The Russians are coming!

We can learn much from the heavy metal and concrete fortifications at Portland, Port Fairy and Warrnambool. The story behind their construction informs Australian identity and our perceived place in the world. As the song reminds us, History Repeats . . . 

Part 2

defences with a view;
Warrnambool battery commands
the anchorage and approaches to Lady Bay

Own worst enemy

Being in the British Empire had its benefits, but it also had its drawbacks. If her Britannic Majesty the Queen had an enemy, so by default did the Colony of Victoria. In this the colonists had no say.

At the same time, it wasn’t clear just how reliable the Royal Navy was in times of international danger. Naval resources were stretched across the whole globe and communications were slow. In the 1850s, it took about three months to get word to London.

The trouble was, whenever a military incident involving Britain flared up, British troops and naval vessels on station around Australia were withdrawn to participate at the hot spot, usually far away in the Northwestern Hemisphere. 

To make matters worse, requests for aid and assistance were often viewed with disdain at the Colonial Office back in London. The attitude was that the increasingly wealthy colonists had the motive and the means to look after themselves. As a result, relations with the mother country were periodically strained.

And there was a growing feeling within Victoria that it should be able to look after its own interests. In fact, some viewed military self-sufficiency as the very expression of independence. The Attorney-General George Higinbotham declared: ‘No one could deny that the abstract principles of self-government and self-defence should go together’.

Ironically, the British precipitated the most critical crisis themselves.

In 1882, the Royal Navy bombarded Alexandria in Egypt to suppress a revolt. This rattled complex alliances involving France, Germany, Austria and Russia. The British were unsupported and left alone to commit large forces to the ensuing campaign. Manpower was stripped from the colonies leaving them isolated and unprotected. Many saw a major European war in the offing.

The Age attacked the British accusing them of militarism and violence. Debate raged in the Legislative Council: ‘There are nearly 14 million soldiers available in Europe at the present moment. All Europe is arming’ and Russia has ‘two almost impregnable fortifications in the North Pacific’.

The Premier informed the Legislative Council that the news triggered ‘a run on the banks, a stoppage of business, and many other evils’.

But the crisis passed. 

 Second Industrial Revolution rivets and ironwork;
80 pdr rifled muzzle loader
Warrnambool Battery

Then in 1888, a novel was published with the non-too subtle title: The Battle of Mordialloc or How we lost Australia. In this, a combined force of Russian and Chinese troops landed in Western Port Bay, advanced inland then assaulted Melbourne.

Many had questioned the likelihood of this scenario all along. After all, the remote location of Victoria made landing any sizable force a very difficult proposition. The necessary logistics were mind-boggling. But sense and reason don’t seem to prevail when deep-seated insecurities are triggered.

During this period, a fearsome naval vessel was developed that added to the feelings of vulnerability and urgency; the armoured cruiser.

Infernal machines

The golden glow from the Colony of Victoria came at a time of new and wondrous technological advances. Scientists and engineers were enjoying their own golden age. The machinery of international trade and war was changing.

For centuries, gunpowder had propelled crude solid balls from smooth-bore muskets and cannon. Now barrels were rifled and projectiles streamlined. Hollow shells filled with explosives became standard ordanance.

In 1867, Alfred Nobel patented dynamite. Nobel had mining and quarrying in mind when he made nitro glycerine safe to handle. But arms manufacturers saw darker applications - propellants and explosives for more powerful guns. Dynamite transformed artillery into the first weapon of mass destruction.

Combined with advances in metallurgy and the science of ballistics, the range, accuracy and destructive power of artillery soon increased many fold. For the first time, big guns could lob shells as far as a general or admiral could see. The explosives in the shell wrought ever more destruction on the target. Now whole cities could be bombarded and flattened.

At the same time, steam began to replace sail as the motive power in ships. This meant an increase in speed and manoeuvrability. Now a warship could cover vast distances quickly, operate almost independent of the weather and confidently navigate confined waters like coasts and ports with ease.

Hulls were made of iron and steel, which permitted them to be larger and stronger. Armour was developed that made it very difficult to inflict serious damage on vital parts of the ship.

So a new class of warship was developed called the protected cruiser. These were immensely powerful ships that were impervious to conventional artillery and twice as fast as any sailing ship.

Now the hideous prospect of a hostile raider appearing without warning off the Victorian coast to sow violent mischief seemed a real and imminent threat.

rusty relic hidden atop the sand dunes;
80 pdr rifled muzzle loader
Port Fairy Battery

To make matters worse, Russian warships were active in Victorian waters. The frigate Svetlana visited in 1862, neglecting to fire a customary salute when she departed Port Melbourne. This was seized upon by the press and reported as proof of aggressive intentions. When another Russian warship visited the following year, it saluted but this time the shore battery didn’t respond. The Argus claimed this was because there wasn’t enough ammunition for the guns and; ‘for several hours the Bogatyr had the shipping in the anchorage at her mercy.’ The papers reported uproar in the Legislative Council.

In 1865 an American Civil War commerce raider the CSASS Shenandoah berthed at Williamstown during a war cruise. The Captain organised repairs and took 40 new recruits aboard. Although contravening naval convention, Victorian authorities argued they had no choice because they were at the mercy of the powerful guns of the Shenandoah. The raider left Port Phillip and played havoc among the Union fishing fleet. After the war, an international court awarded the United States a large sum in damages for this incident.

The Argus sounded the alarm and pointed a finger at the apparent vulnerability of Victoria: ‘The different colonial governments scarcely seem fully awake to the danger.’ Something had to be done.

all that remains of a later generation of artillery;
mounting ring for a 5 inch breech-loader

None shall pass

So Victoria invested in its own navy and built fixed defences. Eventually, Port Phillip became the most heavily fortified harbour in the British Empire south of the equator. But it didn’t happen overnight. Great expertise was required in this age of technological marvels.

Two British soldiers from the Royal Corps of Engineers travelled the world to the far-flung outposts of the Empire. Captain Peter Scratchley was a respected sapper and experienced soldier. Colonel William Jervois was a distinguished officer who later governed New Zealand. These two were military architects and fortress engineers. The distinctive brick facades of their designs can be seen from Plymouth to Auckland and from Malta to Cape Town.

Both recognised the strategic importance of Warrnambool, Port Fairy and Portland as active ports. They also noted that the southwest coast of Victoria offered some the best beaches to attempt a large-scale amphibious landing. Denying these ports to an invading enemy was vital.

In the 1860s, earthworks were begun so that large cannon could be emplaced in protected positions. The sites were on hills and cliffs that gave a panoramic view of harbours, beaches and seaward approaches. This is typical of coastal forts. As can be seen by visiting them today, their dark purpose commands beautiful vistas.

These early guns had smooth-bore barrels mounted on wooden carriages that fired heavy spherical balls. They were slow to load and difficult to handle, requiring the muscles and sweat of a big crew to haul on ropes, blocks and tackle. Some of the oldest guns were made of brass for the Napoleonic wars. As was often the case with coastal defences, aging equipment was all that was available.

But technological advances soon rendered these guns useless. Ships were faster and more heavily armoured. The old iron cannon balls simply bounced off. So the guns got bigger, more powerful and quicker to load and shoot. This in turn required stronger more complex coastal forts.

In 1887, work began on a new generation of brick and concrete structures with deep underground passages to make them bombproof. The new guns fired a shell from a rifled barrel that had greater range and accuracy, and could penetrate armour plate then explode inside the ship. The carriages were no longer wood, but iron and incorporated pneumatic cylinders to absorb the shock of firing, then after loading, quickly and accurately return the gun to the parapet for the next shot.

These are the forts to be found today with guns still emplaced over a hundred years after they were installed. The guns are rare, for few batteries of this vintage have survived intact. Most have been recycled and the installations upgraded with more modern weapons. The batteries along the southwest coast were left largely undeveloped as defence thinking changed and the perceived threats to this part of the coast diminished. The works were abandoned by 1910.

perhaps similar to the missing ordanance
at Warrnambool and Portland;
8 inch breech loader on
Elswick hydro-pneumatic disappearing carriage
Fort Queescliff

You would be forgiven for thinking these strange looking structures are mere follies and a waste of time and effort. After all, Victoria was never invaded or seriously threatened by hostile forces. But other forts along the Victorian coast have proved their worth in times of war. A battery at Point Nepean is credited with firing the first allied shot of WWI that lead to the capture of a German merchant ship. The same battery has a claim to the first shot of WWII.

And as any fortress strategist will tell you, forts are fixed defences that enable limited numbers of defenders to punch above their weight to deter more powerful attackers. Neither the Russians nor any other aggressor chanced their luck. In these terms, the forts of the southwest can be considered a success, even though they never fired a shot in anger. Well almost never . . .

An odd angry shot

Firing a big gun was still part black art and part science until the end of the 19th century. Smooth-bore cannon were aimed using open sights, usually nicks in the breech and muzzle of the gun. The barrel had to be pointed at a guesstimated spot some distance ahead of a moving target, because the projectile took time to arrive as the target shifted position. A wooden quadrant, plumb line and wooden wedge were used to set the elevation of the barrel. As artillery developed, aiming instruments were incorporated in the carriage to aid the gunners. Elevation and training were achieved using mechanical mechanisms. Test firing established the range of guns. Marker buoys were placed at known distances and elevations were recorded on charts and tables. All this complexity required highly trained gunners with great experience to achieve results that ballistic computers still struggle to achieve today. So a full time professional force was maintained in the Permanent Artillery Corps.

But boys will be boys and the responsibility of being a professional artilleryman was apparently too much on occasion. Mischief induced by boredom from long periods of inactivity characterised garrison duty in forts.

One wintery night in the late 1800s, a gunner misbehaved in the old Killarney pub and was thrown out. The gunner took great exception to this treatment and swore vengeance. He managed to reach Port Fairy where he staggered up to the battery, primed one of the guns, swung it around to face Killarney, and loosed off a shot that woke the whole town. The shell fell harmlessly in a paddock where it made a big hole. The gunner incurred the ire of authorities but the respect of comrades. Apparently the round was dead on line with the pub . . . or so the story goes.

Perhaps fortunately, the maximum range of the gun was 5,000 yards. The pub was and still is 10,000 yards from the Port Fairy Battery.

The Russians are coming!

We can learn much from the heavy metal and concrete fortifications at Portland, Port Fairy and Warrnambool. The story behind their construction informs Australian identity and our perceived place in the world. As the song reminds us, History Repeats . . .

Part 1

The sun blazes white hot in an azure sky. A sea breeze puffs over the grassy reserve behind the dunes and ruffles reeds in the saltmarsh. A man launches a rainbow kite and his son zooms it high to join a dozen others in colourful overcast. A camel train with children swaying on humps makes stately progress around the fence. Grownups gather in chattering packs around picnic feasts spread on the grass, while kids ignore calls to eat. A pelican spirals up lazily from the wetland on a buoyant bubble of air. What an idyllic way to spend a New Year’s Day.

Suddenly a deep rumbling boom breaks the spell. Birds screech into flight. Barking dogs scatter. Toddlers grasp parents’ hands. The boy’s kite crashes with a thump as heads turn to look for the source of this thunderous intrusion. What on earth was that?

Soon the background babble of holidaymakers resumes, the interruption forgotten. But the boy wants to know more and sits down with his granddad. He’ll know. He always does.

‘What was that, Pop?'

A smile unfolds across the old man’s face. ‘It’s the historical society firing the midday gun. In the old days they did it every day so that you could set your watch by it. The old guns are up on Battery Hill. Let’s go and explore.’

So the three generations set off across the river, past the boatyard, slip and piers til they reach the hill. It is a steep climb and as they look up, two huge guns loom above them. Stout barrels point out to sea, as though ready for action. The acrid smell of gunpowder catches in their nostrils. As they approach, the group is swallowed behind the concrete and brick structure carved deep into the hillside. Rusty iron hatches shield entrances to dark mysterious passages.

‘It’s a fort,’ exclaims the boy. ‘What’s it doing here?’

Pop sits in an alcove marked Cartridge Recess and looks at his grandson through mischievous crinkly eyes. The boy’s dad chuckles at the prospect of yet another tale.

‘The Russians are coming,’ says the old man, adding more crinkles.

"they shall not pass"
successful fixed defences deter attacks
so did Portland Battery fulfill its prime directive?

Gold! Gold! Gold!

Arguably the single most significant episode to shape the Australia we know today occurred in Victoria in the 1850s.

The first successful European community in the region was established at Portland in the early 1830s. But it wasn’t until 1851 that Victoria became a name and place in its own right, when it was declared a separate colony from New South Wales. The timing was auspicious because events soon had the name Victoria on everyone’s lips. A precious yellow metal was discovered at Clunes and Bendigo. Soon, it was turning up all over the place. Gold fever erupted.

The newly declared Colony of Victoria blazed bright in newspaper headlines all over the world. From royal courts and foreign offices to the lowliest labourers in the workhouses, everyone talked about this strange land at the bottom of the world.

One of the biggest gold rushes in history was on. A huge influx of people arrived on these shores seeking their fortunes. At the beginning of 1850, only 76,000 people lived in Victoria. By 1860 there had been a sevenfold increase to 540,000.

Fortunes were made and fortunes were lost. The diggers left their indelible mark on the maps: Hundredweight Hill and Nuggetty Flat; Poverty Run and Three Speck Gully; the Berlin Diggings and the Caledonia Goldfield.

relic of the Nepoleonic wars;
training piece of the Victorian Volunteer Artillery
32 pdr smooth-bore muzzle loader on garrison carriage
Carron Iron Works Scotland 1811

In those 10 years, Victoria produced 20 million ounces, the weight of 31 W-class trams representing one third of the world’s output of gold. By the turn of the century, two percent of the gold mined in the history of civilisation came out of the Victorian landscape.

In the Western District, large deposits were found at Ballarat, Beaufort, Ararat, Moyston and Stawell. The miners flooded in.

But how to transport all the people, plant, equipment and supplies that were necessary to exploit this windfall? Distances to Melbourne were often considerable. The network of roads was poor and their condition crude. Railways were still a dream.

The harbours of Warrnambool, Port Fairy and Portland became vital transport hubs. It was easier to move things by sea than overland, especially big bulky industrial plant. People, supplies and equipment came in, gold and agricultural produce went out. Each town became the centre of a radiating network of roads serving the inland areas to the north. Breakwaters, docks, cranes, warehouses and slipways were built.

Great wealth soon accumulated. Across the colony, thriving communities sprang up. Towns were built to house the new population. Melbourne, Geelong, Ballarat and Bendigo became showpieces of 19th century town planning and displayed civic architecture on a grand scale. Great engineering works were undertaken, like the railway network and Melbourne’s aqueducts. All kinds of intelligentsia, from academics to artists, were attracted to this marvellous place in the southern hemisphere.

Unfortunately, with fame and fortune came fear. As soon as the security and comfort of material wealth was established, so the associated insecurities seemed to fester and multiply. It is perhaps human nature to think: ‘Now we’ve got something valuable, someone is bound to try to take it from us.’

But who or what posed a threat to the Colony of Victoria?

Was war likely in the most powerful empire the world had ever seen?

Would the new and glittering prizes lure marauding raiders to this out-of-the-way place?

first wave of southwest coastal fortification 1867
68 pdr smooth-bore muzzle loader
on traversing wooden fortress platform
Lowmoor Iron Works England 1861

The horror

On 29 June 1888, the telegraph cable between Darwin and Java was cut. The immediate conclusion was that a hostile power had severed communications and an attack was imminent. An alert was issued throughout Victoria. Warships were dispatched. Forts were garrisoned and sealed off. All was in place to repel the invader.

Twelve days later, the maintenance ship SS Recorder tentatively surveyed the cable that ran along the seabed. Several breaks were found and repaired. The chief engineer reported that the damage was not caused by mechanical means but the result of seismic shock from a volcano on Java.

Soldiers and sailors across the colony sighed in relief and went home to their families.

This was a typical manifestation of the siege mentality that reigned in certain quarters. You might think that distance was viewed as a welcome buffer to aggressive machinations half a world away in Europe. But it wasn’t. For some, the remoteness of the Victorian coast was perceived as an open invitation for hostile powers to do as they wished out of the sight and ken of other nations. As imperial rivalries ebbed and flowed across continents, oceans and peoples, so invasion scares echoed in the halls of the Victorian government.

Looking back, it is difficult to determine the extent of the scares. The written record certainly implicates the press, politicians, administrators and to some extent professional military views. But the voracity of these scares has to be questioned. Then as today, the press claimed to represent public opinion. But the mid nineteenth century saw journalism develop further into the Fourth Estate and rely more and more on sensational perspectives and hysterical criticism. Much of the tone of insecurity and outrage may well be editorial construct.

The Argus 6 April 1853:

‘The world knows well that in this poor city there are immense piles of treasure . . . Here in Melbourne, quite unguarded, lie the sinews of war in abundance.’

Then on 20 January 1854:

‘. . . the colonists naturally feel rather uneasy about their own safety. We are not so much “out of the world” as we used to be, and our golden treasures certainly offer some temptation to an invading power.’

the arms race gains momentum;
80 pdr rifled muzzle loader on traversing iron platform
with hydro-pneumatic recuperator 
Royal Gun Foundry England 1866

The villains

For a long time it was the French who were seen as the bogeymen. There was a long tradition of colonial and military rivalry between Britain and France. The Napoleonic Wars were still within living memory and the French sailed in Australian waters.

Frenchmen had taken an active part in exploring Australia’s southeast coast, attracting the nervous attention of the early colonists. Jean-Francois de Galaup, Compte de La Pérouse entered Botany Bay the day after Arthur Phillip’s First Fleet arrived. The forgotten French explorer Nicolas Thomas Baudin is widely acknowledged as the first European to survey the coast between Cape Otway and Portland. The land we know as Australia could have easily been named Terre Napoleon.

In the 1850s, there was renewed mistrust of Louis Napoleon, President of the Second Republic and nephew to Napoleon Bonaparte. He boasted grandiose imperial ambitions as his naval architects developed the world’s first ironclad warship, La Gloire. His navy was active in the nearby Pacific, establishing colonies and bases in New Caledonia, French Polynesia and the New Hebrides. With warships so close, many believed it would be straightforward to attack Victoria.

But it is the Russians who are best remembered as the source of scares. There had long been a deep-seated fear and awe of the vast size of the Russian Empire. Cultural differences fomented mistrust, and the cruel despotic rule of the Tsar alienated British sensibilities.

deadly symmetry or expensive folly?
in fact this artillery was long obsolete
before emplacement in 1887

Russian advances into Afghanistan from the 1830s were seen to threaten the jewel of the British Empire, India. The two disastrous Anglo-Afghani wars that resulted are etched deeply in British military history.

Old enemies kissed and made up when joint interests were threatened by a common foe. The bloody Crimean War erupted in 1853 between Russia and a new British–French alliance of convenience. It was this conflict that stimulated the completion of the iconic Fort Dennison in Sydney Harbour. By 1860, the British were digging in all over the globe. A massive wave of fortification building across the British Empire was instigated under the premiership of Lord Palmerston.

The shadow of the bear next fell on Istanbul in the Russo-Turkish war of 1877. Shipping access to the Mediterranean for trade and strategic purposes was the motive.

In the Far East, Russia advanced into Manchuria and was threatening the Korean Peninsular to secure ports on the Pacific Rim that were free of ice in winter.

Back in Victoria, the press debated why the Russian Bear continued to seek access to the oceans of the world for her warships when she had no colonies to protect. Surely it was an aggressive move, a prelude to seizing new territory in the Pacific.

Read the exciting conclusion; Part 2 coming soon!