CHAPTER 15
Suppression and Resistance
Long before Hideyoshi started giving off signals in late 1592 that he was wavering in his resolve to enter China and capture Beijing, his daimyo generals in Korea were expressing more open doubts. In early July, for example, seventh contingent leader Mori Terumoto wrote a letter to a family member back in Japan stating, “It is said that this country is larger than Japan. For this reason, our current strength is not sufficient to rule this country. Besides, the language barrier makes it even more difficult for us to deal with the people here. Although the Chinese are said to be weaker than the Koreans, I wonder if we will be able to provide enough men to enter and rule that country.”[344] Mori had never been very enthusiastic about Hideyoshi’s plans for mainland conquest. The doubts he expressed in this letter, however, written scarcely six weeks into the invasion, soon came to be shared by many of his colleagues as the reality of the situation in Korea forced them to abandon any hope of conquering China and adopt a more realistic goal: the subjugation of Korea.
Hideyoshi at this point assumed that with the fall of Seoul and the northward advance of his vanguard contingents to Pyongyang, the Korean Peninsula was already his. His commanders in the field knew otherwise. They knew that all that had really been captured was a strip of territory stretching from Pusan to Pyongyang, and a string of strategic cities and towns along the way. They knew, moreover, that the Koreans’ determination to resist had not been broken with the capture of their capital and the flight of their king. On the contrary, it was building, threatening to sever supply lines and leave tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers cut off in the north. In light of these developments it seemed foolish to attempt to advance any further toward China—even if reinforcements could be transported north via the Yellow Sea, which of course they could not, due to the blockade being imposed by the Korean navy. To advance farther would stretch Japanese positions even more thinly and would leave them even more vulnerable to Korean counterattack.
It would also be greedy. Hideyoshi’s generals had already grabbed an enormous chunk of Korean territory, enough nearly to double the size of his empire and reward everyone handsomely with a good deal to spare. Why, then, reach any further, and put everything at risk? Surely the wise thing to do would be to consolidate control over the lands through which the Japanese armies had already marched, and avoid an all-out confrontation with the Chinese, which would be difficult to win. In light of these circumstances it seemed best to adhere to the Japanese proverb asu no hyaku yori, kyou no go-ju: “Tomorrow’s one hundred [is worth] fifty today.”
As the summer heat of 1592 gave way to the coolness of autumn, the Japanese invasion force accordingly began to fan out across Korea in an effort to stamp out resistance and take possession of the land. Once this was done, they would organize and administer each region “according to Japanese rules,”[345] as Hideyoshi had ordered earlier in the year. This meant that all weapons would be confiscated and the populace pacified and returned to their fields. Tax assessment roles would be compiled, and co-opted or coerced officials put to work extracting the assessed sums from a compliant peasantry to finance the governance of their newly conquered province. Then fiefs would be parceled out to deserving daimyo, and Korea would become fully integrated into the taiko’s empire, just as Shikoku had been after it had fallen to Hideyoshi in 1585, and Kyushu in 1587, and the northern Honshu provinces of Mutsu and Dewa in 1591.
The nine contingents of Hideyoshi’s invasion force were each tasked with pacifying a different region of Korea. The southeastern province of Kyongsang, the first to fall to the Japanese at the start of the invasion, was to be held by the twenty-five thousand men of Fukushima Masanori’s fifth contingent, most of them from Shikoku; neighboring Cholla Province, the “Red Country” that had been largely bypassed in the initial thrust north, went to Kobayakawa Takakage and his sixth contingent from Kyushu, a total of fifteen thousand men. The mountainous central province of Kangwon on the east coast was to be subdued by Mori Yoshinari and Shimazu Yoshihiro of the fourth contingent, at the head of fourteen thousand men. Seoul and neighboring Kyonggi Province would be held by overall invasion leader Ukita Hideie and his eighth contingent. In the north, third contingent leader Kuroda Nagamasa was responsible for Hwanghae, the central province bulging into the Yellow Sea, while Konishi Yukinaga and So Yoshitoshi remained in Pyongyang and vicinity, waiting for reinforcements so they could begin the final push north into Pyongan Province. Kato Kiyomasa, finally, was to pacify Hamgyong, the remote hinterland province in the northeast.
Of all the daimyo commanders in Korea, second contingent leader Kato Kiyomasa, the “demon general” to the Koreans,[346] would remain the most committed to his master Hideyoshi’s goal of pan-Asian conquest. While many of his colleagues grew cautious as the invasion ground to a halt and effectively abandoned the plan of entering China in favor of the more modest objective of the subjugation of Korea, Kato alone remained unchanged. He continued to believe that Hideyoshi would soon arrive on the peninsula and that Beijing would then be theirs; and he continued to act with the same daring that had characterized the first heady weeks of the war, thrusting deep into Hamgyong Province, leading his troops hundreds of kilometers into enemy territory, all the way to the Tumen River and Manchuria beyond.
Kato had crossed the Imjin River north of Seoul with Konishi Yukinaga and Kuroda Nagamasa in early July, and together they had marched into Kaesong. From this ancient walled town Kato dispatched a letter south to Hideyoshi, indicating that he was still committed to the idea of China conquest and was unhappy at the prospect of being diverted off the main line of march to Beijing. “The expeditionary force under the command of this humble subject,” he wrote, “is going to conquer Hamgyong-do, a remote province in the northeastern part of Korea. The place is located far from the territory of Ming, more than ten days’ march. If your highness wishes to cross the sea to conquer Ming, please give me an order within the earliest possible date. In that case, I will speed by day and night to your place to take the lead in the conquest.”[347]
The three vanguard contingents of the invasion force separated just north of Kaesong, with Konishi and Kuroda continuing due north and Kato veering northeast toward his assigned province of Hamgyong, in company with fellow Kyushu daimyo Nabeshima Naoshige and a force of twenty thousand men. They were now leaving the central road and striking into unknown and often trackless territory, and were thus in need of guides. Two locals were dragooned for this purpose. When they attempted to plead ignorance of the route, Kato ordered one of them hacked to pieces. The second man, terrified, agreed to show the way. A Korean who could speak some Japanese was also found and pressed into service as an interpreter.[348]
After a week’s march over poorly marked trails, the second contingent entered Hamgyong proper. The province’s Southern Army commander, Yi Hoon, who should have been the first to meet them, deserted his post and fled north toward the Manchurian border. He was later seized and killed by locals in the vicinity of Kapsan. The provincial governor, Yu Yong-rip, attempted to follow suit, but the soldiers he had been assigned to lead, enraged at his cowardice, ran him down and turned him over to the Japanese.
These astonishing actions on the part of the soldiers and citizens of Hamgyong were precipitated by a deep-seated loathing for the government in Seoul, a government they felt had abused them and overtaxed them for far too long. Since the early years of the Choson dynasty, officials in the capital seemed to regard this hinterland region as little more than the nation’s beast of burden, to be worked in the fields and given nothing in return for the heavy taxes they paid. Now, with its army commanders and officials fleeing in all directions as the Japanese approached, it appeared that the unfortunate people of Hamgyong were to be abandoned as well. Why, then, should they resist the Japanese and risk almost certain death? Why not let the enemy clean out the venal officials and the cowardly commanders and rid the province of an administration that had mistre
ated them for so long?
Such thoughts were widespread in Hamgyong at the time of Kato’s arrival in July of 1592, and thus his march toward Manchuria went largely unopposed. He led his second contingent northeast through the strip of populated territory that lay between the East Sea coast and the range of mountains that formed the spine of Hamgyong, through the towns of Wonsan, Hamhung, Pukchong, and Kimchaek. They traveled fast, justifying the tales already circulating throughout the province that Kato’s army moved like the wind, covering a hundred li (fifty kilometers) and more in a day.
The Japanese traversed more than half of Hamgyong-do, coming within two hundred kilometers of Korea’s northern border, before they encountered their first serious resistance. It occurred near the town of Kilchu, outside a grain warehouse called Haejongchang. Upon receiving news of Kato’s advance, the province’s Northern Army commander, Han Kuk-ham, evidently made of sterner stuff than his southern counterpart Commander Yi, had rounded up a body of troops from the “Six Forts,” a string of army garrisons in Hamgyong’s northeast corner, and marched them south to stop the invaders. He nearly succeeded. In the ensuing battle the Koreans under Han proved more courageous and skillful than any Kato had met so far, unleashing such a barrage of well-aimed arrows upon the Japanese that they were forced to take shelter inside the warehouse of Haejongchang itself. Then Commander Han made a tactical mistake. Rather than heed his subordinates’ advice to rest his men and wait, he precipitously ordered an immediate mass attack on the building. The Japanese inside, having formed barricades from sacks of grain, were ready for them. The Koreans charged into a wall of concentrated, disciplined musket fire that decimated their closely packed ranks. Badly stung, Han retreated to his camp on a nearby mountain, planning to attack again the following day.
He would never get the chance. During the night Kato led his men out from the protection of the warehouse and quietly encircled the Korean position, being careful to leave a single opening on one side. At dawn, with the mountain slopes wreathed in fog, the Japanese raised their muskets and began to fire. The onslaught threw the unwary Han and his men into an instant panic; they had assumed that the Japanese were still holed up at Haejongchang. They turned to flee—straight through the gap that Kato had provided and into a nearby swamp. The Japanese were soon upon them and proceeded to cut them to pieces. Commander Han managed to flee with his life. He would later be captured by a band of renegade Koreans and handed over to Kato, and remain in Japanese captivity for the next several months.[349]
After its victory over the Koreans at Haejongchang, Kato’s second contingent broke in two. The second in command, Nabeshima Naoshige, made his headquarters in Kilchu and set to work imposing order on Hamgyong Province “according to Japanese rules.” Garrisons were established at strategically important towns along their route of march, supplies were purchased or requisitioned, weapons were confiscated, land was registered, and a system of taxation set in place. The local population, terrified of the Japanese and in many cases resentful of their own leaders, proved for the most part submissive and compliant. Some of the tax assessment rolls that Nabeshima compiled during these months are still in existence, signed by local Korean officials who pledged to the accuracy of the information on pain of “having all our heads cut off.”[350]
In the meantime Kato Kiyomasa led an expeditionary force north to the Tumen River, skirmishing and sowing terror all along the way. It was during this campaign that he stumbled on two very valuable prizes: the Korean princes Sunhwa and Imhae. They had been sent to the northeast following the evacuation of Seoul as part of the court’s effort to spread the royal presence across the far north to rally the support of the people. The princes initially took up residence in Kangwon Province and the southern part of Hamgyong, but were driven farther north by the arrival of Kato and his men. This retreat eventually took them to the remote northeastern border town of Hoeryong, on the southern bank of the Tumen River. They could not have found themselves in a more inhospitable spot, for Hoeryong was a place of exile for political undesirables and was thus home to a good many men with strong anti-government sentiments. These feelings of resentment had burst forth soon after the arrival of the Japanese in the province, with a minor government official named Kuk Kyong-in overthrowing the tenuous local authority and proclaiming himself a general, with a following of five hundred men. When Princes Sunhwa and Imhae, together with their entourage of family members and government officials, miraculously appeared in their midst, Kuk and his cohorts lost no time in seizing them and trussing them up. Kuk then sent a message south to the advancing Japanese, saying that he wanted to side with them and hand over his prize.
It was this letter that brought Kato Kiyomasa to Hoeryong. When he arrived in the town on August 30 and saw the two princes tied up like common criminals and forced to kneel in the dirt, he angrily turned to Kuk and said, “These are the sons of your king! How can you keep them tied up like this?” He then had their ropes removed and took them to his camp for a meal. Sunhwa and Imhae would continue to be well treated throughout their period of captivity, as was the Japanese custom with important hostages. The officials accompanying them would not fare so well. They were kept locked up in a small, cold room for many months, were frequently bound, and suffered considerable privations. As for Kuk Kyong-in, he was rewarded with the position of governor in the new provincial administration.[351]
After sending the Korean princes south to Kyongsong, Kato led eight thousand of his men, reinforced by three thousand Koreans, across the Tumen River into Manchuria, ostensibly to see how well the vaunted Jurchen tribesmen could fight. They had not gone far when they came upon the first “Orangai” (barbarian) fortress. “As dawn was breaking,” records Kato Kiyomasa’s chronicler, “we arrived...and drew up our ranks. As is the usual way in this strange country...[Jurchen fortresses] are not only enclosed securely in front, but at the rear they have recourse to high stone walls in mountain recesses. When we saw that it did not appear to be very well defended, the [Korean] men of Hoeryong went forward, while the Japanese went round to the mountain at the rear, and with 50 men or 30 men working together prised out the stones using crowbars, and the wall collapsed.” The Jurchen fortress was quickly seized, and many of its defenders undoubtedly slaughtered.
The next day the three thousand Koreans who had participated in the attack withdrew back across the Tumen River, leaving Kato’s forces to deal with the nearly ten thousand agitated tribesmen from the surrounding region who had been assembled to counterattack. The battle that ensued was for the Japanese a very close thing—so close that Kato ordered that all the heads cut off be discarded after counting. There were reportedly eight thousand. The fighting eventually ceased, Kato’s chronicler concludes, when “an exceptionally heavy rain fell on our behalf, and blew in the faces of the Orangai, so they withdrew.”[352]
And so Kato forded back across the Tumen River and returned to Korea. He had now covered an extraordinary distance from Pusan, more than fifteen hundred kilometers, all on foot and horseback, through unknown and hostile territory. When measured from the actual starting point of the invasion, Hideyoshi’s Nagoya headquarters on the island of Kyushu, his achievement becomes all the more astonishing, equivalent almost to Napoleon’s march from Paris to Moscow in 1812. This incredible foray would earn Kato a reputation in Japan for courage and daring that has endured to this day. It would inspire numerous Tokugawa and Meiji period woodblock prints depicting him crossing to Korea, fighting Korean and Chinese troops, and, most popular of all, hunting tigers armed only with his trademark three-bladed spear. It would also solidify his reputation among the Koreans as the most fearsome of Hideyoshi’s daimyo commanders, a ferocious, almost inhuman apparition, instantly recognizable by the strange, conical helmets he wore, and by the death and destruction he left in his path.
Following his campaign in the far north, Kato returned south and took up residence at Anbyon near the border between the provinces of Hamgyong and Kangwon. He too
k with him the two Korean princes and the officials he had captured. They would remain with him for the next several months. On October 25 he sent a letter to Hideyoshi boasting that he had now subdued the entire province of Hamgyong from north to south, and that he had done such a thorough job of it that there was not the slightest chance of further resistance. Things were going so well that he had been able to turn over the fortresses at Heoryong and Kyongsong to Korean allies who had sworn allegiance to him. Disturbances might occur elsewhere in Korea, he wrote, where control had not been firmly established, but there was no worry of that in Hamgyong. Not with him in charge.[353]
Kato’s claims were premature. The people of Hamgyong, cowed by the Japanese and indifferent to the fate of their own leaders, had initially proved an easy conquest. But they soon came to chafe under the strictures of foreign occupation: the swaggering samurai, the summary executions, the lawless soldiers who took whatever they wanted. During the closing months of 1592 and into 1593, local resistance began to build and to coalesce into guerrilla bands that eventually would grow strong enough to place Nabeshima Naoshige’s headquarters at Kilchu under siege. A campaign was also launched to strike back at those Koreans who had sided with the enemy. The most notable victim was Kuk Kyong-in, who had handed the princes over to the Japanese. For this he would be beaten to death.
* * *
As Kato swept with relative ease through Hamgyong-do, his colleagues in other parts of Korea were having a more difficult time. Not only were they being frustrated in their attempts to subdue the provinces assigned to them, they were in some areas actually being driven back. The Korean opposition that they faced was divided into three distinct groups: guerrilla bands of civilian volunteers, independent groups of monk-soldiers, and regrouped units of government troops.
The Imjin War: Japan's Sixteenth-Century Invasion of Korea and Attempt to Conquer China Page 31