Summoning the American Heavyweight
The war hadn't changed. #4: I figured I'd blow Japan sky-high—but not really blow it sky-high. At this rate, it was either a plunge off the cliff or ascension to maritime empire status. Scratch, scratch. I'd read some tabloid claiming Britain's Eastern Fleet had sailed off to Dragon Palace and sent Japan a congratulatory wreath. Honestly, I'd thought Britain would give them a moderate thrashing, not go full throttle like this. But I sure as hell never imagined Japan would send that fleet straight to Davy Jones' locker. I dropped my prized Cuban cigar on the floor mid-meeting from the shock. No—how the hell did that happen? More to the point, what now?
Of course, Japan's navy in 1891 was bound to be stronger and purer than in my original timeline, all thanks to a certain neighbor's brilliant oxygen torpedo research. I'd met with their admirals plenty of times, so yeah, they were tougher. But I never figured it'd make them reckless enough to land the first punch on the Eastern Fleet. The future was a total crapshoot now. Just because you'd pulled a lion's claws didn't mean its teeth were gone too. For starters, the Royal Navy couldn't win even if it rose from the grave. So? Time to balance the scales. Spot the starting point, and you know the endpoint. Surveying the world, I realized this tangled mess might unravel easier than I'd thought.
Put Korea on the scale as a counterweight? Insane. Better to cut Japan loose entirely. Their mustaches would flare up anyway, and independence would follow naturally. If they loaded the heavy Royal Fleet on their side, we'd slap a heavyweight champ on ours. I decided to invite the big man itching to meddle in the Pacific right onto the ring. Hand him another flashy achievement, and we'd both win big, right? Vice President Theodore Roosevelt.
I'd summoned the big man—who desperately wanted out of the Pacific—myself. The bait? The Philippines, running mate to Korea's southern policy.
"Pleased to meet you. Getting to see Korea's famous Supreme Leader in the flesh means I've been promoted for real."
Yeah, and seeing this club-wielding mustachioed brute stroke his 'stache up close meant I'd been promoted too. Felt like something out of a museum... or Night at the Museum. "The honor's mine."
"? You speak American English."
"?"
Oh, right—the English from my past life was American English. I'd planned to skip the interpreter for a bold impression, but... hmm.
"Britain keeps asking where I stashed the gold I looted from China."
"So I told 'em: hidden in America. For America's future."
"Ha—brilliant choice."
"If Korea's cut is buried in your railroads, ports, mines, pumps, or pipes somewhere, you'd believe it?"
"I believe it. Hell yes."
The two imperialists sized each other up for a bit.
"Oh, and President McKinley wanted to know if we'll keep importing American beef and cheese."
"Of course. Korea doesn't bounce checks. Just keep 'em fresh, like always."
Beef? For an election one-trick pony selling votes, the stakes were huge. Ten million dollars—over a ton of gold—in export contracts. As someone said, enough to churn out a battleship.
"Saw it on the way: Korea's one hell of a country."
"I think so."
"Railroads sprawling everywhere, buildings tall and solid, streets and ports spotless—no stench."
"Thanks."
"One question, though: why no battleships?"
I knew it was coming.
"If it's British or Japanese bullying, America could step in."
Yeah, battleships were sovereignty on the waves. Korea was prime battleship-bait for America: continental power, anemic navy. Maritime nations got it—sell the old clunkers, build new ones. Jobs boom, yards level up. Why else would Britain hawk 'em to Japan?
"Korea's short on battleships, sure—but not exactly bullied."
"Didn't mean it like that."
Sure you didn't. Natural as breathing, that low blow.
"We've got contracts lined up. Docks for homebuilding underway too."
"Really?"
"Design plans right here."
Battleships guzzled cash, risky ventures. But I'd greenlit one anyway. No biggie—I wanted Japan, Britain, Germany, Italy, America, the lot, to hemorrhage money in a building frenzy.
I handed Roosevelt the blueprints. Stripped secondaries and frills—pure main guns. Only armament: a single 360-degree AA mount atop the bridge. They'd never clock it as AA; figure it for a spray-and-pray secondary. Slashed costs so even crap yards could handle it. Korea's, specifically.
"Final draft, cleared by British designers. Ditched everything but price, speed, main-gun count, and broadsides. Battleship-vs-battleship only."
"Cool, huh? Turns out Britain had similar concepts. Picked one, told 'em to tweak it like this."
"Sharp eye. But... small?"
"Small and cute."
"Britain warned it'd take forever—their yard capacity's shot."
"So, regrettably, American battleships are off the table."
"Hmm. Stings the pride. We could crank this out fast. Bigger too."
"Yeah?"
"What's their quote? We'll beat it."
"Price of the plans?"
"If you wanna see it that way."
Roosevelt tucked the blueprints into his pocket. Geez...
"Truth is, I didn't beg your visit just for beef."
"Hmm. Britain?"
Ransom play? Nah—no marks here. Collect your own bounty.
"No."
"?"
"Philippines."
As he stroked his mustache, Roosevelt froze mid-motion.
'This'll be a tough negotiation.'
I'd poked his reverse scale. He stashed his club for now.
Roosevelt had risen to VP on Spanish-American War heroics. But he knew it was hollow glory. Vice president? Closest thing to a puppet in America. Unless McKinley dropped dead soon, he'd be jetting to the far east to babysit beef sales.
For him, "Philippines" was a missing puzzle piece.
That's why he'd agreed to this trek. Korean request sent him eastbound, via Japan for Philippine parleys.
So when I dropped "Philippines," silence hit.
Wrong place, wrong time.
"You mentioned Britain—so, this Anglo-Japanese war? All about the Philippines. Straight extension of their independence struggle."
"Why?"
"Blame Britain."
"Britain and France forced the Philippines to cough up brutal reparations—to Spain, no less."
"As an attendee, I can say: Japan, who freed them, got jack done there."
"Official Japanese government stance?"
"Cold hard fact."
"I see."
"But America signed off too."
"Still?"
"Japan urged self-defense across Southeast Asia, Philippines included. That's your war spark."
"…"
"Least per the British treaty, Japan's barred from SE Asia meddling. Fair?"
"Japan can't beat Britain. Privately admits it, but won't claim it official. So I will."
"Japan's like a father to me. Grew up there, served ex-PM Ito like my own dad."
"No kidding?!"
Explains the polish. Roosevelt, already Japan-friendly, warmed to me too.
"Please mediate peace between them, tragedy aside."
"I'll make it happen."
Handshake sealed it.
"Ah, and this is payback. Pals with Philippine Fed President Andres."
"Really?"
"Chat him up—you'll see he's reasonable."
Like hell. Dogs ripping throats. Then I'd back Roosevelt. Hierarchy locked.
"Heading to Japan? Greet Ito for me."
"Haha, you got it. Courtesy call."
Theodore planned Japan via Philippines, then home. Looked promising.
America's dramatic dive-in forced Britain into anger management. Pacific and Atlantic fronts meant different things—worst case, Royal Fleet to Pacific left home defenseless. Fears surfaced; they turned tail. Short truce declared.
But Britain swallowing a monkey's punch? Fat chance. Couldn't have built the empire otherwise.
Despite U.S. heavy lifting from Philippine perches, Britain vowed spicy revenge on Japan. No fleet clash—Eastern Fleet was their war-chest, smashed in round one.
Instead, truce-time diplomacy. To America: "We'll nod at your Philippines grab—ease off Japan." France: "Back Japan? Blockade incoming." Germany: "We'll ignore your Pacific specks—drop the world-policy crap and sit tight."
Yup. Maritime nations' nightmare: naval blockade. No trade? Blockade.
Japan's tough luck—America drew no loyalty line there, Europe quaked at British blockade.
Japan got blockaded. Indefinitely. Diplomacy over navy. Britain's seven seas seizure—no ship sailed Japanese. Retaliation terror. Even neighbor Korea—