Chapter 22: The Sino-Russian War
1 February 1897, Imperial Palace, Rome
Leo IV, the new Emperor of Rome, was finding life to be just a bit more tricky than he bargained for. Yes, he was beginning his reign at war -- an impediment few Emperors had experienced -- but the Empire itself, it seemed, was in an age of transition. One of his first decisions as Emperor was naming Prince Gabriele his Minister of Security, but at the same time, transferring the
Vigiles to a separate office directly under Imperial control. He also changed the name of the Ministry to the Ministry of Intelligence and, with the Senate's consent, removed it from the normal political considerations of other offices. Nobody in the government had had even the slightest idea that Russia and China would be at war, and the Emperor wanted that to change. In order for that to change, the Minister of Intelligence simply couldn't be voted out for a bad decision or two, as General Pietro Austria-d'Este had. The General's landing was relatively soft, as he was in one of the easiest positions in the legions: commanding the Australian Legion.
Prince Gabriele insisted he would only accept the assignment if the
Vigiles were restricted to intelligence gathering within the Empire, not analysis or investigations of their own. Essentially, the
Vigiles would provide the Ministry of Intelligence with a network of trusted agents throughout the Empire, supplemented by the Ministry's own efforts. Any other missions for the
Vigiles would have to be signed off on by the Emperor himself. Leo IV had acquiesced, but grudgingly. Still, the new Ministry was already paying dividends. After a careful examination of those articles in the
Roman Red Star identified as Communist, Prince Gabriele identified the pseudonyms of the so-called Society of Cincinnatus, and had gained at least some inkling of who they were.
The ringleader of both the Society and the
Populares,
Femina, was the only one who had kept the same name. She was well educated, as her Latin was perfect, yet there was always a considerable delay between events and her articles. That meant she was based either at one extreme end of the Empire or the other -- the Caribbean or Australia.
The Prince had provided more information on the others. "The Genius" had apparently died recently; his replacement, "Giancarlo", was the only member of the Society who'd chosen an Italian name. He was also the only one who wrote both Latin and Italian as a native;
Femina's Latin was actually too perfect. Based on this information, Gabriele di Farnese had determined that, as with the other three, "Giancarlo's" nationality and name were congruent. He was undoubtedly Italian and also well educated.
The former "Miguel" had been replaced by "Lazaro", although it was clear both individuals were Spanish. The writing styles were different enough that they were two entirely different people. "Lazaro" was both the oldest and least educated of the Society, as his Latin had frequent misspellings and archaisms that no Roman born since 1850 would have used. "Lazaro" occasionally wrote in Spanish as well, and Gabriele's translators had established that Spanish was his native tongue, yet even there, his grammar and spelling were very poor.
"Roger" was the most violent of the Society, and his articles were full of brutal imagery. He also tended to release military secrets before they were made public; Gabriele had, unfortunately, come to the conclusion that "Roger" was a high ranking military official. Military metaphors filled the pages of the
Red Star when he wrote.
"Mehmet" was the fifth and final member of the Society. Gabriele had the most information on him, as "Mehmet" was clearly a Turk in Constantinople. He thought he'd have a name in a few weeks; he knew "Mehmet" was single, in his 40s, and either a dockworker or a shipwright. He'd been in the military, briefly, but for some reason had been dismissed from service. Part of the reason Gabriele had insisted on basing the Ministry of Intelligence was to focus on "Mehmet." He was the most reasonable of the group, and was the most willing to seek compromise. That meant he could be vulnerable to external pressures, perhaps even give up the names of the others.
While Emperor Leo IV pondered the Society, his heralds announced Marshal Arturo Orsatti, who'd brought an unfamiliar man with him. The man was well-groomed and confident, dressed in the uniform of an officer of the Russian Fleet. The Marshal introduced him. "Emperor, this is Grand Duke Nikolai Aleksandrovich, the Tsar's son and our liaison in this war against the Chinese."
The Emperor nodded and waved them closer. "My Lord Duke, a pleasure to meet you. How is your father?"
Nikolai smiled. "He is very well, thank you for asking. Sometimes I wonder if he might not outlive us all!" The Grand Duke's expression dimmed noticeably. "I was sorry to hear about your father's death. The Tsar and I were both quite fond of him. His loss is a loss to the entire world."
The Emperor's mien showed no sign of the grief he felt. He simply thanked Nikolai and turned to the Marshal. "Arturo, how is your plan to reorganize the legions coming?"
The Marshal opened a folder he'd been carrying. "Your Majesty, I think you'll be pleased with the results. We've freed up a great many junior officers for other tasks, while the fighting efficiency of each legion increases." Arturo turned to the Grand Duke to explain. "What I've done is reduce the number of lieutenants in the legions. As you may know, each squad of ten men previously had one lieutenant, one sergeant, one corporal, and seven privates. Our problem was that meant only nine rifles per squad, as officers do not typically carry anything more than sidearms. Some are quite good with the rifle, but many are not. It's a choice for lieutenants, but Centurions and above are forbidden to carry rifles or command from the front lines."
The Grand Duke looked puzzled. "How can your officers lead if your men cannot see them?"
The Marshal chuckled dryly. "It's a trade off. They can either visibly die or live to command another day. We've mostly been dealing with internal disturbances, and the rebels always go for the officers. Besides, we've greatly improved field telephones. We also rely on our non-commissioned officers, most of whom serve for ten years or more, to keep the privates in line."
Nikolai Aleksandrovich shook his head. "You would let commoners run your legions?"
Leo IV couldn't help but laugh at that one. "The Marshal is a commoner, Grand Duke Nikolai."
Arturo Orsatti did a mock bow, as the Russian's eyes widened. "Nobility isn't as... prominent in our Empire, sir. The only way to become a hereditary noble -- if you haven't been a Roman for a very long time -- is to serve in the legions or be elected ten consecutive times to the Senate. If only nobles could be officers, each legion would have a dozen officers."
Nikolai's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He simply shook his head, almost in disgust, and tried to change the subject. "So how did you solve your problem?"
The Marshal's mirth quickly subsided. "Easily. We've cut the number of lieutenants the legion requires in half. Each century is now divided into five companies of twenty men or two squads. A lieutenant commands a company."
"Then who leads your squads?"
"One sergeant and one corporal."
Nikolai started to flush, slightly, in anger. "Now you are clearly having fun at my expense. A squad without officers is a leaderless mob!"
The Emperor coughed politely. "Let me say, my Lord Duke, that our nations are very different, and that I think you will see our approach pays dividends against the Chinese."
"Oh, against the Chinese? Absolutely. But not proper Europeans, I shouldn't think!"
The Marshal turned his head to roll his eyes, then turned back to the Grand Duke. "Sir, what would you like the Empire to do?"
Nikolai's expression brightened. "Very simple, Marshal. We'd like your legions to engage the Chinese on our border. We'll give you supplies and transport across the country." He beamed as he waited for the Emperor to respond.
Leo IV was aghast. "You want us to march to the Chinese borders?"
"We'd transport you via rail, obviously."
The Emperor frowned. He glanced at the Marshal, who was visibly reddening as Nikolai had earlier. "That won't be possible."
Nikolai, instead of being angry, rose an eyebrow in confusion. "Why not? You are going to help us, aren't you?"
"Nikolai." As an Emperor, Leo IV could refer to the Grand Duke by his Christian name, but the imposition still shocked the proper Russian noble. "We always honor our debts, and we will do our best to defend your lands. However, we cannot march our entire army to China, leaving our border completely open. The Czechs have little reason to like us, and indeed may suspect that we'd tried to intervene against them in your last war. Instead, I have instructed the Marshal to place our fleet and a few select legions to operate on the Chinese coast. I have authorized Admiral Ugo d'Absburgo-Toscana -- one of our finest tactical commanders -- to take our newest fleet, the Classis XIV 'Gladius Maris', to Australia, which is where we will stage our efforts."
The Grand Duke tried to brush such a meager effort aside. "A mere fleet? What is it, a dozen rowboats?"
The Emperor's face was completely still, his words cold. "Sixty cruisers, my Lord Duke. Steel cruisers. How many of those do you have again?"
Nikolai Aleksandrovich felt very small. He'd insulted his country's most important and powerful ally. If the Emperor wanted to, he had grounds to dissolve the alliance then and there, and leave the Russians to face the heathens alone. To Nikolai Aleksandrovich Farnese, Leo IV wasn't just an ally -- he was family. Russians have always had tremendous respect for family ties, and he did the only thing he could. "Your Imperial Majesty, I am humbled by your contribution. It was wrong of me to impose my own military opinions upon you. Any assistance you could provide will be welcome, and I will pass this along to my father."
Leo's expression softened slightly. "No apologies necessary. I know it is your land at stake, not mine. We will do all we can to defend you."
"Thank you. I will convey your plan to the Tsar. Good luck and Godspeed."
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13 April 1897, General Staff building, Florence
Admiral Nikolai Alekseyev couldn't help but smile at his new office. Then again, the whole building was new. For a long time, the General Staff shared with the Van Dijk College of War, but Marshal Orsatti had ordered the construction of a new building shortly after getting the promotion. Florence, as well as the ancestral capital of Tuscany, continued to be the military center of the Empire. You had the Germanicus Academy on one corner, the War College across the street, and the Contadino General Staff Offices a block away, all on Agrippa Avenue. Only the Admiralty -- located in Naples -- wasn't there. The navy adopted the same system that the legions had, relying on regional centers to train seamen while the Admiralty handled officers.
The navy doesn't need two whole schools just to tell somebody how to drive a boat!, Alekseyev quietly said to himself.
He had other reasons to be happy. The navy's performance was spectacular. Their first action, the Battle of Cam Rah Bay, was a complete victory.
Admiral d'Absburgo-Toscana's
Classis, in conjunction with Russian support ships, sunk four more ships a few days later, including two Chinese Ironclads. To make things even better, the Roman Telegraph Agency (RTA) reported that Poland had surrendered Polish Kiev to Ukraine; the Admiral had never quite forgiven the Poles for calling in the Czechs in the last war. He was, after all, Russian, even if he had spent most of his life in Bosnia and Rome.
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17 July 1897, the deck of RNS Antioch, Guanghou Bay
Admiral Ugo d'Absburgo-Toscana tried to make it to the head this time; he didn't quite make it. Ugo didn't know that victory could feel so terrible, but it did. His cruisers annihilated everything the Chinese threw at him; the latest battle saw him destroy 11 Ironclads with almost no damage of any kind.
Other battles destroyed another twelve Ironclads and two more transports. Things were going so well that Admiral Alekseyev ordered Admiral Fiorenzo van Dijk -- a Roman born member of the illustrious van Dijks, formerly of the Netherlands -- to "unretire" the steam transport fleet; twenty transports and six old-fashioned Commerce Raiders. Admiral van Dijk was to bring reinforcements to stage in Australia for an eventual invasion of Taiwan. His cruisers were to engage the enemy fleet at every time; the Chinese might have had inferior ships, but they had a lot of them.
Ugo didn't know why he felt so miserable. Yes, the victories might have been a touch too easy, and he did feel some guilt about destroying so many ships and killing so many sailors, but he'd made every effort to get as many survivors as he could. Was this God cursing him?
Ugo threw up again. Blood rushed to his forehead, as he collapsed on the deck.
Is vomit supposed to be black?
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3 November 1897, Alice Springs, Australia
General Pietro d'Austria-Este wiped his brow as the heat got to him. He'd been in Australia ever since he lost his position as Minister of Security, and while it was sometimes pleasant, he wasn't in one of the pleasant areas now. The death of Admiral d'Absburgo-Toscana made the General overall commander of Australian forces, and he didn't like what he saw.
The Outback was no kinder to the Chinese than it had been to his own men. The Chinese army had numbered 64,000 when they'd landed; since then, they'd taken more than 50% casualties. That hadn't impeded their progress much. Broome and Sandy Desert had already fallen. By retaking Sandy Desert, Pietro hoped to cut off Chinese supplies, further whittling down their numbers until he could attack them. In the meantime, it was the Navy that got all the attention; the Chinese had engaged the cruisers in a major indecisive battle. Off the coast of Annam, the leaderless Classis XIV fought 103 Chinese ships -- 25 Ironclads and 78 Commerce Raiders -- to a draw. Not a single ship on either side was sunk. In a panic, a board of inquiry had authorized increasing funds for naval programs.
At the moment, Classis XIV was docked for repairs. Admiral van Dijk's fleet approached the northwestern coast of Australia, where they'd already defeated a small Chinese flotilla of four transports. Aboard his transport fleet was the Legio XXIX 'Gaul' and General Umberto Giardino. The plan was simple. The legion would put ashore at Roeburne. It would then attack the Chinese forces at Wiluna, with Pietro's own legion in support.
General d'Austria-Este sat down, dizzy.
It must be this dry Australian heat. That's got to be it.
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24 January 1898, Wiluna, Australia
General Umberto Giardino had won his battles, and the enemy was routed. That was good. What wasn't as good was the death of General d'Austria-Este, apparently from the same cause as Admiral d'Absburgo-Toscana: yellow fever. What was worse still was that the deaths could have been prevented, but sabotage had nullified the Roman supply of quinine. It was especially insidious; a doctor traveling with the Admiral's fleet was actually a member of the
Populares, ordered by the Society of Cincinnatus to "cripple the oppressive war machine of the ruling class." In other words, the Roman quinine was completely worthless, simple sugar tablets. The doctor had already been tried and executed for treason, but not quickly enough. General Giardino had lost two colonels, four captains, and about a dozen lieutenants, all to yellow fever. Roman casualties in the Battle of Wiluna should have been much lower; many of those were disease, not combat deaths.
After discovering the problem, General Giardino forbade his men to take any of the false quinine, relying instead upon stores from Sydney, brought to his headquarters at Wiluna by railroad. Their performance at the Battle of Gibson's Desert was better still, with the Chinese army being completely annihilated at Second Wiluna. The latter battle had a mere 12 casualties, all of them light wounds.
For once, the legions could be proud. Even the almighty navy had slipped a little; with the cruisers in port, a Chinese fleet caught the transport by surprise, destroying the six Commerce Raiders and one of the transports. Thankfully, the transport was an ammunition ship, and contained no soldiers.
General Giardino ordered his two legions to begin retaking the Australian provinces the Chinese had captured.
The next stop was Taiwan.
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9 May 1898, streets of Rome
The mood in the Roman Empire was very bizarre. Despite the multitude of successes the Romans had won -- including the late Battle of the Paracel Islands -- the actual war was lost with the Russian surrender to the Chinese hours before.
Some papers trumpeted the newest advances in Roman technology and their role in the naval victory the cruisers had won.
On the other hand, the
Roman Red Star was full of other stories. Specifically, how the men of Rome had died for nothing, that they were betrayed by their so-called Russian allies. Many people found this attitude somewhat confusing, particularly since Iosif Stavros, the leader of the
Agricolares and Deputy Chancellor, was an enthusiastic supporter of the Russian alliance. Stavros condemned the
Populares writers who had penned the articles and banned from the paper.
So the Communists did the next best thing: they revived the old banned newspaper
Vox Populi, the Voice of the People. The paper that had once condemned the Empire for not allowing voting was now demanding a revolution for the dictatorship of the proletariat.
Femina was named the paper's chief editor, and the rest of the Society sat on the editorial board. It began accepting contributions from foreigners, and the occasional Russian submitted articles, demanding violent change. Unfortunately for the authors, the
Okhrana read
Vox Populi too, and soon no Russian names appeared in the paper. The paper's first headline -- "The People Demand the Resignation of Bismarck the Warmonger" -- was realized very quickly, although the German Foreign Minister did not resign. Instead, a Communist assassin ambushed him in late April, gunning him down.
Vox Populi didn't even have the courtesy to pretend they hadn't done it; instead, there was a full page editorial on how skillful the assassin had been. The new Foreign Minister -- a
Pecuniares named Robert Cecil -- seemed far less polarizing than Bismarck had been, and he was confirmed easily.
Although there had been a lot of debate, the Emperor decided to authorize a triumph through Rome for General Giardino, who had after all driven the Chinese from Australia. The General's star was clearly on the rise, although not everybody liked him. As the General led his legion through the city, a blacksmith scoffed. He glanced at his son, who was equally covered in soot from working at the smithy.
"You are fifteen, my son. It is time for you to understand how the world works."
"Yes, Papa."
"Do you know why this man is being celebrated?"
"Because he won a great victory for our Empire?"
The smith chuckled. "Did he? Have we any more land or power than we did before this foolish war?"
The child thought for a moment. "No, I guess he didn't. Why is he being celebrated then, Papa?"
The smith's eyes flared as he stared at the man at the head of the column. "Because he is rich and powerful. Because he and his thugs are the tools of the ruling class, and they wish to keep people like us down."
"But why?"
"Because they can, my son. Because the people are the biggest threat to the aristocracy."
The poor young Italian was now completely confused. "Aristocracy? But the people can choose who they want. We vote!"
"Is that so? Then tell me. Who voted for the Emperor?"
"Nobody. He is the Emperor, appointed by God to lead us to glory!"
"Who voted for the General?" General Umberto Giardino was actually also a Senator from Bologna, but the smith didn't feel the need to confuse the poor lad.
"Nobody!"
"Who is the most powerful man in the Empire, except the Emperor?"
The child frowned, trying to remember his lessons at school. "Marshal Orsatti?"
"Very good! What happens if he does a bad job?"
The child brightened. He knew the answer to this one! "The Curia votes him out!"
"It does?" the smith asked in mock horror. "Oh no, not the Marshal. The Curia cannot vote him out, like they can a Chancellor or a Minister of Education."
The young man wrinkled his brow. "Then who watches the Marshal?"
"It's supposed to be the Emperor, but he and the Marshal are good friends. People look out for their friends, don't they?"
"Yes, Papa."
The smith drew himself up to his full height. "That is why we, as Socialists, hate the military. The
Vigiles oppress us when the legions can't, but even the
Vigiles are secretly part of the legions!" Now the blacksmith was making things up, but the child didn't care. He respected and loved his father too much to doubt him.
"What can we do, Papa?"
The smith had played his son like a violin. His son had often asked about joining the legions, something that the radical socialist found abhorrent, and so he did everything he could to keep his son out. This was the first time he'd made real progress, and he couldn't afford to waste it. "Son, I think I will take you along to one of my special meetings. Would you like that?"
The child almost squealed with glee, but then realized what his father wanted, and instead nodded solemnly. "I'd like that very much, sir."
The smith tousled his son's hair. "Then you'll come with me next Thursday.
I'm proud of you, Benito."
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The Robert Cecil mentioned above is the
Marquess of Salisbury; I'll keep calling him Robert Cecil because the Empire isn't big on titles, but that's who he's patterned after.
I honestly never expected the Chinese to invade Australia; I thought the Russians would keep their hands full. I never did get to invade Taiwan, but at least I won some battles.
Next update should be, hopefully, early next week!
