Uncharted Territory (Look to the West Book 2)

by Tom Anderson

  The “Russian” force on Edzo of course included many others. There were many Lithuanians, and German mercenaries in the service of both Russians and Lithuanians, and there were Benyovsky’s Aynyu cadres (who were highly motivated to prevent Japanese rule coming over Edzo again), some of them trained in European warfare. There were even a few Matsumae sympathisers who took up arms against the Shogun’s army, either because they held grudges like Sugimura, or because they genuinely believed the Russians would be a lighter hand than Tokugawa’s.

  However, if all or most of the large Japanese force had actually landed in Edzo, it is likely that the numerically inferior Russian force would still have been swept away, overwhelmed by the well-disciplined if technologically inferior soldiers. The Russians were saved by the same factor that had saved England from Spain in the sixteenth century, and Japan herself from the Mongols in the thirteenth: Edzo was an island. The strait of Tsugaru separated it from the island of Niphon [Honshu] and this meant that the army needed a fleet to cross. Tokugawa assembled pressed boats from all over Japan, but these were mostly little ships, fishing craft and the like. After all, Japan had little need of trade ships or armed escorts for them.

  This would have sufficed if the Strait had been uncontested; but it was not. Benyovsky learned from Sugimura’s agents in Niphon that the Shogun’s army was approaching the ports, and summoned all the warships that the Company had at its command – by this point, fourteen frigates and obsolete ships of the line, and perhaps twenty smaller brigs and sloops. It was a force that would have been wiped out even by Admiral Villeneuve’s battered Republican French sailfleet, yet to the Japanese it was death.

  It is hard perhaps to explain the metamorphosis that those ships underwent in the Japanese consciousness. The inhabitants of Nagasaki had seen Dutch ships docked at Deshima and occasionally other European ships passing through, such as one of the expeditions of La Pérouse. They even made drawings of those ships and learned some theory of shipbuilding via Rangaku. Yet those ships were otherworldly, remote, barbarian affairs. Once upon a time – the Russians later tried to suppress knowledge of this – before the Tokugawa Shogunate, the Japanese had built quite serviceable galleons to Spanish plans and sailed them around the world, as well as smaller ocean-voyaging trade ships to travel throughout the East Indies. Now, though, that knowledge was long gone. Suddenly, those distant barbarian ships were wooden dragons blazing with iron and fire. Few living Japanese had ever seen a cannon fire. Many saw it on that day, but few of them lived to tell the tale.

  Of course, the Russians were still limited by their numbers. At least a quarter of the Japanese ships made it through the Russian blockade and landed their troops in Edzo. They even won some battles, especially against undisciplined Aynyu irregulars, and retook some towns for a while. Yet in the end the Russians carried the war. This was indeed partly due to their superiority in firearms, training and above all artillery (borrowed from the ships) but there was also a mundane factor at work. The Tokugawa Shogunate had kept the peace in Japan through political manipulation, assassination and repression for two centuries. The last major war in Japan had been the Shimabara Rebellion of the 1630s, which had come about in response to the creation of Sakoku itself. Thus it was that no matter how disciplined the Japanese armies were, no matter how many stories of heroic samurai their officers had been raised upon, they were fundamentally a mass of green recruits. That factor would have been a great disadvantage even if they had had the same weapons as their enemies.

  The Russians, by contrast, included not only veterans of the recent conflict on Edzo, but at least half a regiment’s worth of troops who had fought for years in the Russian Civil War on the side of the Potemkinites. Paul had exiled them to Yakutia, and Benyovsky had found a use for them. Destroying Japanese armies.

  Many commentators, not least Benyovsky himself, wrote of that war. The impression one receives from reading their accounts is that the Japanese were very impressive fighters, strongly disciplined and motivated, and rarely surrendering, usually fighting to the death. Yet one cannot escape the fact that this history was written by the victors. The great army that Tokugawa had compiled had been almost completely annihilated; some volleyed down on Edzo, far more drowned in the Strait of Tsugaru. It was the greatest disaster in Japanese naval history since the Battle of Myeongnyang against the Coreans, two centuries before, when a Corean force outnumbered ten to one had wiped out a Japanese fleet. In fact the situations were similar; the Coreans had won partly because of the leadership of Admiral Yi Sun-sin and partly because of technological superiority, for their timberclad Panokseon ships had been impervious to the attacks of the Japanese Atakebunes.

  And yet, historically-aware Japanese writers might have pointed out acidly, that fleet at Myeongnyang would have stood a better chance against the Russians if it had somehow been brought to the here and now. After all, it had consisted of real warships, and they had been armed with cannon – which was more than one could say for anything Tokugawa could field.

  The institution of Sakoku had been partly due to Japan’s defeat in the Imjin War with the Coreans and Chinese, not least due to that battle. Now it was openly asked whether that isolation had been the right course of action – and the policy was ultimately tied to the institution of the Shogunate itself. Murmurs against Tokugawa spread throughout the islands, and nowhere were they stronger than Kiusiu, where the Satsuma fanned the flames. Sikoke [Shikoku] too came out as a hotbed of anti-Shogunate feeling, doubtless because its Hans had realised that Tokugawa must have little means of attacking any other island. More significantly, the Choshu Han of southern Niphon, another large and powerful Han, declared an alliance with the Satsuma. The Choshu had had a grudge against the Shogunate ever since a Shogun had deported them to their present remote domain from a previous position of power nearer the centre of Niphon.

  These murmurs of discontent needed a cause to rally around, and they soon had one. Emperor Tenmei died – if one believes the Russian poets, upon hearing the news of the disaster of the Tsugaru Straits. Tokugawa, struggling to cope with the repeated setbacks, immediately produced documents claiming that Tenmei had adopted Kojimo, a noble from one of the Sesshu Shinnoke (the Four Cadet Branches of the Imperial House of Japan) as his son on his deathbed. It is almost certain that this was falsified, but Kojimo was presented with the Three Sacred Treasures in Kyoto and thus coronated. However, from the start his reign was hollow. Two of his predecessor’s four chief ministers, his Naidaijin (Minister of the Centre) and Udaijin (Minister of the Right) refused to recognise Kojimo as emperor, and fled into the south.

  Kojimo quickly installed new men in those posts, but his credibility took a blow when it transpired that Crown Prince Yasuhito was indeed claiming the Chrysanthemum Throne from exile in the south (having escaped the Shogun’s assassins) and was backed by the rebellious armies of Satsuma, Choshu, and others. They had sent few soldiers to turn the Strait of Tsugaru red with their blood, while Tokugawa’s allies had sent many. Thus, while the supporters of Yasuhito were outnumbered, they were able to hold their own against Kojimo and Tokugawa.

  Therefore, Matsumae was forgotten. The Russians and their allies had sustained losses in the battles, but now they emerged in a strong position. Though the official trade routes to Japan were closed, the civil war meant that the Pacific Company was soon doing record business. After the defeat, all the Japanese factions wanted European firearms. The southern alliance soon found itself in control of Nagasaki and the Dutch learning that flowed through it, and – with that Japanese knack for duplication that has astonished many Europeans through the ages – were soon building their own advanced European muskets, if not necessarily always matching them with the appropriate training.

  Deprived of this, the Shogun’s forces turned to the only alternative source they had, no matter how ironic it was: initially without Tokugawa’s knowledge, they purchased weapons and plans from Moritz Benyovsky.

  So, while Old Japan tore its
elf apart and the Russians and Lithuanians grew fat on the proceeds, all seemed well for Benyovsky’s mad venture in the East. Yet Japan was one thing. China was quite another. And all those Russians settling in the Amur valley had been brought to the attention of the Guangzhong Emperor…

  Map: The United Provinces of South America in the Year 1800

  Chapter #58: The Sons of Inti

  From: “The Third Platinean War” by Dr Thierry Gaston de Connarceux (French original 1945 – English translation 1947)—

  On July 24th 1804, the Cortes Nacionales of the United Provinces of South America, incited by the governing Partido Solidaridad and President-General Juan José Castelli, declared war upon the Carlista regime in the City of Mexico. Castelli had always urged an expansionist policy, an attempt to spread the UPSA’s principles of republican liberty to the other Spanish colonies in South America, and the collapse of Spain presented a perfect opportunity. The exiled King Charles IV’s declaration of an Empire of the Indies muddied the waters more than Castelli had hoped, but nonetheless this was the best chance that the Meridians would have.

  This would not be a simple conflict. The chief front was the frontier of Meridian territory in what had once been the Viceroyalty of Peru, just north of Lima, and the newly created Kingdom of New Granada. Much of the territory near Lima was in fact the property of the restored Tahuantinsuya Empire, which by 1804 was ruled by Hipolito Condorcanqui, the son of Tupac Amaru II, under the name Tupac Amaru III. Although he was competent enough, this Inca lacked the fire of his father and did not have the steel to stand up to Castelli’s demands. Tupac Amaru II could, perhaps, have played New Granada off against the UPSA; but Tupac Amaru III acceded to everything Castelli wanted, and agreed to allow the UPSA to stage their invasion from Tahuantinsuya territory.

  The invasion followed the declaration of war rather more rapidly than one might think, considering the difficulty of the terrain. This was expedited partly because the document was brought to Marshal-General Pichegru by sea for most of its journey and offloaded at Lima, but also because the bulk of the Fuerzas Armadas had already been concentrated in the northern provinces by the Partido Solidaridad government. They had known that this moment was coming ever since Spain fell to the French.

  The first Meridian troops crossed the debated border on September 3rd 1804, into the declared Kingdom of New Granada. The men of the latter had not been idle, either. After the death of Viceroy Ambrosio O’Higgins in 1801, he had been succeeded by Manuel Mendinueta y Múzquiz, another former military man. Mendinueta’s chief experience had been in raising colonial militias to resist foreign encroachment and put down rebellions. He had served in Cuba in the 1780s, and although the island had eventually fallen to the British and Americans, the remnants of his militiamen continued to plague the Carolinian authorities there well into the nineteenth century, helping drive the need for a Carolinian rapproachment towards the Spanish population there. Since taking office as Viceroy in Santa Fe, Mendinueta had raised further regiments of militia, initially with the object of finishing off the remnants of the Comunero rebels, the Meridians’ republican fellow travellers in New Granada. Mendinueta’s efforts not to rest on his laurels after the Comuneros’ initial defeat by Viceroy Caballero in the 1780s is the chief reason why the Comuneros were of much less assistance to the invading Meridians than Pichegru had hoped.

  Mendinueta also confirmed his predecessor’s son Bernardo O’Higgins as a general commanding the regular army regiments stationed in the viceroyalty. Like many of the viceroys, he supported scientific exploration of the region’s flora and fauna, not least because of the Linnaean theories centring around those animals and plants that could be economically important. Chief among the natural philosophers working in New Granada was José Celestino Mutis, a Peninsulare and noted Linnaean who explored much of the New Granadine interior. Although he initially failed to find anything that would revolutionise the then-viceroyalty’s economy as Mendinueta had hoped, his expeditions incidentally made very detailed maps of previously unexplored regions. These would prove invaluable to the New Granadine authorities in the coming conflict, granting them a considerable intelligence advantage over the Meridians.

  The rule of Mendinueta in New Granada was turned upside down in February of 1804 when the entourage of Infante John of Spain arrived in the port of Maracaibo. The Infante entered Santa Fe in April accompanied by ‘spontaneous’ mass processions (secretly arranged by his retainers who had gone ahead) and informed the thunderstruck Mendinueta that the Viceroyalty (and Viceroy) was abolished, and instead there was a new Kingdom of New Granada, part of the Empire of the Indies – and John was King. However, he then immediately reappointed Mendineuta to Secretary of the Council of State (i.e., prime minister) of the new Kingdom. Although John was only twenty-five years of age, his legendary oratory abilities helped win over not only the veteran Mendineuta but also the people of the capital city. His dissemination of Charles’ plans, including the setting up of a regional Cortes in Sante Fe and the sending of representatives to a centralised Grand Cortes in the City of Mexico, helped blunt the Meridians’ propaganda which itself called for similar reforms.

  Nonetheless, when Pichegru’s armies hit New Granada in September, the young country was struck hard. The combined Fuerzas Armadas of the UPSA were both more numerous and better trained than anything the Kingdom could muster, even after Mendineuta’s militia reforms. Faced with a battle at Huánuco, General O’Higgins controversially chose to withdraw his inferior forces and concede the Pillco Valley to the Meridians. O’Higgins then converted his army mostly into small bands of mountain warriors designed to wear down the armies of Pichegru as they advanced northwards through the Andes and along the coast. He knew that the Meridians had to be held south of Trujillo, or they would be able to break out into the broad coastal plains of Piura and the northern remnants of Lower Peru – all that remained in Spanish hands after the Second Platinean War – would follow the rest of the former viceroyalty into Meridian control.

  This tactic was initially fairly successful. Pichegru advanced at a relatively rapid northward pace, and by the winter of 1804 had captured the town of Caraz. The entirety of the Callejón de Huaylas, that great valley from Caraz to Lima, thus now lay in Meridian hands. However, at this point Pichegru was forced to halt. His large army had accordingly large logistical requirements, and the Lower Peruvian interior was too poor for French maraude tactics to work, even ignoring the fact that the Meridians were trying to portray this as a liberation. What supply convoys did come up from Lima were often set upon by O’Higgins’ irregular bands; they enjoyed much more success in attacking the convoys than in direct assaults on groups of Pichegru’s well-trained infantry.

  Because of the problem of his hungry men, Pichegru led the bulk of his army over the mountains to the Pacific coast, though they suffered losses from O’Higgins’ fighters due to having to split up into many small bands for the mountain passes. The settlements on the coast were mostly poor fishing villages, but Pichegru was able to obtain some resupply from the UPSA by sea from Lima. The Meridian army thus escaped its logistical problem, at least temporarily, but O’Higgins took advantage of the fact that Pichegru had only left a few thousand men as the garrison of Caraz. O’Higgins reconstituted his army and attacked Caraz in February of 1805, a surprise assault given that the weather was still inclement. Caraz was small enough that it offered little defensibility, and Pichegru’s garrison was half wiped out. The remaining troops retreated in good order to Yungay. O’Higgins thus regained his name in the court of King John in Santa Fe, where his previous retreat had led some to brand him as a coward.

  Pichegru’s response to this was to send reinforcements to Yungay and thus repel O’Higgins’ follow-up assault in April. However, as he reconfigured his own forces for further operations in the mountains, he also sent his lieutenant Francisco Lopez y Lucía to request assistance from Tupac Amaru III. Pichegru had discerned the utility of O’Higgins’ irregular mountai
n troops and saw that the best way to fight against them was to recruit his own corps of Tahuantinsuya, who were even more skilled at mountain warfare than anyone O’Higgins could call upon. The campaign season of 1805 thus went rather worse for O’Higgins, with Caraz falling again in June and O’Higgins pushed back to the defence of Trujillo by September. There the two sides finally fought a pitched battle, which the outnumbered New Granadine forces lost. O’Higgins and about half of his surviving troops were evacuated by ship from Trujillo; the new navy of the Empire of the Indies had fought an indecisive battle against the Meridian Armada a month before off the coast at Paita, and thus the seas were not dominated by the Meridians so much as they were for the early part of the war.

  The Meridians thus broke out into the coastal plain as O’Higgins had feared, and the rising industrial production of quinine by the Noailles plantations ensured that Meridian troops retained an antimalarial advantage as they laid claim to the tropical interior on the east side of the mountains. Although King John and his allies continued to amass new forces, it seemed as though the war was definitely going the Meridians’ way. And it seems quite likely that it would have ended in a Meridian victory, had it not been for the impatience of President-General Castelli.