Night over the Yellow Sea was cold and silent.
The sea lay almost perfectly calm, reflecting a pale strip of moonlight across the dark water. Far to the west the rocky coast of the Liaodong Peninsula rose faintly against the horizon. Somewhere beyond those hills stood the Russian fortress of Port Arthur.
At the entrance to the harbor the ships of the Russian Pacific Squadron lay at anchor.
Battleships, cruisers, and destroyers stood quietly on the dark water. Their silhouettes formed a heavy line across the outer roadstead.
From a distance the fleet looked powerful.
Unmovable.
Confident.
On the deck of the battleship Retvizan the night watch officer walked slowly along the railing. The cold wind from the sea moved across the deck, carrying the faint smell of coal smoke.
A young sailor stood nearby, watching the dark horizon.
The officer stopped beside him.
—"Anything unusual?"
—"No, sir."
The sailor glanced across the calm sea.
—"The night is very quiet."
The officer nodded.
—"Too quiet."
He looked once more toward the horizon.
The Russian fleet had been anchored here for days. Negotiations with Japan were still officially continuing. Most officers believed that war had not yet begun.
The sailor shifted his weight slightly.
—"Sir…"
—"Yes?"
—"Do you think the Japanese will actually attack?"
The officer shrugged.
—"If they do, they will regret it."
The sailor smiled faintly.
—"The fleet is strong."
—"Yes."
The officer looked once more across the calm sea.
—"Very strong."
Far beyond the harbor another fleet moved silently through the darkness.
Several Japanese destroyers cut across the water at increasing speed. Their navigation lights were extinguished and their dark hulls were almost invisible against the night sea.
On the bridge of the battleship Mikasa, Admiral Tōgō Heihachirō stood motionless.
His eyes were fixed on the distant darkness where Port Arthur lay.
An officer approached quietly.
—"Distance to the harbor, Admiral."
—"Twenty miles."
Tōgō nodded slowly.
For weeks diplomacy had continued while Russia strengthened its position in Manchuria. The Japanese government had waited as long as possible.
Now the waiting was over.
Another officer stepped forward.
—"The destroyer squadrons are ready."
Tōgō looked once more toward the horizon.
—"Signal them."
The officer turned to the signal crew.
Moments later a sequence of lantern signals flashed across the darkness.
Ahead of the flagship the destroyers increased speed.
Their engines roared as the small ships surged toward the Russian anchorage.
Back at Port Arthur the Russian fleet remained calm.
On Retvizan the watch officer leaned against the railing.
The sailor beside him suddenly narrowed his eyes.
—"Sir…"
—"What is it?"
—"Movement."
The sailor pointed into the darkness.
—"There."
The officer stepped forward.
At first he saw nothing.
Then the shapes appeared.
Low.
Fast.
Moving across the water.
His expression changed instantly.
—"Signal the fleet."
Before the order could be completed a shout erupted from another ship.
—"TORPEDO!"
The warning echoed across the harbor.
A dark shape cut through the water.
Then the night exploded.
A massive flash of fire illuminated the harbor as a torpedo struck Retvizan below the waterline.
The entire ship shuddered violently.
Water and smoke shot high into the air.
For a moment the entire harbor froze.
Then chaos erupted.
Alarm bells rang across the fleet.
—"Battle stations!"
—"Enemy attack!"
Sailors rushed onto the decks while officers shouted orders.
Steam valves opened.
Engines roared.
Another explosion tore through the darkness.
This time near the battleship Tsesarevich.
The ship lurched as the torpedo struck the forward hull.
Searchlights suddenly illuminated the harbor.
Bright beams cut across the water.
One beam caught the silhouette of a Japanese destroyer racing past the anchorage.
—"Target to starboard!"
A Russian gun fired.
The shell splashed into the sea.
The destroyer was already disappearing into the darkness.
More explosions followed.
The cruiser Pallada shuddered violently as a torpedo struck its hull.
Smoke spread across the water.
On deck sailors ran across the slippery planks while officers shouted commands.
—"Seal the bulkheads!"
—"Start the pumps!"
Below deck engineers struggled to control the flooding compartments.
Water rushed through the damaged sections of the ship.
On Retvizan the situation was critical.
The captain stepped onto the bridge.
—"Report."
An officer answered quickly.
—"Severe damage forward."
—"Flooding in two compartments."
The captain looked toward the harbor entrance.
—"Run the ship aground."
The order was carried out immediately.
If the battleship remained where it was, it might sink before morning.
Slowly the wounded ship began moving toward the shallow waters near the shore.
Across the harbor the cruiser Pallada fought its own battle.
A fire had started near the damaged hull.
Sailors formed a line passing buckets of seawater while thick smoke filled the night air.
Nearby several wounded sailors were carried below deck.
One of them gripped the arm of the sailor carrying him.
—"Did we hit them?"
The sailor shook his head.
—"They disappeared."
Meanwhile the Japanese destroyers were already retreating.
Their mission had been simple.
Strike quickly.
Then vanish.
Within minutes the attacking ships were racing back toward the open sea.
Behind them the harbor of Port Arthur was filled with confusion.
Searchlights continued sweeping across the water.
Guns fired occasionally into the darkness.
But the attackers were gone.
Hours passed.
Gradually the chaos began to settle.
When the first pale light of dawn appeared above the Yellow Sea the harbor revealed the full damage of the attack.
Several ships were badly damaged.
Repair crews worked across the decks.
Pumps continued running without pause.
Wounded sailors were carried ashore.
Smoke drifted across the calm water.
Inside the naval headquarters officers gathered around a large table.
Damage reports were arriving rapidly.
One officer read the list aloud.
—"Retvizan severely damaged."
Another added quietly.
—"Tsesarevich damaged."
A third voice followed.
—"Pallada damaged."
Silence filled the room.
Finally the commander spoke.
—"Prepare a telegram."
An officer immediately began writing.
The message was short.
"The Japanese fleet attacked the Russian squadron anchored before Port Arthur. Several ships damaged. Hostilities have begun."
The telegraph operator read the message carefully.
—"Confirmed."
—"Send it."
The machine began clicking rapidly.
Signals raced across thousands of kilometers of telegraph wire.
From Port Arthur to Vladivostok.
From Vladivostok to Moscow.
From Moscow to Saint Petersburg.
Across the Russian Empire the news would soon spread.
Japan had begun the war.
On the deck of one of the damaged ships an officer stood looking across the harbor.
The rising sun slowly illuminated the sea.
Smoke drifted above the water.
Sailors continued their work in silence.
The harbor no longer looked peaceful.
It looked wounded.
After a long moment the officer spoke quietly.
—"This is only the beginning."
And across the vast Russian Empire the news of war was already beginning to spread.