>> Memorandum of Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō on the night battle in the Gulf of Tonkin, December 31, 1921 <<
Distinguished officers and members of the 大本営 (Daihon'ei),
The first day of the new year 1922 has brought us an unexpected success! Of course, we have to say again that the behaviour of our opponent was once again unexpected. Nor could our reconnaissance be expanded to the necessary extent, but with the divine protection of our nation, the navy under the leadership of Kaigun-shōshō Hisamori Taguchi succeeded in inflicting a severe defeat on the Grand Nation in a dramatic battle.
Our losses are minimal compared to those of the enemy, but for the future construction of ships, we need to closely study the sinking of the light cruiser Tatsuta. A single torpedo had reverent consequences here. We have to learn from that.
Signals are coming from the front that the loss of this supply convoy will possibly bring the decision at Tonkin. Thus, we can welcome the New Year benevolently and courageously move forward in this conflict to the honor of the Emperor.
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Thus, the officers of the 軍令部 (Gunreibu) of the Imperial Japanese Navy, the 参謀本部 (Sambō hombu) of the Imperial Japanese Army, and the 海軍省 (Kaigun-shō) may take good note of the prepared and illustrated course of the battle for the night battle in the Gulf of Tonkin on December 31, 1921 of that year.
Long live the Rengō Kantai, long live the Imperial Japanese Navy, long live the Emperor!
Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō, January 1, 1922
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Extra sheet of the Tōkyō Shinbun from Sunday, January 1, 1922
>> Imperial Navy sinks large convoy – Tonkin garrison surrenders! <<
The new year 1922 begins with an outstanding success for the Imperial Japanese Navy! On the night of the turn of the year, Kaigun-shōshō Hisamori Taguchi managed to sink a large enemy convoy that was supposed to bring urgently needed supplies to Tonkin. Surely the perfidious enemy had expected to remain unmolested that night. But our navy cannot be tricked in such a clumsy way. Immediately after the French disaster became known, the garrison of Tonkin laid down its arms and surrendered to the Japanese landing troops.
This is the second great success within a few weeks and an indication of an outstanding year 1922!
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, January 9, 1922
Osaki Satoshi surveyed the maps of the southern China Sea. Japan had achieved impressive successes, that had to be acknowledged. But he also realized how small the colonial bases of the British and French had been. Both nations had not placed much emphasis on larger ports in which large battleships could also be overtaken. He began to understand why opponents were taught one defeat after another. Strong and rested Japanese naval forces were mostly opposed by smaller enemy squadrons that had travelled for months.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, February 02, 1922
In the Élysée Palace, too, someone had probably looked at the cards in the last few weeks! The printing presses were running at full speed, the extra sheet of the Tōkyō Shinbun could not be reprinted fast enough as it was selling.
PEACE!
That was the simple title! Even before the turn of the year, secret negotiations between France and Japan were underway in Berlin. At the turn of the year, these were still not very successful, but at that time the delegations did not know anything about the Tonkin New Year's disaster.
A few weeks later, things changed and France gave up most of its Asian possessions. It was simply not able to defend it at such a distance, and in Europe the will to pay a death toll for the other end of the world melted away.
But Osaki Satoshi also knew what was in store for him now. Without war, there was no need for a large editorial office and he had to come up with something to maintain his position and somehow supply and employ his highly motivated editors.
The war with France brought considerable innovations in naval warfare and this would certainly be reflected in the development of the fleet. If he were to lose his network now, there was a risk of being pushed onto the siding. He himself was still not well liked in the ministry and was cut off from the information there.
Osaki Satoshi needed his editors and their informants now more than ever!
>> Memorandum of the Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō on the Second East Asian Colonial War of 1921/1922 <<
Distinguished officers and members of the 大本営 (Daihon'ei),
the war is over!
Our successes are once again unbelievable and the Imperial Japanese Navy is now one of the serious maritime powers in the world! From now on, the European imperialists will think twice about starting a war with Japan.
Asia belongs to us – Asia belongs to Japan – Asia belongs to the Japanese people – Asia belongs to the Emperor!
Our successes at sea but also on land were so clear that it does not take many words to appreciate the achievements of our sailors and soldiers. It has been shown what we are capable of when the army and navy work together and not against each other, as was all too often the case in the past.
Therefore, as the most revealing event of this war, I would like to highlight only the deployment of our new aircraft carriers. As ambivalent as the experiences with it are, the last use of the carrier aircraft has shown the potential of this new weapon.
It is therefore with a heavy heart that I recommend that the Navy question the construction of further battleships and end their continuation in favor of aircraft carriers. It has been shown that the few Japanese battleships have not played a major role. On the contrary, if our battleships got into a reasonable combat situation at all, they were no match even for older enemy units. The few but difficult hits have shown this. The gentlemen officers of the honorable 第一艦隊 (Dai-ichi Kantai - IJN 1st Fleet) may forgive me, but Japan cannot have both. Either a battle fleet or aircraft carriers. I predict that the future belongs to aircraft carriers, the statements of our pilots are clear. If the designers take the statements of our pilots seriously, our modern Japan can take the lead in a weapon system at sea for the first time ever. We will never succeed in doing this with battleships in the future!
Finally, you will get an overview of our new possessions, which will give us an excellent starting point to chase the enemies of our nation out of our waters for all time and keep them out of them.
Long live the Rengō Kantai, long live the Imperial Japanese Navy, long live the Emperor!
Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō, February 4, 1922
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Extra sheet of the Tōkyō Shinbun from Monday, February 6, 1922
>> Assassination attempt on Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō -
Dispute within the Imperial Japanese Navy escalates! <<
This morning there was an assassination attempt on the honorable Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō when he took a walk not far from the 海軍省 (Kaigun-shō – Ministry of the Navy) in the 日比谷公園 (Hibiya-kōen – Hibiya Park). Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō was unharmed thanks to the courageous intervention of several young officers. The six hooded Pictures who carried out the attack were shot during their operation. But the question remains, how safe is it in Kasumigaseki (author's note: in principle the government district -> https://www.mlit.go.jp/english/2006/p_g ... story.html) if even the highest officers cannot be safe in their lives?
It is speculated that this attack is connected to a statement by the Honorable Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō, according to which he wants to have the battleships of the Imperial Japanese Navy scrapped.
As it was also announced today, there is said to have been a fierce dispute and exchange of blows on the weekend before the 大本営 (Daihon'ei). The naval command has tried to keep this secret. With the assassination attempt this morning in public in front of dozens of witnesses, this was no longer possible. In a short statement, Navy Minister Katō Tomosaburō spoke appeaseingly of disagreements about the future use of Japanese shipyard capacities.
Behind closed doors, however, several members of the press, including the present editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun, were informed that there was an ugly dispute about the very much reduced budget for the Navy. It is completely natural that things cannot go on as before after the end of the war. After all, military spending had reached unhealthy levels that could no longer be explained to the civilian population after the peace agreement.
Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō is said to have been annoyed that even the young 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force) had been massively curtailed. The Kaigun-chūjō sees the future in these parts of the navy and does not agree with the ordered scrapping of the airships. On the contrary, it would massively restrict maritime reconnaissance, which would become increasingly important in the future. In the opinion of the Kaigun-chūjō, the disastrous deployment of the naval aviators so far – there is no other way to describe it – would not get any better if they were not granted the necessary warning time through long-distance sea reconnaissance. This requires all parts of the 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force).
During the conversation in front of the 大本営 (Daihon'ei), an unnamed officer is said to have exclaimed that the honorable Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō would be harnessed to one of the newly wrapped 18" guns. Then he could personally convince himself of the alleged uselessness of battleships.
These events so soon after the victory over the Grande Nation do not cast a good light on the recently achieved partnership within the Japanese military. The coming weeks and months should be exciting to see which faction prevails within the Navy. The fact that the dreaded Kempeitai have already been put on a short leash speaks volumes. The appearance of the Kempeitai during the last months of the war was too brutal.
The entire Japanese military is in the process of gambling away its reputation among the population when it carries out its disputes with public assassinations and incites its military police against the population.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, March 3, 1922
Osaki Satoshi already knew the feeling from before. A feeling of emptiness, a feeling of uselessness. A feeling of falling into an infinitely deep and black hole – with no return!
It wasn't just because of the deserted editorial offices. Every time a war ended, he asked himself what to do next? The first days after the peace agreement had been extremely exciting, but the dispute within the military was now also carried out behind closed doors and the press learned nothing. Only time would tell who should gain the upper hand.
Most of his subordinates had received special leave and he knew that very many would not return from this vacation. The publishing house management used the absence of the employees to sort out who had to leave and who was allowed to stay. Osaki Satoshi had no say in this, he understood that immediately.
He thought about how it had been after the previous war and wanted to try to enforce this as a minimum.
After war is before the war, that much was clear – that's how he would argue to the publishing house management!
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, March 6, 1922
Osaki Satoshi experienced his biggest disaster so far. He was allowed to stay and continue to devote himself to the war chronicles of Imperial Japan. However, only he was allowed to stay. The rest of his editorial team was either dismissed or transferred to other editorial offices. He had to give up his spacious office and destroy most of his filing. There was no more room for that in the publishing house. Out of necessity, he stored everything at his home that was detrimental to the peace of the family.
In the small "broom closet" that he still had at his disposal, he tried to make the best of the situation. He had a small shelf wall in which he only stored the latest information according to a new scheme. He began by mapping the status quo of the current fleet. He found out that Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō was already right. The current new hives alone showed that naval aviation was not accorded any importance.
If the 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force) really become what Tochinai Sojirō suspected, it would be far too little budget!
However, it had to be admitted that at least the airfields on land were expanded or built at all. However, this did not help the fleet at sea.
At least editor-in-chief Fukuzawa Saburo didn't expect Satoshi to contribute even one article. He said that the population had had enough of the war and did not want to hear about thicker armor plates and new medals for old officers.
So it was hardly noticeable that Osaki Satoshi spent only a little time in the publishing house and built a large "shed" next to his home on his own together with his sons and several former editorial colleagues. His wife was worried that he was now bringing his editorial office directly home, but was also happy to get the rooms of the apartment building free again. March 1922 had passed quickly...
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Editorship of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, October 12, 1922
Not only the next few weeks, but the next few months flew by like the wind. But this was also due to the fact that simply nothing of importance for the naval war happened. There were individual political skirmishes, but that was about it. It was only in October that Osaki Satoshi was able to attend the delivery of the first real aircraft carrier designed and built as such. However, he could have saved himself the trouble with the camera, the photo of the new ship, christened "Zuiho", was not printed. A three-liner on an inconsequential back page, the report was not worth more to the publisher.
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, December 18, 1922
The rest of the year was just as uneventful as the months before. Towards the end of the year, Osaki Satoshi was allowed to add at least a small side dish to the Tōkyō Shinbun. The overview of the fleet strengths of this world, however, made little work for him. Apart from the bare Pictures, the available space left no room for further information.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Tuesday, February 8, 1923
The turn of the year was also quieter than ever before and Osaki Satoshi took the opportunity to go to Formosa with his family. In the last war, this island played an important role and he wanted to take a closer look at this piece of Japan. It was clear to him that future conflicts would hardly be fought over Japan itself. In the meantime, the Japanese Empire had maneuvered itself into a comfortable situation, as there were hardly any serious enemy bases near the Japanese islands.
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, May 17, 1923
The last war had already been over for more than a year, and although it had ended with a bang – the assassination attempt of Kaigun-chūjō Tochinai Sojirō – it had been quiet ever since.
Osaki Satoshi was burning with curiosity about who could assert himself in the navy, but nothing leaked out, nothing at all! It was certainly also due to the fact that he had hardly any personnel, resources and sources of information left, but there was also absolute silence on the part of the navy.
Actually, there was an indicator for the winning faction, but even this indicator was literally dead – the shipyards!
Apart from a few submarines and another ship of the Fuso class, which had been forced on the Navy from above, there was not a single new building. Not a single existing ship has been docked for major modernizations. On the slipways there were only ships that had been commissioned before or during the war. In addition, there was practically no construction progress to be observed for many of these ships. One of the Fuso-class battleships and the battlecruiser Ikoma existed in principle only on paper. Although large steel parts and steel plates were lying around everywhere in the shipyards, nothing happened. Of these 70,000 tons and 45,000 tons of new buildings, there was not even anything that could remind you of a keel in a dream.
What was going on in the navy?
Could it be that no faction was able to prevail and therefore neither new buildings nor conversions were carried out? That the large battleships were not demolished, but also not further built? But new aircraft carriers were not added either?
Osaki Satoshi didn't know how to assess that? He also didn't know how to find out what was going on in the big red brick building he hadn't been to for a long time?
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, August 22, 1923
Summer was almost over and autumn was just around the corner. Osaki Satoshi was visibly depressed and frustrated. He was already thinking about quitting, even his own newspaper was haunting his head, but he had neither the knowledge nor the financial means to do so. He resigned himself to his fate and concentrated more and more on his new passion of painting. He stood with his easel in the hills of his homeland and painted landscapes. He found that this was an outstanding activity to distract himself.
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Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Saturday, September 1, 1923
It was Saturday! No reason for a Japanese not to work. Especially as an editor of a daily newspaper, you actually always worked. Day and night from Monday to next Monday. Osaki Satoshi did the same, at least in the past. He had had an unusually large amount of free time for a year and a half. In his hometown, there were already whispers about the lazy good-for-nothing. What could he do about it? His editor-in-chief had sidelined him and editor-in-chief Fukuzawa Saburo seemed to be right. There was simply no interesting news. Neither as far as the Imperial Japanese Navy was concerned, nor from abroad. Japan's relations with the other nations were good – all of them. Only the United States of America was slightly annoyed, but even that had not been worth mentioning for months.
The world seemed to have understood that it could be unhealthy to be on bad terms with Japan. Political tensions did not escalate as quickly as they used to. Even tangible espionage does not lead to threatening gestures and cannon thunder at the moment.
Osaki Satoshi did not work today. He was at home, standing in front of his house with his easel and painting a tree – a tree that he had probably painted a dozen times before.
Then put on the easel!
Satoshi was confused — he hadn't started the easel, not in the slightest. He bent down to raise the frame again. His legs felt kind of spongy, then he turned around. He tried to get up, but he couldn't.
Only now did he feel the tremors with full force. Getting up was out of the question. Everything wobbled, everything vibrated, everything shook. Objects jumped back and forth before his eyes, he heard glass shattering and saw the windows of his house shatter, then there was silence!
He didn't know how long it had taken, but it was intense. It was the most violent earthquake he had ever experienced. He had already experienced many quakes, that was nothing special in Japan. This time, however, he instinctively felt that it was different than usual. He ran to his command room, where chaos reigned – nothing was in his place, not even his camera.
After all, the camera seemed to have fallen softly, as it was lying on a mountain of paper. He grabbed the bag, then ran into the house. His wife was fine, but chaos reigned here too. After all, the house was still standing. However, lunch was spread over the floor. His wife was just about to start cooking, but the quake struck just moments before she was about to light the fireplace.
Osaki Satoshi no longer had an automobile at his disposal, so he looked for his bike. Found it and made his way towards Yokohama.
Up here in the 多摩丘陵 (Tama-kyūryū), he quickly had an unobstructed view of the Kantō Plain.
At first he said that it probably wasn't that bad, then it rumbled from the direction of the Honjo district. A great flame rose into the sky and danced around. Honjo? The military depot!
It didn't take long and more and more flames could be seen. No wonder! It was lunchtime. The food was prepared, practically all over Tōkyō and Yokohama the fireplaces burned in the houses. In Sagami Bay, he saw some ships making strange movements, then he recognized the tsunami hurtling towards land.
He heard explosions without end, he saw the water and the wind became stronger and stronger. The approaching typhoon had been felt all morning...
He looked around, turned his head back and forth. Only then did he think about his camera and start taking Pictures.
Shots of the completely destroyed Yokohama and the burning Tōkyō in the background.
Roads, paths, bridges into the city were destroyed. Progress is practically impossible. Fortunately, the damage was quite minor here in his place. His house was still fixed and his family had gotten off quite lightly. Since he could not get to the publishing house, he cleaned up. He helped his wife, then his neighbors. There weren't too many because of the rather sparse buildings, but the day passed. However, it was not a dark night, because the burning Tōkyō illuminated the horizon to the northeast across the entire width. In addition, there were a number of aftershocks, some of them strong. There would be no rest that night.
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Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, September 7, 1923
In the days since the great Kantō earthquake, Osaki Satoshi had repeatedly gone to the destroyed and burning city with his camera. But it was hardly possible to actually reach a destination. It was not until September 7 that he managed to get as far as the Tōkyō Shinbun publishing house. The building was largely destroyed – at least practically everything above the basement. The printing presses in the cellar might still be intact, but that could not be determined with the best will in the world. But one thing was clear:
Many colleagues were dead!
Who all could be known, no one could know. That would only be clarified in the next few days and weeks. But he had learned one thing: editor-in-chief Fukuzawa Saburo was lying in one of the makeshift hospitals. Maisutā Murata had made it out of the building. He couldn't really help because of his frailty, but he had watched Fukuzawa Saburo be rescued with crushed legs and taken away.
Now old Maisutā Murata stood beside Osaki Satoshi with tears streaming down his face, repeating the words over and over again: "My life – my printing presses – my life!"
Osaki Satoshi put his hand on his shoulder:
"We'll rebuild that, and you'll be the one to get the presses going again!"
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, November 15, 1923
Editor-in-chief Osaki Satoshi stood in front of the publishing house and observed the clean-up work and the construction activity. It was already clear that the reconstruction of the capital would take years, if not decades. The emperor had issued an edict for reconstruction, and the Tōkyō Shinbun publishing house was one of a small number of buildings that would be rebuilt on the spot.
Tōkyō will be a different one than before. The image of the city would change fundamentally! The Emperor himself had declared that such a catastrophe must never be repeated. From then on, Tōkyō had to look completely different for this. And the Tōkyō Shinbun was lucky or unlucky not to be affected.
Gradually Osaki Satoshi understood that it must have been a divine providence that he had not been at the publishing house that day. He would probably be dead now if he had been in the publishing house. But as it was, Fukuzawa Saburo had unconsciously ensured that Osaki Satoshi was alive with his dislike of Osaki Satoshi's editors. What's more, his entire archive would probably have been destroyed if he hadn't had to move it to his private home. So almost everything was still there. It had to be truly a divine providence how everything had come about...
Editor-in-Chief
Osaki Satoshi also had to get used to this title. The editor of the Tōkyō Shinbun did not suffer any losses, but his youngest son Fukuzawa Saburo was henceforth in a wheelchair and was no longer able to fill these posts. Many others who would have been eligible for this before the quake were also dead or seriously injured. As the editor of a newspaper, however, the man also had a good memory. He knew only too well that his former editor-in-chief Kamata Itachi had warmly recommended the young Osaki Satoshi to succeed him before his retirement.
At that time, of course, he had decided otherwise, but now he had no other choice and had visited Osaki Satoshi at the beginning of the week and offered him the post.
Refusal was impossible, and Osaki Satoshi was now editor-in-chief of the Tōkyō Shinbun. In the past, he had imagined what he would do in this position, but today his main activity was to ensure the reconstruction of the publishing house. And he was successful! The basement of the building had actually been only slightly damaged. The printing presses required some care, but were basically able to do their job. Maisutā Murata was already devotedly taking care of his treasure and the first emergency edition of the Tōkyō Shinbun in a small edition was planned for Monday.
At the same time, he needed new staff. From then on, he had his own car as editor-in-chief, but it was of little use in the capital. Hardly any road could be used sensibly. The bicycle was the means of transport of choice and Osaki Satoshi rattled off all the addresses of his former employees that he had in mind. Here, too, there were deaths and injuries. Some had left Tōkyō or had long since taken up a new profession, but at least he had a small number of editors together.
Their work included, of course, the great Kantō earthquake and everything that followed, but at least he assigned an editor to research and write about the consequences of the quake on the Imperial Japanese Navy!
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, December 3, 1923
It would take months before the Tōkyō Shinbun would reach something like normality, but by the end of the year they were on the right track.
It was ironic that even editor-in-chief Osaki Satoshi could hardly give the Navy any space in the emergency editions, but it was only natural that the population had other concerns at the time. At least those who were still alive.
Military and war were the last words people wanted to read!
Editorship of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, March 27, 1924
As much free time as Osaki Satoshi had had in 1922 and 1923, he now had little in his new position as editor-in-chief. In Tōkyō there was still chaos, but at least an orderly chaos.
The Tōkyō Shinbun continued to appear in an emergency edition about once or twice a week, sometimes three times a week. The reports were limited to the reconstruction of the capital and the most important reports from abroad. Little came from the navy, but that was hardly surprising. Research was done, that was it for the moment. The Navy could be happy that it still had all ongoing construction projects on the agenda, but otherwise large parts of the 小野浜造船所 (Onohama Zōsenjo) (Kure Naval Shipyard) had to be rebuilt first. Most supplier companies had also been hit hard.
So editor-in-chief Osaki Satoshi was happy that he could devote his time fully to the entire publishing house and that the navy actually didn't stop him much.
Now, at the end of March 1924, he finally had some time to himself and rummaged through an older issue of Les Temps on the events of late January and early February in France.
Even though the war against the Grand Nation had already taken place two years ago, the actions of the Imperial Japanese Navy had now claimed the last victims!
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Tuesday, June 17, 1924
Towards the middle of the year, the situation had eased slightly. The previous traditional construction method of Japan had at least the macabre advantage that in many districts there was only a few pieces of rubble that were really difficult to remove. The new cityscape showed its first facial features with new, magnificent streets that were wider than anything known. Never again should a fire be able to burn down an entire district from one place. The streets were laid out so generously that it was almost impossible for the flames to spread.
Tōkyō would truly be a different person!
Whereas he had previously been able to use the DAT 41 of his predecessor, which had some scratches from falling bricks, Osaki Satoshi now had a brand new Otomo from Hakuyosha Ironworks at his disposal. On the new wide main streets of Tōkyō it was a pure pleasure to be on the road with it. Satoshi was now able to do his work faster, especially since he kept switching between the publishing house and his branch office at his home so as not to leave the employees working there completely unsupervised.
Ministry of Navy of the Imperial Japanese Navy – Monday, September 1, 1924
Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi had invited the Japanese press to the Navy Ministry on the anniversary of the great Kantō earthquake. Kaigun-taishō Takarabe Takeshi was no stranger to the ministry, even though he had only held the office of Minister of the Navy since June 11. He had already been Minister of the Navy from May 1923 to January 1924 and had previously been Deputy Minister of the Navy under Katō Tomosaburō.
Kaigun-taishō Takarabe Takeshi had a long career in the Imperial Japanese Navy, where he was also acting head of the design department for many years. He was also the son-in-law of former Minister of the Navy Yamamoto Gonnohyōe.
Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi's life thus consisted almost exclusively of the Imperial Japanese Navy.
Osaki Satoshi was almost bursting with curiosity as to what the minister would have to announce? It had been a long time since he had last entered the Ministry of the Navy. He had his two older twins Okada and Giichi with him, who now regularly helped out in the editorial office. Actually, both were supposed to be doing military service at the moment, but quite a few young men were released to help rebuild Tōkyō. But it was only a matter of time before the two had to do their military service.
The Ministry of the Navy had suffered only minor damage and was one of the first buildings to be repaired. Now the representatives of the Japanese press were in a large hall and Minister of the Navy Takarabe Takeshi began his speech.
He said that the Japanese nation had suffered a difficult year, but now it was time to look forward. The construction of the capital was progressing and it was time to question self-employment. Too many incidents have been ignored, such as the French espionage and the affront during the Prime Minister's trip to Europe, and finally the United States of America and the British Empire have recently been on a confrontational course towards the Japanese Empire.
He went into great detail about all that Japan had achieved in the last twenty-five years and that it would be necessary to defend what had been created in the future.
Then four cadets pushed several display boards into the room and pulled down the linen sheets:
Minister of the Navy Takarabe Takeshi explained that the Navy intends to build new battleships and heavy cruisers and praised the presented designs as the current ultimate in shipbuilding.
After that, the minister allowed questions, but Osaki Satoshi ran away. If the others are to pepper the minister with questions – then the Tōkyō Shinbun will be the first newspaper to have its extra paper on the street. The headline was clear:
"One year after the disaster, the Imperial Japanese Navy awards a major contract – Japan is arming!"
Osaki Satoshi knew all too well what this was going to lead to...
Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, December 12, 1924
The rest of the year continued to be quiet, although it became apparent that the streets were more lively overall. The announcements of Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi were followed by action and at the end of the year two heavy cruisers of the new Maya class and two battleships of the new Yamashiro class were ordered.
The most striking thing was that for the first time the designs did not follow the principle of bigger-bigger, but the two battleships were even about 12,000 tons smaller than their predecessors of the Fuso class. The two heavy cruisers were about the same size as the previous Chokai class with 1,000 tons more.
The special feature of both ship classes, however, was probably that for the first time on-board aircraft were part of the equipment. Nevertheless, both classes were significantly cheaper in construction than their predecessors and Osaki Satoshi interpreted this as a sign that the navy had to save money and the representatives of the capital ship faction could no longer do what they wanted unchallenged.
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, April 16, 1925
The next few months flew by without any major events. There was something like a hustle and bustle throughout Japan, which was carried by the reconstruction of the capital. The Tōkyō Shinbun publishing house also shone in new splendour. Large rooms with enough space for numerous editorial offices. Storage rooms to the end of the world in fortified cellars. And in terms of equipment, everything that was modern and hip. Osaki Satoshi had even had a marine radio wave receiver installed on the roof on the top floor, along with the necessary antenna system. He had taken over the device cheaply. It came from a brand-new freighter that had been destroyed by the great Kantō earthquake just days before its completion and was then to be scrapped. Of course, all this was of little use to him if reports from the military were transmitted in code, but one could also conclude otherwise from civilian reports.
Where there was light, there was usually shadow. The publishing house had purchased new printing presses, but Maisutā Murata did not warm up to them. He mourned his old presses and visibly deteriorated. He was hardly seen in the publishing house, but he had long since reached the age for retirement. Nobody really knew how old Murata actually was and how long he had been working for the publishing house. Maybe Maisutā Murata didn't even know that himself. He would probably have reached ninety long ago, was the general assumption and everyone left it at that. Osaki Satoshi would seek him out. Just disappearing like a ghost, he didn't want to let that happen either. New machines were one thing, decades of knowledge were quite another.
Satoshi left the publishing house and was about to leave when his son Giichi came running and shouted something:
"Disarmament – disarmament – the navy is scrapping ships, father!"
Perplexed, Osaki Satoshi stood on the street.
"The minister has just announced the implementation of the 20+5 plan."
"20+5 plan?"
Then it dawned on Osaki Satoshi – 20+5 plan – there was something fifteen years ago. He ran back to his office with his son and rummaged through one of the boxes he had just brought back to the office from home. An old notepad appeared in his field of vision:
"Here in 1910..."
He leafed through the pages, but only to the second page (https://forums.matrixgames.com/viewtopi ... 9#p5262629), where the one he was looking for was already written with the date of January 5, 1910. On the occasion of the visit of Navy Minister Saitō Makoto to the editorial office, the minister announced the 20+5 plan.
"And what has been said now, son?"
"The old ships of the line are being scrapped. But the Mikasa could become a monument and all light cruisers should go to the shipyard for major conversions."
"But this is just the beginning. Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi said that many more old ships will be sold or scrapped in the next five years..."
+ + +
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, December 9, 1925
The rest of the year continued to be busy. From about the middle of the year, Osaki Satoshi recognized an old pattern. Tensions with the other nations increased, there were more espionage scandals and, as a matter of course, the navy's budget was increased as a result. This had an effect on significantly increased reports of success by scientists and designers, but the money was also often enough squandered in failures.
At the turn of the year, the editorial team prepared a supplement sheet. It headlined in large letters:
"The 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force)"
And finally, Osaki Satoshi heard a new term, but he didn't know how to sort it out yet: "Kidō Butai".
+ + +
"The 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force)"
From their beginnings to the present day and compared to the foreign war fleets!
Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, February 3, 1926
The turn of the year was rather quiet, as in the last few times. It was noticeable that Japan was still preoccupied with itself. The reconstruction of the capital Tōkyō simply took up most of Japan's resources, leaving little time for other things, let alone materials.
One thing changed: the release of many young men for the construction of Tōkyō was ended.
Osaki Okada joined the 帝国海軍航空隊 (Teikoku Kaigun Kōkūtai - Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force) and his twin brother Osaki Giichi competed in the 大日本帝國海軍 (Dai-Nippon Teikoku Kaigun - Imperial Japanese Navy).
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, May 24, 1926
On the eve of May 24 – a Sunday – Osaki Giichi had unexpectedly appeared at home. He had explained that he and his comrades had a few hours of special leave to say goodbye to their parents. He also handed over a letter to his father, Osaki Satoshi, which granted him admission to the 横須賀海軍工廠 (Yokosuka kaigun kōshō – Yokosuka Naval Arsenal) on Monday, May 24.
So now Osaki Satoshi stood on a pier in the Yokosuka naval arsenal and officially said goodbye to his son Giichi. It was probably unusual that a young sailor who had only been in the navy for two months was allowed to go on a big trip, or rather had to, but the navy lacked a lot of men and officers after the big quake.
Osaki Giichi had been assigned to the light cruiser Hirado, which had only come out of the shipyard overhaul in March.
The Navy wanted to test the ship thoroughly and the cruiser would be at sea for several months and would have to endure extensive testing. Osaki Giichi had told his parents the day before that the Hirado would not return to Japan until the following year, whereupon his mother Natsuko burst into tears and disappeared into the bedroom.
So now the parents of the young sailors were allowed to watch as their "children" went on board, the cruiser with two destroyers cast off and were pulled into the fairway by tugboats. Then deep black smoke gushed out of the chimneys and the three ships picked up speed.
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Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, June 25, 1926
Almost exactly a month later, his second son Okada suddenly stood in his father's office and pushed around. Osaki Satoshi feared that something bad must have happened. His son Okada shouldn't have left the barracks without permission, should he? But Okada explained that the pilots – which he was not yet – had been given some freedom.
In other words, after the months of theory, the newcomers would be put into a training plane for the first time next week and sent into the air. Accident rates were high and many aspiring pilots did not survive the first training flights. The commanding officer of the training squadron had therefore quite frankly stated that all student pilots who had not yet had any experience with a woman had been assigned to the Yoshiwara entertainment district of Tōkyō over the upcoming weekend (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoshiwara). Those who have already had experience with women, also to get really drunk at least once in their lives!
Osaki Satoshi was amazed to find that he didn't know at all what was going on with Okada and the women? Of course, he had seen him a few times with young women his age. Could it be the daughters of the neighborhood, or schoolmates, or whoever? However, he did not know whether there was anything serious about it. The topic of women and weddings was at least a bit special in Japan. He knew that all too well, because his marriage to Natsuko had also been organized by her and his parents, as was usually the case in Japan.
- - - - -
Author's note: Again, it is difficult to find anything exactly what the education system in Japan looked like around 1920-1930, but at least women were able to attend school. We have not been able to clarify whether the existing compulsory schooling affected boys and girls, we just accept it. Also, we didn't find anything – in a hurry – whether there were only separate classes/schools according to gender or not? Japan was probably something special until the 1990s – um – it still is!
"We'll leave out the topic of Yoshiwara, you're here in the editorial office and not there. So what do you want to tell your father?"
Okada was silent, took a sheet of paper and a pen, then began to draw from memory. It took several minutes, almost an eternity, then he looked up:
"Here - that's what they showed us this morning. This is supposed to be the future, that's what we should be trained for."
Osaki Satoshi stared at the plan in amazement:
"What is that? So big? Madness!"
"Destroy it, if someone finds it on you, we both won't be alive much longer."
Then Okada disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared and Satoshi wondered if his son would now comply with the order and go to Yoshiwara to get drunk or...
Satoshi also set off. He had an appointment with the former publisher of the Tōkyō Puck. He wanted to talk to him about a very special project and hoped to get the necessary contacts.
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, November 10, 1926
In mid-November, Osaki Satoshi found a letter from Giichi on his desk in the editorial office. His son informed him that the small Japanese unit had arrived in Papeete today – Satoshi looked at the date of the letter, it was from the end of July – and he described the work in the port and the island's new Japanese airfield. He had also attached a photo of the harbor, on which other Japanese warships were Pictured. Apparently, the Japanese high command considered the island important enough to spend huge sums of money here, which would probably have been better off in Tōkyō?
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Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, November 26, 1926
At the end of November, Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi announced that the battleship Kashima, which was under construction, would not be completed further. The ship would already be obsolete due to technological progress and would no longer be needed.
That was a reasonable conclusion for Osaki Satoshi. There has simply been no construction progress since the ship was put up more than two years ago. The sister ship Yamashiro was also far from completion, but it had probably caused enough costs in the meantime that the Navy did not dare to demolish this ship. Not in a time of tight budgets and the reconstruction of the capital. The population would not accept a waste of money of this magnitude at the moment. It was also rumoured behind closed doors that the proponents of aircraft carriers had now prevailed and that the navy simply needed the budget of the Kashima for the development of the delivery weapon.
Osaki Satoshi could not actively explain what he already knew about the new carriers, but the Navy could hardly hide the fact that two units of them were now under construction at full speed. A look into the shipyard from one of the hills and everyone knew that the two hulls were unusual. Although the Navy claimed that these would be new heavy cruisers and presented the order for a total of eight 8" turrets for the two ships, as if to prove it, this was a weak excuse. It was known in expert circles that Japan equipped its heavy cruisers with at least 10" guns. Reducing the caliber made no sense and the hull shape never suited a cruiser.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, December 01, 1926
In the last few days, Osaki Satoshi had gathered his courage and decided that he would do it.
He would publish what he knew about the aircraft carriers under construction!
But he wouldn't just do it. For many weeks, two former employees of the Tōkyō Puck had been at the Tōkyō Shinbun publishing house.
Osaki Satoshi was about to publish a very special extra paper. Just for this extra sheet he would ask the two mangaka to take care of the aircraft carrier Kaga as well...
Extra sheet of the Tōkyō Shinbun from Monday, December 06, 1926
On Monday, December 6th, the time had finally come. Over the weekend, the printing presses ran in continuous operation for the Extra sheet. Osaki Satoshi had wanted this again for a long time and now he was finally in the position to implement the project. Of course, it would have cost him at least his professional existence if he had published detailed design sketches of all Japanese warships, perhaps more than just his professional existence? But he had often looked at the lovingly designed color woodcuts in old records and books and was enthusiastic about their aesthetics, color power and richness of detail. These illustrations also reminded him of the illustrations of the Tōkyō Puck. There was something like a strange similarity.
With that, his decision was made. In recent months, he had commissioned the two mangaka of the Tōkyō Puck to create illustrations of all ship classes of the Imperial Japanese Navy. With all the details, but still so artfully distorted that nothing was really revealed. This now also applied to the two aircraft carriers of the new Kaga class under construction. It was presumptuous to print exact details of these new ships for all the world to see, without the readers understanding what they were looking at. The result was an extraordinary special sheet by the Tōkyō Shinbun about the Imperial Japanese Navy in an opulence that had not been customary for decades.
Osaki Satoshi felt it was a masterpiece. Whether newspaper readers would see it that way too should soon become apparent. The sale would start at any moment.
Until he knew how his extra paper would be received, he would think about what words to choose if a Kempeitai department arrived at his office!
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Tuesday, December 7, 1926
The Kempeitai had not appeared in Osaki Satoshi's editorial office, but a young Kaigun-tai-i had delivered a letter from the Minister of the Navy.
The letter had two contents. Firstly, the minister indicated that loose tongues of relatives such as brothers, uncles or sons had sometimes ended in a seppuku at other times, and on the other hand, Navy Minister Takarabe Takeshi ordered a thousand copies of the special paper to be delivered to the ministry. It was clear that the "fine" drawings enjoyed great popularity among the officers and that the naval leadership had decided to send several copies of the special sheet to all naval bases outside of Tōkyō.
Osaki Satoshi could therefore assume that the ministry had no objections to an overview of Japanese warships, at least for the time being, but that the way in which information was obtained would have consequences for the next occurrence.
Satoshi left his office in a good mood to run errands for the upcoming turn of the year.
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, May 9, 1927
Osaki Satoshi set off on foot from the publishing house through the city. Spring began to arrive and in modern Tōkyō something like a spirit of optimism could be felt. Three and a half years had passed since the great quake and the deep wounds of this event could still be seen in the city. But there was no denying that "new" Tōkyō made you curious and want more. At least that's what the open-minded part of the population thought. World travelers who knew the big cities like Paris and New York, or the literally exploding Berlin with life, said that the Japanese metropolis had embarked on an exciting path of resurrection. The traditionalists rejected this, as they simply rejected everything, even what they had vowed the day before. Only those who had lost everything could hardly be heard. Except for those who had taken their own lives out of shame as a result of the loss of their belongings, the rest tried to regain their lives and positions. This group of people simply had no time for philosophical thoughts, but sank into work.
Osaki Satoshi wondered if this would subside with the onset of spring and people would "live" more again? The reports from the development departments seemed to come thick and fast and the winter was made for the research of an industrious population. Would this continue or subside over the coming summer?
Satoshi's walk ended at the beach and in the distance he could see the light cruiser Hirado slowly but steadily pushing towards Yokosuka. He hadn't seen his son Giichi for a year now, and apart from the three letters his son had sent him, he hadn't received any other information. One letter came from Papeete, a second from New York and the third from Cape Town. The small Japanese squadron had once circumnavigated the world and had reached home today.
The Ministry of the Navy had announced the arrival in a big way and celebrated it as a heroic deed. It was impressive without question whether it was also heroic - Satoshi some doubts about that!
It had probably been a demonstration of power by the Japanese self-image, and at least that's how Germany and France had understood it. Relations with France were on the verge of a new war and this had also brought Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi to the scene. Satoshi smiled at the identical first names, but otherwise he knew little to say about the new prime minister, who had been in office for three weeks. At least he knew now that Tanaka Giichi, although he was an army general, was not a pure warmonger. He demanded concessions from the military in order to appease France. How much that might be worth would soon become apparent from the French reaction.
Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, December 15, 1927
The rest of the year was more tense, but ultimately peaceful. This was also due to the fact that Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi intervened again and again as soon as his military provoked trouble. At the end of the year, insiders therefore understood it as an affront to the minister when the navy sent the oldest ships that could be found on another circumnavigation of the world.
Everyone already knew that the Imperial Japanese Navy had more to offer, and everyone knew that the Navy was performing this spectacle as a covert attack on the Prime Minister. Speculation quickly arose that the navy was estranged with an army general at the head of the government and that the peaceful times between the army and the navy might be a thing of the past.
A new conflict was literally in the air – but it was unclear whether it would only be fought within the military – or whether it would be better to take out the aggression on a common enemy!
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, February 8, 1928
Osaki Satoshi had to acknowledge that Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi had left no stone unturned to prevent a new war, but there were opponents of peace not only in Japan but also abroad.
More than half of the crew of the destroyer Wakatsuki was killed when the destroyer was sunk by an unknown submarine during a training cruise. Everyone in the Navy, without exception, was sure that it had been a French submarine, but the slightest statement in that direction would have immediately triggered a war.
Most of the fleet was decommissioned in reserve, which was not a viable starting point for a war. The letter from Navy Minister Okada Keisuke was therefore unambiguous. The blame was to be blamed on Russia and Osaki Satoshi was chosen to create a corresponding mood among the people in an extra paper today. The messenger who had delivered the minister's letter made it clear that Osaki Satoshi had no choice. Either he was working with the Navy, or he would disappear from the scene for a long time.
Osaki Satoshi had not yet finished the article when the next messenger stood in the doorway. Events seemed to be coming thick and fast. In the design department of the 小野浜造船所 (Onohama Zōsenjo) (Kure Naval Shipyard), a French spy was unmasked and large parts of the shipyard workers had already learned about it. This could no longer be concealed and this also had to be published now. Satoshi had to perform a feat. He should also pillory France without triggering a war.
As quiet as the last few years had been, everything changed today. The Navy was on the defensive for the first time in thirty years. Until now, Japan's hawks had provoked conflicts and then struck suddenly and unexpectedly. This time, France took the reins of action and forced Japan onto the defensive.
The fuse might not have been lit yet, but it was laid and only a small occasion was missing and Japan was in an unplanned war!
Editors of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, March 2, 1928
Tensions between the Empire of Japan and the rest of the world seemed to have risen unexpectedly. In the navy, something like a slight panic could be detected. This was visibly expressed in the fact that almost all light cruisers were brought to the shipyards in February. It was rumoured behind the scenes that the modernisations had been planned hastily and without the necessary care. In particular, the propulsion system was not converted to the most modern possibilities, because the Navy found the time for such a conversion too long. Quite a few critics said that this would unnecessarily lose potential.
The signs were unmistakable, the Navy had been caught on the wrong foot and was now taking frantic steps to prepare the fleet for an impending war – as soon as possible!
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Wednesday, April 11, 1928
In mid-April, the big blow followed: mobilization! A war between Russia and Japan was less than the blink of an eye, and angry notes of protest came from France and Germany. Here, too, every wrong word could end in the thunder of the cannons! Practically all over Japan people were sure that the coming summer would bring death and ruin. But for whom, that was puzzled?
Secrecy also found its way back in. Osaki Satoshi had learned that the Navy had commissioned several studies for new ship designs. What it was about could not be ascertained. The shipyards, at least, hired more staff than the current order situation allowed and the blast furnaces seemed to melt themselves, that's how much steel was produced.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Friday, June 8, 1928
Prime Minister Giichi Tanaka alone did not want to sacrifice peace. Like an industrious squirrel, he took up the fight against the war and cleaned doors. He even took personal disgrace upon himself to keep Japan out of war. The success was small but there. Russia had sent large parts of its fleet to Asia, but the German and French warships were still in European waters.
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Editorial office of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Monday, August 20, 1928
Summer came and the cannons remained silent. However, there was full employment in the shipyards. No fewer than eight new larger ships were under construction. They weren't battleships, you could see that by looking at the docks. But whether it was cruisers or aircraft carriers or something else, you couldn't judge.
France and Russia could be appeased, but an almost seventy-year-old German Emperor raged around in Berlin and spoke of the end of gentleness with the Asian slit eyes.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Tuesday, December 11, 1928
A hot summer passed by and led to a warm autumn that had slipped into a cold December. The political situation was tense, but the guns fell silent. The 小野浜造船所 (Onohama Zōsenjo) (Kure Naval Shipyard) was preparing a dry dock for something massive. It could only be a new battleship, but even for a battleship, it would be huge. Further details were not known, but even the foreign military attachés whispered about the largest warship ever built.
On the eleventh of December, it seemed that all of Tokyo gathered at the bay. The Imperial Japanese Navy held a gigantic fleet parade to mark the commissioning of the world's first fleet aircraft carrier. The Kaga was not to be confused – its appearance did not meet the usual expectations and its size could not be overlooked. A huge large gray box. A larger part of the crowd scoffed that you couldn't miss this thing at all, even if you wanted to. The crowd was sure that it was a grenade catcher that would sink in the first minute of a naval battle.
But when sixty planes flew out into the bay from the background, flying low over their heads, everyone was speechless and everyone covered their ears with their hands. The brutal noise of the twin radial engines made more than a few spectators think back to the earthquake that had hit the capital five years earlier. Everything shook, everything vibrated, everyone was amazed with awe at what they saw and heard. It took a few minutes – the chain of fighter planes and bombers made a lap around the convoy, then one after the other started to land.
This was something new – it had never been done before!
Osaki Satoshi watched the landing of each plane with the utmost concentration and suspicion. In one of the Yokosuka Shuka fighter planes sat his son Okada and from him he knew that of the 20 pilots in his squadron, no less than five had broken during the first two test landings a week earlier. Three of the pilots were killed and the other two would never be able to walk, let alone fly.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Thursday, January 3, 1929
January started very unusually. The Navy announced the scrapping of six recently ordered ships. The reason was not given, but Osaki Satoshi had learned from his son Giichi that the designs had already been overtaken by technical progress when they were commissioned. The design departments had long since received the order for adapted designs and the Navy did not want to block the dock capacities with ships that had just been laid up and could not record any significant construction progress.
It was also on this occasion that Satoshi learned the name of the new battleship. It was to be called Fuji and allude to the fact that it would be just as deadly as the volcano that was also emblematic of Japan.
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Editorial Board of the Tōkyō Shinbun – Tuesday, March 19, 1929
Osaki Satoshi was sitting in an office, engrossed in his notes, when he heard screams from the open-plan office of the editorial office. He got up to look. He hadn't reached the door yet when it flew open and crashed into the side wall of the shelf next to the door.
One of his editors stood in front of him, quite out of breath:
"WAR – WAR – THE GERMAN EMPIRE HAS DECLARED WAR ON JAPAN!"
The Empire of Japan had no interest in war, at least not at the end of 1929. The conversion of the fleet was a priority and had only just begun. The Navy had agreed internally over the last twelve to twenty-four months where the fleet should steer.
The new concept has been called 機動部隊 ("Kidō Butai")
The 機動部隊 ("Kidō Butai") was to become the new tactical core of the Rengō Kantai. The young officers also called it a rapid mobile reaction force. Battleships – especially those of Japan – were slow and real monsters. Their theoretical firepower is enormous, but far too small in number. Even if a Japanese battleship was equal to two or even three European battleships, it was not enough. Aircraft carriers, on the other hand, were fast and Japan was the clear technology leader in this area. What a single aircraft could do had been known since the war against France. But it had taken almost five years to enforce this opinion throughout the Navy. There were still the hardliners of the battleship faction, but they were quietly disempowered. Although their objections to firepower against land targets were heard, a few battleships were sufficient.
The decision had been made. Japan would build a large number of fast fleet aircraft carriers, which would be accompanied by fast heavy cruisers and mass fast destroyers. This "Kidō Butai" would become fast and powerful, yet be so numerous that Japan would be able to maintain several battle groups at the same time.
Battleships might be able to act as close cover, but more so to support landing operations. The problem was that at the beginning of the year, Japan had only one fleet aircraft carrier, the Kaga. The sister ship was nearing completion, but a "Kidō Butai" battle group was to consist of at least four large aircraft carriers. Fast heavy cruisers and destroyers were also far from being available in the necessary numbers. This would not change significantly before 1935.
Japan had tried to avoid a new war, but in Berlin they probably had a hunch that the naval war was at its turning point. The German High Seas Fleet was built up almost entirely according to classical doctrine from large numbers of battleships and battlecruisers. The fact that Japan had the goal of "cleansing" Asia of the colonial powers since the war against the British Empire was known only too well in Berlin. France had not understood this and paid the price. The old Kaiser Wilhelm II did not want to be duped as he had been with France. However, the time for this was running out. If Germany wanted to maintain its position, it had to be now. In a few years, it would be too late for that.
The German Emperor was sure that he could teach himself a lesson with his large fleet. His admirals knew better. They had long since realized that the High Seas Fleet would sail into a mousetrap like the Tsar's ships once did. The Admiralty had long since given up on Tsingtau, but could not say so publicly. It would have been high treason with the corresponding consequences for anyone who held this opinion.
The reports of the former commanding officer of the German East Asia Squadron, Vice Admiral Friedrich Gädecke, revealed much about Japan's combat tactics. The acting head of the High Command of the Navy – Admiral Erich Johann Albert Raeder – therefore had an idea of what would happen in Asia and what would be better done there. It wasn't his thoughts. On the contrary, he was even reluctant to do so. He had criticized Wolfgang Wegener's memorandum more than abundantly, which, to his chagrin, was strikingly suited to the current situation. At least that he realized — now — when it was too late to avert fate.
His conclusions acknowledged the fact that Asia was far away from the North Sea and Baltic Sea and the old "gentleman" could not be there on site due to his condition. Raeder would not sacrifice the fleet in a major naval battle. He would try something new, which was at the same time as old as seafaring itself. In novels, it would be described as pirate tactics. Fast, powerful, but small squadrons that were supposed to dish out pinpricks to buy time. It was time before the emperor could be convinced that this war was pointless. It culminated in the German-Japanese Spring War of 1929, which showed at a high price how to hurt Japan if you wanted to.
In March 1929, the following units were under construction:
1 Fuji-class battleship (76,000 tons)
1 Maya-class heavy cruiser (28,000 tons) – Currently docked for modernization
2 Akashi-class light cruisers (7,000 tons each) – Currently docked for modernization
3 Akitsushima-class light cruisers (8,000 tons each) – Currently docked for modernization
4 Tatsuta-class light cruisers (8,000 tons each)
1 Kaga-class fleet aircraft carrier (28,000 tons)
2 Akagi-class fleet aircraft carriers (28,000 tons)
1 Yuzuki-class destroyer (2,000 tons)
Air Force in March 1929:
Suwo carrier squadron – 16 aircraft
Kehi Maru carrier Squadron – 22 aircraft
Zuiho carrier Squadron – 34 aircraft
Ryujo carrier Squadron – 34 aircraft
Kaga carrier Squadron – 59 (60) aircraft
Naval Air Force Base Sasebo (Japan) – 40 aircraft
Yokosuka Naval Air Force Base (Japan) – 40 aircraft
Noshiro Naval Air Force Base (Japan) – 40 aircraft
Takao Air Base (Formosa) – 40 aircraft
Saint Jaques Air Base (Cochinchina) – 40 aircraft
Than Hoa Air Base (Tonkin) – 40 aircraft
Fort Bayard Air Base (Kwang-Chou-Wan) – 40 aircraft
Hong Kong Air Force Base (Hong Kong) – 40 aircraft
Wēihǎiwèi Air Base (Wēihǎiwèi) – 40 aircraft
Port Arthur Air Force Base (Liaodong Peninsula) – 40 aircraft
Wakkanai Air Force Base (Hokkaido) – 40 aircraft
Papeete Air Base (Polynesia) – 40 aircraft
- - -
The German High Seas Fleet in March 1929
At the beginning of the war, the High Seas Fleet consisted of the following units:
In March 1929, the following units were under construction:
1 Preussen-class battleship (40,100 tons)
1 Prinz Eitel Friedrich-class battlecruiser (28,200 tons) – Currently docked for modernization
1 München-class battlecruiser (35,900 tons)
1 München-class battlecruiser (35,900 tons) – Currently docked for modernization
2 Dresden-class battlecruisers (39,200 tons each)
1 Stuttgart-class heavy cruiser (11,900 tons)
1 Karlsruhe-class light cruiser (4,500 tons) – Currently docked for modernization
2 Danzig-class light cruisers (6,800 tons each)
1 Jade-class light aircraft carrier (10,000 tons)
1 Weddingen-class aircraft mothership (2,700 tons) – Currently docked for modernization
1 S61-class destroyer (1,100 tons)
3 corvettes of various classes (600 tons each)
1 corvette Minna Petersen-Klassen (900 tons)
2 coastal submarines
Air Force in March 1929:
Total number of naval aircraft: 258
Airship base Lüderitz (German South West Africa)
Airship base Wilhelmshafen (Germany)
Tsingtau airship base (Kiautschou)
Gdansk Air Base (Germany)
Duala Air Force Base (Cameroon)
Tsingtau Air Base (Kiautschou)
Pilau Air Force Base (East Prussia)
Naval Air Force Base Wilhelmshafen (Germany)
Naval Air Force Base Emden (Germany)
+ + +
Comparison of forces between Japan and Germany:
The German Empire had tiny bases in Asia and the Pacific region and these were sometimes thousands of nautical miles apart. Only Tsingtau had a certain size and relevance, but this Tsingtau was located in the backyard of Japan and was surrounded by Japanese bases, which were now very well developed. It was practically impossible to reach or leave Tsingtau unseen. Even though the German High Seas Fleet had an impressive size, it could not intervene in Asia. If the capital ships were to be sent to Asia, they would have to bunker in Tsingtau before they could take up the fight. Due to the location of the base, however, the High Seas Fleet would probably never arrive there, but would sink with empty bunkers and thus in principle unable to maneuver.
The paper may once again speak against Japan, but the situation fundamentally against the German Empire!
Thus, this declaration of war was incomprehensible to European experts. Hardly anyone knew anything about the internal German differences of opinion within the navy on the one hand and between the navy and the political leadership on the other. For most observers, it was therefore most likely that the battleship fanatic Kaiser Wilhelm II finally wanted to see his toys in battle due to his advanced age. Tsingtau should also be better lost in an honorable war of aggression than that it would soon be wiped up by Japan in a coup d'état due to its strategic location.
The tonnage of the two war fleets was approximately the same. Japan had 1,501,600 tons in the water or shipyards, Germany slightly higher 1,649,800 tons. The difference was the weighting of the ship classes. Japan had 6 battleships and 6 battlecruisers, while Germany had 15 battleships and 24 battlecruisers. In the cruisers, 38 Japanese and 35 German heavy and light cruisers faced each other. And the corvettes were also similarly positioned, with 46 Japanese to 41 Germans. In addition, there were 53 Japanese U-boats against 38 German U-boats.
The decisive difference so far has always been promised to be made this time by the lavish 190 Japanese destroyers, of which Germany could only deploy 48.
The ratio of planes was also drastic. 661 Japanese aircraft were opposed by only 306 German aircraft and 24 airships.
But this relationship was deceptive!
The Japanese Empire had almost literally an airfield on every base and, together with its aircraft carriers, was able to deploy almost the entire number of aircraft in the supposed war zone. Germany was the only airfield to have a runway in Tsingtau. Together with the well-known aircraft carriers, it would not be able to deploy 306 aircraft, but perhaps 60 and that was an optimistic number.
What was to happen at sea in the German-Japanese Spring War of 1929 was therefore not foreseeable for either side on the basis of these clear Pictures!
The declaration of war came unexpectedly, but the war did not.
The tensions between the Japanese Empire and the major European powers had been continuously too high over the past twelve months to avert a new war. Japan had begun to embark troops on March 15 to strengthen its external positions. Destinations were Hong Kong, Formosa and Wēihǎiwèi. Hong Kong was considered particularly threatened, as it was an excellent starting point for conducting naval operations in Asia. The port was large and the shipyards had considerable capacity. Formosa, on the other hand, was something like a door opener or a blockade bulwark. Whoever controlled Formosa controlled access to northern East Asia. Finally, Wēihǎiwèi could be threatened by German troops overland, even if it would be difficult.
The General Staff therefore decided to strengthen Hong Kong considerably, to add Formosa and not to forget Wēihǎiwèi.
The troop transports had left various ports on the Japanese islands on the morning of March 15 and met east of Sasebo. There, three convoys were assembled, which then set off separately for their destination ports. The association for Wēihǎiwèi was the last and also had the shortest route. Most of the transporters had loaded supplies, but hardly any additional troops. The danger to Wēihǎiwèi was estimated to be low, but this transport was the only one that would come within range of a potentially enemy base.
Kaigun-taishō Taniguchi Naomi, as commander of the 聯合艦隊 (Rengō Kantai), was only superficially involved in the planning of the operations, since Japan was formally at peace and the 聯合艦隊 (Rengō Kantai) was therefore not used. He merely gave up his ship units to independent smaller fleets, which then formed the escort. He left it to the commanders of the respective fleets how the individual convoys were to be led. The Chief of the Admiral's Staff, Kaigun-taishō Katō Hiroharu, gave him a free hand in this regard.
Kaigun-taishō Taniguchi Naomi formed the 第三艦隊 (Dai-san Kantai - 3rd Fleet) for the escort to Wēihǎiwèi and entrusted Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura with command of the fleet, although or precisely because Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura had only limited luck with a naval command in the past. Kaigun-taishō Taniguchi Naomi did not expect any difficulties and therefore Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura did not have to prove himself. Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura, for his part, asked to assign the existing parts of the 機動部隊 ("Kidō Butai") to his 3rd Fleet. The argument that the convoy to Wēihǎiwèi would move into the sphere of influence of a possible enemy airfield could not be contradicted. Due to this situation, the fleet aircraft carrier Kaga would make the most sense for the 3rd Fleet.
The command on site was taken by Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura on board the fairly new battlecruiser Ikoma, which thus acted as a flagship. The 3rd Fleet consisted of two parts after the separation off Sasebo. A battlecruiser fleet had to carry out operational reconnaissance and follow-up cover, and a support fleet, which in case of doubt took over the actual combat mission, should it become necessary.
In the late afternoon of March 19, 1929, the convoy was standing in the middle of the Yellow Sea at about the height of Tsingtau and dusk was approaching. On board the Ikoma, a general radio message from Tōkyō arrived, which changed everything abruptly. Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura read the brief transcript of the radio officer:
"German Empire declared war on Japan at 3:00 p.m. Tōkyō time! Hostilities can be expected to start at any time. Have a good hunt!"
Geographically, the convoy was almost exactly on the time zone line and was one hour behind Tōkyō. 3:00 p.m. local time Tōkyō was 2:00 p.m. for the convoy.
2:00 p.m. for the convoy had been over 4 hours ago!
Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura audibly cursed that his unit had been at war and in enemy waters for over four hours without knowing it.
His curses increased when, minutes later, he received another radio message addressed directly to him. The High Command asked about the possibility of an immediate invasion of Wēihǎiwèi? At headquarters, it was believed that a surprise invasion might be successful. After all, no one on the German side could expect an invasion to take place just six to seven hours after the German declaration of war. The Germans certainly did not expect the possibility of troop transports arriving at Wēihǎiwèi before the end of about sixty hours. And even sixty hours were actually very ambitious for that.
The mess was perfect! Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura wondered how a low-force invasion could succeed without planning in the middle of the night? He looks at the ships at his disposal to decide whether he should take the risk? If he were to succeed in this action, his reputation would be cleansed of the former disgrace. Without coordination with his ship's captains, however, a change in the orders was out of the question...
On a pro forma basis, Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura first ordered a reconnaissance plan for the air bases, his on-board aircraft, and the Kaga's reconnaissance planes. He knew too well that not a single plane would take off. In less than ten minutes, dusk set in over the fleet, so flight operations were out of the question. Before a single plane was ready to take off, it would be pitch dark. On the contrary, the day's flight operations had long since ended and all the planes had already returned to their bases. He already noted in the logbook: aircraft carrier Kaga useless!
Whether he would carry out an invasion, he also wanted to make dependent on the situation on the ground. He dismissed the support fleet with the two battleships Shikishima and Hatsuse with their escort from their task and ordered their approach to Wēihǎiwèi in order to clarify the situation and on this occasion to lay waste to the aircraft base with the heavy guns. Only if the convoy was in danger should the battleships turn around. However, he did not expect this, since according to the secret service, no larger units of the High Seas Fleet were known as heavy cruisers in Asian waters.
Author's note: The "Japan Support force" is under the control of the AI and therefore cannot be commanded.
+ + +
His force was now divided as follows:
Japanese 7th Battlecruiser Division:
Battlecruiser Ikoma (flagship)
Battlecruiser Furutaka
- - -
Japanese 10th Aircraft Carrier Division:
Fleet aircraft carrier Kaga
- - -
Japanese 9th Reconnaissance Division:
Light cruiser Tsushima
- - -
Japanese 12th Seaplane Carrier Division:
Ussuri Maru Aircraft Tender
His flagship, the battlecruiser Ikoma, was by far the most powerful unit he had at his disposal. The ship was quite new and modern. It was completely different with the Furutaka, which was more like a floating museum. He found the Kaga to be worthless ballast because of the darkness, which also applied to the tender Ussuri Maru. Thus, apart from his Ikoma, he had only a handful of modern destroyers and the light cruiser Tsushima as offensive potential. The remaining ships had to be used carefully.
+ + +
Kaigun-chūjō Kichisaburō Nomura issued some orders and now he wanted to ask his division leaders for a statement. Encrypting the radio messages took time and by the time he could even count on an answer, darkness had already settled over the fleet. The first response radio message was not of the expected kind, but completely unencrypted a message from the destroyer Arare, which said that the destroyer had spotted an unknown ship in the immediate vicinity and that the aircraft carrier Kaga was heading directly for this contact. The distance to the Kaga might be 6,000 to 8,000 yards.
