Morning in Saint Petersburg began unusually.
At first a single shout echoed through the street. Then another. Within minutes dozens of voices were repeating the same words.
—"Extra edition!"
—"Attack on Port Arthur!"
—"Japan has begun the war!"
Newspaper boys ran along Nevsky Prospect waving fresh sheets of paper.
—"War with Japan!"
—"Attack without declaration!"
People stopped in the middle of the street.
A merchant in a heavy coat snatched a newspaper from one of the boys.
—"Let me see that."
He quickly scanned the first lines.
—"Japanese destroyers attacked our squadron during the night…"
The merchant frowned.
—"Without declaring war?"
A student standing nearby in a dark coat answered quietly.
—"That is what it says."
The merchant snorted.
—"Treachery."
Several workers walking past stopped.
—"What happened?" one of them asked.
The student showed him the newspaper.
—"The Japanese struck Port Arthur."
The worker whistled softly.
—"So it begins."
Soon small crowds gathered around the newspaper stands. Someone began reading the article aloud.
—"…Japanese torpedo boats attacked the Russian squadron during the night…"
—"Without declaration," another man added.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
—"Shame!"
—"Cowards!"
—"That is not how wars begin!"
An older man in an old military coat spoke loudly.
—"The Russian fleet will answer."
A young worker shouted:
—"For the Tsar and the Fatherland!"
Several voices repeated it.
—"For Russia!"
At first the crowd had reacted with surprise.
Then anger followed.
Now more and more voices spoke of revenge.
By noon the entire capital was speaking about only one thing.
Port Arthur.
Japan.
War.
And above all — the attack without warning.
Morning in the Guards barracks was just as restless.
Usually the officers spent this hour quietly drinking tea or reading newspapers. But today the officers' room was unusually loud.
Fresh newspapers lay scattered across the table.
One officer read aloud from the article.
—"…Japanese destroyers attacked the Russian squadron near Port Arthur during the night…"
Another officer gave a short laugh.
—"At night. Without declaration."
He shook his head.
—"An interesting way to begin a war."
A third officer poured himself tea.
—"It does not matter. Our fleet will put them in their place quickly."
Someone added:
—"The Japanese are too confident."
—"They forget they are fighting Russia."
Several officers nodded.
A young lieutenant said cautiously:
—"I heard their navy is modern."
Another officer waved his hand dismissively.
—"A navy is one thing. An empire is another."
—"We will crush them with numbers."
Quiet laughter filled the room.
—"And where exactly is Japan anyway?"
—"At the edge of the world."
—"This war will be over in a few months."
Skoropadskyi sat slightly apart from the others, listening silently.
He did not join the conversation.
The officers spoke confidently.
Too confidently.
But he already knew what would come next.
Port Arthur.
Sha-Ho.
Mukden.
Defeat.
And revolution.
He slowly folded the newspaper.
—"War is rarely that simple," he said quietly.
Several officers turned toward him.
—"You think the Japanese will be a serious opponent?"
Skoropadskyi answered calmly.
—"Any opponent is serious if he is underestimated."
For a moment the room fell silent.
Then the conversation continued again.
At the War Ministry the morning was far less calm.
Officers hurried along the corridors while telegraph messages arrived one after another.
The telegraph machines clicked continuously.
A staff officer quickly read the latest telegram.
—"Confirmation from Port Arthur."
He looked up.
—"The Japanese fleet attacked during the night."
Another officer asked:
—"Losses?"
—"Several ships damaged."
—"Is the fleet destroyed?"
—"No."
For a moment everyone breathed easier.
Then the officer added:
—"The attack was carried out without declaration of war."
The room fell silent.
—"So they finally dared," someone muttered.
Within minutes a courier was already riding toward the Winter Palace.
The Emperor had to know immediately.
The council at the palace began quickly.
In the cabinet stood Emperor Nicholas II.
Around the table gathered:
War Minister Alexei Kuropatkin,
Naval Minister Fyodor Avelan,
Finance Minister Sergei Witte,
and Interior Minister Vyacheslav Plehve.
Kuropatkin held the telegram.
—"Report from Port Arthur."
He began reading.
—"Japanese torpedo boats attacked the Russian squadron during the night…"
He raised his eyes.
—"Several ships have been damaged."
Nicholas asked calmly:
—"Is the fleet lost?"
—"No, Your Majesty. The main forces remain intact."
Avelan added:
—"But the Japanese have seized the initiative."
Plehve spoke sharply.
—"And they did it without declaring war."
He tapped the table.
—"A strike from the darkness."
Witte said quietly:
—"They relied on surprise."
Nicholas remained silent for several seconds.
—"So it is war."
Kuropatkin nodded.
—"Yes, Your Majesty."
Plehve spoke with cold certainty.
—"The Empire must respond."
Kuropatkin unfolded a large map of the Far East.
—"The situation in Manchuria is difficult."
He pointed at the railway.
—"Our forces there are limited."
—"Why?" Nicholas asked.
—"Only one railway supplies the entire region. Moving large forces will take months."
Avelan added:
—"The fleet in Port Arthur can still fight, but the Japanese navy is strong."
Witte sighed.
—"Any war will cost enormous sums."
Plehve turned sharply toward him.
—"We are speaking about the honor of the Empire."
—"And I," Witte replied calmly, "am speaking about its treasury."
For a moment the room was tense.
Then Nicholas raised his hand.
—"Gentlemen."
Silence returned.
—"We will reinforce the Far East."
Kuropatkin nodded.
—"Troop transfers can begin immediately."
Avelan said:
—"We should also prepare a second fleet."
Witte leaned forward.
—"If the war continues we will require foreign loans."
Plehve frowned.
—"You propose borrowing during war?"
—"I propose winning it," Witte answered calmly.
He placed documents on the table.
—"France may provide a military loan. Negotiations should begin at once."
Nicholas considered the suggestion.
—"Prepare the proposals."
Kuropatkin pointed again at the map.
—"There is another matter — logistics."
He indicated Siberia.
—"Our supply depots in the Far East are insufficient."
He tapped two cities on the map.
—"Omsk and Irkutsk must expand their military warehouses."
Plehve asked:
—"How many troops do you intend to send?"
—"At first around one hundred thousand," Kuropatkin said.
—"And later?"
—"More."
The scale of the coming war hung heavily in the room.
Nicholas looked once more at the map.
—"Begin preparations."
—"The Empire cannot retreat after such an attack."
Morning in Port Arthur was gray and cold.
Smoke still drifted above the harbor.
Debris floated on the surface of the water.
The Russian ships still stood at anchor, but now the harbor was filled with activity.
Sailors carried ammunition.
Engineers inspected damaged compartments.
On the deck of one of the battleships an officer stared at a jagged hole in the hull.
—"A torpedo."
The chief engineer stood beside him.
—"We were lucky the explosion struck lower."
The officer nodded.
—"Another meter and the ship would have been lost."
On a nearby vessel sailors were installing protective torpedo nets.
An adjutant hurried across the deck.
—"Order from headquarters!"
Officers turned toward him.
—"The fleet must be ready to sail."
—"The admiral expects another attack."
The officers exchanged glances.
Everyone understood.
The night attack had only been the beginning.
War had already arrived in Port Arthur.
That evening a long military train stood at one of the stations of Saint Petersburg.
Steam drifted from the locomotive.
Officers gathered along the platform.
Some spoke quietly.
Others stood in silence.
Among them was Pavlo Skoropadskyi.
He held the order transferring him to the Far Eastern front.
Nearby two officers spoke quietly.
—"They say the Japanese struck at night."
—"Then the war has truly begun."
They glanced toward the train.
—"Now we fight."
Skoropadskyi stepped into the carriage.
The train slowly began to move.
Saint Petersburg faded behind the windows.
The rails stretched eastward across the empire.
Toward Manchuria.
Toward war.
The Winter Palace was quiet that evening.
A single lamp burned on the large desk in the study.
Emperor Nicholas II slowly turned another page of the report.
It was a list of officers from the Imperial Guard who had requested transfer to the Far Eastern front.
The war had only just begun, but already many young officers were volunteering to leave the safety of the capital.
Nicholas paused.
His finger stopped on one of the names.
Denikin.
He read the line carefully and turned the page.
Another name caught his attention.
Skoropadskyi.
The emperor raised his eyes and looked at the War Minister.
—"Are there many of them?"
The minister answered calmly.
—"More than we expected, Your Majesty."
Nicholas nodded slowly.
For several seconds he remained silent.
Many of these men came from noble families.
Officers of the Guard rarely rushed to distant wars unless they truly wished to prove themselves.
Finally the emperor closed the folder.
—"Good."
He placed the report on the table.
—"The Guard must set an example."
Outside the palace windows the lights of Saint Petersburg flickered in the cold night air.
Far to the east, thousands of kilometers away, the war had already begun.
And some of the names in that report would soon become part of its history.