War cannot simply be declared on impulse, especially under Britain’s political system. A cabinet government has no authority to unilaterally launch a war that gambles the fate of the entire nation. Yet this is also not the sort of matter that can be brought before Parliament. Once hundreds of members of Parliament know, the entire world will know. By the time they finish arguing, Britain would be lucky not to be preempted by the enemy, let alone strike first. Although the Royal Navy holds an advantage, the Holy Roman Navy is not weak either. If judged by seventy percent of the reference standard in the original timeline, the two sides could fight immediately. Once the new battleship classes enter service, the gap will shrink even further. With the advantage of being ready earlier, Britain would still have a chance to strike first. But in such matters, there is no expecting the King to take the blame. Edward VII is not George V. He cannot be easily persuaded, and he will not carry this burden for them. The Royal Navy has been dominant for so long that the public has grown accustomed to victory. In this environment, winning a naval battle is considered normal. Losing one becomes an unforgivable crime. To be frank, if Campbell did not still have a long term ahead of him, he would likely have chosen to muddle through and leave the trouble for the next prime minister. This is not an exaggeration. There are already people in the cabinet who are preparing to resign for “health reasons,” including the Secretary of State for War who shouted the loudest earlier. Politics often works that way. Those who yell the loudest are usually the ones who act the most timidly. The reason is simple. Everyone trusts the Royal Navy. Who has ever placed any real confidence in the “lobsterbacks”? The enemy may not be able to defeat the Royal Navy at sea, but on land they could certainly win. The Secretary of War, lacking confidence in his own forces, naturally wants to slip away before trouble arrives. British politics is like this. As long as there is no major scandal, leaving office now still leaves room for a comeback a few years later. But the ones who work diligently and take their responsibilities seriously are the ones who must shoulder the blame if the war goes badly. Once there is a setback on the battlefield, the Secretary of War, as one of the responsible officials, would be held accountable. Reaching such a high position and still being able to shift blame upward is a rare skill. Throughout world history, only a handful of people have managed such a feat. Others can step down, but Campbell, as Prime Minister, has no way out. The interest groups that elevated him to power paid a heavy price to do so. Now is the time for them to reap the benefits, so how could they allow him to retreat? With no way to avoid the situation, he can only gamble everything. Island nations often have a gambler’s mentality. Betting the fate of the country is not unique to Japan. When the British Navy challenged the Spanish Armada, that too was a major gamble. The only difference was that Britain prepared thoroughly, while the Japanese acted on impulse. The Holy Roman Empire’s new warships are still in the shipyards, months away from launching. Weapons installation, fitting-out, and crew training will take even more time. It will be a year or two before they reach true combat readiness. This gives Britain ample time to create friction, stir up incidents, and provoke conflict. The real issue is how to lure the Holy Roman fleet out for a decisive battle. If they stay in the Mediterranean, mass-produce warships, and wait until they have a hundred or more capital ships, then Britain is finished. Campbell has already witnessed the industrial gap with his own eyes. Britain cannot win a contest of shipbuilding volume. Even with allies, they cannot catch up. American manufacturing in this era is essentially imitation and more imitation. If they want to build advanced battleships, even if Britain shipped over complete shipbuilding equipment and full design blueprints, it would still take them eight to ten years to absorb the technology. In the original timeline, the United States was far stronger than it is now, already the world leader in industrial and economic output. Yet when the British began constructing dreadnoughts, the Americans could not resist joining the trend. After three years and one month, they produced the 16,000-ton South Carolina-class battleship. A glance at the specifications tells the story. The Americans set several unfortunate world records: the lowest displacement, the lowest power, the slowest speed, and the weakest firepower… Performance aside, their shipbuilding speed was like a snail’s. At the same time, the British completed the world’s first dreadnought in only fourteen months. The official explanation was that design delays held up the project. But normally, construction begins only after the design is finalized. If they had already started building without a confirmed design, there is only one possibility: the technology could not keep up, and the original blueprint simply could not be executed. There was nothing strange about it. The shipyard responsible for building the South Carolina–class battleships was hiring experts and buying technology while already in the middle of construction, so it was understandable that progress was slow. The situation now was even worse. After the split, the industrial capacity of the United States was less than half of what it had been in the original timeline, and the quality was even less reliable. Aside from this ally that had barely achieved industrialization, the rest of Britain’s smaller partners were exactly that—small partners. Forget building dreadnoughts, very few of them could even construct ironclads. The most advanced shipbuilding industry among them belonged to Japan, which was still at war. Even then, nobody except the Japanese Navy dared to use Japan’s own ships. With the Royal Navy being as picky as it was, those ships would never pass inspection. This didn’t work, and that didn’t work. What remained before the British government was only one option: strike first and attack before the enemy finished preparing for war. Of course, the condition was that Britain had to finish its own preparations first. If they attacked without being ready, the result would be humiliating. This also depended entirely on Parliament. Without parliamentary approval, the British government had no authority to spend over a hundred million pounds on military preparations. On June 1, 1904, the Campbell government submitted a proposal to Parliament, intending to imitate the Holy Roman Empire’s system for securing strategic materials. … While the British government was busy fighting with Parliament, the transport airships that the Holy Roman Empire had sold to the Russian government finally arrived from Europe at the Far Eastern front. You get what you pay for. The airships were expensive, but their transport speed was far beyond anything manpower could achieve. For distances of several hundred kilometers, they could complete a round trip within the same day. Once deployed, they immediately reduced the logistical pressure on the Russian Army. Fortified positions that had previously been isolated and considered impossible to hold could now be defended. With wireless telegraphs, they no longer had to worry about being cut off. And if things became truly desperate, the airships could even transport troops for reinforcements. Untrained soldiers being transported this way was risky? Nonsense. No matter how great the risk was, it was the cannon fodders taking it. What did that have to do with the noble lords? Once the Russian Army’s logistical pressure eased, the Japanese Army’s hardships began. It had to be admitted that the fighting strength of the Russians was no exaggeration. They were not at the level of the world’s strongest militaries, but they were more than capable of crushing the half-trained Japanese Army. Units that were steeped in bushido and obsessed with bravery suffered the heaviest losses. Once again, reality proved that in the face of modern firearms, individual courage meant nothing. No matter how fearless a man was, flesh and blood could not withstand machine guns and artillery. Not only did the Russians break the momentum of the Japanese advance, but with their logistics temporarily restored, they even launched several counterattacks, each achieving notable results. In Tokyo, the setbacks on the Far Eastern battlefield immediately filled the General Headquarters with panic. The shadow of defeat hung over everyone’s mind. Their enemy this time was Russia. If Japan had not been forced into a corner, the government would never have chosen to fight Russia at this moment. But there was no turning back. The conflict between Japan and Russia was both a clash of interests and a matter complicated by personal grudges. Having reached this point, even if Japan wanted to back down, the Russians would never let them go. Throwing aside the battle reports, Emperor Meiji angrily scolded his commanders, “Take a good look at these reports. What kind of war are you fighting? The Trans-Siberian Railway is not even finished yet. Russia is using barely a tenth of its strength. If you are already suffering losses now, what will you do once they commit their full power?” It was clear that Emperor Meiji was truly alarmed. The last time he had openly reprimanded the military was during the Philippine campaign. Even then, his expression had not been as severe as it was now. That alone showed the seriousness of the situation. Japan could not afford defeat, and Emperor Meiji could not afford it either. A lost war meant ruin. Even as emperor, his future would not be pleasant. It would be either death or exile. And if he fell into the hands of the Russians, he would become yet another caged songbird in Saint Petersburg. There was no doubt that the freezing climate of Saint Petersburg was no place for a songbird to survive. Once the Russians were done toying with him, it would be time for him to meet his end. Even in Europe, monarchs enjoyed immunity, but that protection applied only to European royalty. There was no chance the Russians would recognize him as a legitimate emperor of Japan. The older a person becomes, the more afraid of death they are. Emperor Meiji was no exception. He had not lived enough and had no desire to depart so early. Exile abroad might sound acceptable, but it was unsuitable for a monarch like him who had few relatives. A deposed ruler without powerful protection was like a child carrying gold through a crowded marketplace. One day he might be swallowed whole, then conveniently sold off to the Russian government. Faced with the emperor’s overwhelming anger, everyone lowered their heads in unspoken agreement. They had no choice. Meiji was not Taisho, and none of them dared to be insolent. Perhaps the harshness of this era was what built up the frustrations that later pushed Emperor Taisho into a breakdown. The military officials, in particular, bowed their heads the lowest, trying to shrink their presence as much as possible like a flock of ostriches. Under the expectant gaze of his colleagues, Prime Minister Katsura Tarō had no choice but to step forward and face the emperor’s fury. “Your Majesty, please calm yourself. The setbacks at the front are only temporary. The overall situation on the battlefield still favors us. As long as we remain united, we will certainly…” Before he could finish, Emperor Meiji shot him a look filled with murderous intent, forcing him to swallow the rest of his words. “I do not want empty platitudes. Leave those speeches for the troops at the front. What I want now is a plan of action. Do not tell me you do not understand the meaning of this situation. Once Russia resolves its logistical issues, can the Imperial Army truly win?” The emperor was not trying to belittle his own side on purpose. The reality was simply that the gap between Japan and Russia was enormous. Whether in numbers or in quality, Japan could not match Russia at all. Their only advantage was geography. Russians had to cross the vast, snow-covered Siberian expanse to reach the Far East, while the Japanese Army fought at their doorstep. Yamagata Aritomo spoke, “Your Majesty, Russia’s logistics have not been truly resolved. For now, they are relying mainly on airships to increase transport speed. But airships have limited capacity, are highly dependent on weather, and their operating cost is extremely high. They cannot possibly sustain the needs of four hundred thousand Russian troops at the front. Besides, we are not without countermeasures. During the Continental War, the Holy Roman Empire used airplanes to counter French airships, and with great success. We can adopt the same tactic. The real problem is the Qing Dynasty. If they were not supplying strategic materials to the Russians, the Russian forces at the front would have collapsed by now. I propose that the Imperial Navy be deployed to deliver a warning to the Qing Dynasty, ordering them to stop supplying the Russians.” As much as they disliked admitting it, the outcome of the Russo-Japanese War now depended on that distant Qing Dynasty, a power swaying like a shadow in storm and rain. Before the Navy Ministry could respond, Foreign Minister Inoue Kaoru spoke up first in opposition, “Absolutely not. At a time like this, provoking the Qing Dynasty is the last thing we should do. If we push them too far and they turn toward Russia, the Empire will be in real danger.” The military and the government viewed issues differently. Using force to intimidate was indeed the simplest and most effective method, but timing mattered. At this moment, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was already struggling to win over the Qing Dynasty. How could they allow the military to push that country into Russia’s arms? Itō Hirobumi added, “Inoue is right. We cannot provoke the Qing Dynasty now. Their neutrality is already the best outcome for us. Do not forget that they once had a secret agreement with the Russians. If not for Russia’s greed, if they had not taken advantage of the Boxer Rebellion to grab benefits instead of helping the Qing Dynasty, the current landscape of the Far East would be completely different. If we provoke them again, with the Holy Roman Empire acting as mediator, it is entirely possible that the two countries will form an alliance once more. Our strength is limited. We cannot face two great powers at the same time. The Qing Dynasty may be decaying internally, but their newly trained troops still have some combat capability. One Russia is already enough to keep us stretched thin. If two countries join forces, the Empire has no chance of winning. As long as the Qing Dynasty does not openly support Russia, we must focus on winning them over. The resentment from the Sino-Japanese War has not faded, and the anger from the Boxer Rebellion is still fresh. To keep them neutral, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has already used every method available. The Qing Dynasty’s imperial government has not acted officially at all. What we see now is only private smuggling. There is no need to overreact. Whether by sending troops to intercept shipments or paying local bandits to sabotage them, we have many ways to handle this quietly. Why make a mountain out of a molehill?” A broad strategic perspective had always been something the Japanese military lacked. Perhaps the influence of bushido ran too deep, or perhaps the militarism within the army was too extreme, but the Japanese Army had a habit of wanting to fight at the slightest disagreement. If the Meiji government had not been strong enough to keep the military in check, and if the army had been allowed to run wild as it pleased, Japan might have already destroyed itself long ago. But as the war dragged on, this pressure on the military grew weaker and weaker. After every foreign victory, the military’s influence expanded another step. In the original timeline, once the old statesmen passed away, the Japanese military completely lost all restraint. Not only did the government lose control over the army, even the high command lost control over the radical officers below them. The signs of that loss of control were already beginning to show, although everyone was too focused on the war to notice this “small problem”. Yamagata Aritomo said, “Itō-kun, the situation is not that simple. The Imperial Army has long been cracking down on smuggling. But unlike the scattered trickle of smuggling we had in the past, the current activity has developed into a full-scale operation. Caravans large and small have banded together and formed their own escort units. They are even equipped with machine guns and mortars, and their combat capability already surpasses the regular troops of the Qing Dynasty. Forget mountain bandits. Even if our army sends fewer than a battalion, we cannot do anything about them. And behind those caravans are local powers. Every time we organize a force to encircle them, the news leaks in advance.” Profit was always the strongest catalyst. With Louis’s involvement, although kickbacks still had to be paid, at least the merchants no longer had to worry about being squeezed by Russian bureaucrats. With their earnings secure, enthusiasm surged. Compared to the silver flowing into their hands, bandits meant nothing. Even if the Japanese Army intervened, it was no use. Send too few troops, and the caravan escorts would strike back. Send too many, and news would leak instantly. Fighting on someone else’s territory made it impossible to move large numbers of troops without leaving any trace. Once arms dealers became involved, the caravans naturally gained access to radio sets. Their communication lines had become smoother and faster than the Imperial Army’s own. If the situation were not truly unmanageable, Yamagata would never have brought it up. After all, it was quite embarrassing.
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