After the bombardment, Tokyo Bay was left littered with wreckage. Japanese civilians were busy clearing the ruins, and the scene was especially bleak. As the saying goes, revenge does not wait overnight. With the defeat at the Battle of Malacca Strait, the Japanese Navy lost control of the seas, and the Spanish Navy immediately came charging in. Intercepting merchant ships and shelling ports had now become part of Spain’s daily routine. It was as if they felt uneasy if they did not stir up trouble at least once a day. Perhaps driven by hatred, or perhaps in an attempt to resolve the security of the Philippines once and for all, the Spaniards performed with exceptional ferocity during the war against Japan. Under these circumstances, Japan naturally suffered catastrophic misfortune. The Japanese people, already living in fear, were now plunged into outright panic. The long-anticipated reckoning from the Holy Roman Empire never arrived. Instead, Spanish retaliation struck first. If there was still room to maneuver with the Holy Roman Empire by claiming participation in the campaign against Russia, then between Japan and Spain there was nothing to discuss at all. One stood at the far eastern edge of the world, the other at the far western end, with a chain of countries lying between them. Whether the Russian Empire prospered or declined had nothing whatsoever to do with Spain. Not only did their spheres of influence fail to overlap, even in international trade their interests rarely conflicted. Recently, life has been extremely difficult for Emperor Meiji. How to break free from Spain’s entanglement has become the most pressing problem facing the Japanese government. Saionji Kinmochi spoke with a grave expression, “In just the past half month, we have successively lost more than a hundred vessels of all sizes. Now even fishing boats dare not leave port, and our foreign trade routes are almost completely severed. As a result, domestic prices have risen sharply, and some industrial raw materials are already in short supply. What is worse, the front lines are still fighting. Without material support from the home islands, our forces at the front may not be able to hold out for long. If we do not take action soon, and allow the Spaniards to continue their ravaging, then it may not take long before the Empire…” He did not say the word “collapse” out loud. Yet from the tense expressions around the room, it was clear that everyone present had already completed the thought in their minds. Everyone was keenly aware of the danger. The real problem was how to resolve it, which was an enormous challenge. The navy could no longer be relied upon. The Battle of Malacca Strait had shattered the backbone of the Japanese Navy. The few lucky survivors were still trapped in lingering panic. Moreover, all main capital ships had been wiped out. Relying on a collection of auxiliary vessels alone, sailing out now would simply be delivering achievements to the enemy. Foreign Minister Inoue Kaoru spoke up, “The Foreign Ministry has already done everything it can. We have made contact with the Spaniards, but they refuse to negotiate with us at all. In order to resolve the situation, we even communicated with the Holy Roman government. They tacitly approved our continued attacks against the Russian Empire, but this approval does not include restraining Spain. The Holy Roman government made its position clear. The war has already begun. As a major member of the Continental Alliance, Spain has the right to attack any country belonging to the hostile camp.” The rules of the game were that cruel and unforgiving. Even though the Holy Roman government could solve the problem with a single word, Japan simply did not carry enough weight. The smoke of the Battle of Malacca Strait had barely dissipated. Both sides were still stained with each other’s blood. It was impossible to expect an absence of hatred. The fact that the Holy Roman Empire had not immediately retaliated was already an act of considering the greater situation. How could they possibly concern themselves with Spain taking revenge on Japan? If Japan could not withstand this pressure, then it was simply a matter of lacking ability. Failing to pass even Spain’s test made the idea of suppressing Russia utterly unrealistic. If Japan could not help the Holy Roman Empire contain the Russian Empire, then it would lose its value of existence. Once a piece lost its utility, it became a discarded piece. If Japan wished to preserve the nation, and preserve its own wealth and status, then the Japanese government had no choice but to resolve the immediate crisis and prove that its existence still had value. “It’s not like there aren’t any ways to deal with Spanish warships,” someone finally said. “At the Battle of Malacca Strait, the enemy made use of aerial bombardment. We can do the same. If that still does not work, then we can conscript suicide units. Strap bombs to aircraft and crash them directly into enemy warships. Spain has already decayed. Even maintaining its current naval scale is a strain for them. They cannot afford heavy losses.” Yamagata Aritomo’s proposal was cruel, but broadly speaking, it reflected reality. Without staking human lives, the Japanese Navy in its current state was simply no match for the enemy. Even if suicide units could not truly defeat the Spanish Navy, they could at least drive the Spaniards away and restore the trade routes of the Far East. Opposition was impossible. In Japan at this point in time, human life was the cheapest commodity of all. As long as the problem could be solved, no one felt much pressure no matter how many died. Naturally, a decision that would bear infamy in the future could not involve the Emperor. Prime Minister Katsura Taro, a professional scapegoat by reputation, immediately made the call: “Fine. We will do it this way. I do not care what methods you use. As long as you drive the Spanish Navy out of Japanese waters, that will be the greatest victory. At this critical moment of national survival, I hope all of you will put aside your differences, work together, and overcome this crisis.” It was obvious that the final sentence was directed at the military. The government also had its internal struggles, but they were nowhere near as fierce as the rivalry between the army and the navy. After the Battle of Malacca Strait, the Japanese Navy, which had once held the upper hand in these power struggles, was directly crushed under the army’s heel. Many of the mocking jokes about the navy circulating among civilians were actually orchestrated by the army. Their main purpose was to completely discredit the naval forces. Katsura Taro himself came from the army and should have joined in fanning the flames. However, as Prime Minister, he had to consider the situation from a broader perspective. No matter how one looked at it, Japan was an island nation. Being an island nation meant that it could never be separated from its navy. The arrival of the Spanish Navy, in particular, made Katsura Taro acutely aware of the navy’s importance. If the navy continued to be suppressed, Japan might have no future at all. As for whether this realization would have any effect, that depended on whether people could keep their heads clear. Anyone who truly understood the importance of sea power would not seek to annihilate the navy completely. Militarism was not without its advantages. Not only was it far more efficient than democratic systems, it also produced an abundance of men willing to die. As soon as news spread about recruiting pilots to crash aircraft into warships, long lines formed at enlistment stations. Unfortunately, becoming a pilot required certain qualifications. Not everyone could make the cut, and many had to leave with their passion unfulfilled. The more people were turned away, the more enthusiastic the volunteers became. It was reminiscent of the late stages of the Second World War, when many pilots were forced by social pressure to sign up for suicide missions. Under the push of a butterfly effect, the infamous “Kamikaze Special Attack Force” stepped onto the stage of history ahead of schedule. And then, there was nothing more to say. Crashing aircraft into warships was something for which there was no experience to draw upon. There was no way to even begin proper training. Once the aircraft dove in, whether the target was hit or not, both man and machine would be completely destroyed. … On March 16, 1905, the Holy Roman East African Field Army broke through Djibouti. The remaining British forces were forced to lay down their arms and surrender, marking the official end of the East African Campaign. Overnight, the Cape of Good Hope became Britain’s last remaining foothold on the African continent. In an instant, pressure on the British government surged dramatically. Beneath an unremarkable building, a hastily converted air raid shelter now served as the British government’s meeting room. Because of the rush, there had been no time for proper renovation. Perhaps for the sake of appearances, or perhaps for convenience, the surrounding walls were covered with military maps. Even at the center of the conference table stood a massive sand table. Standing inside the room felt less like attending a cabinet meeting and more like being inside a military command post. Yet this was, in fact, the government’s meeting chamber. This militarized atmosphere was something the war had forced upon them. Since the outbreak of hostilities, the British government’s primary function had shifted from governing the nation to serving the war effort. Colonial Secretary Coleman spoke first, “This cannot be allowed to continue. If we do not take action now, we will permanently lose Africa.” Losing all of Africa might be an exaggeration. At the very least, Madagascar remained. However, a lone island could hardly be compared to an entire continent. Once the Cape of Good Hope fell, Britain’s sea route to the Indian Ocean would effectively be severed. Although detours were possible, a glance at the map made it clear that the extra distance would be enormous. Without supplies from India, Britain would be forced to rely entirely on the Americas. From a grand strategic perspective, this was undeniably fatal. Everyone understood the importance of holding the Cape of Good Hope. The problem was that no one could clearly answer how it was supposed to be held. “The War Office has already dispatched reinforcements,” Marcus said. “But if we want to secure the Cape, we will also need the cooperation of the logistics department, the navy, and the air force.” Marcus was not trying to shift responsibility. The situation at the Cape was simply unique. Not only were the winds and seas notoriously rough, but the region itself lacked water. In later generations, Cape Town would be known as one of the most water-scarce cities in the world. Conditions were not yet that dire, but once external water supplies were cut off, relying on groundwater alone would still be far from sufficient to meet demand. During the previous South African war, the colonial government in Cape Town had already tasted the pain of water shortages. At one point, they even had to transport fresh water to the front lines by ship. After the war, lessons were supposedly learned, and the colonial authorities increased their freshwater reserves. Unfortunately, bureaucracy was best known for its short-lived enthusiasm. Storing enough water for the daily needs of hundreds of thousands of people was not something a few reservoirs could solve. It required massive investments of manpower and resources, sustained over a long period of time. Aside from the first governor after the war, who seized the momentum and treated the issue with great seriousness, his successors showed little interest in this thankless project. The plan was grand, the investment enormous, and the timeline long. Worse still, it produced no visible political achievements. Even if underground water storage projects were completed, the public would feel little direct benefit. Rather than pouring money into a bottomless pit, it was far better to fund urban construction and improve transportation. At least those results were visible to everyone. After all, as long as war did not break out, Cape Town would not lack water. A clever bureaucrat naturally knew which choice to make. But now war has erupted. As defensive lines continued to contract, water shortages became a growing problem for the garrison defending Cape Town. Even more tragic was the rampant activity of enemy aircraft, which roamed the skies daily. During daylight hours, ships entering the harbor were practically gambling with fate. If the logistics problem could not be resolved, then even sending in reinforcements would only hand the enemy additional achievements. Feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze, Air Secretary Attilio spread his hands helplessly and said, “Do not look at me like that. Everyone knows the state of the air force. If we were capable of suppressing the enemy, we would not be in such a passive position.” The skies over London itself could not be fully secured, let alone those above the Cape of Good Hope. Even if aircraft were redeployed there, they would at best buy a few extra days. The final outcome would remain unchanged. The defense of the Cape of Good Hope was, from the start, a case of using the short to strike the long. Facing the Holy Roman Empire on land, Attilio held no optimism at all. No matter how important the Cape might be, losing was still losing. Britain could send reinforcements, and the enemy could do the same. For a moment, the shadow of defeat settled over the room. For the first time, everyone seriously began to contemplate the consequences that a lost war might bring. Seeing the grave expressions on everyone’s faces, the Secretary of War, Sigmund, hesitated for a moment before speaking slowly. There is something even worse. According to intelligence from our agents embedded within the Holy Roman Empire, the enemy is planning a landing operation. The specific operational plan is still unclear. However, we can roughly infer that they intend to have the navy and air force jointly cover an army landing. If we cannot break the enemy’s air superiority, the Royal Navy will face enormous risks when attempting to intercept the landing. It is very possible that this is a trap, deliberately designed to lure our main fleet into a designated battlefield, where it can be annihilated with the help of enemy air power.” Truth mixed with falsehood, deception layered upon deception. By this stage of the war, neither side had spared any effort in feeding false intelligence to the other. But this time was different. If the enemy truly launched a landing operation, then even knowing it might be a trap, the Royal Navy would still have no choice but to brace itself and engage. That was the terror of an open scheme. Even when the pit was clearly visible, it still had to be stepped into. The British government could not gamble the safety of the British Isles. If the Royal Navy refused to sortie and intercept, the enemy might turn a feint into reality. Once a landing succeeded, the Oceanic Alliance would collapse almost instantly. No matter how tightly bound the allies had been before, no matter how deeply their interests were entangled, when survival was on the line, everyone would scatter on their own. In truth, if not for the difficulty of information transmission in this era, and if not for nations still being immersed in Britain’s former prestige without understanding the real situation, some would likely have already begun cutting their losses. Jumping ship early was certainly dangerous, but it was still safer than struggling for survival after the ship had already sunk. Without allied support behind it, relying solely on the strength of the British Empire, once the war entered close-range confrontation, defeat would only be a matter of time. Naval Secretary Swinton slammed his hand down and said harshly, “This is definitely a conspiracy aimed at the Royal Navy. Launching a landing operation before securing command of the sea is itself a huge gamble. Even if the enemy holds air superiority, air power is not omnipotent. Covering a large-scale landing will still be extremely difficult. If surface ships cannot operate freely, we can still rely on submarines. Sink just one troop transport and an entire regiment disappears. That kind of loss is something no one can ignore. If we are truly pushed to the brink, we can even imitate the Japanese and organize suicide units to crash aircraft into enemy warships. One man, one plane, one bomb, in exchange for one enemy ship. We…”
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