red tied to a tree at the side of the track. Well behind him, the locomotive engineer saw the same red flag and yanked down, hard, on the whistle cord.
The banshee scream bounced across the shell torn landscape, only to be echoed by dozens of shriller calls rising up from the Chinese trenches. With a roar, thousands of men bounded up the ladders, rifles in hand, to charge across the mud and wreckage of no-man’s-land. Answering them from the German lines was the chatter of Maxim guns mixed with the sharp, staccato cracks of Mauser fire. From Iltis and Moltke hills at the city limits came the thunder of artillery as the batteries began to fire, only to be deafened by the shattering booms of the 28 cm howitzers on Bismarck hill. Hundreds fell in the blue-clad tide sweeping across the dead ground, either from gunfire or the gouts of earth thrown by the falling shells, but with the garrison so depleted from a year of constant combat it wasn’t enough to stop the mass from slamming into the trenches. Screams added to the cacophony as bayonets, swords, and pistols came to play in the melee. And above it all still shrieked the steam whistle.
The last bend in the tracks came and went in an instant, and the weakness in the German lines was suddenly there, rapidly approaching at high speed. The Shantung Railway had been built by German financers for German use, but when Shikai’s railway bills were enforced, the entirety of the line outside the concession state fell into Chinese hands. As such, the garrison saw little need to concern itself with the few miles of track left in their possession. Unfortunately, that indifference, like so many other flaws in their defenses, was coming back to haunt them with a fury.
The Germans had anchored their main line of defense on two natural strongpoints in the terrain. To the south was the towering escarpment of Prinz Heinrich Hill, upon which the Banner had finally been halted. To the north was the wide Licun river, its far shore riddled with trenches and bunkers preventing any attempt at crossing, and no attempts had been made. This lack of action had lulled the defenders into gradually reducing the number of troops along that section of the front, transferring out fresh units and replacing them with ones exhausted and depleted from the fighting further south. As such, when the train appeared on the far shore, spiting a column of sparking smoke from its stack as it sprinted for the forgotten and ignored rail bridge, only a few men attempted to stop her. She shrugged off their pitiful bullets, crunched through the shoddy barricade thrown up across the tracks, and kept running towards the city, now with nothing between her and her goal. Frantic calls through field telephones to the command posts, the harbor, the artillery, anyone who could listen about the threat heading south spread panic across the garrison even as the Chinese assault began to break through the trench line.
The squeal of brakes jolted Leng out of his brief rest, stumbling with the other men as the train finally began to check its speed. The sergeants and junior officers in his car called for calm, reiterating the orders that had been drilled into their heads for weeks. Get out of the train and into the town as soon as it stops. Cause as much havoc as you can. If your unit gets cut off or lost, find a strong building and dig in until till help arrives or the ammo runs out. Don’t surrender while you can still fight. If you can breathe, you can fight. Good luck.
The train finally lurched to a stop, and the doors of the car opened in a glaring blaze of the rising sun coming up of the city. Leng joined the blind stampede out of the wagon, rifles cracking out against the handful of Germans they could see. From the front of the train the cannon roared out against something, sending a shell careening into a building that erupted in a scatter of bricks and fire. He could see the ocean from here, dancing white and blue in the dawn sun. Behind him was a ruffle of cloth on wood, a yellow banner unfurling to reveal the dragon and pearl of the Empire.
The Chinese were in Tsingtao.
The Chinese armored train Dà Xiàng, in the railyard of Jinan, early 1905
Authors note: Trains!
I’d been hoping to write something on armored trains ever since I started posting AARs on this forum. They go together so well with dreadnoughts and battleships. That said, I once again wish I had better sources and images for the trains themselves, but the information on them is incredibly sparse compared to that of other armored fighting vehicles. No one seems interested in the deadly choo-choos.
With that said, their use most certainly did not include charging a defensive line at high speed, so much of this chapter is an exaggeration or real life. Most armored trains fell into a few different uses, depending on the situation their owners found themselves in. The most common was an eclectic combination of artillery, mobile pillbox, and invulnerable battering ram. The train’s heavy guns and lighter weapons would provide appreciable supporting fire to any advance, and until the advent of high velocity, low-angle artillery in the 1930’s, were largely immune to anything except artillery fire. The second most common use was area suppression. They made excellent heavy patrol vehicles, capable of protecting massive stretches of land with only a handful of men.
Unfortunately, like many other things, they were mostly abandoned before WWII. The advent of the tank and reliable aircraft made them obsolete for most of the modern world. However, they didn’t go quietly into that good night. Several dozen trains ended up in the hands of various Chinese warlords during the mid-1900’s and were used to great effect during the massive civil war that was engulfing the nation at that time. The also saw extensive use in the Russian Civil war in the 1920’s, especially in the hands of the Czech Legions, who used the trains they had captured or stole (they also stole the entire gold reserve of Russia, and kidnapped the nominal head of the White Russian forces) to control the entire length of the Trans-Siberian Railroad for a good portion of the conflict. Finally, during the 1939 defense of Poland, armored train Śmiały literally smashed its way through a German armored column during the Battle of Mokra, obliterating most of a panzer division, while several of its fellows fought to the last in the Siege of Warsaw.
Look, I really like trains, okay?
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Post by garrisonchisholm on Jul 30, 2020 16:00:51 GMT -6
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Post by mycophobia on Jul 30, 2020 16:15:10 GMT -6
I had been kinda anticipating the debut of the armored trains after seeing the depth you went into the ground portion of the war, and I was not disappointed xD.
As you said, they were hugely popular amongst Chinese warlords during the warlord era, and many of those same warlords were serving as generals and commanders under Yuan Shikai back in the day, so its definitely a good touch to see them showing up (if a bit early than they did in real life).
Still, looking forward to see whether the naval theater can develop, and I can certainly appreciate the annoyance with German AI's tendency to be over-conservative. (I think it is a result of their national trait, and from a more in character perspective, its not a huge stretch to assume that no German commander want to risk losing major warships to the Chinese Navy given the pressure they have in competing against powers like Britain.)
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Post by director on Jul 31, 2020 12:23:48 GMT -6
I am deeply embarrassed to have overlooked this excellent AAR. You write very well indeed and I am enjoying catching up. I'm always concerned when my scout cruisers find an armored cruiser. As your example shows, if you can't run away or get to the protection of darkness, a scout will almost always get crushed by an armored cruiser. The siege and fall of Tsingtao reminds me somewhat of the fall of Port Arthur in our Russo-Japanese War; the protection of a naval base becomes an interesting case-study of joint operations and shows, in this event, what happens when the two services fight separately. At least the High Seas Fleet was spared the ignominy of the Russian battleships in Port Arthur: shelled to death by army artillery. Tsingtao was indeed a very tough nut to crack as the Japanese found out in WW1. laststandonzombieisland.files.wordpress.com/2019/12/port-arthur-from-the-top-of-gold-hill-in-1905.-from-the-left-wrecks-of-battleships-peresvet-poltava-retvizan-pobeda-and-the-cruiser-pallada.jpgI entirely forgive you the armored train (as garrisonchisholm points out, trains are a love I came to late in life) though it seems likely to me that the railway and bridge were not overlooked but kept available for some purpose of the defenders. Perhaps someone did try to fire the demolition charges under the bridge but failed - or the charges failed - under the speed of the attack. In any case, it worked! Congratulations to you and your men; the supplies and stocks in Tsingtao will be very valuable to you. As you point out, an armored train is a good way to rapidly move men and artillery over a wide area - usually to support track repair. The Arab campaign against Ottoman railways in WW1 is a good case-study for the vulnerability of railroads when the defenders can't keep up the repairs.
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Post by thefleetofoceans on Jul 31, 2020 15:29:38 GMT -6
And he knocks it out of the park with a surprise armoured train. And oh boy, could I read you the riot act about armoured trains. From their start in the american civil war, their zenith in the Boer and russian civil wars, and finally their bitter last stand in the second world war. By the way, what poor engine have armoured up that its so overworked with this train. I kinda need to know now, I'm something of a railway enthusiast myself.
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Post by ieshima on Jul 31, 2020 17:14:59 GMT -6
garrisonchisholm - I would say he certainly does. mycophobia - The national trait might explain it, though you would think a 9-to-7 advantage would make them a bit more bold. director - Thank you for the kind words. I agree with you whole heartedly on the subject of protected cruisers vs armored cruisers. I do have a preference for up-gunning my early CLs to give them some teeth, but the cost in this game is to prohibitive to try. It would take two years for them to get off the slips, and by then they'd be far too outdated to make it worth the expense. The similarities of Tsingtao to Port Arthur are present for a very good reason, namely that the Japanese had learned from most of their mistakes in the earlier conflict and were determined not to repeat them. Personally, I wouldn't have minded to catch the German squadron at anchor and within range of my guns, but it appears that they have escaped me. Interestingly, I stumbled across a theory while doing research on the subject that suggests that many of the doctrinal flaws that the Japanese military suffered from in WWII stem from the Tsingtao campaign. Evidently the Japanese general in charge of it all was a brilliant logistician who used the German built roads to great effect in the siege, but those who studied the campaign drew the entirely wrong conclusion and placed the reason for victory on the "Martial Spirit" of the soldiers and not on the overwhelming advantage in equipment and supply. I also agree with you on the subject of the rail bridge. It makes more sense for the defenders to think they could use it rather than just ignore it. I am also rather embarrassed to say that I completely forgot about the Ottoman armored trains, which is a shocking oversight for someone who loves the film 'Lawrence of Arabia.' thefleetofoceans - They forgot one of the critical rules of life: expect the unexpected! My personal penchant is for the various Slavic armored trains. They always had the most interesting histories. As for the locomotive, I selected the Borsig built Jiaoji Ry Class 10, a 0-6-2 tank engine made specifically for the Shantung Railway in 1900. Eight were built (eight at most, details are once again very difficult to find outside of China) and it wouldn't be to much of stretch to state that one or two of them were at Jinan when the Chinese took over the railway. Some donated armor plate from the Navy and you've got yourself a nasty little thing that can shrug off pretty much everything outside of artillery fire. I figure that a tank engine built for the rough mountains of Shandong has to be capable of some pretty impressive power output and traction effort, but would struggle to pull the weight of a full war train.
Kudos to Wikipedia for the image!
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Post by director on Jul 31, 2020 19:44:37 GMT -6
It means the Germans were not prone to the sort of dithering-and-waiting-for-orders that characterized the Russian Far East fleet. Their admiral took action - though he may have been sacked when he got home. I doubt the Kaiser was well-pleased.
The Japanese may have taken military instruction from the French and the Germans, but (IMHO) philosophically their WW2 tactics seem to have favored the French. Sadly, elan and a vigorous charge worked well in China but not so against well-trained soldiers armed with modern weapons, as at Khalkin Gol and Guadalcanal. Their experience at Tsingtao undoubtedly influenced their tactical thinking - but not having gone through the firepower-intensive trench-oriented warfare of WW1, and then fighting in China, must have reinforced those beliefs. Another component was their extreme economic difficulty: they were unable to pay for the numbers of machine guns and artillery pieces they needed and so decided to accept casualties and do without equipment. What they got was the casualties AND defeat on the battlefield... but it is hard to say what else they could have done (except not get into WW2).
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Post by ieshima on Jul 31, 2020 20:01:52 GMT -6
It means the Germans were not prone to the sort of dithering-and-waiting-for-orders that characterized the Russian Far East fleet. Their admiral took action - though he may have been sacked when he got home. I doubt the Kaiser was well-pleased. The Japanese may have taken military instruction from the French and the Germans, but (IMHO) philosophically their WW2 tactics seem to have favored the French. Sadly, elan and a vigorous charge worked well in China but not so against well-trained soldiers armed with modern weapons, as at Khalkin Gol and Guadalcanal. Their experience at Tsingtao undoubtedly influenced their tactical thinking - but not having gone through the firepower-intensive trench-oriented warfare of WW1, and then fighting in China, must have reinforced those beliefs. Another component was their extreme economic difficulty: they were unable to pay for the numbers of machine guns and artillery pieces they needed and so decided to accept casualties and do without equipment. What they got was the casualties AND defeat on the battlefield... but it is hard to say what else they could have done (except not get into WW2). Yes, I suspect that there are several German admirals who will never take to sea again after the debacle that is this war. I agree with your assessment on Japan's flaws. You can get away with poor weapons and equipment (Germany took over most of Europe with Panzer I's and II's) but doing so requires you to have stellar troops with excellent training and perfect strategy and tactics, something which Japan certainly lacked. Now, if they had stopped the mass infantry charges into machineguns earlier and instead have gone for the defense in depth that was encountered on Iwo Jima and Okinawa, I feel that they could have done much better. Being on the defense, in well built, mutually supporting positions, can make up for a lot of material flaws. That's one of the reasons why I gave the German defense a good word. Despite being outnumbered to a ludicrous degree the historical plans that were made for the defense of the concession state called for multiple layers of trenches and bunkers with mutually supporting fire. Of course, the Japanese commander during the siege in 1915 was smart enough to not send waves of men into those positions, and instead went for mass artillery bombardment and night attacks.
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Post by director on Aug 1, 2020 14:33:27 GMT -6
I'll carry this one step farther and then we can get back to your excellent AAR. I agree that Japan, after conducting a really excellent strategic offensive and securing the perimeter they wanted, should have built up defenses and forced the US to assault a defense in depth. That is actually what they had planned - a sweeping strategic offensive followed by a strategic defensive/offensive conducted until the enemy tired and made peace. The too-early US thrust at Guadalcanal showed their timetable was faulty but they couldn't adjust it. What interfered was logistics - Japan did not have the ability to move up materials to construct defenses, didn't have enough (any really) construction equipment, and did not have the logistic capability to support troops in places like Guadalcanal. That last is partly due to the inter-locking nature of bases and air-power, but that's another discussion. As a practical matter, Japan should have abandoned Guadalcanal when the Americans landed and made a stand farther back, under air cover and in a place where materiel and supply were more readily available. What the Japanese did not see coming was island-hopping: bypassing and isolating some strong-points without assaulting every one. That forces a defender to accept assault at weaker points or to multiply defenses at every possible point... I could tie this also to missing out on serious ground combat in WW1 but that might be too big a stretch. The Japanese generals seem to have gotten the theory but not had the practice. I quite agree on the value of a stubborn defense, but strategically it only matters if you can fix the enemy's attention and then hit him somewhere else. If all you have is a defensive action, and you can't force the enemy to let up, then you are very likely going to lose. In your AAR, moving the German Navy to Tsingtao was necessary in order to secure reinforcements, but that move might expose the fleet to damage and thus was not made. This is an excellent example of the value of seapower even when exercised by an inferior force. General Kamio conducted his siege with skill and relatively little bloodshed. You could say he played more than a cameo role... ... sorry. Sometimes I have these fits.
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