Corea: The Hermit Nation

by William Elliot Griffis

On the morning of January 30th the Ming army suddenly assaulted the castle. A small detachment, evidently a decoy and forlorn hope, attempting to scale the walls, was driven back by the matchlock men and began to retreat. Seeing this, the Japanese recklessly opened the barbican gate and began pursuit of their enemies, thinking they were only Coreans. Lured on to a distance, they suddenly found themselves encircled by a mighty host. By their black and yellow standards, and their excellent tactics, the Japanese officers saw that they were Ming soldiers. The dust raised by the horses of the oncoming enemy seemed to the garrison as high as Atago Mountain in Japan. They now knew that eighty thousand Chinese were before their gates. Only after hard fighting, was the remnant of the Japanese sortie enabled to get back within the castle, while the allies, surrounding the walls, fought as fiercely as if they intended to take it by immediate assault. Some of the bravest leaders of the garrison fell outside, but no sooner were the gates locked than Katsuyoshi, without extracting the two arrows from his wounds, or stanching the blood, posted the defenders on the walls in position. Ogawuchi had performed the hazardous feat of sallying out and firing most of the outside camps. He re-entered the castle with arrows in his clothes, but received no wounds. The battle raged until night, when the Chinese drew off.

The Japanese had suffered fearfully by the first combat beyond and on the walls. “There was none but had been shot at by five or ten or fifteen arrows.” One of their captains reckoned their loss at eighteen thousand three hundred and sixty men, which left them but a garrison of five thousand fighting men. A large number of non-combatants, including many of the friendly people of the neighborhood, had crowded into the fortifications, and had to be fed.

Food growing scarcer, and danger increasing, Asano sent word [[140]]to Kato for help. On a fleet horse the messenger arrived, after a ride of two days. Kato had, in Japan, taken oath to Asano’s father to help him in every strait. Immediately, with seventy picked companions, he put out to sea in seven boats, and, after hard rowing, succeeded in entering the castle.

On January 31, 1598, the war-conch sounded in the Ming camp, as the signal of attack, and the ears of the besieged were soon deafened by the yells of the “eighty thousand” besiegers. The Japanese were at first terrified at the clouds of dust, through which the awful sight of ranks of men, twenty deep, were on all sides visible. The enemy, armed with shields shaped like a fowl’s wings, upon which they received the missiles of the garrison, charged on the outer works, but when into and on the slope of the ditch, flung their shields away, and plied axe, knife, sword, and lance. Though seven attacks were repulsed, the wall was breached, the outer works were gained by overwhelming numbers, and the garrison was driven into the inner enclosure.

Night fell upon the work of blood, but at early morn, the enemy waked the garrison with showers of arrows, and with ladders and hurdles of bamboo, tried to scale the walls. In four hours, seven attacks in force had been repulsed, yet the fighting went on. In spite of the intense cold, the soldiers perspired so that the sweat froze on their armor. Over their own heaps of corpses the Chinese attempted to force one of the gates, while, from the walls of the inner citadel, and from the higher gate above them, the Japanese smote them. The next day the carnage ceased from the third to the ninth hour. On February 3d, the Chinese, with their ladders, were again repulsed. At night their sentinels “gathered hoar-frost on their helmets,” while guarding the night long against the sortie, which they feared. Another attack from the clouds of enemies kept up the work of killing. Some of the Japanese warriors now noticed that their stockings and greave-bands kept slipping down, though adjusted repeatedly. The fact was their flesh had shrunk until their bones were nearly visible, and “their legs were as lean as bamboo sticks.” Another warrior, taking off his helmet and vizor, was seen to have a face so thin and wizen that he reminded his comrades of one of those hungry demons of the nether world, which they had seen so often depicted in temple pictures at home.

On February 5th, the Ming generals, who had looked upon the reduction of Uru-san as a small affair to be settled by the way, and [[141]]vexed at not having been able to take it by one assault, tried negotiation. In fact, they were suffering from lack of provisions. The Japanese sent back a defiant answer, and some of them profited by the lull in the fighting to make fires of broken arrows and lances, to strip the armor from the dead and frozen carcasses of their steeds, and enjoy a dinner of hot horse-meat. The vast number of shafts that had fallen within the walls, were gathered into stacks, and those damaged were reserved for fuel. Outside the citadel, they lay under the wall in heaps many feet high.

The next day, February 6th, was one of quiet, but it was intensely cold, and many of the worn out soldiers of the garrison died. Sitting under the sunny side of the towers for warmth, they were found in this position frozen to death. Yet amid all the suffering, the Japanese jested with each other, poured out mutual compliments, and kept light hearts and defiant spirits.

A council of war had been held February 2d, at Fusan, and a messenger sent to encourage the garrison. By some means he was able to communicate with his beleaguered brethren. With helmets off, the leaders listened to the words of cheer and praise, and promised to hold out yet longer.

While the lull or truce was in force, the Chinese were, according to Ogawuchi, plotting to entrap the Japanese leaders. This they learned from one Okomoto, a native of Japan, who had lived long in China, and was a division commander of eight thousand men in the Chinese army. He it was who first brought the offers of accommodation from the Ming side. The Chinese proposed to get the Japanese leaders to come out of their citadel, leave their horses and weapons at a certain place, and go to the altar to swear before Heaven to keep the peace. Then the Chinese were to surround and make prisoners of the Japanese. Okomoto’s soul recoiled at the perfidy. Going by night to the side of the castle near the hills, he was admitted in the citadel, and exposing the plot, gave warning of the danger. A profound impression was produced on the grateful leaders, who immediately made a plan to show their gratitude to Okomoto. They swore by all the gods to reward also his sons and daughters who were still living in Japan. When this fact was made known to him, he burst into tears and said he had never forgotten his wife or children; though he saw them often in his dreams, yet “the winds brought him no news.”

On the following morning a Chinese officer, coming to the foot of the wall, made signs with his standard, and offered the same [[142]]terms in detail which Okomoto had exposed. The Japanese leaders excused themselves on the plea of sickness, and the parley came to nothing.