The Imjin War: Japan's Sixteenth-Century Invasion of Korea and Attempt to Conquer China

by Samuel Hawley

  Shortly after arriving at Hoeryongpo, Yi decided that the harbor there was too confined and thus led his tiny fleet forty kilometers farther west to the port of Oranpo. Here he received word that Japanese ships had already advanced into the waters off Cholla Province and would soon be drawing near. On October 8 an advance party of eight enemy vessels appeared at Oranpo and very nearly spooked the Koreans into a panicked retreat. Yi aboard his flagship did not move as the enemy approached. Then, when they had drawn near, he gave the order to attack and plunged straight at them. This display of courage and bravado threw the Japanese into a headlong retreat back toward the east, carrying news to the main fleet that the Korean navy was not yet completely destroyed. It also restored in Yi’s own captains some of that confidence that they had known when they had served under him before.[691]

  Twenty kilometers to the west of Oranpo was the island of Chin-do. Just past Chin-do lay the Yellow Sea. On October 8 the Japanese fleet was thus on the verge of achieving its objective of securing a sea route north, and the Koreans were backed up almost as far as they could go. With it now clear that a decisive battle would soon be fought, Yi Sun-sin fell back with his little squadron into the channel between Chin-do and the mainland, establishing a temporary base here on Korea’s extreme southwestern tip while he scouted the terrain and made plans for the fight. He did not have long. On October 17 a report arrived that Japanese ships had returned to Oranpo, just a few hours away from the new Korean base on Chin-do. Thirteen of their ships were already anchored there. A week later enemy strength at Oranpo had risen to fifty-five ships. A few days after that it stood at two hundred, possibly more.[692]

  * * *

  The Japanese armada that was now advancing west had accomplished a great deal during the previous two months. After decimating the Korean navy at Chilchon Strait, it had helped ferry troops along the coast and up the Somjin River to Namwon in preparation for the assault on the Chinese and Korean forces there, thus playing a part in another significant victory. With this task complete it then turned its attention to establishing a safe and reliable sea route from Pusan to the Yellow Sea. By the end of September this naval force of several hundred ships had secured the entire coastal region of Kyongsang Province and islands offshore, including the former Korean naval base on Hansan-do, and was poised to enter Cholla Province. It was under the command of Todo Takatora, Kato Yoshiaki, and Wakizaka Yasuharu, the same men who had engineered the destruction of the Korean navy the month before. They were joined by Kurushima Michifusa, whose brother Michiyuki had been killed by Yi Sun-sin’s forces at the Battle of Tangpo in 1592. From their base on the Kyongsang-Cholla border, Todo and his fellow commanders first sent small scouting parties westward to map the route to the Yellow Sea and identify any points of resistance. It was one of these units that was met and chased off by Yi Sun-sin at Oranpo on October 8. It hurried back east to report the engagement, the first indication since the Battle of Chilchon Strait that the Korean navy had some fight left in it still. Only a handful of vessels had been sighted, however—nothing the Japanese could not handle with their vast preponderance of ships. The main body of the Japanese navy thus continued its cautious advance west, anticipating one final encounter with the remnants of the Choson navy, one more chance to destroy the few ships the Koreans had left.

  An advance squadron of thirteen Japanese ships was once again off Oranpo on October 17. This time they encountered no resistance and took possession of the harbor. They then continued west toward the island of Chin-do in search of the retreating Korean navy. Yi Sun-sin had received warning of the approach of this enemy force and thus had his fleet on alert and in battle formation when the Japanese ships appeared at their Chin-do base at four o’clock that afternoon. This time the Koreans had no difficulty in repelling the attack, but high winds and the strong tidal flow through the channel made it impossible for them to give chase. Instead they returned to their base and prepared for a second attack. Yi suspected that the Japanese would launch a surprise assault after dark, much as they had done so successfully at the Battle of Chilchonnyang. He thus ordered his captains to remain alert, adding that anyone failing to do his duty in the coming fight would be harshly punished.

  Yi Sun-sin was right. At ten o’clock that evening the thirteen Japanese vessels crept up to the Koreans and opened fire with the cannons that their ships were now equipped with. The Koreans, unnerved at the prospect of fighting in the dark, wavered for a time before Yi was able to prod them into moving to attack. Finally, after a running battle that lasted two hours, the Japanese once again were driven back toward Oranpo. This time they did not return.[693]

  Things remained quiet for the next several days as the Japanese built up their forces at Oranpo in preparation for a final assault. Yi spent the time continuing his careful observations of the surrounding waters and of the time and speed of the tides. He was particularly interested in Myongnyang Channel, the narrow passage between Chin Island and the mainland, just 250 meters across at its narrowest point, through which the Japanese would have to pass to gain access to the Yellow Sea. To Yi’s experienced eye this stretch of water presented distinct tactical possibilities. To begin with, the gap was so narrow that the Japanese would not be able to pass through in battle formation. They would have to break their fleet into smaller squadrons in order to advance. Myongnyang’s immensely strong tidal flow also caught Yi’s attention. The current here was among the fastest in Korea, ripping through the strait “like a cataract” at a top speed of 9.5 knots, as fast or faster than a Japanese warship could travel, even over short distances.[694] If Yi were to meet the Japanese fleet as it was passing through the neck of Myongnyang, therefore, he would reduce the odds against him, for only a portion of the enemy force would be able to take him on while the remainder lay trapped to the rear. By timing his attack with the flow of the tide, moreover, he could meet the enemy with more than just his handful of ships. He would have on his side the full force of the sea.

  On October 24 Yi received intelligence that two hundred Japanese ships were at or nearing Oranpo. It was time to prepare to fight. The next day he fell back with his fleet further to the west, passing all the way through Myongnyang Channel and into the open water beyond. His plan was to attack the Japanese at the mouth of the channel as they attempted to clear the narrow passage and its formidable tidal flow. Yi anchored his fleet in a little bay just beyond the mouth of the channel, out of sight of the Japanese. In the open water beyond he arrayed a long line of fishing boats, filled with refugees who had been drawn to Yi’s base over the past few weeks in the hope that the Korean navy would keep them safe. By arranging these small unarmed craft in something approximating a battle line, but too distant to be clearly seen, Yi hoped the Japanese would mistake them for a large Korean fleet and assume his own thirteen battleships to be only a vanguard squadron.

  The Koreans were now backed up into the Yellow Sea itself. There was nowhere left for them to retreat. They either had to stop the Japanese at this very point or die in the attempt. Later that night Yi Sun-sin summoned his captains to issue orders for what he knew would be the decisive clash the following day. “According to the principles of strategy,” he said, “‘He who seeks his death shall live, he who seeks his life shall die.’ Again, the strategy says, ‘If one defender stands on watch at a strong gateway he may drive terror deep into the heart of the enemy coming by the ten thousand.’ These are golden sayings for us. You captains are expected to strictly obey my orders. If you do not, even the least error shall not be pardoned, but shall be severely punished by martial law.”[695]

  Yi was quoting to his men from the ancient Chinese military classics, possibly the fourth-century B.C. treatise Wu Tzu Ping Fa (Master Wu’s Art of War). In a series of discussions with his lord on how to govern his kingdom and conduct his wars, the renowned military commander turned scholar Wu Qi observed, “If the soldiers are committed to fight to the death they will live, whereas if they seek to stay alive they will die.�
�[696] The idea was that by casting off all fear of death, a soldier would transcend the normal limits of courage and fight with an almost inhuman degree of ferocity, taking five, ten, twenty of the enemy with him before he himself was killed. The Chinese called a force of such men a “death army” and considered it a fearsome thing.[697] With regard to fighting an enemy whose numbers are great when yours are few, Master Wu advised, “Avoid them on easy terrain, attack them in narrow quarters. Thus it is said, for one to attack ten, nothing is better than a narrow defile. For ten to attack one hundred, nothing is better than a deep ravine. For one thousand to attack ten thousand, nothing is better than a dangerous pass.”[698]

  Yi Sun-sin had chosen Myongnyang Channel as his “dangerous pass.” And to make the most of his few hundred men, he intended to transform them into a “death army.” By forcing them into a situation where they believed there was no chance of survival, Yi hoped they would acquire the necessary courage and ferocity to take on the enemy’s vastly superior numbers, and maybe even win.

  The main body of the Japanese fleet arrived at the southern end of Myongnyang Channel the next morning, October 26, from the direction of Oranpo. In his diary Yi Sun-sin states that these enemy forces numbered approximately two hundred ships. Yi’s nephew gives a higher estimate in his own account of the battle, stating that refugees with a better view of the situation atop nearby hills counted three hundred Japanese ships, “then lost count of those sailing behind, because there were so many of them that they filled the sea.”[699] In either case the odds were appalling against the Koreans’ own thirteen ships. As Yi had foreseen, however, the vast Japanese fleet was unable to advance through Myongnyang in a mass. Dividing into four or five groups, the first squadron ventured tentatively into the channel, moving easily with the current, followed by a second, then a third. They had not yet seen Yi Sun-sin’s battleships waiting in ambush just beyond the channel’s mouth, only a long line of vessels in the far distance, well beyond Myongnyang. Was their intelligence mistaken? Did the Koreans still have a sizable fleet?

  When the first of the Japanese ships reached the end of the channel and entered the calmer waters beyond, Yi Sun-sin ordered his fleet to move to the attack from the shelter of their hidden bay. Yi himself led the way in his flagship. “Have no fear!” he cried to his terrified crew. “Even if the enemy has one thousand warships, they will not dare come near us!” With that Yi’s turtle ship dashed ahead, blasting away with cannons and fire arrows at the startled Japanese. The other ships in the Korean fleet initially followed his lead, but then began to lag behind as their captains and crews caught sight of the enemy armada crowding Myongnyang Channel, heading their way. When Yi glanced back and saw this, he was tempted to turn around and cut off the head of one of the captains to hang from the mast as a warning to all. But he was already in the thick of the battle and could scarcely turn back now. Instead he waved a signal flag at the laggards and sounded a shell trumpet, ordering them to join the fight. When the first of these ships drew near, the vessel captained by Koje Island magistrate An Wi, Yi roared across the water: “An Wi! Do you want to die by court martial! Do you think you’ll survive if you run away!” With that An Wi and the other captains charged ahead and were soon enveloped like Yi by one hundred and thirty-odd Japanese ships.

  The battle that ensured was unlike anything the Korean navy had experienced before. They had faced frightening odds in 1592, but nothing so frightening as this, thirteen against one hundred and thirty, with still more Japanese warships waiting to the rear. Never before had Yi placed them in such a desperate situation. They responded, however, as Yi had hoped. On that fall morning, with their backs to the Yellow Sea, Yi Sun-sin’s diminutive force conquered their fear and became a “death army.” They charged at the Japanese fleet with wild abandon, ramming their stout prows into the enemy’s weaker hulls, blasting at them with cannons from point-blank range, setting them alight with fire arrows, flailing with clubs and spears and stones when parties of enemy warriors as thick as “black ants” attempted to climb aboard.

  The Japanese flagship, identifiable by its soaring superstructure and profusion of banners and flags, was singled out by the Koreans for particularly heavy fire, and was soon in flames and sinking. Shortly thereafter a surrendered Japanese who had previously defected to the Korean side and who was now serving aboard Yi’s flagship caught sight of a familiar figure bobbing in the water, clad in a red brocade uniform such as would be worn by a high-ranking Japanese commander. “Is that Matashi,” he cried out, “the Japanese commander from Angolpo?” Yi Sun-sin had the corpse hooked and dragged on deck. The Japanese soldier examined the body closely and confirmed his earlier identification. “I am positive. It is he—Matashi!” According to the Koreans this “Matashi” was none other than Japanese naval commander Kurushima Michifusa. He had been sent to Korea to lead the naval forces previously commanded by his brother Michiyuki, who had been killed in the Tangpo battle in 1592. Now it was Michifusa’s turn to meet a glorious end. Upon learning that he had an important enemy commander on board, Yi Sun-sin ordered the body cut into pieces and hung from the mast for the enemy to see.[700]

  The Japanese made repeated attempts that morning to force the Koreans from the mouth of Myongnyang Channel. Each time they were driven back. Eventually the waters were awash with the wreckage of their warships and the bodies of their dead. And still the Koreans stood firm, Yi’s flagship steady “like a castle in the middle of the sea.” Thirteen stood against one hundred and thirty, and stopped them in their tracks.

  Then the tide began to turn, and with it the second phase of Yi Sun-sin’s plan began to unfold. Backed up by the attacking Koreans into the mouth of Myongnyang Channel, the Japanese were unable to withstand the strength of the reversing current and were forced back in the direction from which they had come. The Koreans, inspired by their initial success and moving easily now with the tide, attacked with renewed vigor, inflicting further damage as the battle continued back down the neck of the strait. By the time the Japanese reached open water and the exhausted Koreans gave up their pursuit, thirty-one ships of Hideyoshi’s navy had been destroyed, while Yi’s fleet remained intact. With that the Japanese navy began to fall back toward the border of Kyongsang Province, then farther still toward Angolpo and Pusan. It would give up all thought of gaining access to the Yellow Sea, and would not venture west again.[701]

  Most Korean accounts of the Battle of Myongnyang assert that Yi Sun-sin had suspended a chain or cable across the channel prior to the battle, one end secured to the mainland, the other to a point on Chin Island. This chain, the story goes, was left slack while the Japanese fleet advanced up the channel, allowing them to pass over it without notice. Then the tide turned, forcing the Japanese back. As they neared the spot where the cable lay, it was winched taut by men stationed at either end, thus capsizing several Japanese ships and blocking the others from retreat while Yi’s ships continued to pick them apart. There is little evidence to support this account. Yi Sun-sin himself makes no reference to a chain in his war diary, and it is hard to believe he would have neglected to do so had he in fact used one, for it surly would have been a noteworthy thing. Yi’s nephew Yi Pun does not mention it either in his biography of his famous uncle, written not long after the war by someone who knew the commander well. Nor does Yi’s friend and mentor Yu Song-nyong in his account of the war. It is likely that the story of the chain was an embellishment or misinterpretation of the facts that entered into the oral tradition of the Imjin War sometime in the seventeenth century, and from there came to be accepted as fact.[702]

  Yi Sun-sin’s success in the Battle of Myongnyang, with or without a chain, is perhaps the finest example of his tactical brilliance, the point where his leadership during seven years of war rose from the extraordinary to the sublime and from there entered into legend. In modern times Western writers have been effusive in their praise of him, comparing Yi to such great men as his English contemporary Sir Francis Drake, and
to Lord Horatio Nelson, who defeated Napoleon’s navy at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. But ironically, it was among Yi’s former adversaries that some of his greatest admirers arose. During the Meiji era officers in Japan’s newly minted modern navy came to regard the Korean commander as the epitome of the spirit of bushido, “the way of the warrior,” as practiced at sea. Prior to doing battle with Russia’s Baltic fleet in the Russo-Japanese war in 1905, for example, Lieutenant Commander Kawada Isao recalled in his memoirs that “naturally we could not help but remind ourselves of Korea’s Yi Sun-sin, the world’s first sea commander, whose superlative personality, strategy, invention, commanding ability, intelligence, and courage were all worthy of our admiration.”[703] Following the battle, which was a tremendous victory for the Japanese, Admiral Togo Heihachiro himself took up this praise of Yi. At a party that was held in his honor, Togo took exception to one eulogy comparing him to Lord Nelson and Yi Sun-sin. “It may be proper to compare me with Nelson,” said the admiral, “but not with Korea’s Yi Sun-sin. He is too great to be compared to anyone.”[704]