Mitsuhide knew the topography of the area as well as did the generals of the enemy vanguard, Nakagawa Sebei and Takayama Ukon. And, although they were looking at the mountains and rivers of the same area, Mitsuhide's mind naturally went beyond the thoughts of the other men.
After Mitsuhide had crossed the Katsura River and marched through Kuga Nawate, he detached one division from his army and sent them on another route, saying, "Climb up the northern side of Tennozan and take the mountaintop. If the enemy attacks, make a stand and don't give up that strategic point."
It must be said that he was quick. Mitsuhide's commands and his actions were always timely; he never missed an opportunity to strike. Nevertheless, by this time Hideyoshi's forces, which had already reached Hirose on the southern slope, were also on the mountain.
It had been pitch black, however, and many of the soldiers were not at all familiar with the terrain.
"Here's a path going up."
"No, you can't go through that way."
"Yes, I think we can."
"This is the wrong way. There's a crag right above us."
Winding their way around the foot of the mountain, they all made haste to find a path to the top.
The path was steep, and it was still dark. Because they knew they were among allies, the men filed up without knowing whose unit or corps they were with. They simply hurried, huffing and puffing, to the summit. Then, just as they thought they were nearing the top, they were struck by a volley of gunfire.
The attack had come from the Akechi gunners under Matsuda Tarozaemon. It was clear afterward that the seven hundred men in the Matsuda corps had been divided into two units. The soldiers of Horio Mosuke, Nakagawa Sebei, Takayama Ukon, and Ikeda Shonyu had all scrambled to be first to climb up Tennozan, but it was only Hori Kyutaro who commanded his troops to take the crossroad up to the north side of the foothills. Quickly skirting the base of the mountain, they attempted a completely different action: to cut off the retreat of the enemy.
As expected, that lateral attack intercepted the Matsuda corps and placed its general, Matsuda Tarozaemon, right before their eyes. The collision was far more violent than the clash at the top of the mountain. Fighting was hand to hand amidst the pines and boulders strewn along the mountain slope. Firearms were too cumbersome, so the battle was fought mainly with spears, long swords, and halberds.
Some fell from the cliffs grappling with the enemy. Some who held down enemy soldiers were stabbed from behind. There were corps of archers as well and the singing of arrows and reports of the guns were incessant. But far louder were the war cries of the five or six hundred men. Those cries did not seem to be coming from the throats of individual men but from their entire beings, even from their hair and pores.
The men advanced and were pushed back, and at last the sun began to rise. A blue sky and white clouds were visible for the first time in a long while. With the rare sunshine, the cicadas seemed to have been struck dumb. In their place were the war cries of the soldiers shaking the mountain. Very quickly, bloodied corpses lay strewn over the slopes, piled atop one another. One body might be lying pathetically alone in one spot, while two or three might have fallen on top of each other in another place. The warriors were spurred by the sight of the corpses, and the soldiers who stepped over the dead
bodies of their comrades entered a space beyond life and death. This was true for the soldiers of the Hori corps as well as for the men of the Akechi.
The situation at the top of the mountain was unclear, but here too a victory might be followed quickly by a defeat. During the fighting, the cries that issued from the Matsuda corps suddenly changed and became like the sounds a crying child makes between sobs. Optimism had changed to despair.
"What's the matter?"
"Why are we falling back? Don't retreat!"
Questioning their comrades' confusion, some of the men of the Matsuda corps yelled out in anger. But those men, too, quickly ran toward the foot of the mountain as though carried by an avalanche. Their commanding general, Matsuda Tarozaemon, had been struck by a bullet and carried away on the shoulders of his attendants in full view of his troops.
"Attack! Cut them down!"
The greater part of the Hori corps had already started out in pursuit, but Kyuta yelled at the top of his voice, trying to stop his men.
"Don't pursue them!"
In the impetus of the moment, however, the command for restraint had little effect. As might have been expected, the vanguard of the Matsuda corps now came cascading down the mountain like a muddy stream. Reinforcements had not come, and their general had been shot. They had no choice but to flee.
The Hori corps had been no match for the Akechi in terms of numbers. Now, without a real battle and with nothing to check them, they were thrust down the mountain and crushed underfoot by a corps of the enemy that came running down the steep slope from above. The section of the Hori corps that had pursued the enemy down the mountain first was now caught in a pincer movement just as Kyutaro had feared, and an appalling battle ensued.
At that point, the combined forces of the Horio, Nakagawa, Takayama, and Ikeda corps reached the top of the mountain.
"We've won!"
"Tennozan is ours!"
The battle's first victory cheer was raised. Hideyoshi had been waiting for Nobutaka’s arrival at the Yodo River, and so he had not yet arrived at the front line. It was late in the afternoon, about the Hour of the Ram, by the time he had added the forces of Nobutaka and Niwa Nagahide to his own army and advanced to the central camp. The morning rain had dried up under the hot sky, both men and horses were covered with sweat and dust, and the colorful armor and coats had all turned white. The only article that penetrated the hot day with any brilliance was Hideyoshi's standard of the golden gourds.
While there were still echoes of gunfire on Tennozan, every house in the village had seemed empty. When the Akechi forces retreated and the new tide of armor flooded the streets, however, pails of water, piles of melons, and kettles of barley tea suddenly appeared on every doorstep. As Hideyoshi's forces crowded through the streets, even women appeared among the crowd of villagers, wishing them well.
"Not a single enemy soldier's left over there?"
Hideyoshi did not dismount, but simply gazed steadily at the banners of his soldiers, now visible on the nearby mountain.
"Not one," Hikoemon replied. He had coordinated all the reports on battle conditions from the various corps, judged the general situation, and now reported to Hideyoshi. “The Matsuda corps lost its commander at the very outset of the attack. Some of his men fled toward the northern foothills, while the others joined their allies in the neighborhood of Tomooka."
"I wonder why someone like Mitsuhide would abandon this high ground so quickly."
"He probably didn't think we would arrive so soon. He was mistaken in his timing."
"What about his main force?"
"They seem to have camped in the area from the Yodo River to Shimoueno, with Shoryuji at their rear and the Enmyoji River in front of them."
At that moment war cries and gunfire could be heard in the direction of the Enmyoji River. It was the Hour of the Monkey.
The Enmyoji River, east of the village of Yamazaki, was a confluent of the Yodo River. The area where the two rivers met was a swamp covered with reeds and rushes, usually filled with the songs of bush warblers, but on this day no birdsong could be heard.
During the morning the enemy armies—the left wing of Mitsuhide's army and Hideyoshi's right wing—had lined the riverbanks on either side. From time to time the reeds would rustle in the wind. While the tips of the banner poles were visible, no men or horses could be seen on either bank. On the northern bank, however, the five thousand men under Saito Toshimitsu, Abe Sadaaki, and Akechi Shigetomo were ready to advance. On the southern bank, eight thousand five hundred men under Takayama Ukon, Nakagawa Sebei, and Ikeda Shonyu were arranged in one line after another. Steaming with sweat in that hot, damp plac
e, they waited for the time to strike.
They were waiting for Hideyoshi to arrive and give his command.
"What is the main army doing?"
They cursed Hideyoshi's army for its late arrival, but they could only grit their teeth.
Akechi Mitsuhide, who was still at his main camp in Onbozuka, had heard early on about Matsuda Tarozaemon's death on Tennozan and the complete rout of his troops. He blamed himself for misjudging the timing of his own command. He knew quite well that, strategically, there was a great difference between fighting with Tennozan under the control of his own men and facing a decisive battle after having abandoned the high ground to the enemy.
Prior to advancing toward Tennozan, however, Mitsuhide had been distracted by three things: Tsutsui Junkei's betrayal; his order to strengthen Yodo Castle—misjudging the speed of Hideyoshi's attack; and a flaw in his character—he was indecisive. Should he take the offensive or the defensive? He had not decided which until his advance on Onbozuka.
The battle began almost by accident. Both armies had spent the morning among the reeds and rushes, being eaten by gnats and mosquitoes. Throughout this time, they faced each other squarely and waited for their generals' commands. At one point, however, a beautifully saddled horse suddenly sprang from Hideyoshi's side toward the bank of the Enmyoji River, possibly to slake its thirst.
Four or five soldiers—probably retainers of the horse's owner—chased after it. Gunfire rang out abruptly from the opposite bank, followed by one volley after another.
In response, Hideyoshi's troops fired their own volley toward the northern bank order to help the soldiers, who had taken cover in the reeds. Now there was no time to wait for orders.
"Attack!"
Hideyoshi's order for a general assault actually came after the exchange of gunfire. The Akechi troops naturally reacted to the movement of the enemy, and, they, too, waded into the river.
The place where the Enmyoji River met the Yodo River was fairly wide, but not far from the convergence the Enmyoji was little more than a stream.
The current, however, was strong after several days of rain. While the Akechi gunners’ corps appeared through the reeds on the northern bank and fired into the ranks of Hideyoshi's forces standing on the southern bank, corps of armored men—the soldiers of the spear corps, the picked troops of the Akechi—kicked up sprays of water as they pushed their way across to the other side.
"Send out the spear corps!" an officer of the Takayama corps yelled, jumping up on the bank.
Because the river was so narrow, the effectiveness of the gunners was limited. As the rear ranks moved up in order to let the front ranks reload, there was the possibility that the enemy would suddenly overrun the bank and leap into the midst of the gunners.
"Gunners, open up to the side! Don't obstruct the men in the front ranks!"
The Nakagawa corps had their spear points aligned and ready. Most of them now brandished those spears and struck downward from the bank and into the water.
They were, of course, aiming at the enemy, but rather than pulling back their spears and thrusting, it was speedier to simply hold them aloft and strike in an effort to prevent the enemy from even starting up the bank. The fierce clash occurred in the middle of the river, spear to spear, spear to long sword, and even spear to spear shaft. Men thrust into others and were stabbed in turn.
The soldiers yelled and grappled with each other, some falling dead into the water and raising a spray. The muddy current whirled around. Blood and gore floated to thesurface of the water and then was washed away.
By that time the first corps under Nakagawa Sebei had relinquished the fight downstream to the soldiers under Takayama Ukon's command. Like the lines of young men shouldering a sacred palanquin during a festival, yelling in unison, they forced their way into the front line of battle.
Quickly stepping over the reeds on the eastern bank of the river, they dashed furiously into the midst of the enemy. The sun began to set. Burnt red clouds showing the approach of evening reflected their colors on the black clumps of men yelling beneath the desolate sky.
The violent battle continued for yet another hour. The tenacity of the Saito corps was surprising. Just as it seemed they might crumble, they rallied once more. Making their stand in a swamp, they fought back attack after attack. And they were not the only ones—almost all of the Akechi forces fought with uncanny resignation, and the desperate voice of the defeated army resounded with a bitterness that each man could imagine in Mitsuhide's breast.
"Retreat before we're surrounded! Fall back! Fall back!"
That pathetic chorus was raised by troops in rapid succession, and the sad news spread like the wind to the other two Akechi corps.
At the heart of the central army, which acted as a reserve corps, were the five thousand men directly under Mitsuhide at Onbozuka. At their right were four thousand more men, including two thousand under Fujita Dengo.
Dengo sounded the large drum and the men fanned out into a line of battle. The men of the archers' corps in front released their ghastly rain of arrows in whining unison, and immediately the enemy returned the action with a hail of bullets.
As a command from Dengo cut through the air, the archers dispersed and the gunners took their place. Without waiting an instant for the shroud of gunpowder smoke to clear, armored warriors with iron spears appeared before the enemy and began to cut their way through. Dengo and his hand-picked troops routed the Hachiya corps.
Taking that corps' place, the soldiers under Nobutaka resumed the attack and struck against the Akechi forces. But Dengo defeated them as well, chasing them back. For the time being, Dengo's troops seemed to have no worthy opponent.
The drum of the Fujita corps boomed. It seemed to express the clan's pride in being without rival, and it menaced the mounted samurai who had crowded in a protective ring around Nobutaka, causing them to mill about in confusion.
Just then, a corps of five hundred soldiers attacked the Fujita corps' flank, yelling war cries as though they made up a large army.
The clouds were still vaguely red, but on the ground it was already dark. Dengo was reflecting that he had gone too far, and changed his instructions.
"Shift to the right!" he commanded. "Turn! Turn as far as you can toward the right!" His intention was to have the entire force make a circle to rejoin the central army and then fight on firmly.
Suddenly, however, a unit under the command of Hori Kyutaro attacked fiercely from the left. To Dengo, it was as though enemy soldiers had suddenly bubbled up from the earth.
There was no way to retreat, Dengo realized at once, but there was also no time to correct his formation. The Hori warriors cut off his men with the speed of the wind and began to encircle them.
Nobutaka's standard seemed to flutter closer and closer to Dengo.
Just at that point, a band of five hundred men, including Dengo's son and his younger brother, promptly rode out in a black cluster and galloped fearlessly into the enemy. The night had grown dark. The wind carried the cries of the life-and-death struggles and filled the sky with the smell of blood.
Nobutaka's corps was respected as being the strongest among the divisions of Hideyoshi's army, and now it was reinforced with the three thousand men under the command of Niwa Nagahide. Brave and spirited as Dengo and his men were, they could not break through the enemy line.
Dengo was wounded in six places. Finally, after fighting and whirling about on his horse for so long, he began to lose consciousness. Suddenly a voice came from the darkness behind him.
Thinking it to be the voice of his son, he raised his head from the horse's mane Just at that moment something struck him above the right eye. It felt like a star falling from heaven, hitting him on the forehead.
"Stay in the saddle! Hang on tight to the saddle! An arrow has glanced off you, and you have a light wound on your forehead." "Who is it? Who's holding me up?"
"It's me, Tozo."
"Ah, brother. What's h
appened to Ise Yosaburo?"
"He's already been cut down in battle."
"What about Suwa?"
"Suwa is dead too."
"And Denbei?"
"He's still surrounded by the enemy. Now let me accompany you. Lie against the front ring of your saddle."
Without talking further about Denbei's being either dead or alive, Tozo took themuzzle of his brother's horse and fled at top speed through the chaos.
The Two Gates
A lonely wind blew through the pines that grew around Mitsuhide's camp at Onbozuka. The curtain of the enclosure swelled in the wind like a large white living thing. It flapped incessantly, singing an eerie, uneasy dirge.
"Yoji, Yoji!" Mitsuhide called.
"Yes, my lord!"
"Was that a messenger?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Why didn't he report directly to me?"
"The report has not yet been confirmed."
"Is there a rule about what can and cannot reach my ears?" Mitsuhide asked, annoyed.
"I'm sorry, my lord."
"Take courage! Are you losing your nerve over bad omens?"
"No, my lord. But I fully expect to die."
"Really?"
Mitsuhide was suddenly aware of his shrill tone, and lowered his voice. He then considered that perhaps he himself should listen to the words with which he had just reproved Yojiro. The wind made a much more lonely sound than in the day. Vegetable gardens and fields lay beyond the gentle slope. To the east was Kuga Nawate; to the north, mountains; to the west, the Enmyoji River. But in the darkness, only the pale twinkling of stars shone over the battlefield.
Only three hours had passed between the Hour of the Monkey and the second half of the Hour of the Rooster. Mitsuhide's banners had filled the field. Where were they now? All had been struck down. He had listened to the names of dead men until he was no longer able to keep count.
TAIKO: AN EPIC NOVEL OF WAR AND GLORY IN FEUDAL JAPAN Page 107