The appearance of Admiral Rojestvenski's squadron in the waters of the Pacific Ocean was the decisive moment of the Russian-Japanese War. As the Imperial Russian government had lost all hope of removing the Japanese from Manchuria, it decided to undertake a naval operation in the Pacific, in order to subject Manchuria and Japan to a blockade by an attack on the Japanese lines of communication.
The Japanese, fully appreciating this initiative, gathered all their resources and brought Admiral Rojestvenski's expedition to the catastrophe of Tsushima.
The causes of this disaster were at the time discussed by all naval critics. The specialists were divided into two camps. While one part attributed the Japanese victory to their technical superiority (in guns, speed, explosives) the other, among which were many Russians, explained the Japanese success by the action of their submarines. The Japanese themselves denied any participation of the latter. Notwithstanding this, certain Russians, one of whom was my former chief, captain of the cruiser Oleg, Dobrotvorski, were absolutely convinced that the main reason for our defeat was the Japanese submarines.
I took part in the Battle of Tsushima, being executive of the above-named cruiser. Analyzing my impressions after twenty-four years, I can see clearly that the principal cause of our defeat was our technical deficiency and not the Japanese submarines. It would be unjust to blame our officers and sailors. They did their duty to the end with courage.
The pictures of the battle are fixed forever in my memory and even now I have them before my eyes. Moreover, I was able to preserve, in addition to my personal recollections, some records written immediately after the battle.
On Friday, May 26, 1905 (13 of Russian calendar), Admiral Rojestvenski's squadron was approaching the Korean channel. The next day, May 27, happened to be the anniversary of their Imperial Majesties' coronation. Possibly to add a special significance to the battle, Admiral Rojestvenski had diminished speed and spent some time in executing several squadron evolutions. However, the squadron's evolutions did not last long, and towards evening the admiral signaled us his final orders for the coming battle. We learned later that the day was for the Japanese also a solemn day, being the anniversary of their Empress' birthday.
On May 27 the sky was clouded, wind SW, force three. At 5:00 A.M. we received by signal the order to proceed at nine knots. The squadron followed the course NW 60°.
At 6:30 A.M. the battleship Osliabia signaled that she had sighted an enemy cruiser on SW 40°. We learned later that it was the Japanese armored cruiser Asama which at a respectful distance followed a parallel course to us, informing her admiral of our numbers, order, course, speed, etc.
At 8:15 A.M. eight cruisers of an old type made their appearance from NW 15°. The distance between us diminished and at 9:15 A.M. the battle alarm was given. However, we parted without firing.
At 10:35 A.M., to the NW 60°, we saw again a squadron, composed of light cruisers. Probably they were Kasagi, Chitoze, Nitaka, and Tsushima.
Owing to the fog the outlines of the Japanese warships were indistinct. The distance was approximately 10,000 yards.
At 11:13 A.M. the third-class battleship Admiral Oushakow fired the first shot and immediately the whole left column opened fire on the Japanese cruisers. The enemy answered our fire, approaching from 9,000 to 6,000 yards, then breaking off the action, disappeared in the fog.
As soon as the first shot was fired our chaplain walked round the cruiser carrying a crucifix and holy water, encouraging the crew and giving a blessing before the battle.
At 11:19 A.M. the whistles announced "Break off!"
True to the ancient naval tradition, the crew wore this day their new white jackets and had prepared for the battle as if for a holiday. After the first engagement was finished the crew were allowed to have dinner.
At 1:40 P.M. we saw on the horizon ahead and to port the outlines of the Japanese main forces.
Soon we could recognize four battleships and eight armored cruisers making for our flagship of the left column, the battleship Osliabia.
At that moment our first battleship division took its place ahead of the second and third battleship divisions, forming thus a line composed of:
First Division: Prince Suvarov, Emperor Alexander III, Borodino, Orel.
Second Division: Osliabia, Sissoi Welikii, Navarin, Admiral Nakhimow.
Third Division: Emperor Nicholas I, General Admiral Count Apraxine, Admiral Seniavine, Admiral Oushakow.
The Japanese warships had been painted a light blue-gray and it was very difficult to discern them from the water, while their coal produced no smoke at all.
Our squadron was painted black, with yellow funnels. Our coal gave a thick black smoke.
At 1:50 P.M. we opened fire simultaneously with the Japanese. After half an hour, i.e., at 2:20 P.M. the after funnel of Prince Suvarov was shot away. Ten minutes later the battleship Borodino left the line. After hurried repairs she rejoined the rear of the column, behind the third-class battleship Admiral Oushakow.
The squadrons, having met each other on opposite courses, were drawing away from each other. To avoid this Admiral Togo undertook a risky maneuver. He ordered his squadron to turn, aiming to fall on a course parallel to ours. This was done at 2:45 P.M.
The maneuver was very dangerous for the Japanese, as their ships, arriving at a certain point, executed in succession the turn to the left and became, so to speak, immobilized.
On the other hand, those who had finished the evolution covered the ships which were following their original course.
Unfortunately, we missed this opportunity and Admiral Togo, having successfully executed his maneuver, continued to shell us, concentrating all his fire on our flagships, Prince Suvarov and Osliabia. These two battleships were surrounded by columns of water produced by shells exploding in the sea and by smoke and flames.
The Osliabia could not stand this fire and, precipitately abandoning the line, listed to port and sank. One could see at that moment groups of sailors, clad in white, falling from the decks into the water. The sight of the sinking battleship was terrible. It produced on all of us a strong impression, like a knife struck into our hearts.
At 2:40 P.M. the Japanese light cruisers Kasagi, Chitoze, Nitaka, and Tsushima appeared to the SSW. We (the cruiser Oleg), turned and opened fire to port.
The Japanese shells, contrary to ours, exploded not only on touching solid objects but also at the least resistance, and produced numerous explosions followed by thick and persistent smoke. When they fell into the sea they threw up great .columns of water. They were more like mines than shells and as mines they produced the same effect at short and long distances. For such shells the mass and initial speed were of little importance, as the effect was due not to the strength of shock, but to the force of the explosion of their charge.
This new invention gave the Japanese an immense advantage over our shells because they could see where their own shells fell and could correct their fire. Further, they could fire at greater range and cause damage not only in hitting the mark, but even when the shells fell into the sea near our ships. The columns of water blinded the eyes of our crews and obscured the marks on the optical instruments. The explosions on deck and the shell splinters caused heavy losses in men.
At 3:30 P.M. the Japanese cruisers Matsoushima, Itsoukyshima, Hashidate, Souma, and the battleship Chin-Ien made their ap pearance on our left. We were obliged to fight to port as well as to starboard.
Unfortunately, the 6-inch shells of the Oleg could not always reach the enemy, while the latter's 8- and 12-inch shells inflicted serious damage on us.
We avoided disaster only by frequently changing our speed. Changing from full speed to slow, we succeeded in avoiding the enemy's fire.
At about 4:00 P.M. the transport Oural sank. During her agony, to save her crew the tugs Rouss and Svir hurried under violent fire to her help. These two small ships heroically did their duty.
At the same time, at 4:05 P.M., we saw Suvarov out of line without masts and funnels. Our battleships, having changed their course, formed a protective screen around the Suvarov. The cruisers followed the battleships in line formation. Half an hour later the flagship, completely dismantled, succeeded in following the squadron and took the last place in the column.
Night began to fall.
At 4:50 P.M. our battleships, under pressure of the Japanese from the north, turned to the NW and a quarter of an hour later the battleship Alexander III left the line. The cruisers followed the battleships.
At 6:00 P.M. the flagship signaled that the admiral handed over command of the squadron to Rear Admiral Nebogatov. A little later the battleships turned to the westward.
A fire broke out on the Borodino. Probably it was the captain's bridge and the ship's boats which were on fire.
The battleship Alexander III, which had reentered the line, was again obliged to leave it.
At 6:35 P.M. the destroyer Bouiny signaled: "Admiral Rojestvenski is on board," and took direction to the southward.
In the rays of the sinking sun we could see several lines of Japanese destroyers barring our way to the north. They seemed to be immobile. We opened fire, but without results, as the distance was too great.
At 7:00 P.M. the battleship Alexander III, after hurried repairs, took her place at the rear of the column.
At 7:20 P.M. the Borodino, which headed the column and was firing vigorously, suddenly sank. This was so unexpected and precipitate that it seemed as if the battleship Orel which followed her had no time to change her course and passed over the tomb, freshly closed and still moving, of her fighting comrade.
At 7:15 P.M. the battle began to break off gradually, but desultory firing continued.
Night came and the Japanese destroyers began their attack, aiming to accomplish the work executed during the day by the guns of their fleet.
Towards 7:30 P.M. our whole squadron followed the course to the southward and towards 8:00 P.M. we repulsed the first destroyer attack. The darkness did not allow us to distinguish our own ships from the enemy.
The guns continued firing. Several times we turned to north, northwest, and northeast, in order to join our squadron and break through to Vladivostok, but all these attempts were of no avail. Each time we met either Japanese ships of the line or their divisions of destroyers. However, by continually changing course and speed we succeeded in avoiding the torpedoes of the attacking forces.
This lasted up to 10:00 P.M. At that moment we abandoned all hopes of breaking through to the north and, having lost touch with the squadron, we chose a course to the SW 45°.
We could not steam around Japan by the east as our engines were in bad condition. Besides, one of our high-pressure cylinders, which had already burst at Kronstadt during tests and had been repaired, was letting steam escape. It was impossible for us to obtain full speed; moreover, our coal reserve was insufficient for the voyage. Admiral Enquist, who had his flag on the Oleg, therefore decided to turn south and seek refuge in the neutral port of Manila, in the Philippines.
The night passed in anxious expectations of the enemy and in constant working of the pumps in order to clear the ship of water which had entered through the shell holes. During the night the wind fell and the sea became calm. The rising sun accentuated the awful picture of our ship after the battle. All the decks were covered with dirt from wet coal dust and smoke; disorder everywhere; planking damaged by shells; boats destroyed. Everywhere signs of burning and destruction, as after a great fire.
The morning, May 28, at dawn we saw that the cruisers Avrora and Jemchoug were following us and we learned that the captain of the former had been killed. The admiral therefore decided to take command of this ship and transferred to her with his staff and flag.
The cruiser Oleg, besides damages to her engines, had twelve shell holes. The losses in men were relatively insignificant: two officers slightly wounded, eighteen sailors killed and fifty-six wounded.
Our course was to the Straits of Formosa.
At that time a group of officers (Lieutenants Mishtovt, Zaroudny, Politovski, Domershikow and others), addressed me asking permission to hold a council of war, to deliberate the question as to whether we had to abandon definitely the attempt to break through to Vladivostok or to try once more. I expressed my opinion that in the present weather conditions, with small supplies of coal and a damaged engine, the chances of reaching Vladivostok were almost nil. However, preferring an honorable end in battle to internment in a neutral port, I authorized the senior officer to hold the council and told him I was in favor of sailing north. Personally, I could not abandon the work of repairing the shell holes and attend the council. After the deliberations the officers returned and informed me that the majority was for asking the admiral to turn north.
With this decision I went to see, first, the captain, asking him to approach the admiral in order to change our course and once more to break through to Vladivostok. Captain Dobrotvorski's reply was very near my own conclusion, but, considering that there was no chance of success, he did not see any reason for bringing the cruiser and her crew to useless destruction and refused to go to the admiral, leaving it to me.
Admiral Enquist was on the captain's bridge when I came and reported to him. After hearing me he embraced me and answered with tears in his eyes:
"I understand yours and your officers' act and noble intentions. As an officer I entirely share it, but as an admiral I can't agree with it. All last night we tried to break through, unsuccessfully. The enemy's squadron, almost at full strength, and their destroyers barred our way. Several times we changed our course before falling finally to south. Now it's too late. To sail north means to bring to certain disaster your cruiser and the cruisers Avrora and Jemchoug. I am old, I have not long to live, but besides me there are more than 1,200 young lives which can be useful to our country. No, my friend, tell the officers that although I share with all my heart and appreciate their desire I cannot agree with it. I undertake the full responsibility for everything!"
So failed our attempt to try to turn again to the north.
A little later Lieutenant Domershikow insisted on my giving him the long boat for sailing with volunteers to Vladivostok. That of course, I could not allow.
During lunch in the mess in the captain's presence the question was put, where to go? To Shanghai, or further to Manila, or Saigon? After a detailed discussion and balloting it was decided to sail to Manila, in the Philippines, as a more distant port, in the hope that the Americans would allow us to leave the port after we had made necessary repairs.
On May 28 the weather was fine and the sea calm. We made temporary repairs, employing for this purpose everything that came to hand: mattresses, planks even, to stop the holes.
During our voyage towards the Philippines we still had a difficulty to surmount. The rapid fall of the barometer, with the regular modification of the wind, showed us without doubt the approach of a typhoon, very common in these seas. During the night the weather became rough. Immense waves broke on our port side which was fortunately undamaged. If the same storm and the waves had taken us on the starboard side our position would have been critical, as the temporary repairs would not have been able to withstand them.
On approaching Manila, after reading a service we buried at sea our comrades who had been killed or died from their wounds. During the evening of June 2 or 3 we entered the harbor of Manila and dropped anchor.
During the last hours we could steam but slowly as the coal was almost gone; the boiler pressure fell and the electricity almost failed. We were obliged to burn hemp, tar, planks, etc.
After "Let go!" we breathed more easily, but I cannot say that we felt secure because we did not know what the future would bring to us.
Our anxiety was justified.
Shortly after we anchored a captain on the staff of the American admiral, following the usual sea custom, came to call on us and we learned the first sad news. Admiral Rojestvenski, gravely wounded, had been captured.
The division of Admiral Nebogatov, consisting of the battleships Emperor Nicholas I, Orel, third-class battleships Admiral Seniavine and General Admiral Count Apraxine, had been captured by the Japanese and with the St. Andrew's flag replaced by the Japanese flag, they were brought to Japan.
This news had on us the effect of a thunderbolt. In our fleet, through over two hundred years of its history, there had been only one case of hauling down the glorious flag of St. Andrew before an enemy. This was when the St. Raphael surrendered to the Turks. The Emperor Nicholas the First, wishing to wash off this infamy, ordered the Russian Fleet to find this ship wherever she might be and to burn and sink her. This order was executed.
Admiral Nebogatov's surrender was all the more incomprehensible and unpardonable as one of the last orders of Admiral Rojestvenski read: "On preparing the ship for battle make sure that, in case of being surrounded by superior enemy forces and unavoidable disaster seems certain, everything on board is ready for blowing up the ship and sinking her." All preparations for this had been made on board the Oleg.
As to the fifth ship of the same division, the third-class battleship Admiral Oushakow, she had refused to surrender, preferring a heroic death. At the Japanese signal, "Surrender!" Oushakow replied with a salvo of all her guns and then, opening her sea cocks, sank below the water. Part of her crew remained on the surface clinging to floating wreckage. The Japanese, recognizing this heroic act, did all in their power to save the survivors and afterwards, when they were prisoners of war, their arms were restored to them and they were treated with consideration.
After an exchange of telegrams between the American and Russian governments, Washington insisted on our disarmament. The gun breechblocks were handed over to the American authorities. I cannot forget the painful moment when the chief artillery officer, Lieutenant Zaroudny, delivered them with tears in his eyes.
We remained at Manila until the end of the war, the ratification of the Treaty of Portsmouth allowing us to return to Russia. We profited by our stay at Manila to make the necessary repairs and to equip the crew, who had great need of clothing after so many months of voyaging. During the trip the cabins had been transformed into coal bunkers and the men's clothes were in holes. After repairing the shell holes in the plates of our ship they were painted white. A photograph, taken at this time, showed the excellence of the Japanese fire and the places where the ship had been hit.
Through the newspapers we learned that only the auxiliary cruiser Almas and a few destroyers had been able to force their way to Vladivostok.
The cruiser Isoumroud, having managed to get through the Japanese lines, had gone ashore in a bay not far from Vladivostok. Finding it impossible to refloat the ship, her crew destroyed her.
Thus the battle was lost. The Japanese had won a brilliant victory. This success was due to the great superiority of their speed over ours (seventeen knots against nine), to the range of their guns, their methods of shooting (covering), to the use of high-explosive shells ("Shimoza"), giving numerous splinters, and principally, to the state of preparedness of their ships and the training of their crews.
The awful debacle of our squadron produced on all of us a very painful impression. We saw clearly that we had paid dearly for our deficiency. The lesson was costly but profitable. After the war ended our Admiralty at once began the reorganization of our fleet. Its active units were entrusted to the experienced, energetic, and never-to-be-forgotten Admiral Nicholas Otto von Essen. Under his leadership the fleet gained new life. The men-of-war ceased to be laid up for the winter and with their personnel were in commission all the year round.
As it was impossible to replace speedily the line ships the Admiralty concentrated at first on building destroyer divisions and detachments. Each summer was spent in maneuvers, target and torpedo practice. The liaison service was brought to a state of high efficiency.
When in 1914 the Great War broke out our comparatively small fleet, already reinforced by squadrons of line ships and cruisers, was not only able to hold in check the much more powerful German Fleet, but also to keep it continually on the alert, in expectation of attack.
In finishing my recollections of this historical and tragic event, I cannot help but mention the high post-battle nervous tension of all of us, which expressed itself in aural and optical hallucinations. The next day after the battle, when the fighting had entirely ceased, many of us imagined that we heard guns booming from different points of the compass. Later on, following a southwest course and when on the meridian of the Straits of Formosa, at about noon, first one, then several columns of smoke were thought to be seen on the horizon to the south. We searched for them anxiously. Soon the ship's outlines were discerned. All our telescopes and binoculars were trained in this direction and everybody on the bridge, including our best signalmen, discovered Admiral Nebogatov's division making for the straits. It turned out to be a mirage, as we afterwards learned that at this moment Nebogatov's division, far away to the north, had been surrounded by a superior enemy force and surrendered.