Baba tried to speak to Katsuyori one more time. "We will listen to everything Master Oinosuke has to say later on, but if you would first tell us just a word or two about this secret plan, old generals like us will be able to make a stand with our eyes on a place to die."
"I'm not saying anything else here," Katsuyori said, looking at the men around him. Then he added severely, "I'm pleased that you're concerned, but I am not unaware of how important this present matter is. Moreover, I cannot now abandon the plan. Early this morning I swore an oath on the Mihata Tatenashi"
When they heard the sacred names, the two generals prostrated themselves and said a silent prayer. The Mihata Tatenashi were sacred relics venerated for generations by the Takeda clan. The Mihata was the banner of the war god Hachiman, and the Tatenashi was the armor of the clan's founder. It was an unbreakable rule of the Takeda clan that once an oath was sworn on these objects, it could not be broken.
Katsuyori's declaration that he was acting under this sacred oath meant that there were no further grounds upon which the two generals could continue to raise objections. At that moment the conch signaled the troops to get into formation and prepare to march out, forcing the two generals to take their leave. But, still worried about the fate of the clan, they rode to see Oinosuke at his position in the ranks.
Oinosuke cleared the area and proudly informed them of the plan. In Okazaki, which was now governed by Ieyasu's son, Nobuyasu, there was a man in charge of finances by the name of Oga Yashiro. Some time before, Oga had changed his allegiance to the Takeda clan and was now a trusted ally of Katsuyori.
The messenger who had come to Tsutsujigasaki two days before had carried a secret letter from Oga, which had informed them that the time was ripe. Nobunaga had been in the capital since the beginning of the year. Even before that, when Nobunaga had tried to destroy the warrior-monks of Nagashima, Ieyasu had sent no reinforcements, and the alliance between the two provinces had become somewhat strained.
When the Takeda army attacked Mikawa with its legendary speed, Oga would find a means to throw Okazaki Castle into confusion, open the castle gates, and let the Kai forces in. Katsuyori would then kill Nobuyasu and take the Tokugawa family hostage. Hamamatsu Castle would be forced to surrender, and its garrison would join the Takeda army, leaving Ieyasu no other choice but to flee to Ise or Mino.
"What do you think? Doesn't this sound like good news from heaven?" Oinosuke spoke proudly, as though the entire scheme had been his own. The two generals had no desire to hear any more. Leaving Oinosuke, they returned to their own regiments, looking at each other in silence.
"Baba, it's said that a province may fall, but the mountains and rivers endure. Neither of us wants to live to see the mountains and rivers of a ruined province," Yamagata said with deep feeling.
Baba nodded and said with a sad look in his eyes, "The end of our lives is swiftly approaching. All that is left for us is to find a good place to die, to follow our former lord, and to atone for the crime of being unworthy counselors."
Baba's and Yamagata's reputations as Shingen's bravest generals had traveled far beyond the borders of Kai. They were already gray when Shingen was alive, but after his death, their hair had quickly turned white.
The leaves on the mountains of Kai were a young and tender green, before the coming of that year's broiling summer, and the waters of the Fuefuki River babbled the song of eternal life. But how many soldiers wondered if they would ever see those mountains again?
The army was not what it had been when Shingen was alive. A plaintive note sounding the uncertainty of life was heard in the banners fluttering in the wind and in the sound of their marching feet. But the fifteen thousand troops beat the war drums, unfurled their banners, and marched across the border of Kai; and their majesty was reflected in the eyes of the people just as brilliantly as in Shingen's day.
Just as the crimson of the setting sun is similar to the sun at dawn, no matter where one looked—whether at the colorful standard bearers and banners of each regiment, or at the massed armored cavalry that rode tightly around Katsuyori—there was no sign of decline. Katsuyori was supremely self-confident as he imagined the enemy castle at Okazaki ready in his hands. With the gold inlay of his visor reflecting on his handsome cheeks, the future of this young general seemed brilliant. And in fact he had already achieved victories that had stirred up Kai's fighting spirit, even after the death of the great Shingen.
Setting forth from Kai on the first day of the Fifth Month, they finally crossed Mount Hira from Totomi and entered into Mikawa proper, bivouacking in front of a river in the evening.
From the opposite bank, two enemy samurai came swimming toward them. The guards quickly took them captive. The two men were Tokugawa samurai who had been chased out of their own province. They asked to be taken before Katsuyori.
"What? Why have they fled here?" Katsuyori knew that it could only mean one thing: Oga's treachery had been discovered.
Katsuyori's mighty army had already entered Mikawa. Should I attack or fall back? Katsuyori asked himself over and over again. He was badly confused and discouraged. His strategy had depended on Oga's treachery and the confusion he would cause inside Okazaki Castle. Oga's detection and arrest were a disastrous setback. But having come this far, it would not be very gallant to fall back without accomplishing anything. On the other hand, it wouldn't be right to advance carelessly. Katsuyori's manly character was distressed in earnest. And it pricked his obstinate nature to recall that, when the army had left Kai, Baba and Yamagata had warned him not to do anything rash.
"Three thousand soldiers should start off toward Nagashino," he ordered. "I myself will attack Yoshida Castle and sweep the entire area."
Katsuyori struck camp before dawn and headed toward Yoshida. Lacking any confidence of success, he set fire to a few villages in a show of force. He did not attack Yoshida Castle, possibly because Ieyasu and his son, Nobuyasu, had made a clean sweep of the traitors and had quickly moved troops as far as Hajikamigahara.
Quite different from Katsuyori's army, which now, unable either to advance or to retreat, could only move to preserve its dignity, the Tokugawa forces had massacred the rebels and dashed out with great impetus.
"Are we a dying province or a rising one?" was their war cry. Their numbers might have been small, but their morale was completely different from that of Katsuyori's troops.
The vanguards of the two armies met in small clashes two or three times at Hajikamigahara. But the Kai forces were of no common order, either, and understanding that it would be difficult to match themselves to the enemy's martial spirit, they suddenly withdrew.
The cry went up, "To Nagashino! To Nagashino!" Making a quick reversal in their march, they showed the Tokugawa forces their backs and took off as though they had important business elsewhere.
Nagashino was an ancient battleground, and its castle was said to be impregnable. In the earlier part of the century, it had been controlled by the Imagawa clan; later it had been claimed by the Takeda clan as part of Kai. But then, in the first year of Tensho, it had been taken by Ieyasu and was now commanded by Okudaira Sadamasa of the Tokugawa clan, with a garrison of five hundred men.
Because of its strategic value, Nagashino was the center of all kinds of plots, betrayals, and bloodlettings, even during peacetime.
By the evening of the eighth day of the Fifth Month, the Kai army had besieged the castle's tiny garrison of five hundred men.
Nagashino Castle stood at the confluence of the Taki and Ono rivers in the mountainous region of eastern Mikawa. Behind it to the northeast there was nothing but mountains. Its moat, which drew its water from the fast-flowing streams of the two rivers, had a width that ranged from one hundred eighty to three hundred feet. The bank was ninety feet in height at its lowest point, and at its highest was a precipice of one hundred fifty feet. The depth of the water was no more than five or six feet, but the current was swift. And indeed, there were some frighteningly dee
p spots where water rose in sprays or twisted into seething rapids.
“How ostentatious!" said Nagashino Castle's commander as he surveyed the meticulous disposition of Katsuyori's troops from the watchtower.
From around the tenth, Ieyasu had begun to send messengers to Nobunaga several times a day, to report on the situation at Nagashino. Any emergency for the Tokugawa was considered an emergency for the Oda, and the atmosphere in Gifu Castle was already uncommonly tense.
Nobunaga responded positively but didn't seem to be making any sudden move to mobilize his troops. The war council lasted two days.
"There's no hope for victory. Mobilizing the army would be useless," cautioned Mori Kawachi.
"No! That would be turning our backs on our duty!" someone else argued.
Others, like Nobumori, took the middle path. "As General Mori says, it's obvious that the chances of victory against Kai are slim, but if we put off mobilizing our troops, the Tokugawa may accuse us of bad faith, and if we're not careful, it's not impossible for them to change sides, make an accord with the Kai army, and turn against us. I think it best that we execute a passive deployment of the troops."
Then, from the midst of those attending the war council, a voice shouted out, "No! No!" It was Hideyoshi, who had hurried from Nagahama, bringing the troops under his command.
"I suppose the castle at Nagashino does not seem very important at this point," he went on, "but after it becomes a foothold for an invasion by Kai, the Tokugawa's defenses are going to be just like a broken dike, and if that happens, it's clear that the Tokugawa will not hold Kai for long. If we give that sort of advantage to Kai now, how will our own Gifu Castie have any security at all?" He spoke loudly, and his voice rang with emotion. Those present could do nothing other than look at him. He continued, "There is no military strategy I know of that advocates a passive deployment of troops once they are mobilized. Instead of that, shouldn't we march out immediately and confidently? Will the Oda fall? Will the Takeda win?"
All the generals thought that Nobunaga would send six or seven thousand troops— no more than ten thousand—but on the following day he gave the order to make preparations for a huge army of thirty thousand men.
Although Nobunaga had not said that he agreed with Hideyoshi during the council, he was showing it now by his actions. His decision was in earnest and he was going to lead his troops himself.
"We may be calling these men reinforcements," he said, "but it is the fate of the Oda clan that hangs in the balance."
The army left Gifu on the thirteenth and reached Okazaki the next day. Nobunaga's army rested only one day. By the morning of the sixteenth day of that month, it had reached the front.
Horses throughout the village began to neigh as the clouds of dawn became visible. Banners rustled in the breeze, and the conch sounded far and wide. The number of troops that started out from the castle town of Okazaki that morning was indeed enormous, and the people of the small province were awed. They were both relieved by and envious of the number of troops and equipment mustered by the mighty province with which they were allied. When the thirty thousand Oda soldiers marched past with their various banners, insignia, and commanders' standards, the number of corps they were divided into was difficult to determine.
"Look at all the guns they have!" the people along the roadside exclaimed with surprise. The Tokugawa soldiers were unable to hide their envy: out of Nobunaga's thirty thousand soldiers, close to ten thousand were gunners. They also pulled along huge cast iron cannons. But what was strangest of all was that almost every foot soldier who was not carrying a gun shouldered instead a stake of the kind used to make a palisade, and length of rope.
"What do you think the Oda are going to do with all those stakes?" the onlookers wondered.
The Tokugawa army that had set off for the front lines that morning had numbered fewer than eight thousand men. And that was the bulk of the army. The only thing they did not fall short in was morale.
To the Oda, this was foreign territory—an area they were coming to as relief troops. But to the warriors of the Tokugawa clan, this was the land of their ancestors. It was land the enemy was not to take a single step into, and from which there was absolutely no place to retreat. Even the foot soldiers were filled with the spirit of this belief from the time they started out, and they shared a certain tragic feeling. Comparing their equipment with that of the Oda army, they could see that they were sadly inferior; in fact, there was no comparison at all. But they did not feel inferior. When they had distanced themselves several leagues from the castle town, the Tokugawa forces quickened their pace. When they approached the village of Ushikubo, they changed their direction, hurrying away from the Oda troops and toward Shidaragahara like storm clouds.
Mount Gokurakuji stood directiy in front of the plain of Shidaragahara, and from its peak one could point to the Takeda positions at Tobigasu, Kiyoida, and Arumigahara.
Nobunaga set up his headquarters on Mount Gokurakuji, while Ieyasu chose Mount Danjo. The thirty-eight thousand Tokugawa and Oda forces deployed on these two mountains had already finished their preparations for the coming battle.
The sky filled with clouds, but there was no hint of lightning or wind.
On Mount Gokurakuji, the generals of both the Oda and Tokugawa clans gathered in a temple at the top of the mountain for a joint military conference. In the middle of the conference it was announced to Ieyasu that the scouts had just returned.
When Nobunaga heard this, he said, "They've come at a good time. Bring them here, and we can all listen to their reports on the enemy's movements."
The two scouts made their reports in a rather pompous way. The first began, "Lord Katsuyori has made his headquarters to the west of Arumigahara. His retainers and cavalry are, indeed, quite hale. They seemed to number close to four thousand men, and appeared to be quite composed and self-possessed."
The second went on, "Obata Nobusada and his attack corps are overlooking the battlefield from a low hill a little to the south of Kiyoida. I could see that the main army of about three thousand men under Naito Shuri is encamped from Kiyoida to Asai. The left wing, which also numbers about three thousand, is under the standards of Yamagata Masakage and Oyamada Nobushige. Finally, the right wing is under Anayama Baisets and Baba Nobufusa. They look extremely impressive."
"What about the troops laying siege to Nagashino Castle?" Ieyasu asked.
"About two thousand troops have remained around the castle and are keeping it tightly in check. There also seems to be a surveillance corps on a hill to the west of the castle, and it's possible that about a thousand soldiers are concealed in the fortresses around Tobigasu."
The reports of the two men were, for the most part, rather incomplete. But the generals of the units they mentioned were famous beyond measure for their ferocity and valor, and Baba and Obata were both strategists of immense reputation. As the Oda and Tokugawa generals listened to the scouts' account of the enemies' positions, the vehemence of their will to fight, and their composure and self-confidence, the color drained from their faces.
They were silent, like men consumed by dread just before a battle. Suddenly Sakai Tadatsugu spoke, in a voice so loud it surprised the men around him.
"The outcome is already clear. There is no need for further discussion. How is an enemy of such scant numbers going to be a match for our own huge army?"
"That's enough conferring!" Nobunaga agreed, and slapped his knee. "Tadatsugu has spoken admirably. To the eyes of a coward, the crane that flies across the paddies looks like an enemy banner and makes him quake with fear," he laughed. "I feel greatly relieved by the reports of these two men. Lord Ieyasu, we should celebrate!"
Having been praised, Sakai Tadatsugu got a bit carried away and said, "My own opinion is that the enemy's greatest weakness is at Tobigasu. If we took a roundabout route and struck at their weak point from the rear with some lightly armed soldiers, the morale of their entire army would be thrown into confusio
n, and our men—"
"Tadatsugu!" Nobunaga said sharply. "What good is such a ploy in this great battle? You're being presumptuous. I think everybody had better withdraw!" Using the reprimand as an excuse, Nobunaga adjourned the conference. Shamefaced, Tadatsugu left with the others.
When all had left, however, Nobunaga said to Ieyasu, "Forgive me for rebuking that brave Tadatsugu so severely in front of all the others. I think his plan is excellent, but I was afraid that it might leak out to the enemy. Would you console him later?"
"No, it was clearly an indiscretion on Tadatsugu's part to reveal our plans, even though he was among allies. It was a good lesson for him. And I learned something, too."
"I rebuked him so severely that I doubt that even our own men will expect us to use the plan. Call Tadatsugu, and give him permission to make a surprise attack on Tobigasu."
"I'm sure it is his fondest wish to hear just that."
Ieyasu summoned Tadatsugu and related Nobunaga's wishes.
Tadatsugu needed no further urging to go into action. Under extreme secrecy, he finished the preparations for his unit and then had a private audience with Nobunaga.
"I'll be leaving at sunset, my lord," were Tadatsugu's only words.
Nobunaga, too, said little. Nevertheless, he assigned five hundred of his gunners to Tadatsugu. The entire force comprised more than three thousand men.
They left the encampment at nightfall, in the absolute darkness of the Fifth Month. About the time they got under way, stripes of white rain were cutting diagonally through the darkness. The downpour drenched them to the skin as they marched along in silence.
Before climbing Mount Matsu, the entire company hid in a temple compound at the foot of the mountain. The soldiers took off their armor, left their horses behind, and shouldered whatever equipment they would take with them.
The slope was painfully steep and muddy from the torrential rain. Every time the men took a step forward, they would slip back. Hanging on to the shafts of the spears and grasping the hands of their comrades above them, they scaled the three hundred fifty yards to the summit.
TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN Page 66