Chapter V.
The army of invasion.... lands on Korean soil.... Japanese fire-arms.... fall of Fusan.... a cowardly provincial governor.... the fall of Tong-nă.... a faithful defender.... cowardly officers.... the Japanese move northward.... a martinet.... braver soldiers than leaders.... the news reaches Seoul.... the three roads guarded.... a comical predicament.... a good shot.... Cho-ryŭng (Pass) left undefended.... an army disbands for lack of leaders.... Gen. Yi Il’s fiasco.... Gen. Sil Yip wants to fight in the plain.... reconnoitering.... the Korean army in a trap.... overwhelming defeat.
We have now arrived at the year 1592 A.D. the two hundredth anniversary of the founding of the dynasty, the year that was destined to see the country swept by the Japanese hordes. The Koreans call it the Im-jim year and the mere pronunciation of that word today brings up in the Korean’s mind the tales of horror and suffering which his mother told him when a boy, and which have determined the whole attitude of the Korean mind toward Japan.
Before spring opened the king took an inventory of all the arms that were available, and appointed[appointed] Gen. Sil Yip to the command of the forces in Kang-Wŭn and Ham-gyŭng Provinces, and Gen. Yi Il to the command of those in the south. In the third moon the officials worshiped at the tomb of King T‘ă-jo the founder of the dynasty. Korean tradition says that wailings were heard proceeding from this tomb for three or four days preceding the landing of the Japanese.
Hideyoshi had gotten together an enormous force from all parts of the kingdom and the expedition rendezvoused at the islands of Iki. They were led by thirty-six generals, the general-in-chief being Hideyi.
As to the numbers in the invading army the Korean account agrees so well with the Japanese that there can be little doubt of its correctness. The Korean accounts say that the regular army consisted[consisted] of 160,000 men, that there was a “body-guard” of 80,000 men, perhaps meaning the personal body-guard of Hideyoshi, and that there were 1500 heavy armed cavalry. This says nothing about a reserve force of 60,000 men which is mentioned by some authorities, and from this we conclude that these did not come with the main army but waited and came later as reinforcements. The best Japanese accounts make the total 250,000 while the Korean records say 241,500. Either of these numbers is approximately correct, but the Japanese accounts divide the estimate differently, saying that the main army was 150,000 while Hideyoshi’s personal command was 100,000. But this discrepancy is of course unessential.
As to armament we find that this army was provided with 5000 battle axes, 100,000 long swords, 100,000 spears, 100,000 short swords, 500,000 daggers, 300,000 firearms large and small, and that there were in the whole army 50,000 horses.
The flotilla which brought this immense army to the shores of Korea consisted of between three and four thousand boats. This gives us an intimation as to the capacity of the boats used in those days. According to this enumeration each boat carried sixty men. They were probably undecked, or at most but partially decked, boats of about forty or fifty feet in length by ten in breadth.
We learn from Japanese sources that the whole fleet did not weigh anchor from Iki at the same time. Kato, who was in command of one division of the army, managed to give the rest of the fleet the slip and was away with his command by night, while his rival Konishi was compelled to wait several days longer at anchor because of adverse winds. These two men, Kato and Konishi figure so prominently in the first years of the war that a word of description is necessary. Kato was an old warrior who had fought for many years beside the great commander. He was an ardent Buddhist and a firm believer in the old regime. Konishi on the other hand was a young and brilliant general who had gained his place not so much by long and faithful service as by his uncommon skill in military affairs. He was a convert to Roman Catholicism, having been baptized by the Portugese[Portugese] missionaries in 1584. He seems to have been a personal favorite with the great Taiko. It is in the Korean accounts that we find the statement that Hideyi was made the General-in-chief of all the army of invasion. From the Japanese accounts which naturally would be supposed to be more reliable in this matter it would seem that Kato and Konishi divided between them the honor of supreme command. But we must remember that Hideyoshi was an old soldier and well acquainted with the natural jealousies that spring up between officers in an army, and it is almost inconceivable that he should have put this army in joint command of two men whom he must have known to be bitter enemies and who would doubtless work at cross purposes in the peninsula. We incline therefore to the opinion that the Koreans were right and that there was a nominal head in the person of Hideyi, but it is quite true that the brunt of the work fell upon the two rivals, Kato and Konishi.
When day broke on the morning of the thirteenth of the fourth moon of 1592 a dense fog rested on the sea and hid from the eyes of the Koreans the vast fleet that was working across the straits. Curiously enough, the commander of the Korean forces in Fusan happened to be hunting that day on Deer Island at the entrance to the harbor. He was the first to descry the invading host. Hastening back to the fortifications he prepared for the worst. Before many hours had passed the Japanese host had landed, surrounded the fort and poured in upon its doomed defenders such a destructive fire that it is said the bullets fell like rain. The garrison fought till their arrows were gone and then fell at their post, not one escaping.
It would be difficult to overestimate the immense advantage which the Japanese enjoyed in the possession of firearms, a weapon with which the Koreans were not acquainted and to whose natural destructiveness as a machine of war must be added the terror which it naturally inspired. It was Cortez and the Mexican over again, only in somewhat lesser degree. What seemed to the Japanese and what has passed down in history as cowardice can scarcely be called by so strong a term when we consider that bows and arrows were pitted against muskets and men who were trained in their use.
Without delay the invaders marched around the bay to the ancient city of Tong-nă, the remains of whose ancient fortress still greet the eye and interest the imagination of the traveller. Its prefect, Song Sang-hyŭn, hurriedly gathered all the town-people and what soldiers he could find. Gen. Yi Kak, the commander of all the forces in the province, was approaching from the north; but, hearing of the fate of the garrison of Fusan, he halted abruptly and said “As commander of all the provincial forces I must not risk my life in actual battle but must stand outside where I can direct affairs.” So he turned about and put six miles between his precious person and the beleaguered[beleaguered] town of Tong-nă, encamping at So-san. The next day the Japanese completed the investment of the town and prepared to storm the fortress. The brave prefect took up his position in the upper storey of the great gate of the fortress where, in accordance with the Korean custom, he beat upon a great drum and urged on his soldiers in the fight. For eight hours the gallant defenders fought before the enemy effected an entrance over their dead bodies. Seeing that all was lost, the prefect called for his official robes and seated himself in state in the upper gateway. The ruthless Japanese rushed in and seized him by his garments and attempted to make him bow before them, but the first one received such a kick in the stomach that he rolled over on the floor. An instant later[later] the prefect was struck down by their swords. Just before the enemy entered he had bitten his finger till the blood came and with it he wrote on his fan “The duty of a subject to his King comes before that of a son to his father, so here I die without seeing you again.” This he delivered to a trusty servant to give to his father. To his trusty friend, Sin Yŭ-go, he said, “There is no need of your staying here to die, make good your escape while you can.”
But Sin replied, “I have enjoyed pleasures with you and now I prefer to suffer with you.” So the two died together. The Japanese general in command was so impressed with the bravery of this prefect Song Sang-hyŭn that he had his body decently buried and erected over his grave a wooden monument on which he wrote “A Loyal Subject,” an epitaph than which none could be more grateful to a true Korean gentleman. Tradition, which delights to embellish[embellish] such accounts, avers that for two years a red light could be seen glimmering at night above the gate where this man met his end.
When Gen. Yi Kak, the cautious, and Gen. Pak Hong who was with him, heard of the fall of Tong-nă, they took to their heels and consequently their forces did likewise. And here it should be noted that cowardice evinced itself almost exclusively in the generals and other officers. We shall find that in almost every instance the soldiers stood by their officers to the last man.
As the forces of the Japanese moved northward the prefects fled to right and left. The governor of the province, Kim Su, hearing of the battle at Tong-nă, advanced toward that place with all the forces at his command, but his determination seems to have wavered, perhaps on account of the growing rumors of the prowess of the Japanese; for before he came in sight of the invading army he turned to the west and south, alarming all the prefects as he went; and so it is said that this whole portion of the province was practically depopulated.
When the Japanese arrived at Yŭng-san they found it empty. They swarmed over Chak-wŭn Pass like ants and filled the plain beyond. Pak Chin the prefect of Mi-ryang burned all the provisions and arms and fled to the mountains. Not so with Sŏ Yi-wŭn the prefect of Kim-hă. He stayed inside his fortress[fortress] and defied the invaders. The latter could not effect an entrance until they went and cut down a large field of barley in the neighborhood, which they tied in bundles and heaped against the wall till they were able to scale it. Having done his best and failed the prefect made good his escape. U Pok-yong, prefect of Yong-gung, as in duty bound, called in his retainers and started to join the banner of his chief, Yi Kak, whose whereabouts at that time was rather uncertain as we have already seen. During a halt for dinner two hundred soldiers from the town of Ha-yang passed them on their way to join the forces of the governor. U Pok-yong seems to have had so large an opinion of himself that he was enraged because these soldiers did not dismount when they passed him. They were of course ignorant of his rank, but he had them all seized and executed and sent a note to the governor saying that he had destroyed a band of two hundred robbers. For this meritorious service he was elevated to the rank of district-general.
Meanwhile Gen. Yi Kak, the provincial general, was flying from place to place in momentary fear of encountering the enemy. His troops were disgusted at this, for they had made some rude guns that would throw pebbles and they thought if they could have a fair chance at the Japanese they could give them a whipping.
On the seventeenth, four days after the landing of the Japanese, the startling news reached Seoul. The city was thrown into a sort of panic. The ministers hastened to the palace to consult about ways and means for defense. Yi Il was the highest actual field officer in the country. He was of the third military rank but the two above him were simply the minister and vice-minister of war and always stayed with the king. Gen. Yi Il may then be said to have been the General-in-chief of all the armies of Korea at the time.
There were three main roads leading up from the south to the capital, any one of which might be chosen by the Japanese. The most direct of these was the central one leading over the mountain chain at the celebrated Cho-ryŭng (Pass). Another to the east crossed the mountains at Chuk-nyŭng (Pass) and a third to the west led through the center of Ch’ung-ch’ŭng province. To guard these three approaches the king ordered Gen. Yi Il to go south by the middle road and station a garrison at Cho-ryŭng, the most important strategic point in the Japanese line of march. Gen. Pyŭn Keui was to be stationed in charge of this garrison. The eastern road was to be guarded by Gen. Yu Keuk-nyang and Pyŭn Eung-sŏng was made prefect of the important southern town of Kyŏng-ju. All these men were ordered to start for their respective posts immediately. At a late hour of that same day came the news of the[the] fall of Fusan, for someone from the summit of a neighboring hill had seen the red banners of the Japanese swarming over the walls into the doomed town.
These generals who had been ordered to start in such hot haste were practically without forces. When the military rolls were looked[looked] up it was found that the army was mostly on paper and that a large majority of the men were either “sick” or were “in mourning.” So the whole force that Gen. Yi Il could muster amounted to just three hundred men. Even these could not be mustered at an hour’s notice, and so in order to obey the king’s command, the unfortunate general had to start off alone, trusting that this pitiful handful of men would[would] follow him. The sight of the General-in-chief of the armies of Korea starting out alone to meet the mighty army of invasion would be comical were it not so pathetic. Of course the intention was to gather troops as he went, and we shall see that he did succeed in getting together at least the semblance of an army.
The Prime Minister Yu Sŭng-nyong was made Minister of War and charged with the duty of gathering a competent force to cope with the dreaded Japanese. Sil Yip was also appointed Vice-minister of War. He seems to have been specially trusted by the king for the latter gave him a splendid sword and sent him south with the injunction to kill anyone who should prove unfaithful, even though it be Gen. Yi Il himself. Here we see another grievous mistake, in thus giving a man an independent command over the head of the General-in-chief. It well illustrates a defect that has brought disaster to many an army—namely the confusing of authority. As Sil Yip came out from this audience with the king he slipped on the stone steps and his court hat fell from his head. The attendants looked upon this with dismay for it was considered an omen of ill-success. The general went south only eighty li and stopped at Yong-in.
Kim Sŭng-il whom we will remember as the man who accompanied the cowardly envoy Whang Yun-gil to Japan and who had so severely censured him for his craven conduct, was now made commander of all the forces in the western part of Kyŭng-sang Province. He started for his post immediately and in a few days arrived at the important town of Chin-ju, just as the Japanese were approaching. His escort had become somewhat scattered, but he was not going to take a backward step even to save his life. Dismounting he seated himself in the official chair having with him only a corporal and a dozen soldiers. It was a common custom for the Japanese to wear hideous masks for the purpose of terrifying the Koreans. On this occasion, when the van of the Japanese army entered the town it was led by a burly fellow wearing an extremely large and extremely ugly mask. The corporal strung his bow and let fly a shaft which pierced the mask and laid its wearer low. His followers beat a hasty retreat supposing that no one would be shooting arrows about like that unless there was a considerable force of soldiers in the immediate vicinity. We are not told as to the fate of the bold general. In this part of the province the prefects seem to have been made of better stuff than those further south, for they sent to each other urging the necessity of standing at their posts and offering whatever resistance they could to the advance of the enemy.
By this time Gen. Yi Il had collected a considerable force, had crossed the great Cho-ryŭng (Pass) and was stationed at Sŭng-ju, in the very path of the invading army. It did not take long to measure his calibre, for no sooner did the rumor of the approach of the Japanese reach him than he turned and fled up the pass. This was bad enough, but his next act was little less than traitorous; he made no attempt to block the pass, even though a mere handful of men could have held it against thousands. It was his one great opportunity to distinguish himself and that he did not improve it speaks as poorly for his generalship as it does for his patriotism[patriotism].
Meanwhile an equally reprehensible event was happening in the south. Governor Kim Su, who had turned aside from meeting the enemy had sent letters to all the prefects ordering them to have soldiers from all the districts rendezvous at Tă-gu and await in camp the arrival of generals from Seoul. The order was obeyed and a large force was congregated at the appointed place; but day after day passed and no generals came. The Japanese were sweeping northward and would soon be upon them. Under the circumstances it should cause little surprise that the camp broke up, each man returning to his own district. This is but one of many cases which go to show that in almost every instance the blame rested not on the soldiers but on the generals and other officers. The soldiers were always willing to go where the generals would lead them.
When Gen. Yi Il fled in panic over Cho-ryŭng and left it undefended his followers naturally objected to remaining under the command of a man who was not only no commander but was a coward to boot. So at last the doughty general found himself stranded in the town of Sang-ju without a soldier at his back. He had hoped to find some troops there under the command of the prefect, Kwŭn Chong-gil. When he found that there were none he flew into a rage and was about to decapitate the prefect, but let him off on condition that he find some troops immediately. This the poor fellow tried to do, but as the whole population was a farming one not a man could be found who had ever borne arms or who knew anything about fighting. Nevertheless, to save his head, he got together some nine hundred raw recruits. At this juncture a messenger came post haste from Ka-ryŭng saying that the Japanese were coming and were already near. Gen. Yi replied: “You lie, this is only a scheme to get me to leave, so that I will not levy any more troops here. Off with his head.” So off it came. That very night the Japanese[Japanese] encamped at Chang-ch‘ŭn-li a few miles away, but Gen. Yi knew nothing about it, as he had no pickets out. The next morning Japanese scouts were seen on the opposite bank of the river reconnoitering. The Koreans saw these scouts but as one man had been beheaded for telling of the approach of the Japanese no one dared to tell the general, and it was not till he heard the firing of guns that he became aware of the proximity of the foe. Then he rushed out and formed up his little garrison as best he could behind the fortifications. Ere long his attention was called to several columns of smoke arising from the town. He sent some of his aides to discover the cause but they fell into the hands of the Japanese and were immediately cut down. When Gen. Yi learned of this he was genuinely alarmed, and his anxiety was added to by seeing two long files of Japanese deploying to right and left and rapidly inclosing him and his forces. There was only one thing to do. Mounting his steed he fled by the only way that was not already blocked. Being hotly pursued he abandoned his horse and the greater part of his clothing and fled into the mountains where he managed to elude his pursuers. In a day or so he appeared at the town of Mun-gyŭng where he wrote a letter telling of his defeat and sent it to Seoul. Hearing that Gen. Sil Yip was at Ch‘ung-ju he hastened to that point and joined him.
Gen. Sil Yip had some time since arrived at his post in Ch‘ung-ju and had prosecuted his work of collecting soldiers with such zeal that he had mustered a force of some eight thousand men. It was his intention to push straight for Cho-ryŭng, the key to the whole situation, but when he heard of the flight and defeat of Gen. Yi Il he fell back to his strong position in Ch‘ung-ju. One of his lieutenants, Kim Yŭ-mul, expostulated with him and said, “We cannot cope with them except in such a place as Cho-ryŭng where the roughness of the land will be of material aid to us,” but the general replied, “No, they are infantry and we are cavalry. If we can once get them into the plain we can use our battle-flails on them with deadly effect.” One of his[his] captains told him that the Japanese had already crossed the Cho-ryŭng, and that night he left the camp secretly and went on a long tour of inspection in order to ascertain whether this was true. When he came back he ordered the instant execution of the captain. This midnight expedition speaks well for his courage and his loyalty.
A few days after the fugitive general, Yi Il, joined the forces of Gen. Sil Yip, the Japanese forces approached. In order to carry out his pet scheme of fighting the Japanese in an open plain where his soldiers could make good use of their battle-flails, Gen. Sil selected a spot that seemed to him most suitable. It was a great amphitheater made by high mountains. Along the other side, like the chord of an arc, flowed the river T‘an-geum da. The only approaches to this plain were two narrow passages at either end where the mountains came down to the river bank. In this death trap, then, Gen. Sil drew up his entire command and awaited the coming of the invaders. It is easy to imagine the glee with which the Japanese saw this arrangement, for it meant the extermination of the only army that lay between them and Seoul. Strong detachments were sent to block the passage at the ends of the plain while the main body scaled the mountains and came down upon the doomed army as if from the sky. The spears and swords of the descending legions flashed like fire while the roar of the musketry made the very earth to tremble. The result was an almost instantaneous stampede. The Koreans made for the two narrow exits but found them heavily guarded by the Japanese. They were now literally between “the devil and the deep blue sea,” for they had the appalling spectacle of the hideously masked Japanese on the one hand and the deep waters of the river on the other. The whole army was driven into the river or mercilessly cut down by the swords of the Japanese. Gen. Sil Yip himself made a brave stand and killed with his own hand seventeen of the enemy before he fell. Out of the whole army only a handful escaped, and among them we are almost sorry to say was the coward Yi Il who managed to get across the river.