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Post by ieshima on Aug 1, 2020 19:38:06 GMT -6
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. A bad pun! Well done, good sir. I see that you are also a man of quality. Expect my next chapter on Wednesday.
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Post by ieshima on Aug 5, 2020 20:20:07 GMT -6
The Chinese have broken through, stop. Enemy forces in the city, stop. Fierce fighting at the railyard, stop. All units ordered to retreat and regroup, stop. Contact lost with von Truppen, stop. Enemy in the building, stop. They are at the door, stop. Long live the Kaiser, stop. Long live t-
-Last message received from the German garrison of Tsingtao, January 25th, 1905
Excerpts from Under Siege: Tsingtao in the First Sino-German War, Chapter 15: Fall
The capture of the city of Tsingtao marked the end of the formal resistance in the concession state. The sudden arrival of several hundred elite troops of the Black Banner well behind the defensive lines established to the north of the city had a devastating effect thanks to the daring breakthrough conducted the Chinese armored train Dà Xiàng. While their rampage across the city was eventually halted and contained to the rail station and a few buildings near the harbor, they did accomplish their objective of sowing panic in the German lines. This psychological damage was far more important than any material damage that the attack could accomplish, as it forced the commitment of critical reserves to protect the city. The lack of these reserves ended up being the deciding factor for the battle. Despite mounting a fierce resistance the German troops to the north of the city, now without reinforcement, were eventually overwhelmed by the Chinese assault.
This second breakthrough was quickly exploited, with the Standard Army troops rushing south to a series of lightly defended ridgelines just north of the artillery on Molkte, Iltis and Bismarck Hills at the edge of the city. Capturing these ridges proved to be a difficult task, as the handful of defenders were supported by almost direct fire from the heavy guns of the garrison. The quartet of 28 cm Haubitze L/12 siege howitzers on Bismarck hill were used to great effect, obliterating entire companies of men with a single volley. For a time, the assault was halted thanks to the withering fire from the German batteries, and it looked as if the defenders could regroup and form a cohesive defense. But the Chinese generals, well aware that this was their chance to win the day, committed their reserves.
This onrush of fresh troops washed over the ridgelines as if the meager defenders did not exist. Storming the gun-pits finally silenced the artillery, the gunners putting up a brave but futile last stand before being cut down. The Bismarck Kasernen, the headquarters of the defense, was overrun by the advancing Chinese assault and Rear-Admiral Oskar von Truppel, the garrison commander and military governor, was captured at sword point along with most of his staff. With the broken survivors of the defenses pouring into the city, the German reserves who had been ordered to contain the raiders quickly came to the conclusion that further combat was nonsensical. In a rare move, one that can only be found a handful of times throughout history, the officers in charge surrendered from a position of local power to the surrounded Banner soldiers in the city’s train station.
This capitulation, and the capture of von Truppel, was the end of organized resistance. Sporadic pockets of German soldiers continued to hold out in isolated buildings for several hours until they were either crushed or convinced to lay down their weapons. Those who surrendered were marched to the parade ground in front of the barracks buildings and placed under light guard, though some were unfortunately executed by angry troops seeking revenge for the long conflict. Thankfully, these incidents were rare, and the Chinese generals were quick to issue orders for the care of the captured Germans, out of fear that harsh treatments would negatively impact relations with other western powers. The surrender of the city was formally declared on the morning of the 26th, and, in a muted ceremony attended by the soldiers and officers of both sides, the German flag was replaced with the Imperial dragon and pearl. In less than a day, the Chinese had captured Tsingtao and over 4,000 prisoners. Unfortunately, the amazing conclusion to the siege was marred by two glaring problems.
The first, and the much more important of the two, was the breakout of the German East Asia Squadron from Tsingtao on the night of the 1st. Utilizing a late winter storm to their advantage, the fleet sailed out of harbor in the teeth of the gale and slipped past the Chinese blockade unnoticed. It wasn’t until the seas had calmed two days later that their escape was finally discovered, far to late to prevent them from joining the rest of the German fleet at Simpsonhafen. This failure badly affected the reputation of the Chinese Navy at home and abroad, with Shikai demanding a reallocation of funds away from the service as a result. The fact that the confiscated funds were then granted to the Army caused a great deal of resentment to spring up in the fleet, and early evidence of an inter-service rivalry began to raise its ugly head. This incident is often regarded as the start of the breakdown of relations between Zhenbing and the president, as the Secretary saw this interference into his navy as a personal insult and Shikai saw the continued embarrassments caused by the navy as a threat to China’s growing place on the world stage.
The second problem was that, despite capturing Tsingtao and the majority of the garrison with it, the army had failed to take the towering heights of Prinz Heinrich Hill from its tenacious occupants. When the trench-lines finally collapsed under the assault, a fair portion of the surviving defenders had chosen to support the badly mauled 3rd Seebataillon on the hill instead of retreating to the city. It was a fairly sensible decision. The escarpment was by now honeycombed with trenches, bunkers, and tunnels, which provided an excellent defense from Chinese artillery. There were ample food stocks as well as ammunition, and several mountain springs meant plentiful fresh water. The craggy escarpment had weathered every attack that had been thrown at it, and there was now reason to believe that it would fall anytime soon. Command of the scratch defense fell to a Major Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, who, despite suffering from injuries that had blinded his left eye, elected to fight to the last rather than surrender.
Victorious Officers of the Chinese Grey Standard Army
With the Reichskriegsflagge still stubbornly flying from the peak, and with the harbor suspiciously lacking a number of half sunken wrecks, the success was strangely hollow. Of course, those minor concerns didn’t stop Shikai from crowing the victory to every embassy and major newspaper. Headlines around the world proclaimed the fall of the city, and images of captured German troops and smug Chinese generals bedecked the front pages. Finally, cried the Kaiser’s enemies, the vaunted Prussian army has been defeated, and by an Asian nation still clawing its way into the modern world no less. It was a diplomatic coup that stunned the world, and if the Empire was somewhat disappointed by the meager prize, then Germany was outraged.
The announcement of the fall of Tsingtao was met with shock and anger on the streets of Berlin. The populace, having suffered nine months of newspapers posting grime casualty counts, was already primed to explode. When word came that not only had the reinforcement fleet been forced to turn back instead of breaking the blockade, a riotous mob attempted to storm the gates of the Kiel navy yard, only to be forced back by soldiers and police armed with clubs. Tirpitz, who had trod on many toes while pushing for his larger navy, was castigated on the floor of the Reichstag. What was the point in having a navy, growled his critics, if it can’t do the job it was built to do? The capture of the city turned this inferno into a firestorm.
Mobs marched in every city, crying out exorbitant and often conflicting demands. The navy must retake the city. The navy should be scrapped. Tirpitz should resign. Tirpitz should replace the admirals and find someone who could fight. The Chinese must pay. The war must end. Things became bloody in Berlin, as several attempts to storm the Palace were answered by gunfire from the Guard. These deaths, many of which were young, university students, started calls for the abolishment of the monarchy. Across the nation, other groups took up the call, demanding the Kaiser’s head. Even more worryingly, rumors from Paris suggested that France was more than willing to debate the ownership of Alsace-Lorraine again, whether Germany was ready or not.
With his country on the verge of open revolution, even the nominally volatile Wilhelm was forced to see reason. He couldn’t fight a war on the far side of the world while also putting down a full-scale rebellion at home. He needed the Army corps stuck aboard the now useless reinforcement fleet, then rounding the Cape of Africa, home as quickly as possible. He needed the full strength of the Kaiserliche Marine to combat the not inconsiderable Marine Nationale. Most of all, he needed to end the war that he was currently loosing before he could feasibly start a second with a reasonable chance of victory. And so, in the late days of February, Chancellor von Bülow was ordered to begin negotiations to end the war.
Calcutta, British Raj, March 16th, 1905
The hustle and bustle of the city continued, despite the heat and humidity. Thousands of people continued their work, ignoring the brief but torrential downpours that sporadically rained down. The Hooghly River, its broad banks providing ample water for farms and mosquitos alike, was filled with ships and boats of every size, waiting to load or unload their cargos into one of the trade capitals of the world. Over it all watched the sleepy guns of Fort William, unused and unneeded for a century and more.
Liang Qichao exulted in the heat. The climate was similar to that of his home and birthplace near Canton, and it was a comforting relief from the cold of North America. Admittedly, his ten-month journey to the United States and Canada on behalf of the Chinese court had been a resounding success. He had enjoyed his time with President Roosevelt and his predecessor McKinley and had found common ground on their mutual desire to see China become a truly modern nation. America was always looking for new trading partners and had quietly supported China’s efforts to build itself up through the indirect method of specialists and advisors to the Empire. He and the rest of the envoys had departed from San Francisco to the sound of enthusiastic cheers from both the American and Chinese populace.
They had barely made it back to Peking with news of their success before he and his team were ordered to head south to Calcutta. There, in the nominally neutral ground that was British India’s capital, they were to meet with their German counterparts and formalize a treaty that would put an end to the war. With the fall of Tsingtao, the Germans were deprived of the heart of their Pacific holdings and their only true naval base. Simpsonhafen was no suitable port for a fleet of battleships, and the last German battlewagon had been forced to head for Europe earlier in the month. The Chinese navy, finally free of the constraints of blockade duty and fears of enemy capital ships, were raiding up and down the coasts of German New Guinea with impunity.
That was how Qichao found himself sitting at the immaculate conference table in the Government House in Calcutta, sipping a cup of warm tea with the treaty’s principle arbitrator, Lord Curzon of Kedleston, the Viceroy of British India. The two men had struck up a friendly acquaintance during the discussions, and often shared teatime together, whiling away the hours talking about the concerns and troubles of two lands trying to claw their way to civilization. The head German diplomat, though invited to join in their new pastime, disdained tea, Britain, the heat, and most especially China, and had reliably refused to attend even one of their informal sessions. This served their needs quite nicely, as the two politicians often shared other views beyond their mutual love of tea and civilization. Specifically, the desire to see the German eagle get its wings clipped.
Britain, the undisputed master of the world’s oceans, had been slowly growing nervous over the German naval buildup, and had made repeated attempts over the past ten years to coerce the continental power to holdoff on its construction. Unfortunately, Wilhelm II’s ascendancy to the throne and his subsequent ousting of the seemingly immovable Bismarck from power had killed Salisbury’s attempts at a joint alliance between the two nations. The steadily worsening relations had eventually reached the point of frosty formality between King Edward’s government and that of his nephew’s. The surprise offer of British arbitration in the treaty, as well as the neutral location of Calcutta, had therefore been treated with suspicion, but to refuse an offer of peace and arbitration at this point would have been suicide. The Kaiser, who was quickly running out of options, had reluctantly accepted his uncle’s offer.
This placed Germany exactly where the two Empires wanted them. Britain wanted to ensure its continued dominance over the seas, and any setback to Germany would help that goal. China, and Shikai in particular, saw not only a chance to improve relations with one of its principle trading partners but also an opportunity to secure more than just Tsingtao without having to fire a shot. It was obvious to all, including Berlin, that both nations stood to gain the most if they worked to together. Britain was more than willing to offer discrete, or even blatant, favoritism towards Peking, as the prospect of German humiliation was reward in and of itself. Qichao had been ordered by his President to grant whatever requests or demands London made if it meant gaining a better outcome from the negotiations. The only exception was to further concessions to Britain. Those were to be refused outright, regardless of the cost.
Thankfully, Lord Curzon was a reasonable man, and gladly settled their mutually beneficial agreement with terms that both could accept. Some relaxations of certain tariffs and laws affecting British trade and a few trade deals in exchange for the Crown’s support during the convention and, much to Zhenbing’s delight, a contract order of two new battleships from British yards derived from the designs of the still secretive Prince of Wales. Convincing the irascible Jackie Fisher to permit that had been no small task, but the prospect of kicking in Tirpitz’s teeth had eventually warmed him over.
Thus prepared, the negotiations began. The German delegates quickly found themselves outmaneuvered by the largely expected break in the arbitrator’s neutrality, but also found themselves unable to complain to any sympathetic ears. Berlin’s heavy-handed diplomacy had left them without any powerful allies, Austria-Hungary’s recent successes against Italy in the Mediterranean not-withstanding. France, Russia, and the Low Countries all benefited from Germany’s discomfort, and the United States was now thoroughly occupied with a widespread revolt in the Philippines that threatened their control over the colony. Japan, China’s ancient enemy, was Britain’s brand-new ally and a longtime trading partner and was entirely unwilling to interfere with the affairs of their much more powerful partner. Germany was left without friends, and quickly began to suffer from it.
The door to the conference room opened, admitting the German envoys, all of whom were clearly suffering from the heat of the afternoon. Qichao and Lord Curzon shared a brief, smug glance before putting down their cups to join the other men at the table, not bothering to wait for the rest of the Chinese delegation. As the head of the team, Qichao had been granted full authority in how China’s interests were represented, and he preferred to not have others debating and questioning his decisions while their opponents were present. Of course, he doubted that any personal show of uncertainty would weaken their position.
“Now,” He addressed the lead German diplomat, arranging his papers before him, “I believe we should discuss concessions. Wouldn’t you agree, Baron von Kettler?”
Victory!
Authors Note: Peace and the Future
Well, despite my best efforts to force a governmental collapse on Germany (they were so close, only a few more months and ‘Bye Bye Kaiser’) the game forced a peace on me in March of 1905. I won’t talk about what possessions I took here, as I intend to do so in the next chapter, but I will discuss my plans for the subsequent peace.
More importantly, a moment of silence for Hai Shew, the only ship lost during the war. Your valiant service, however lackluster your design, will be remembered.
That said, come on! Thirteen months of war and not one fleet engagement, despite having fourteen battleships staring down each other’s throats. The Kaiser must be rolling in his grave at the thought of German sailors refusing to fight a foe they clearly outnumbered. I am severely disappointed that I failed to put Brandenburg down, though I am somewhat thankful that I managed to not lose a battleship during the war, as a replacement would be both expensive and time-consuming to acquire, as I am still forced to order from foreign yards.
As it currently stands, relations with two of the other nations I’m planning to “negotiate” with (Japan, France) have shot up almost immediately after the war was over. I am very confident in my capabilities against either one, but both at once would be a concern that I would rather avoid. I would dearly love to retake Formosa and Indochina, which would leave only the British to worry about, no biggy right? <Glances worryingly at 30 battleships commissioned with 6 dreadnoughts and battlecruisers building vs. my 7 and 2> Yeah, I can take them.
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Post by ieshima on Aug 12, 2020 23:08:43 GMT -6
I believe that the name should be something less formal and more grandiose. They are to be the future of all naval design and deserve nomenclature to match. What would happen if it became commonplace to refer to them as ‘Wales’ style battleships? Should we break out the harpoons now or later? Again, I request that the name of the new ship changed to one of those selected from the attached list.
-Internal Royal Navy communication, written by 1st Sea Lord, John Arbuthnot Fisher
Near Tsingtao, Qing China, March 17th, 1905
The cold was a persistent ache across his body, one that distracted him from the constant throb emanating from his eye. The clear, empty blue sky trapped none of the heat, leaving him and his men shivering in their trenches and dugouts. Any trees or bushes on the hill had been cut down for fires months ago, and the few that had survived the axe were shelled to oblivion by the perpetual artillery fire. Adding insult to potential hypothermia, the Chinese trenches were well within view of the hill, the smoke from their fires and stoves sending up thin fingers of grey into the calm blue. It stood in beautifully stark contrast to the mud and shattered rock that littered the ground around them.
All of this served as a mere backdrop for the odd group slowly picking its way through the tangles of barbwire under a dirty white flag of truce. Paul sighed as he watched the men careful move aside a bundle of wire that had been torn by artillery. This was the third attempt at negotiations in a month. Each had begun the same way, though the flag had been a fresh, snow white when they started. A few falls in the mud had quickly changed that, but their request remained the same: lay down your weapons and surrender, and you shall be treated fairly. Paul’s reply was equally unchanging: make us. Back down the mountain they would go, and the artillery would start up again. They had learned the futility of sending men against them and had settled for starvation as a viable second choice.
For eight weeks this routine continued. The delegation would climb the hill, spend a few minutes in the dugout Paul had selected as his headquarters that day, then the delegation would head back down, usually by tripping and sliding, much to the defender’s amusement. Paul would then quickly vacate the dugout, as it normally came under increasingly accurate fire when the barrage started up again. The suspicion that the negotiators were mapping the location of his headquarters during their meetings had been sufficiently confirmed after the third shell landed on the roof. Thankfully, the dirt and concrete held, more-or-less.
The new delegation had reached the usual meeting point, where they would be halted and questioned before being brought to him. It was about time that he started getting ready. Arguing was a tiring business, he grumbled to himself. If they knew his answer before they trudged up his hill, what was the point in doing it? They probably hoped that a shell would get lucky, he thought grimly as he slid his pistol into its holster and moved for the door. Better go disappoint th-
“Major von Lettow-Vorbeck?” Questioned the old man in the admiral’s uniform standing just outside.
The younger officer immediately stood to attention, saluting. “Admiral von Truppel, sir.”
The flag officer gave a tired smile. “At ease, Major. My minders are certain that I can succeed where they have failed.” The grey-haired man motioned back to the dugout’s doorway. “Shall we?”
“Admiral,” Began Paul as he returned to his seat, “I am very unlikely to acquiesce to their demands, even if you are the one presenting them. Simply put, sir, with your surrender you are no longer my commanding officer. Even if you order me to give up, I must refuse.”
“That is what I told General Yingkai.” von Truppel replied. “You would be correct in refusing my orders. Unfortunately,” He sighed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a package. “I don’t think you can refuse these orders.”
The major reached over and took the offered bundle. Carefully unwrapping it, he removed the note contained within. It only took the first few lines for him to whip his head back up, mouth open in shock.
“Yes Major,” Smiled the admiral sadly. “The war is over. The Kaiser himself has requested that you lay down your arms and come home.”
From the remnants of the wrapper, von Truppel pulled a second paper, and a small blue object. “I also have the distinction of awarding you this. The Kaiser argued that it should have waited until you returned, so that he could give it to you in person, but I convinced him that now would be a more appropriate time.” He passed the paper over to his former subordinate. “Congratulations, Colonel.” With that, the old seadog rose from the table and exited the cramped bunker headquarters, leaving Paul to stare down at the Pour le Mérite resting, mockingly, on the wood before him.
The peak of Prinz Heinrich Hill
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 27: Summer of Victory
Under pressure from Berlin, Peking, and London, the German delegation in Calcutta caved on nearly every point. The concession state of Tsingtao, and everything within its borders, would be returned to China by right of conquest. The remnants of the garrison, still entrenched upon Prinz Heinrich Hill, had to be coaxed down by fellow German officers bearing copies of the peace treaty. Led down the hill by their still wounded leader, the undefeated soldiers, sailors, marines, and civilian volunteers formally surrendered to General Wang Yingkai, putting a final, official end to the war. As a show of good faith, Yingkai not only refused Major von Lettow-Vorbeck’s sword, he also permitted the surrendered men to keep the Reichskriegsflagge that had resolutely flown from the peak during their defense. These acts were in direct defiance of Shikai’s orders, who wanted the complete and total humiliation of the Germans.
While the international recognition of Tsingtao, now restored to its proper name of Qingdao, as a Chinese city was certainly a worthy prize, it was not the only gem that had been pried from the German crown. The German capitulation to China ended its Pacific colonial Empire, thanks in large part to British favoritism. Across the Pacific, the dragon and pearl replaced the black, white, and red of Germany. The Marianas, the Carolines, the Marshalls, and the German territories in New Guinea were all ceded to the Empire, which now spanned from the Himalayas to the Central Pacific. The treaty also forced Berlin to pay a short series of indemnities for the cost of the war, a mere formality at this point, and to officially grant ownership of all German controlled or operated companies in China to the Chinese government. Needless to say, these concessions did nothing to calm the angered crowds in Europe, and the Kaiser was forced to declare martial law to restore peace.
The Chinese opinion on the treaty was one of slightly confused elation. While reclaiming Qingdao had been one of the goals of the war, it was in an undisputed second place compared to forcing the other major powers of the world to recognize Chinese authority. Forcing Germany to not only capitulate the city, but the rest of its Pacific colonies as well, was more than enough to earn China a place at the table. However, though China was an empire, it had been forever contained on the Asian continent. The farthest its control had ever extended outside of that land was the island of Formosa, formally Taipei, which was now under the firm guidance of Japan. But China now controlled territories far outside of its traditional borders, ones that it had no idea what to do with.
Territories taken from Germany
Control of the new territories, surprisingly, fell to the Navy. While Shikai lackadaisically set about creating a colonial office to begin managing the new territories, Zhenbing wasted no time in establishing naval dominance over his personal kingdom. Control of the colonies was moved from Herbertshöhe, exposed on the coast of St Georges Channel, to the more easily defended Simpsonhafen further east. Renamed to Hongshulin, the protected caldera was the perfect location to establish a capital for the new colony as well as a secure and fortified naval base to project power into the South and Central Pacific. Work was begun on expanding the tiny German naval base into a proper anchorage for the fleet and coastal gun batteries were planned for future construction.
However, funding for these new projects was limited, as starting July much of the monthly naval budget was being shipped to Britain. As part of the secret negotiations with Britain during the Treaty of Calcutta, the Royal Navy agreed to grant China permission to lay down two new battleships derived from the still under construction Prince of Wales in British yards. These ‘dreadnoughts’ as they were quickly nicknamed by the press, marked a distinct turning point in naval design. The combination of a substantial main battery and advanced steam turbines allowed for a significant increase in firepower to be carried on a hull not much larger than a contemporary battleship. Rather embarrassingly for the British, the Chinese Hebei class turned out to be a far better design than their Prince of Wales. Only 700 tons heavier in displacement, the Hebei and her sister Jilin were faster, carried a heavier secondary battery, and mounted the same main armament in an unconventional all-forward arrangement.
Above: The British designed Prince of Wales
Below: The Chinese designed Hebei
Of course, there were only two of the Chinese dreadnoughts, as the Empire was limited by both the treaty and the high costs. In comparison, Britain could easily afford to not only build five of the Prince of Wales class, but also found funding to begin a fleet-wide refit as well. It was a case of a still very archaic economy, largely dependent on foreign imports and expertise, versus the largest commercial empire in history. It was also a case of copycat, as the other great powers began to eye the new ships with fascination and concern. Soon, draftsmen in Philadelphia, Kiel, St. Petersburg, and Hiroshima began putting a sizable dent in the world’s paper supply.
Interestingly, Germany was not the only nation to lose some of its overseas possessions. The Philippine rebellion, which had once again flared up in late February, had gotten completely out of control. Constant guerilla warfare made it almost impossible for the American forces sent to contain the fighting to actually contain anything, as the rebels would simply melt back into the jungles and villages of the interior. Reprisal attacks on the native population only garnered further support for the cause, and by July only the capital city of Manilla was still under nominal American control. Realizing the inevitable, President Roosevelt ordered the withdrawal of American forces from the archipelago entirely.
With the declaration of the newly independent republic, Shikai found one of his many concerns resolved without any effort on his part. While America was a theoretical ally, as they had largely avoided partaking in the now defunct Unequal Treaties, and a major trading partner, they also possessed the second largest navy on the planet and could have easily swept Zhenbing’s fleet from the seas if they decided it was necessary. However, the ability to do just that hinged on the massive anchorage provided by the Bay of Manilla, a geographical location that was no longer under American control, and its new owners were unlikely to entertain the idea of hosting a fleet from their former tyrants. Thus, one potential enemy was reduced to a mostly defanged friend.
China benefited greatly in the first few months following the end of the war. Trade, constrained by the conflict, quickly flooded into Canton, Macao, Shanghai, and Tianjin at an unprecedented pace. Following this trade was new inventions and ideas. Of particular note was Guglielmo Marconi’s work in radio transmission and communication, as many navies around the world were watching his efforts with keen interest. For a more material success, the close relationship China’s Navy now shared with the Royal Navy gave them new insights into several fields that they had been struggling with, specifically the construction of large wing mountings for warships. This was of critical importance to the Chinese, as the Chengdu class of armored cruiser carried a substantial portion of its main armament in a unique “AHIY” layout, with two of its four twin-gun turrets mounted on either flank amidships. Built in Britain, any damage or fault that they suffered required British help to repair, an embarrassing requirement for a supposedly independent nation.
Unfortunately, this period of relative prosperity was not to last. Tensions with Germany remained high, and the risk of war was a constant looming threat. Furthermore, a series of trade disputes with France quickly did away with any goodwill garnered from defeating their rival. Of equal worry was the discovery of substantial intellectual theft. Several corrupt officers admitted to selling naval technology to foreign nations, though they stubbornly refused to specify which nation despite extensive questioning. But it was on October 8th, 1905 that the taste of victory finally soured. Having been upset by the disruption of trade from the Orient during the war, then stunned by the loss of the Philippines, the trade war between China and France forced the New York Stock exchange into a long, slow decline into a recession. The Economic Scare of 1905 had begun.
Authors Note: Postwar Discussions
I really didn’t need to take all of those territories, but the fact that nearly all of them were 0 points was to good to pass up. I have no need for them, and their probably going to be invaded by someone with a larger navy, but who cares. America losing the Philippines was a surprise, but a welcome one. I would prefer not to fight them, but I suspect it will happen eventually. However, I am quite pleased to be the second nation to have a proper dreadnought, and I personally don’t think the design is too bad. The only flaw would be her vertical protection but adding an extra inch on would have put her close to 20,000 tons. I doubt I’m going to get into a long-range slugging match with these things anytime soon, so that could be a problem later on. Conversely, I’m hoping to be able to scrap or convert these guys sometime in the 1920’s, so they should serve well until then. I still think that they are better than the Prince of Wales class, but don’t tell Britain that.
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Post by director on Aug 19, 2020 12:24:33 GMT -6
That is quite a hill... (sings, "The hills are alive... with the sound of gunfire...")
You didn't need those possessions, but they are better under your control than Germany's. I agree that calling the new class of ship 'Wales' is an open invitation to mockery... as is calling them 'POW's. Nothing Quite satisfies like 'Dreadnought', though for an American 'Monitor' comes close ('Skeered-a-nothin' is a non-starter). Fisher was really good at PR. I suspect Fisher submitted his list and the monarch chose that name.
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Post by ieshima on Aug 19, 2020 19:51:34 GMT -6
Can someone please explain to me in simple terms what is happening in the Mediterranean? Austria-Hungary didn’t even have a navy until a few years ago, but now they are pummeling the Italians! Three cruisers sunk in less than a few months, with a battleship now as well. Whatever the hell they’re doing, it’s certainly effective. Tell Zhenbing to step-up his intelligence work there and find out what is going on. See if he can’t steal a spare backbone the Austrians aren’t using to replace the noodle that he’s got now.
-President Shikai speaking to his staff, August 1905.
Excerpts from 3,000 Years: A History of China, Volume 20, Chapter 16: The Early Republic’s Expansion
The Recession of 1905 is largely remembered as one of the many minor economic downturns that were relatively common in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. These recessions, or panics as they were more popularly known, normally lasted only a few months before the economy would rebound, though some sparked long-term depressions. Unfortunately, the time between each panic was often short, usually lasting only a decade before another crisis would spark the next disruption. As such, the 1905 Panic was not a unique occurrence in the grand scheme of things. What was unique was the causes of the Panic.
Nearly all of the recessions of the 1800’s came about due to events in either Europe or North America, thanks in large part due to government speculation with various forms of currency, harsh regulations limiting the amount or type of specie available on the market at any given time, and private attempts to gain control over important markets. These had devastating impacts on many sectors of the economy, especially banks, trusts, and railroads, which made up some of the largest and most powerful economic blocks. The collapse of even a moderately sized bank could have massive repercussions, making waves through the market that triggered other collapses and bankruptcies.
The largest and most damaging of these downturns had been the Great Depression, which lasted from the 1870’s to the 1890’s. This massive economic failure was started by abrupt and disastrous coinage decisions made by the US government in 1873. Thanks to a marked decrease in the value of silver, the US Congress passed the Coinage Act of 1873, which unilaterally forced the nation onto a de facto gold standard for domestic trade, shattering the country’s faith in the dollar. This caused mass bankruptcies, as many companies and banks backed their investments entirely in the now largely useless silver currency. The echoes of this shockwave destroyed the European economy as well, with many national economies not recovering until 1896. Interestingly, China, as a still fiercely isolationist nation whose economy was largely domestic or export based, weathered the depression relatively well, despite utilizing the silver tael as its primary currency.
The Panic of 1905 showed just how involved the Chinese economy had become with the rest of the world and displayed just how dependent several of the other Great Powers had become on Chinese trade. The Sino-German War, which saw dozens of merchant vessels from both sides sunk and many major ports blockaded, put severe strain on the worlds trade. China, which had started to import vast amounts of finished materials, machines, and specialists to kickstart its modernization, had unintentionally opened a massive and relatively untouched market for trade, kickstarting a long period of worldwide economic growth. The sudden deprivation of that market shook the world, as many businesses found their primary customers cut off from them.
This trade was quick to reappear after the completion of the war, but it was in a greatly reduced capacity. China’s industry had not remained idle during the fighting, and a great many domestic producers had sprung up in the interim. While local steel production was still a worrisome affair, and would remain so for some time, large-scale cast iron was well within the abilities of Shanghai, Tianjin, and Fuzhou. This allowed for the creating and assembly of thousands of modern machines, transforming much of the South and Central China into a burgeoning industrial center. Aided by the Grand Canal and the dozens of railroads that had sprung up, raw silk from the heartlands could be shipped to the massive textile mills of the cities, then passed down to the port and loaded onto a Chinese built ship for transport around the world. And this was only one product. Porcelain, iron and copper ores, tea, rice, coal, oil, and countless other goods flowed out of China at an alarming pace. But the one that raised the ire of France was rubber.
Most modern rubber is made from a variety of synthetic materials, mostly oils and other petroleum products. This is in large part thanks to the many conflicts that occurred the Far East during the early half of the 20th century, forcing many nations to invest heavily in alternatives to natural rubber, nearly 90% of which came from the that part of the world. Of course, in 1906 the world was still dependent on natural rubber and France, thanks to its conquests and expansions into Indochina in the 1800’s, held a near monopoly on the substance. While rubber was still produced in the Belgian Congo, or British India, or the rainforests of the Amazon, France maintained a dominating position in the market thanks to the vast plantations of Vietnam and Cambodia. The vast majority of this sticky, elastic tree sap was used to manufacture countless finished goods, including fittings and tires for the automobiles that were sweeping the western world by storm. As such, the Third Republic was raking in substantial amounts of money from its Asian holdings. That was until China became involved.
Recognizing a potential fortune when they saw it, several Chinese businessmen pooled their resources and, with the enthusiastic backing of Shikai’s government, started the Yunnan Rubber Conglomerate in late 1904. Moving rapidly, they immediately began harvesting sap from the already mature trees found within the rainforests and jungles of Southern Yunnan, as well as clearing large sections of land for the planting of even more trees. While the first harvests in May of 1905 were tiny, it was more than enough to warrant further investment from the Chinese, and soon enough hundreds of plantations began to spring up, much to the concern of France.
France was not about to lose one of its major sources of wealth without a fight, albeit an economic one. Harsh tariffs and several boycotts on select Chinese goods did not have the desired effect, and so France decided to make a deal with its own devil. Jointly, in early October, both Germany and France announced economic sanctions against the Qing Empire. The impact of this was not as great as it could have been, as China still retained the abundant trade from Britain and the New World, but it was enough to scare many investors in America.
On the 8th of October, the New York stock exchange opened strongly, with trading resuming at a steady, though nervous pace. However, by mid-morning, it was apparent that the trade sanctions had begun to affect the market, as there was a marked increase in the price of stock of U.S. Rubber, the largest American rubber company at the time. Charles W. Morse, a Tammany Hall member and Wall Street financer known as the ‘Ice King’, a nickname he earned after successfully cornering and monopolizing New York’s ice business, was attempting to recreate his earlier success and gain control over the United States rubber market. It was an ambitious scheme, one that he had been planning for well over a year, thanks to information obtained through his political contacts in New York City’s elite and the support of several of the country’s largest trusts.
It backfired horribly. Morse was unable to obtain enough shares to dominate the market, and the stock price of U.S. Rubber went into a freefall shortly after 1PM, sparking a rush to offload as much of the company as possible. The panic spread, and by the time the Exchange closed, the price U.S. Rubber had fallen from $50 to a mere $15, leaving the shareholders in ruins. The shattering of U.S. Rubber had disastrous effects as it was one of the Big Twelve, the twelve original companies that the famed Charles Dow used to create the Dow Industrial average. Its collapse damaged the other eleven stocks in the average, all of which formed the collective heart of the American industrial market. By the 10th, the Dow had fallen 30 points, and the world’s economy had fallen with it.
Amazingly, the financial crisis did little to affect the Chinese market. The local industry, still largely independent from the rest of the world, barely shuddered and simply kept going. In fact, it could be argued that the global recession actually helped the Empire far more than it hindered it. China had ramped up its domestic production during the Sino-German War, with the government spending enormous amounts of money to maintain the war effort. The vast majority of this spending went directly into the Chinese economy, which produced guns, bullets, and rice at a ludicrous amount. This spending, which had done much to grow the economy, ended abruptly after the war, and the Chinese market quickly returned to prewar standards. But while the rest of the world was experiencing the throes of economic failure, the Chinese economy began to boom.
Industry began to spring up across the north. With the rebuilding of Peking finally complete, it became a major hub for commerce and transport across the region, as well as a financial capital that was beginning to rival some of the oldest cities in Europe. Its new universities, staffed with some of the finest minds that could be found, bribed, or bought, welcomed thousands of eager young students through their doors. Further east, Tientsin had become a massive industrial center, home to China’s first successful steel foundry. Production of this metal had been difficult and expensive before, forcing the Empire to rely on outside imports for much of its work. With a domestic source now available, and many others building across the country, China would no longer be constrained by the good will of outside rivals.
A graph of the Chinese Navy’s Quarterly Finances, 1900-1906, clearly showing the financial growth during the war and the start of the post war boom. The Panic is marked in red.
With the fruits of his earliest labors paying dividend, Shikai won a comfortable reflection in April of 1906, beginning his second eight-year term as president. He immediately sought to capitalize further on his gains, encouraging further expansion and growth. But it was outside the borders of the Empire that he focused much of his efforts. Mongolia, an ancient enemy and conquer had since become a rump state, one whose disgruntled vassalage nearly fell to Russia, who still watched with greedy eyes. Wanting to permanently secure his northern frontier, and remind the Mongols who their master was, the former general ordered a military expedition to the tiny kingdom. This marked a noted turning point in Chinese foreign policy, as instead of integrating the nation into China, a puppet government was installed that was firmly loyal to Peking.
The Mongolian Kingdom, now ruled over by one of the Guangxu Emperor’s many minor cousins, became a border state between Russia and China. This was not uncommon, as China had always exerted its power freely in the past, but it was the first time that the Qing dynasty had done so in the modern age. It was also not the last, as Shikai was not just content with bringing one of the Empires vassals back into his sphere. It was time to begin looking to the East.
Authors Note: Economic collapse? Yawn
I really didn’t feel a thing from the “Postwar Slump Hits the Economy” event. As the graph above shows, my funding barely hiccupped and actually started to rise shortly afterwards. Guess the Rapid Economic Expansion trait is coming into play earlier than I thought. That said, skyrocketing tensions with France and Germany so soon after the war was over was a major concern, as fighting two powers at once would not be a good thing.
The graph was literally something I threw together on the fly to illustrate my point, but it had a surprising benefit. I was aware of just how far my economy had grown (I know I’m outpacing Japan at this point, and I’m close to passing Russia and Germany) but seeing it all laid out nice and neat for easy viewing really put it into perspective. However, it should be noted that the only thing keeping me afloat at the moment (ha, ship pun) is a trio of very large donations from the Chinese people requesting more of certain large shooty-floaty things from me. A net deficit of roughly 3,000 a month isn’t fun!
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Post by ieshima on Aug 19, 2020 20:09:41 GMT -6
That is quite a hill... (sings, "The hills are alive... with the sound of gunfire...") You didn't need those possessions, but they are better under your control than Germany's. I agree that calling the new class of ship 'Wales' is an open invitation to mockery... as is calling them 'POW's. Nothing Quite satisfies like 'Dreadnought', though for an American 'Monitor' comes close {'Skeered-a-nothin' is a non-starter). Fisher was really good at PR. I suspect Fisher submitted his list and the monarch chose that name. "You didn't need those possessions, but they are better under your control than Germany's."I could not agree more. Having them is a risk, but not having them would allow Germany to continue to base ships in the Pacific and I cannot allow that. Now that they're mine, I'm far more concerned about a possible British war taking them from me, as with the right investment they would make an excellent forward base. I have gripes with Fisher, namely that his personal grudges resulted in serious wartime calamities that could have been avoided if he had put his petulance aside, but I cannot fault him on his naming.
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Post by thefleetofoceans on Aug 21, 2020 7:01:12 GMT -6
Can someone please explain to me in simple terms what is happening in the Mediterranean? Austria-Hungary didn’t even have a navy until a few years ago, but now they are pummeling the Italians! Three cruisers sunk in less than a few months, with a battleship now as well. Whatever the hell they’re doing, it’s certainly effective. Tell Zhenbing to step-up his intelligence work there and find out what is going on. See if he can’t steal a spare backbone the Austrians aren’t using to replace the noodle that he’s got now.
-President Shikai speaking to his staff, August 1905.
Its official, I&I and the dragon roars take place in the same timeline. Good ole Captain Edmund Blackadder may have to pay a visit to the eastern empire, and who knows perhaps a certain useless Austrian captain and a cunning american officer may follow him.
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Post by thefleetofoceans on Aug 21, 2020 15:53:31 GMT -6
I just had a thought. The Chinese have ordered two Dreadnoughts from British yards and those Dreadnoughts will need a crew and 'captain' to sail them to china to hand over to the Qing government. Perhaps the captain of a certain old British protected cruiser currently in the Mediterranean would be ideal for the task hmmm?
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Post by ieshima on Aug 21, 2020 19:54:38 GMT -6
I just had a thought. The Chinese have ordered two Dreadnoughts from British yards and those Dreadnoughts will need a crew and 'captain' to sail them to china to hand over to the Qing government. Perhaps the captain of a certain old British protected cruiser currently in the Mediterranean would be ideal for the task hmmm? While i hate to be a downer, it would be very irregular for the British to put together a crew to sail a ship on a one-way voyage to the other side of the world. Standard practice was for the purchasing country to send a crew over to the building country (usually on the nicest passenger liner the purchasing country had, because maintaining the public image is important) so that the crew could take possession at the dock. This was done for many reasons, the most important being that it would look really bad if you had to get your ships delivered to you and it would also give the crew time to figure out their new ride and any problems that it might have. However, it was common practice for several British officers and workmen to sail with the new ship on its delivery voyage, just to make sure that everything was working properly.
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Post by ieshima on Aug 26, 2020 22:08:56 GMT -6
It is abundantly clear to me that the new expansion program that the German Navy is undertaking poses a serious threat to the safety of our nation. China is no longer a hermit kingdom, content to sit and let the globe spin, secure in our ignorance and blind traditions. For just as the world has become dependent on Chinese trade, so too have we become dependent on the world for our continued survival. Any potential danger that our merchant ships could face on the high seas must be taken, not as a possibility, but as a guaranteed absolute, lest we face blockade or worse at the hands of a hostile nation that seeks only revenge.
-Naval Secretary Sa Zhenbing, addressing the Greater Chinese Court, March 3rd, 1906
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 30: The Korean Expedition
China’s occupation of Korea in 1906 was arguably the first mistake that Yuan Shikai made during his time in office.
The Korean peninsula had, at this time, been governed by the rather grandiosely named Korean Empire. This was a largely undeserved title as the nation had been a fairly complacent client state to the Qing dynasty for close to four centuries. While the Chinese ruled from Peking, the Korean King was permitted to have reasonable control over his lands in return for yearly tributes to the Emperor’s court. It was a simple and well-liked system, as the smaller empire would have been unable to protect itself from outside powers without the support of its larger and stronger neighbor. This changed during the 1st Sino-Japanese war.
Japan, still blossoming under the Meiji Reforms, sought to flex its newfound might by pressuring the Korean Joseon Dynasty into favoring Tokyo over its historical alliance. This increasing Japanese influence over the peninsula angered the Chinese, who quickly initiated hostilities with the island kingdom. China’s resulting defeat in the war, which saw both its navy and army smashed by the better trained and led Japanese forces, left everyone thinking that Korea would fall into Japanese control, either as a protectorate or full annexation. Instead, Russia stepped in.
Czarist Russia, still on its perpetual search for a stable warm-weather port that wasn’t dependent of on foreign graces to stay open, saw the sudden upheaval in the east as a threat to its vital harbor at Vladivostok. Realizing that a dominant Japan would pose as serious danger, Moscow enlisted the support of France and Germany to protect its own interests in the region. This Triple Intervention heavily constrained Japan’s gains during the war, with the important Liaodong Peninsula ending up in Russian hands and Korea, now under the nominal protection of the Czar, gaining a semi-independence. It became blatantly apparent that the true winner of the war was not Japan or China, but the half-frozen empire of Peter the Great.
Korea enjoyed this new normal for roughly one year before an ill-planned, and equally ill-fated, Russian campaign into northern China, which sought to take advantage of the upheaval in the wake of the overthrowing of the Empress Dowager, was caught and smashed by the New Army. The defeat of their patron left Korea dangling in a strange limbo between three competing empires, all of which eyed the peninsula hungrily. The tiny nation’s abundant resources and fairly modernized industry were a prize that would have greatly benefited anyone who could successfully take and hold it. Japan, recognizing the opening, moved swiftly to secure their former gains, dispatching several brigades to supposedly ‘keep the peace.’ However, their grip on Korea was weak at best, and was further weakened by outside events.
In the early months of 1905, while the riechskriegsflagge still flew over Tsingtao and Chinese battleships hopelessly searched for their German counterparts, Japan and Russia engaged in a handful of skirmishes along the northern Korean border. While the fighting was fierce, neither side sought to escalate the conflict, lest China become involved as an unwanted third party. This temporary ceasefire did little to stabilize the region and it was blatantly clear that without further commitment of troops, something that both sides wanted to avoid, that war would once again come to Korea. Unfortunately for Moscow and Tokyo, this delay allowed Shikai to capitalize on the successes of the war and in spring of 1906, while the western world was still reeling from the battering that the Dow Jones received, elements of the Chinese Standard Army landed on the southern end of the peninsula.
Success, right? The sudden, though largely and pessimistically expected, arrival of the Chinese into the conflict served to douse much of the fire, as the Standard Army had jumped the gun and brought far more men and material to play than Russia or Japan combined. This effectively made China the de facto power in the peninsula, albeit the vast majority of their presence was confined to the more industrialized south, leaving the largely undeveloped, though resource rich, north alone. By the end of February, China was in total control of everything south of Seoul.
The occupation and exploitation of southern Korea aided greatly in the economic expansion that China was undergoing. Of crucial import was the continuing growth of domestic steel production, as the nation’s dependence on foreign materials was rapidly diminishing as more and more blast furnaces sprang up in the northern cities. Of equal interest was the Yunnan Rubber Conglomerate, whose second harvest in early May nearly outproduced the much more establish French plantations in Indochina, many of which were facing dim prospects thanks to the economic panic. On top of these two successes, the rest of the nation was reaping the benefits of modernization, with textiles, machined goods, farm equipment, and railroads spreading deeper and deeper into the rural heartlands. This booming economy soon caught the eye of Britain, much to China’s gain.
In September of 1905, under pressure from 1st Sea Lord Fisher, the Royal Navy consented to the construction of another new type of warship. This ‘battlecruiser,’ as it quickly became known as, maintained a similar main battery and was much faster than the contemporary dreadnoughts then under construction in British yards, but achieved this at the cost of armor protection. The clear superiority of this concept over the lumbering armored cruisers in service in most navies was obvious to almost everyone. The vainglorious name of HMS Invincible was chosen for the new ship, though this was only achieved after strenuous arguments with Mr. Fisher, who fiercely rejected the original name of Princess Royal. How this would benefit China became clear in April of 1906, only a few months after the occupation of Korea.
The steadily improving relationship between the new China and London was gradually opening many doors to Peking. The blatant favoritism shown to the nation at the Treaty of Calcutta was compounded by the permission to order two dreadnought in British yards, an almost inconceivable opportunity, as the capabilities of the still constructing Prince of Wales were supposed to be kept quiet until after her commissioning. Now, with the Chinese economy skyrocketing, Britain sought to further endear herself with the new power, and once again offered permission for China to order a battlecruiser. To state that Zhenbing jumped at the chance would be an understatement, with the designs for the new class hurriedly ordered from Armstrong Whitworth. This good fortune was well-timed, as a substantial amount of unexpected funding had been donated by the Chinese populace.
Above: The British Invincible Below: The much faster Chinese Tianlong
This ‘Navy Fund,’ as it had become known, was started during the war with the goal of raising of enough money to sponsor the construction of a new battleship of the capable Henan class. Instead, this massive sum was to be spent on the construction of the new battlecruiser, the Tianlong, as well the modernization of the navy’s battleship fleet. The three ship Henan class received new 12” guns and modern ranging equipment, while the four ship Guizhou class sailed for Britain to have their old, German built 11” guns replaced with the same rifles that their cousins were receiving. While the substantial increase in weight forced the sacrifice of four guns of the secondary battery, the new uniformity of the battleline’s main armament was considered to be worth the substantial cost.
Above: The before Below: The after
With the rebuilding of the Guizhou’s and the laying down of Tianlong in August, China entered the latter half of 1906 in very good standing. This solid footing was further reinforced in September, when the New York Stock Exchange finally rebounded after the year-long slump, which increased the demand of Chinese trade even further. In short, one could be forgiven for believing that China’s meteoric rise to world power would not be stopped anytime soon. Unfortunately, this confidence was thoroughly shattered by news coming from Korea.
North of Busan, Korea, June 13th, 1906
As Heinrich stepped down into the basement, he was met with the overwhelming stench of must and dampness. The tiny village was a farming community, dependent on the rice harvest for their livelihoods. This cellar was normally filled with bags of the grain, waiting to be taken to market or cooked and eaten. Now, however, the once tiny underground room served as the center of a sprawling web of tunnels and chambers filled with war materials. Dozens of Korean’s, soldiers, famers, and merchants, funneled in and out, Mausers so new they still had the packing grease on them in hand. It was the heart of the resistance, and Heinrich was about to meet its brains.
The short, handsome man was hunched over a cramped table, surrounded by stacks of papers. His muttering was instantly written down in both German and Hangul or translated in whispers to the handful of grim-faced locals nearby, all of whom watched the foreigner with wary, faltering distrust. This wiry, black-haired Boer was singlehandedly responsible for their continued survival. If it weren’t for his efforts, the fledgling resistance would have crumbled into nothing under Chinese reprisals. Even as Heinrich watched, the South African tapped a spot on the faded and stained map, and one of the Koreans gruffly nodded before moving for the door.
Behind him the local porters that he had hired to move his cargo were roughly searched by the guards, who met protest with revolver barrels wedged firmly under jaws. The complaints quickly died, though the commotion had attracted the attention of the commander, who had glanced up from the table to find the source of the noise.
“I assume that those boxes are the things I requested?” The shorter man asked as the approached. The faint French accent to his German, as well as the cat fang dangling from his ear, gave him the appearance and bearing of an exotic explorer. The fact that he was wearing a mix of local dress and heavy bush gear added to that character, with the whole ensemble leaving him looking both dangerous and, more importantly, experienced.
“Yes,” Replied the younger German, training and Prussian superiority outweighing grudging respect. “It was a task getting it out of the port. The Chinese are starting to learn.” He had to sidestep out of the way of the Boer, who all but pushed Heinrich to the side to get at the boxes slowly piling up against the wall. “I suspect that this is going to be one of the last shipments you will get for some time.”
“No matter,” The man muttered over his shoulder, as one of the guards near the stairs handed him a crowbar. “This will be more than enough for our purposes here.” The thunk of the wood as the tool was wedged under the lid echoed in the cramped space.
“I should hope so.” Heinrich called over the sound of splintering and ripping. “The price for this was astronomical. Are you certain that something cheaper couldn’t have been used?”
“Of course,” Was the response, the crowbar clattering to the floorboards. “Dynamite is more than capable of causing the damage we need.” The Boer reached into the straw filled crate, pulling out a package, the sugar label already peeling off in the humidity. “But dogs can sniff it out, and it struggles if it is damp or wet. It can only do so much in limited quantities and works far better in enclosed areas. This on the other hand…” The faint rustle of shifting powder came as he poured a handful the white dust out into his hand. “Has none of those flaws.”
“Hexogen. Dr. Henning’s little medical marvel. Of course, it has little use in a hospital or clinic, except as a rat poison. But as an explosive?” The former big game hunter smiled as he carefully returned the particulates to their bag. “Oh, a handful could kill every man in this room from the blast alone. A full bag could level this building.” He clapped a hand on the German’s shoulder as he moved back to his table. “You, my Hunnish friend, have brought me two tons of it. With this, we will set the Qing running back to Peking.”
Heinrich, well aware of what his cargo had been, merely sniffed as he pulled a set of papers from his bag. “I have my orders, ‘Stoughton’, and I intend to see them through.” He held the documents out. “Your signature.”
The Boer, whose eyes had flashed in anger at the name, snatched the offending orders from his opposing officers grasp. “Very well, lieutenant. I would hate to endanger your reputation with your superiors.” The dotted line was quickly signed with a tight, cramped script. The stick of black wax, left warming near a candle, was swiftly smeared on the bottom of the top page. A thump of a personal stamp, and the still hot paper was returned with a glare. “There you are,” The shorter man growled coldly. “Now you can go. If you can’t tell, I am very busy winning your Kaiser’s war for him.”
The young officer inspected the signature, looking up only briefly. “You know, captain, you should be careful. All it would take is a little slip to the British about your location and…well, I understand that there is still a cell in Bermuda with your name on it.”
There was no response, as the South African, already absorbed back into his maps and muttering of orders, gave no indication that the threat was heard. Heinrich scoffed as he was roughly escorted back up the stairs into the bright noon of the peasant village, the papers still in his hands. The handful of Koreans in the streets avoided him as he made his way back to the wagons waiting to travel back south. It was only when he began to put the orders back in his bag that he glanced down at the seal still cooling at the bottom of the page. The stylized face of a panther, picked out in black, snarled back at him.
Authors Note: Speed is King
I am a firm believer in Fisher’s “Speed is Armor” theory, though I really favor the German style of battlecruisers over the British. Speed and armor with limited guns often fairs better than speed and guns with limited armor, especially when facing equally fast ships. That said, I don’t think that anything short of a destroyer can catch Tianlong, unless one of the other nations decides to build something just as fast. Of course, any potential escorts that she could have, with the exception of my destroyers, are far slower, limiting her actual use. She would probably make a decent conversion, à la Lexington/Saratoga, though that is far in the future. Still, I doubt that any direct competition will show for another few years, maybe even a decade, so she should still be deadly for a while. I am worried about her secondaries, and extended protection. I cut so many corners to keep her at a reasonable tonnage, so something will probably come back to bite me latter.
South Korea was an incredibly lucky grab for me, but I got the “You have occupied the region, but rebellion” result instead of the total control like I wanted. You can probably tell the outcome of that little debacle already. Of course, the opportunity to introduce yet another fascinating historical figure is one that I will gladly take advantage of. I can’t resist, and it’s only 1906, so I have eight more years before WWI and then all the fun people can come out to play.
Side note, and tip for anyone writing AARS: If you decide to write from the position of Naval Secretary, or 1st Sea Lord, or whoever was in total control of the navy, remember the time frame in which you are writing. Your character/characters will be contemporaries with Fisher, Tirpitz, Togo, and Mahan, and in many cases will be equal or superior in rank or position. Just food for thought.
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Post by garrisonchisholm on Aug 27, 2020 1:54:39 GMT -6
Very shrewd, having 4 South African mercenaries pose for publicity photos. The New Army is sure to be underestimated in its next test.
*thumbs up*
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Post by ieshima on Aug 27, 2020 2:01:35 GMT -6
Very shrewd, having 4 South African mercenaries pose for publicity photos. The New Army is sure to be underestimated in its next test. *thumbs up* Is that what that photo is? Go figure, I introduce a Boer and unknowingly use a photo of other Boers.
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Post by garrisonchisholm on Aug 27, 2020 7:45:55 GMT -6
Very shrewd, having 4 South African mercenaries pose for publicity photos. The New Army is sure to be underestimated in its next test. *thumbs up* Is that what that photo is? Go figure, I introduce a Boer and unknowingly use a photo of other Boers. I Highly Suspect they are Boers, based on appearance equipment and terrain, but I don't know for sure where Fredrik obtained the photo. I think we can call them Boers though. :]
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Post by akosjaccik on Sept 3, 2020 11:10:52 GMT -6
Your writing was especially a lovely treat now that my long commute started again (then again, who knows for how long, given the virus), and also commenting on the austrian events was a surprising, yet kind touch. Speaking of "surprising", I catched myself especially enjoying the section detailing the economical situation, and how you kept the political and economical side of the gameplay very tightly-knit, authentic and believably intertwined - then again, the look at the freedom fighte international agent provocateurs was also remarkable! The Tianlong isn't any less remarkable either, throwing that weight around at 27 knots @ 1906-ish is something frightening indeed. Probably the price tag too, but I would've jumped the gun as well.
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Post by ieshima on Sept 9, 2020 20:32:55 GMT -6
I have lost forty men from my command since arriving here in Korea. Half of them from those demon devices that the rebels are burying in the ground. My men are refusing to patrol, and I cannot blame them. In fact, I find myself agreeing with them. It is suicidal to simply march down the road here, let alone attempt to conduct our searches of the local villages. Another patrol was wiped out completely from a charge hidden in the basement of the house they were investigating. We found parts of them on the other side of the village. We cannot continue on this path, or we shall all be killed.
-Report from a Chinese captain to his superior, Korea, 1906
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 30: The Korean Expedition
The Korean resistance was an unexpected surprise for the Chinese forces garrisoning the southern half of the tiny kingdom. While some anger and ill-will towards the occupation had been expected, full-fledged rebellion was not one of the foreseen outcomes of the military occupation, and the soldiers stationed on the peninsula quickly found themselves stretched well beyond their original goals. The fact that the destruction was far to deliberate and effective to be the act of dissatisfied peasants quickly alerted Peking that someone was playing games.
The first attack came in early July. A vital rail bridge between the port of Busan and the capital in Seoul was blown while a troop train was crossing it. The death toll was high, the rain-soaked river below drowning many of the men before they had a chance to escape the cars. The death toll from the reprisals against the villages and towns near the bridge was higher. Several were reduced to ghost towns overnight, with their entire population either detained in Chinese run ‘security camps’, or merely executed by angered soldiers. To say that these actions did not endear the Korean people to their side would be a vast understatement. While open revolt was not yet apparent, it was certainly approaching, and would rear its ugly head soon if something was not done immediately. It was only though a lucky mistake that China gained its opportunity.
A routine inspection check at Busan caught a minor discrepancy on a cargo manifest, a shipment of imported machine parts from Hamburg with one more box than what was supposed to be delivered. The port officials, understandably bored by the daily labors and mistakes present in every major harbor, almost let the violation slide, and would have if not for the intervention of fate. The porters carrying the extra crate tripped while loading it onto the bed of a waiting wagon, dropping it and scattering the brand-new Mauser rifles that it had been loaded with across the quayside. This carelessness naturally prompted an investigation and several arrests, notably that of Albert Hersh, the young representative of AG Vulcan Stettin who had been overseeing the delivery of the shipment.
The investigation into the incident, as well as the careful inspection of the rest of the ship’s cargo revealed more rifles, several disassembled Maxim guns, ammunition for both types of weapons, and a large quantity of a mysterious white powder that was found to be highly explosive. The discovery of a series of documents, secreted away inside a hidden compartment in his briefcase, that revealed Mr. Hersh was in fact Oberleutnant Heinrich Scheurer of the Imperial German Navy’s N Bureau added to this growing amalgamation of evidence and soon the blatant involvement of Berlin became apparent to everyone. Shikai’s government was quick to announce these findings, as well as condemn German involvement, to the international community. Unfortunately, any support that China had hoped to garner did not come.
Peking had, intentionally or unintentionally, made many enemies on its path towards modernization and regional dominance. The ire of Germany was a given, both due to the war and the fact that the Kaiser had finally shifted the public’s anger off of his person and towards the distant Empire. This was to be expected of a humiliated former enemy. Russia fell into a similar category, as the defeat of its 1899 expeditionary force still rankled many in Moscow. But the Chinese encroachment into Korea, which many Russian’s viewed as a Russian territory, ensured that any sympathy was not forthcoming.
The hostility of France and Japan, however, had little to do with military conflict and far more to do with economic and diplomatic concerns. The brief but incredibly disastrous trade war between France and China over dominance of the rubber market had effectively bankrupted dozens of major plantations in French Indochina, crippling a fair portion of the colonies economic output and putting a severe strain on the French economy as a whole. This led to a massive rise in anti-Chinese sentiment from the European power, with many influential politicians calling for military intervention into the Empire. This was, in part, an orchestrated effort to draw the public’s attention away from the disastrous Dreyfus Affair that had come to its disastrous conclusion earlier that summer, thoroughly embarrassing the French military, which sought to regain some of its influence and political clout through a successful war.
The Japanese situation was much more nuanced conflict, as it had less to do with China and far more to do with the mutual ally of both nations: Britain. London had been playing a very careful game for close to a decade now, as the British parliament, or at least the cooler heads of the august body, recognized the substantial benefits of having a junior partner in the Far East. Initially, that partner was to be Japan, and the Queen and her succeeding son the King had made great strides in encouraging investment and improving relations with the other island kingdom. In fact, much of the early Japanese fleet, the same fleet that had devastated the Chinese Beiyang Navy in the 1st Sino-Japanese War, had been built in British yards. This friendship was even formally cemented with the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, signed in 1902, though this mainly served as a way to curtail Russia’s then aggressive advances towards the Korean Peninsula.
Unfortunately for Japan, the near meteoric rise of China presented an equally desired opportunity for the British. China, arguably, was the much better choice for a Far East ally, as it possessed a far larger economy that was desperate for new markets and investors, was heavily dependent on British generosity to continue its modernization, and held strong claims to the critical ports of Hong Kong and Weihaiwei, both of which were under British control. The potential gains to be made by maintaining the good graces of Peking were astronomical, and the potential losses that could come from earning Shikai’s ire were nearly as large. Britain, naturally, wanted to have its cake and keep it too, but it was the unfortunate reality of international politics that prevented this from happening.
China and Japan were historical enemies, with Japan still holding the Chinese claimed island of Taipei, and the lingering animosities from their recent war were to great for even the most powerful nation on Earth to surmount. Furthermore, it was apparent to London that playing both sides posed the risk each party washing their hands of His Majesty’s government outright, which would present a massive blow to Britain’s international and diplomatic reputation. King Edward VII would have to make a choice, and with the favoritism being shown to China over its recent victory over Germany, it was clear to Tokyo which side had been chosen. The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was formally declared defunct by Emperor Meiji’s government in the fall of 1906, ending any pretenses of friendship that Britain still had with the other island Kingdom. For better or worse, China was now London’s only option. Naturally, the Japanese government placed the blame over this change in their international relations squarely on the back of China. This ill-will was not improved by the Chinese occupation of Korea, and so yet another of the great powers ended up firmly against China.
Britain’s friendship was appreciated, but the lack of support over the Korean question was disconcerting to Peking. If London had formally recognized the Chinese claim to the peninsula, much of the animosity and hostility that had been directed at them would have died out rather quickly, as no one wanted the world preeminent navy to become involved. The fact that Britain hadn’t was seen as both an insult, as allies were supposed to back each other no matter the storm, and as a growing worry, for Britain wanted a partner capable of supporting itself in local matters and if China couldn’t solve a problem that it had started in what amounted to its own backyard, well that was glaring indication of Chinese abilities. The remaining world power, the United States, had very little interest over what was going on in Korea and was far more concerned with the continued implosion of the New York Stock Market, which was a blessed gift compared to the rest of the reception that China had received.
The disastrous lack of international support, even with evidence of German interference, was further compounded by an increase in the pace and ferocity of attacks in South Korea. The death toll from a supposedly peacefully occupied area was climbing steadily higher and higher, support for the occupations began to waver under the scrutiny from rest of the government. The Korean question quickly became the central issue of the Chinese court, with sides swiftly dividing into a pro-military camp, which called for harsher crackdowns and martial law to maintain control, and a pro-peace faction, that was calling for nominal home rule for Korea albeit under strong Chinese influence. Interestingly, much of the Navy remained decidedly neutral on the matter. Zhenbing’s official position was that Busan would be a crucial naval base against Japan, if the army could hold onto the peninsula first. This division soon reached the Emperor himself, who personally demanded that his President find an end to the conflict, no matter the outcome. With this ultimatum, even the indomitable Shikai was forced to act, and this move would begin the dissolution of much of the massive power that the former general wielded in court.
In October, a series of incredibly harsh crackdowns was enacted to restore order to the peninsula. Anyone found to be supporting the rebellion or acting in opposition to Chinese authority was arrested. The lucky ones were quickly found guilty by a military court and publicly executed as a warning. The unlucky ones were subjected to weeks of torture and interrogations, all conducted in an effort to root out more dissidents. This had the opposite of the intended effect. Despite the widespread trouble and damage it had caused, the resistance was largely a small affair. The crackdowns forced many Koreans, even those who had initially supported the Chinese, into the resistance’s camp, and the reprisal attacks against the Chinese troops only increased in their ferocity.
At the same time, all German citizens on the peninsula were ordered to be rounded up and held for questioning and interrogation. While this did have some effect, with several rebel cells being uncovered and thousands of German supplied weapons being recovered, it did not seriously hinder the resistance. The initial sweep was neither widespread enough nor thorough enough to catch the most important members of Germany’s plan. Of particular concern was the rumors of a foreign agent, working on behalf of the German government, who was orchestrating the most brutal of the attacks. The mutilated corpses of many of his supposed victims were found with a brand firmly scorched into their foreheads, the snarling face of a stylized panther in burned black often being one of the only recognizable parts of remains. Needless to say, this only further angered Berlin, which quickly denounced the attack upon its citizens and demanded that they be released at once. This was expected, but the endorsement of France and Russia was a shock, as the three nations were normally rivals and enemies. Them agreeing on anything, particularly the international denouncement of another nation, was of extreme concern not only for China but for Britain as well.
Another series of crackdowns in November ended in with much the same results: more Koreans joining the resistance in response to the atrocities and more condemnations, this time including Japan and the United States. Soon, Chinese control only extended to the ground it’s soldiers walked on and little else, and even that was a danger. Someone, most likely the same German agent responsible for the brutal attacks, had clued the natives into the idea of explosive landmines. First seeing widespread use in the Second Boer War, the Korean’s soon littered thousands of German-built or homemade mines across areas known to be frequented by Chinese patrols. The bodily devastation that they caused when a soldier was unfortunate enough to step on one was horrific, and normally ended in the death or dismemberment of the recipient. The fear of a death that they couldn’t fight against gave even the vicious Black Banner pause, and many units began to refuse to patrol, even under threat of execution. Talk in the barracks began to turn hostile, and officers began to raise the concern of mutiny if the situation wasn’t resolved soon.
One of the thousands of German-built landmines recovered from Korea in the decades after 1906
Unfortunately for Shikai, there was no desirable quick solution. The dispatch of further troops would only spread the potential of mutiny and would do practically nothing to resolve the guerrilla warfare that was now spreading across the territory. The crackdowns had had the complete opposite effect, but it was far to late to reverse that trend. Diplomacy was a nonstarter, as there was no central body to which the rebels listened to. Support from his own government was waning rapidly, as was the normally fanatic loyalty he counted on from the Army. Most concerning of all was the open discussions going on between France, Russia, and Germany about formal intervention into the conflict, with Japan eagerly attempting to join in at every opportunity. Like it or not, Shikai was forced to make the only choice available to him and in December of 1906, less than a year after Chinese soldiers first entered Korea, the expeditionary force was called home.
It was a stunning blow for China. The international embarrassment alone would continue to haunt the Chinese for several years, for despite every accomplishment or victory the Empire achieved, it was always an easy point to mention that it had still lost to a handful of angry peasant farmers despite being one of the most powerful nations on earth. It also marked the first true defeat of the new Chinese Army, with several thousand soldiers, many of them veterans of the Tsingtao Campaign, dead or crippled thanks to the fighting. The Navy, on the other hand, suffered practically no losses at all, thanks to the fact that it is rather difficult to fight a guerrilla campaign against a battleship. The economic loss was, surprisingly, very little. China’s domestic industry was still growing despite the conflict, and even though the loss of the Korean factories and resources was a blow, it was quickly made up with homegrown advancement. The impact upon public moral was one minor, though significant, importance. Many Chinese were unaware that there was a problem with occupation, and were subsequently shocked by the disastrous end of the expedition. The public outcry was very small though, as few were directly impacted, though many of the more liberal elements at court took note of this.
Shikai was perhaps the one who lost the most in this endeavor. The initial invasion had been his own personal idea, and was done so against the advice of many of his own advisors, including Zhenbing, who cautioned that to much to fast led only to defeat. The former general had sacrificed much of the personal power and influence that he had gathered at court and with the army to continue the fight, and it had all been wasted with his retreat. The Grey Standard Army, once fanatically loyal to Shikai, could no longer be considered entirely trustworthy, as many of the men now looked to their immediate commanders instead of the president. The Emperor had also lost trust in his ally, as the monarch had been against the endeavor from the beginning but had been convinced by the wily statesman. Furthermore, Shikai’s international footing had been badly shaken, with many nations labeling him a violent warlord. However, the fact that he had slipped up and allowed many of his enemies to unify was the biggest problem. For the first time, the traditional enemies of Russia, France, and Germany were discussing the possibility of a continental alliance, with the specific goal of countering the spread of Chinese influence. This issue was of serious concern, as China was left without any friends at the end of 1906.
Thankfully, that would change shortly after the start of the new year.
Authors Note: Well that wasn’t supposed to happen
Gaining and then loosing South Korea in less than a year, with nothing to show for it except worsened relations with practically everyone except Britain. Well done me. I must admit, my first encounter with the “Occupation, but Rebellion” event outcome did not end well. I personally blame Germany.
I must apologize for the upset in my regular posting schedule. College has just started back up for me, and it has been difficult to juggle the five online classes that I have been taking with work and the free time I use to write. To compound this my grandfather, a man of 86 years whom I have known for my entire life, lost his battle with cancer on the 7th. He had always been one of the pillars of my life, and always supported my writing and personal projects. Some of my best memories in my life were sitting with him sharing a drink after dinner on Sunday night. It’s still hard to believe that he is gone.
I’ll see again someday Papa. Keep a glass cold and the bottle full till I get there.
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