In a departure from my usual format of "list of amusing things" style articles, I’m about to drop some knowledge on one of the most inadvertently hilarious and/or pathetic military exploits in history—that of the Russian Baltic Fleet during the Russo-Japanese War.
Some background here. The Russo-Japanese War began in 1904 and lasted until 1905; pretty short, as wars of the era went. The reason Russia and Japan went to war was basically because Russia and Japan both wanted a piece of China, which at the time was larger than now, and consisted of the Korean Peninsula, where we now find... Korea. Well, both Koreas, and the Liaodong Peninsula, still part of modern China, but which was owned by Japan following the Sino-Japanese War a decade prior. The Sino-Japanese War was one where China and Japan fought, and Russia provided support to the Qing Empire of China against Japan. You following so far? Great.
So, the Russians wanted a warm-water port for their ships on that side of the continent. A warm-water port will not freeze during winter, like the Russians’ own port of Vladivostok, which was covered in ice for half the year. The Liaodong Peninsula seemed like a perfect place for this, and so Russia leased the use of it from China, because they helped China in the Sino-Japanese War. Got it? Good.
Before declaring war on one another, Japan and Russia were in negotiations to divide up China. Japan offered Manchuria to Russia but wanted to keep Korea. The Russians said, "well, fuck that," because they wanted the Korean Peninsula to be neutral ground. Japan said, "well, fuck you too," and launched a surprise attack on the Russian Navy at their not-warm-water port of Vladivostok, penning them in. Still with me? Alright.
So, since Russia’s naval operations were pretty much dependent on the blockaded port, they were screwed. The Japanese declared war against them the moment they sneak-attacked the Russian Navy. It was, as they say, "on." Naval and land forces from each country began to muster their forces against one another, even though the Russian government didn’t learn of the attack until some time after it had happened. The Japanese harried the Russians both on land and at sea. The Russian Navy was blockaded, and they thought, "we need reinforcements," but from where would they get them? The Japanese were bending them the fuck over on all theaters of their war. "There must be some hope," thought Czar Nicolas II.
"I know," said the Czar. "We have ships in the Baltic! The most modern ships! We will send them to go kick the shit out of the Japanese Navy!" Or, something like that.
Sure enough, yes, there were ships in the Baltic. Russian ships. Battleships, even! Six of the bastards! Problem, though. The Baltic Sea is over 20,000 nautical miles from the conflict. "Doesn’t matter, get your asses in gear!" ordered the Czar. And so, they were mobilized, and the fun began. Recall that the trip from the Baltic Sea to the Pacific isn’t like it is now, with canals and such. No, no. You had to sail all the way around Africa, then through the Indian Ocean, and damn.
The man charged with the task of Russian success was one Admiral Zinovy Petrovich Rozhestvensky. Not a bad admiral (or "badmiral") by any account, he was tasked with shepherding the Baltic Fleet into war. Now, this was a typical task for a military man. Get an order to fight motherfuckers, and you go fight ’em. This, however, was a very long journey, and they lacked specialized items... things like, oh, engineers, ammunition, trained personnel, and decent naval tactics. The fleet was also incredibly paranoid due to wild reports of Japanese subterfuge and deception. As a foreboding start, the voyage was initially hampered by the battleship Oroyal sinking in harbor before they even got underway. Small potatoes make big vodka, though.
As for the aforementioned paranoia, the Russian fleet was absolutely terrified of the efficient Japanese torpedo boats, which had been used to such great effect on their brethren over in the Pacific. Indeed, so terrified that they were paranoid of these boats being in the European Atlantic, some 20,000 nautical miles away from Japan. Ten days after they set out to kick ass, the supply freighter Kamchatka alerts the fleet that it is under attack by Japanese torpedo boats! To arms! To arms! Every Russian ship brought guns to bear on what they believed to be a Japanese torpedo boat.
The cruisers Aurora and Dmitri Donskoy are mistaken for the enemy and hit by friendly shells, killing a sailor and the ship’s chaplain. Numerous ships report being hit by torpedoes and begin emergency maneuvers. The battleship Borodino reports being boarded by Japanese forces, and the crew attempts to abandon ship. Twenty minutes of frantic, desperate firing later, an order to cease fire is issued. It turns out that everyone in the Russian fleet who was not hit by friendly fire was actually just fine. Off in the distance, the Russian searchlights illuminate a small cluster of unarmed fishing boats, which they had been firing at. The Russians realize their error and immediately steam the hell out of there, pretending that nothing had happened.
The next day, the fishing boats, less several crew, sail home. They were absolutely not Japanese in any way, shape, or form. They were, in fact, British. If we’ll recall, back in these days, the British were the absolute masters of seamanship and naval warcraft. This little incident really pissed them off. So, the Royal Navy raises steam on the entire Channel Fleet. The Russians wake up a day or so later, surrounded by twenty-fucking-eight battleships, who, in no uncertain terms, told them to park their asses in Spain for a friendly chat. Oh, and it turns out that, when the Russian ships had launched this all-out volley against the British fishermen, the formerly-sunk, now-refloated Oroyal was eager to prove herself and launched an astounding 500 shells... all of which hit nothing.
They ended up parked off Spain until the Brits got St. Petersburg to apologize and give them a pile of money in order to keep the Royal Navy from sinking their entire fleet out of spite. Oh, should it be mentioned that Czar Nicolas II was King George V’s cousin? Guess that didn’t mean all that much. Thanks, cuz...
In this era of naval warfare, ships were fueled by monstrous amounts of coal, but those monstrous amounts didn’t carry them forever. There were frequent stops to re-coal vessels, and the Baltic Fleet did so several times. While the six battleships were the cutting edge of technology for the time, the support vessels in the fleet weren’t so sharp or new. In fact, many were aged and obsolete, yet these were what they had. Our Admiral Rozhestvensky just had to get them to the Pacific in one piece so that they could engage the even-more-modern Japanese in naval combat. I’m sure he was incredibly optimistic and not just constantly muttering to himself, "CYKA BLYAT*."
The first stop for re-coaling was in Tangier, Morocco. The fleet had lost track of the Kamchatka for several days. Once they regained contact, the Kamchatka had gloriously reported having fired 300 shells at Japanese ships. These "Japanese" ships were later found to have been a Swedish merchantman, German trawler, and French schooner, respectively. As the fleet left Tangier, the anchor of one of the battleships accidentally cut the underwater telegraph cable, leaving Tangier unable to communicate with Europe for four days. Interestingly, they never got in any trouble for all this.
Their next stop along the long journey was to rendezvous with a host of German supply ships off Dakar in Western Africa. A French admiral had intervened and told them to stop re-coaling due to international law forbidding it. Admiral Rozhestvensky was fairly angry and said, "Hey, do you have shore batteries to stop us?" and the Frenchman said, "Uh, no." He said, "Well, fuck around and find out." The French opted not to fuck around, and thus, did not find out. The Russians got their coal after they contacted the German ships and didn’t accidentally blow them out of the water. They took on double-sized loads of coal fuel. These extra loads had to be stored on the deck, which caused the dust from the coal to spread across the ships. The dust, combined with the humid African climate, resulted in the death of many crewmen, who had their lungs choked with it.
Remember our old pal, the Kamchatka? Well, she caused some panic after they got back underway by mistaking the naval signal for, "We’re doing well" for the one that said, "So you see these torpedo boats?" After much panic, the Kamchatka corrected her signals, and the fleet steamed on to their next re-coaling station in Cape Town, South Africa.
The crew, fairly demoralized after all the shit they’d been through, are allowed shore leave while the ships took on yet more coal. Eager to make themselves feel relaxed and emboldened by the spirit of adventure, nearly the entire Russian crew went and bought exotic foods and animals to bring aboard their ship. Not content with mere parrots and cockatiels, some Russian sailors bought things like monkeys, very large crocodiles, and venomous snakes, creating a circus-like atmosphere aboard ships, where animals were set loose on the decks, and it resembled a bizarre, floating zoo for a time. This even prevented gunnery drills when a "rather large snake" wrapped itself around one of the main guns of the Kamchatka and bit an officer who tried to extract it.
If that weren’t enough, one of the dilapidated supply ships broke down. This happened to be the Esperance, which was the refrigerated ship carrying the crew’s rations. Tons of rotted meat were jettisoned, leading sharks to follow the fleet for nearly a week.
The next re-coaling stop was Madagascar. Our man in charge, Rozhestvensky, became seriously ill and confined himself to his cabin. His chief of staff suffered a crippling brain hemorrhage and was partially paralyzed. Command structure broke down entirely with the loss of control from this situation, and crews piloted their ships to various shorelines to make good use of casinos, bars, and whorehouses. Malaria, typhoid, and dysentery ran roughshod over the crew, killing scores. During the funeral for an officer, the Kamchatka (surprise) fired a salute but used a live shell. She actually hit something this time, though... their support cruiser Aurora.
Thinking to improve morale, an officer had bought a case of thousands of cigarettes in Madagascar, distributing them to the crew, but found later that they were 90% opium, and his crew was now operating in an opium haze. Not quite what he’d intended. The long period of sea life for the poorly-trained crew led to both an increase in religious zealotry and mutinous thoughts. The officers in charge "deported" many of the worst cases on a supply ship headed back to Russia, leaving them with even fewer crew.
After having requested resupply from Russia, the fleet was met by the supply vessel Irtysh. Supposed to bring needed ammunition and food, they unloaded crate after crate of goods to the fleet. After waving their caps to the ship as it steamed off, the crews opened their cargo, only to find thick winter coats and fur-lined boots—truly a boon to crews sweltering in equatorial heat. Morale, to say the least, was low.
Our man, Admiral Rozhestvensky, feeling a tad better after his illness, decided he needed to make a point to bolster the crew’s skill and improve how they felt about their fate. He ordered gunnery practice. A tugboat would carry a target out into the sea and let the battleships attempt to hit it. The flagship of the fleet scored a crippling hit... on the tug carrying the target. The Russian torpedo boats in the fleet let fly with seven torpedoes at the target. One jammed, three went way off target, two simply missed, and one decided to go around in a circle and scared the shit out of the fleet until it stopped. Oh, and during this exercise, the Kamchatka sent a signal saying it was sinking. It wasn’t.
Unknown to Admiral Rozhestvensky, reinforcements were being sent to join them. The reinforcements, dubbed the "Third Pacific Squadron," were given orders to meet up with Rozhestvensky, "whose route and location are unknown to us." This reminds me of every job I’ve ever had, where the instructions were, "I don’t care how you do it, just do it."
In the meantime, Admiral Rozhestvensky had picked up a newspaper on their latest re-coaling stop. It informed him of the plan of the Admiralty in St. Petersburg. The plan which was not discussed with him at all. The Admiralty intended for him to arrive in Vladivostok and surrender his command to another admiral, who took the train there. After this disappointment, they desperately needed some good news. It came in the form of a mail ship that would rendezvous with them and bring long-overdue mail from home. This would improve morale greatly, right? Well, after offloading the mail to the crew, it was discovered that the letters were the same ones that the crews had sent from Madagascar, which had never been delivered.
After all this, they finally made it to Vladivostok, and the Japanese were waiting for them. The battle of Tsushima ensued, and the Japanese handily sank the entire fleet of battleships, and most of the support ships, while taking very modest casualties themselves.
Admiral Rozhestvensky survived the battle but was court-martialed afterward and accused, along with most of the battleship commanders, of failing Russia in its time of need. He died of a purported heart attack in 1909.
Life’s a bitch, sometimes. Remember, though, if you’re ever feeling down, at least you’re not in a doomed Russian battle fleet.
*CYKA BLYAT (pronounced "soo-kuh blee-at") is literally Russian for "bitch fuck!"—colloquially used in the sense of "fuck it," "fuck this," or even "fuck you." Truly multipurpose. Try it next time you encounter a Russian.
Wombstretcha the Magnificent is a Russian bear-poker, moderately inebriated historian, lip balm analyst, writer, and retired rapper from Portland, OR. He can be found at Wombstretcha.com, on Twitter as @Wombstretcha503 and on Facebook (boo!) and MeWe (yay!) as "Wombstretcha The Magniflcent."
