By Lawrence I. Charters
Seahawk, May 3, 1985, pp. 8-9.
Eighty years ago, on the cold, misty afternoon of May 27, 1905, Japan’s Combined Fleet sighted the Russian Baltic Fleet near Tsushima Island, in the Sea of Japan. Vice Admiral Togo Heihachiro, commander of the Japanese fleet, raised a “Zulu” flag on Mikasa, his flagship. As he told his sailors earlier, the “Z” signal meant:
”The fate of the Empire depends on this battle. Let every man do his utmost.”
Ten minutes later Togo ordered a violent turn across the path of the Russian fleet, and the battle began.
In this famous painting Togo, hand resting on a sword given him by the Crown Prince, directs the Combined Fleet from Mikasa’s bridge during the Battle of Tsushima. Rolled hammocks were used to pad equipment and reduce injuries from flying shrapnel. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
Admiral Zinovy Rozhdestvensky commanded eight battleships and eight cruisers, compared to four battleships and eight cruisers for the Japanese. Opening fire several minutes before the Japanese, the Russians concentrated on Mikasa, and in thirty minutes Togo’s flagship was hit by 25 large-caliber shells. Things were much worse for the Russians, however, as superior Japanese leadership, discipline, and gunnery ripped apart the Russian vessels. By dusk, Rozhdestvensky’s flagship and two other battleships had sunk, and the rest of his fleet was pursued by Japanese destroyers and cruisers.
Born a samurai, Togo Heihachiro received naval training in England during the 1870’s before returning to Japan. Not quite five feet tall, he still managed to cast a giant shadow over the Russian fleet, erasing it from the world’s oceans for almost fifty years. For his service he was awarded the title Marquis, and given the rank of Fleet Admiral. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
When the battle closed late the next day, virtually the entire Russian fleet had been sunk or captured. Out of 38 vessels, only three reached the Russian port of Vladivostok. One transport limped all the way back to Europe, three small ships were interned in Shanghai, and three cruisers were interned in Manila. One of these, Aurora, was released from American custody after the war, and went on to fame of a different sort when its guns signalled the start of Russia’s October Revolution in 1917.
Total Russian casualties were 4,545 dead, and 6,106 captured. Japanese losses came to 116 dead and three small torpedo boats destroyed.
Smoke-blackened but proud, Mikasa returns in triumph after Tsushima. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
Tsushima was a fitting site for a battle between Russia and Japan. Only international pressure, and stiff resistance by the Japanese inhabitants, prevented Russia from seizing the island in 1861. This was a mere pause, though, as Russian expansion during the rest of the century continued almost unchecked. When the Russo-Japanese War broke out in February 1904, Russia covered one seventh of the entire land mass of the world, bordered to the south by a decadent, failing China and to the east by a small, barely industrialized Japan.
Huge air intakes brought oxygen below decks to the ship’s coal-fired boilers, allowing Mikasa to move at 18 knots – fast for ships of this era. Photo by Lawrence I. Charters.
Several sea battles in 1904 destroyed Russia’s Pacific Fleet, inspiring the Russian Admiralty to send its Baltic Fleet on an incredible journey from northern Europe around Africa to “obliterate” the pesky Japanese. Now called the Russian Second Pacific Squadron, the fleet departed October 1904, and days later survived a “battle” with fishing boats off England, the Russians somehow believing they were Japanese torpedo boats. Six months later the fleet anchored in Cam Ranh Bay, Indochina, to prepare for battle. Within a month and a half, most of the fleet was resting on the bottom of the Straits of Tsushima.
From its customary position — at the front — this painting shows Mikasa leading the Combined Fleet into battle against the Russian Second Pacific Squadron. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
With both its European and Asian fleets destroyed, Russia was forced to halt the war, and a peace treaty was signed in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on September 6, 1905. Russian warships didn’t venture out on the high seas for another half century.
Mikasa’s trials were just beginning. During the night of September 11, 1905 while Togo was in Tokyo to receive awards for his efforts, an accidental explosion blasted Mikasa, sinking it in Sasebo harbor and killing 339 crew members — more casualties than the ship suffered in the entire war. Refloated and recommissioned, Mikasa led an uneventful career until it ran aground off Russia in 1921.
Mikasa after an explosion and accidental sinking in Sasebo harbor in September 1905. It took almost a year of work to refloat the ship. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
Following temporary repairs, Mikasa returned to Japan and was placed in reserve. Togo, now retired, wanted the ship set up in Tokyo as a memorial, but the Great Kanto Earthquake of September 1, 1923, intervened. Moored in Yokosuka, Mikasa was damaged when the harbor rose several feet, smashing the ship into a pier. In the chaos following the quake, Mikasa was ignored as the nation turned to more pressing problems.
Following World War II, the memorial was partially scrapped and left to rust. Photo courtesy Mikasa Preservation Society.
Eventually, on November 12 1926, Fleet Admiral Togo joined Crown Prince Hirohito in dedicating Mikasa as a memorial. Resting on the same spot it occupies today, Mikasa was undisturbed for nearly twenty years — until the ship faced its final trial. American occupation authorities ordered the ship scrapped, seeing it as a symbol of the Japanese militarism which led to World War II. Large sections were carted away, leaving a rusty, battered shell.
A couple strolls past the Mikasa’s forward turret and its twin 12-inch (305mm) naval rifles. For a modest admission charge, anyone can walk the decks of one of the world’s most famous ships. Photo by Lawrence I. Charters.
Restoration efforts began again in 1958, aided by a nation-wide campaign for donations and the support of U.S. Navy officials. Reopened May 27, 1961, Mikasa again took up duties as a memorial. Having survived war, nature, and politics, the ship has much to remember.
Today Mikasa rests with its forward battery pointing permanently, though benignly, at the Yokosuka Naval Base Waterfront Restaurant. Photo by Lawrence I. Charters.
[Note: this was my second use of using graphics produced on a Macintosh to create a headline. The name “Mikasa” in the headline was produced on a Mac, using a font resembling a brush stroke.]
The Seahawk wishes to thank the Mikasa Preservation Society for use of its photos, with special thanks to Vice Admiral Tsunehiro Eiichi (JMSDF, Ret.), Executive Director, and Shindo Haruo, Curator.
Article as it appeared in the Seahawk, reconstructed from several scans of a printed original.