Learning from the ‘Voyage of the Damned’: The Making of a Russian Naval Disaster
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Learning from the ‘Voyage of the Damned’: The Making of a Russian Naval Disaster
Steven Wills
July 21, 2026
Commentary
Learning from the ‘Voyage of the Damned’: The Making of a Russian Naval Disaster
#Logistics
#Readiness
#Training
Steven Wills
July 21, 2026
Editorial Note: The dates cited in Eugene Politovsky’s account are from the old Russian Orthodox calendar, which is 13 days behind that of the (Gregorian) calendar system used in this article.A recent War on the Rocks article on the failure of the Spanish Reserve Fleet to prepare for war with the United States in 1898 offers a useful point of entry into what may be the most significant issue of poor fleet readiness ahead of a major battle. Fought on May 27, 1905, the Battle of Tsushima ended in the destruction or capture of nearly the entire Russian Baltic Fleet, dispatched to the Far East after the collapse of Russia’s earlier Pacific force at Port Arthur.<br>Even before that fortress fell, Russia sought to restore its naval position in East Asia by sending the bulk of its Baltic Fleet on an extraordinary interoceanic deployment. The outcome of what later became known as “the voyage of the damned,” or “the fleet that had to die,” is well established: Russian battleships were sunk or captured, supporting ships were lost or interned in neutral ports, and fleet commander Vice Admiral Zinovy Petrovich Rozhestvensky was taken prisoner after being found unconscious aboard a destroyer attempting to escape the battle. Thousands of Russian sailors were killed or captured, and Russian naval power in the Pacific was shattered for decades.<br>The origins of that defeat are captured in the account assembled by the wife of Baltic Fleet engineering officer Eugene S. Politovsky, who served aboard the flagship Kniaz Suvorov and perished when she sank at Tsushima. Drawing on her husband’s letters, Madame Politovsky reconstructed the fleet’s troubled passage from the cold waters of Reval to Madagascar and, ultimately, to destruction in the Tsushima Strait after nearly seven months at sea.<br>The volume reflects the racial and gender assumptions of its era, but it nevertheless provides a vivid and often persuasive record of a fleet in progressive institutional and operational decay. Politovsky’s observations reveal five indicators of a force unfit for battle: excessive political interference in operational decisions, inadequate training, poor material readiness, insufficient concern for sailor welfare, and a pervasive sense of fatalism that settled over the squadron. Some of these problems were rooted in culture and in the technological limits of the early 20th century. Even so, the broader lessons remain relevant for modern fleets, which are asked to sustain long, uncertain, and strategically ambiguous deployments. The Russian Baltic Fleet looked ready for battle — in practice, it was anything but. Politovsky’s own words often tell the tale.
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Political Interference<br>“Your mission is not to reach Vladivostok with a few ships, but to master the Sea of Japan,”
—Tsar Nicholas II to Vice Admiral Rozhestvensky, Feb. 21, 1905<br>Rozhestvensky did favor sending the Baltic Fleet east, but only under conditions that offered some prospect of success. The original concept envisioned a force built around modern ships, especially the four newly completed battleships of the Borodino class, supported by relatively recent cruisers and torpedo craft. Tsar Nicholas II, however, overrode practical military considerations in favor of a larger but far less effective formation. Officers returning from the destroyed Pacific Fleet persuaded the tsar that numbers mattered more than readiness, leading to the inclusion of old and slow vessels that, as Politovsky later observed, could make only five to eight knots. Matters worsened when the imperial government added Admiral Nikolai Nebogatov’s even older coastal defense squadron after Rozhestvensky had already begun the voyage. These ships reduced the fleet’s overall speed, delayed its progress, and complicated operational planning when they joined the main force in French Indochina on May 9, 1905. Rozhestvensky’s contempt for Nebogatov’s command, which he called “archaeological rot,” was crude but not misplaced. Political meddling had converted a difficult mission into a deeply compromised one before the battle even began.<br>Poor Training<br>“This will be our first firing practice since Revel.”
—Eugene Politovsky, Feb....