Moscow, Russian Empire, 12 October 1911
To put it mildly, the four men were anything but happy.
How could they, when they learned what happened in Xinjiang or Mongolia?
After all, that's why they were here in the first place, wasn't it? Reinforcements?
These four men, Diterikhs, Kornilov, Denikin, and Wrangel, were to be part of the second wave of troops sent to the Far East to reinforce and assist General Brusilov with the occupation and defense of Zheltorossiya.
To be more precise, Diterikhs, Brusilov's former Chief of Staff, would be in charge of this relief column with Kornilov as his own chief of staff. For their part, Wrangel, an up-and-coming officer, was appointed his adjutant, while Denikin commanded the 1st Corps of Diterikh's new force.
But for now, they were seated at a table, looking at the very reason they were all brought here in the first place.
We intend to occupy and maintain our hold on Zheltorossiya. However, the defeat of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Army Corps in Sinkiang, as well as the defeat of the 4th, 5th, and 6th Army Corps in Mongolia has left our forces largely outnumbered.
In addition, enemy attacks have cut our forces off from the Trans-Siberian Railway. Attempts to resupply and reinforce our forces via ferry were also unsuccessful, due to enemy attacks on the ferries at Lake Baikal.
To that end, I am sending this request for supplies as well as Army and Naval reinforcements on behalf of General Brusilov. If possible, the bridges over the Trans-Siberian Railway must be rebuilt or repaired to working order.
Signed,
CAPTAIN ALEKSANDR KOLCHAK ON BEHALF OF GENERAL BRUSILOV
"Now," Diterikhs said to the men around him. "What do you make of this message?"
"To be honest, General," Kornilov said frankly, "I am surprised that the telegraph wire still functioned."
"It didn't," Diterikhs said plainly. "The message was transmitted to Lake Baikal, after which it was brought across via ferry before being telegraphed from Irkutsk."
To this, Kornilov nodded quietly.
"If I may," Wrangel said to Diterikhs, who nodded, "It seems that the issue at hand is that even if we are capable of mobilizing enough men to support General Brusilov's force, our inability to transport troops and supplies past Lake Baikal is a direct obstacle between our forces and General Brusilov's army."
"Indeed," Diterikhs nodded, his eyes focused on the telegram. With how long the man stared at the telegram, Wrangle thought Diterikhs was praying to God for a miracle. "Now, Denikin, what is the progress on the mobilization?"
"Currently, the Imperial Army is at almost a million and a half men. Factoring in the losses in Xinjiang and Mongolia, as well as Brusilov's troops in Zheltorossiya, we have about nine hundred thousand men available. However, the recent success of the Congress of Copenhagen allows us to redeploy troops from the European Front towards Zheltorossiya."
"I take it that manpower is not an issue?"
"Not immediately, no. However, further losses like those in Mongolia in Xinjiang may require us to call up the reserves. Should the Imperial Army attempt to conquer those regions again, we would have to mobilize outright to prevent a similar result."
"I see," Diterikhs observed, his eyes closed in thought. "And the supply situation?"
"We would need to pack enough provisions for both our forces and General Brusilov's forces," Kornilov explained. "If the most recent census is to be believed, there might actually be more soldiers in Zheltorossiya than there are civilians."
"Of course. Do we have the materials supplies?"
"Do we?" Kornilov asked rhetorically. "Yes. Do we have the means to ship them to Zheltorossiya? No. So long as the railway bridges are destroyed, we are in trouble."
"I see. And the supply situation?"
Kornilov turned to Denikin, who looked at his notes.
"To put it mildly, we are lacking in a number of areas, particularly artillery pieces, shells, motorized transports, and boots. While we certainly have enough to equip all of our regulars, the reservists would be poorly-equipped and the conscripts even moreso."
"What was he thinking?" Kornilov muttered. "Invading China despite being under-manned and under-equipped? And we're the ones who have to clean up this mess!"
"While I share your frustrations, Lavr Georgiyevich, I would advise you to not vocally criticize His Imperial Majesty. We have enough problems on our hands without any accusations of insubordination."
"Of course, General. My apologies."
Qing Army Headquarters, Changchun, Jilin Province, Qing Empire
Zhang Zuolin was not a happy man. Not by any means.
How could he, when the combined relief force sent to Mukden had not only failed to relieve the city, but they had also been annihilated.
Now, he sat here, in front of General Shiba, unaware of just what the two of them could do. Though the Japanese man was at a similar loss.
After all, he wasn't supposed to be the one here. No, this was General Arisawa's position, though Shiba had no idea where he was or what he was doing after he crossed the Yalu.
"It is unfortunate," Shiba finally said, breaking the silence. "However, it seems clear that if we are to defend, we must build entrenchments. Attacking the enemy like this would be unwise."
"Perhaps a more… unconventional approach would be better," Zhang proposed. If he was honest, he was out of ideas, but at least he knew what wouldn't work. "Small bands of soldiers will sneak out of the city and harass enemy forces through hit-and-run attacks."
"Surely you can't be serious, Zhang."
"Do you have any other option, Shiba? Attacking the rebels has failed. Defending against the rebels has failed. Now, unless General Arisawa somehow shows up with his reinforcements, I don't see any other plan than this or outright surrender!"
And we know that you would rather die than do that, General.
Shiba simply glared at him.
"My men will continue to fight until our last breath. We do not surrender."
"The two could hear a knocking on the door, only for several Chinese men to march in."
"General Zhang," the man, one of Yuan's subordinates from the Beiyang Army stated. "We are placing you under arrest for the murder of General Yuan Shikai."
"What evidence do you have," the bandit-turned general said, his hand at his hip, next to his pistol. "Lies and conspiracies."
General Shiba stood to the side, his revolver at the ready.
Off in the distance, Zhang could hear footsteps racing down the hall.
"Do not make this harder than it has to be," the officer told them. Even if his voice didn't lack the confidence that had to come with any mutineer worth a damn, his darting eyes betrayed him. "Put the weapons down."
"General!" Japanese voices shouted in the distance. Zhang recognized them as the Kempeitai who'd come with Shiba. "Out of the way!"
"This is Chinese business," the Beiyang officer said, his eyes turning to focus on the Kempeitai. "Do not get involv-"
And Shiba fired. The bang from his revolver rang through Zhang's ears as Yuan's officer fell.
One of his men shot back, gunning down Shiba with his rifle, but not before Shiba got a few good shots on him, taking the Chinese man down with him.
And then it started. Gunfire rang out all across the floor.
The mutineers were split, with half of them fighting off the Kempeitai and another half focused on Zhang and the still-bleeding Shiba.
Zhang looked at the man who had him at gunpoint, and he looked back, staring into the general's eyes.
And more importantly, not at Zhang's hip as the man drew his revolver and fired wildly, shooting fanning the handle like he'd done in his bandit days.
Six shots were fired, and six mutineers fell to the floor, while Zhang hit the floor.
He lunged for Shiba's own revolver, wrestling the bloody pistol out of the dying man's hands.
He turned to the mutineers, and they turned back. Zhang with Shiba's pistol, and the mutineers with their rifles.
He shot once, twice, and three times, fanning the handle again as he gunned down three more.
And then? Then he heard a click.
One of the other mutineers, bleeding on the ground though he was, heard it, too.
The man turned, looking at his former commander, and aimed with his still-loaded revolver.
And Zhang's world went black.
66th Marine Brigade Forward Operating Base, Outskirts of Changchun, Contested Territory
"What the Hell is going on?" Colonel Michael Chen asked, his eyes focused on the reconnaissance footage. "Marty-"
"Before you ask," Fong told him, "It wasn't us. Not this time."
"Okay, back to my previous question, then," Chen told the officers around him. "What the Hell is going on in Changchun?"
"The Japanese seem to be fighting the Loyalists," Li said bluntly. "Why? No idea. Mutiny? Brawl? Low morale?"
Or all of the above? Honestly, I'll take any of them, at this point.
"Well, this just makes our job easier, I guess," Chen figured. There wasn't much else to say, anyways,
"Colonel!" Fa shouted, running into the tent. "We've got somebody."
"Skirmishers again?"
"Not that," the tank driver told him. "He showed up on a horse with a white flag. Says he wants to talk to you."
"Okay… Did you check him for weapons?"
"Yeah. What do you want to do with him?"
"Bring him in," Chen figured, only for Zhou and Chiu to escort the Qing officer. "You wanted to talk with me? Here I am."
"General Zhang and General Shiba are dead."
"Huh?" More importantly, who the hell is General Shiba? "Is that what's going on?"
"More or less," the officer told him. Chen gave him a good hard look, and he seemed like he was telling the truth. Well, more like he was tired, but it did make sense. "Is that what's going on over there?"
"Yes. From what I've heard, General Zhang was killed by Kempeitai officers this morning, along with several officers. The Kempeitai, along with General Shiba, were killed in the ensuing struggle, and it spiraled from there.
"So now you all are fighting the Japanese in Changchun and the surrounding area."
"Yes."
"Okay, that makes sense." No it fucking doesn't, but apparently that's what's happening right now on the drone footage. "So, one more question: Why are you here, then?"
"We need your help. The bulk of the remaining Japanese force is in the area, and they're moving in."
"So why should we help you?"
"Zhang's dead, and the Japanese are bottled up in Changchun. You want to finish them off in Manchuria, here's your chance."
Or we could just let you kill each other, but odds are the IJA wins, and they commit another Nanking here.
Goddammit.
"I'll need to run this by my commanders. Could you give us a moment?"
"Of course," the officer said, before walking out the tent. Behind him were Chiu, Fa, and Zhou.
"We're going to need to run this by Huang, at the minimum," Michael told the officers. "Think they're telling the truth?"
"Recon says so," Martin told him. "And from the looks of it, they're too busy fighting off the IJA to try to betray us."
"Yeah, I know. Plus, we're fast enough that we can flank the IJA. Hit them in the rear with the tanks so they're sandwiched between us and the Loyalists.
It's not an original plan, but it's gotten us this far, hasn't it?
"Any objections?" The rest of the tent shook their heads. "Okay then. Marty, radio it into Huang. He's going to want to hear this."
"Think he'll go for it?"
"Probably. Helps that this time, there's no Qing general to betray us, right?"
Sugamo Prison, Ikebukuro District, Tokyo, Empire of Japan, 13 October 1911
Confinement was hardly anything new to Ozaki Yukio. How could it be, when he had been confined for protesting militarism multiple times in the past?
Of course, that wasn't to say that he liked being in jail. No, if he had his way, he would be at his home with his wife and daughters.
Which, now that he recalled, was where he spent his last time under house arrest.
Besides, he had his principles, and he stuck by them. And while he had his disagreements with his jailers, he had at least a modicum of respect to their convictions, if not more.
Still, this wasn't exactly how he expected it to pan out. As mayor of Tokyo City, he believed he had a platform to express his opposition to the Katsura government's intervention in the Chinese Revolution.
If he was being honest, this "Republic of China" was a natural ally, a democratic, modernizing Asian nation that sought to undo the Unequal Treaties forced upon them by the Westerners.
We ought to be kindred spirits, not bitter rivals, with how much we have in common.
That, and he didn't think that the government would arrest the Mayor of Tokyo City.
Which, now that he thought about it, probably explained the racket outside the prison. Crowds of young men, as well as a few women, were demonstrating outside of the prison.
Some were against the war, while others were against the injustice of imprisoning their mayor without due process.
Either way, the protesters were there for him, demanding his release. And from the sounds of it, they were getting louder by the day.
Of course, time in prison gave him much time to think and reflect. His first thought was of his family, but his wife and daughters were at the British Legation.
They were safe. That is all I need to know.
That said, his thoughts had gone to other things. Chief among them?
Why did the Prime Minister think that imprisoning the Mayor of Tokyo was a good idea?
No, he really didn't understand it.
Now, he was no stranger to politics and power plays. One didn't get re-elected to the Diet for over twenty years without knowing how the game was played.
But at the same time, this didn't make much sense to him. Outright imprisoning the mayor of the largest city in Japan was bound to have some consequences, after all. The crowd outside was all the proof he needed.
Sure, he was opposed to the war effort, but his opposition had been largely limited to speeches and opinion pieces in newspapers. It was hardly inflammatory rhetoric, anyways, echoing his own sentiment that the policy towards the Japanese should be one of co-prosperity as fellow Asian powers.
Was he that much of a threat? Apparently, the Prime Minister thought so.
But if the crowd outside was anything to go by, the people of Tokyo might not feel the same way.
