Authors: Samuel Hawley
Prior to setting out on his journey to Osaka, Hideyoshi sent instructions ahead to his wife O-Ne as to how his new son should be named. “Even the lowest servants,” he wrote, “should not call him with the honorific ‘o’. You should call him plainly Hiroi, Hiroi. I shall make a triumphal return very soon.”
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It was a Japanese custom to give derogatory names to newborn children so as not to attract the attention of the gods, for they were a capri
cious lot who seemed to delight in taking away those things which mortals cherished most. Thus it was that Hideyoshi had chosen the name Sute, “thrown away,” for his first son Tsurumatsu, who had died at the age of two in 1591. For his second son, who would come to be known as Hideyori, Hideyoshi selected the unassuming name Hiroi, “gleaned.” It was an apparently fortunate choice of names, for the gods did not direct any unwanted attention on the boy. He would live to become a man—if only a very young one.
On October 24, 1593, King Sonjo arrived back in the Korean capital of Seoul after an absence of more than a year and a half. Little had been done to restore the city since the evacuation of the Japanese in May. The nation was too spent. With Kyongbok Palace and all the other royal enclosures now in ruins, Sonjo was forced to make his residence in the relatively modest mansion of Prince Wolsan, the grandson of King Sejo, on the grounds of what is today Toksu Palace. The building was renovated to the extent that the nation’s depleted treasury would allow, and nearby property confiscated and added on. This temporary royal residence came to be known as the Chongnung Detached Palace. Sonjo was unhappy with the arrangement and spoke of rebuilding at least a portion of his former residence at Kyongbok-gung. But his kingdom was in no condition to undertake such a costly project. He would have to remain at Chongnung Palace until his death in 1608. His successor would eventually renovate and move into Changdok Palace, a smaller and inferior residence to Kyongbok, but one not requiring such an infusion of cash to restore. Kyongbok-gung itself, the Palace of Shining Happiness, would lay in ruins for the next 270 years.
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With King Sonjo back in the capital and the Japanese confined to the south, the government of
Korea could at last begin the job of rebuilding the nation and returning it to some semblance of normalcy. The task would be undertaken with Yu Song-nyong at the helm. On November 19 he was appointed prime minister of the State Council (
uijongbu
), replacing Choi Hung-won, who was obliged to retire for reasons of ill health.
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The challenges facing Yu and his ministers were immense, for
Korea’s economy had been almost destroyed. The upheavals of war had caused food production to fall off so drastically that famine was everywhere, and with it contagious disease. The situation in some areas was so extreme that Yu would later write of children and the aged being abandoned by families who could no longer care for them, and of young men forced into a life of crime. In the most desperate cases husbands turned against wives and sons against fathers, killing and eating their flesh as the only way to survive.
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The government’s most immediate concern, understandably enough, was with national security. Beginning in mid-1593 and con
tinuing to the end of 1596, the meager resources of the country were thrown into a campaign to strengthen fortifications, particularly in the south, to guard against the possible return of the Japanese. The aim of this building campaign differed from that undertaken prior to the start of the war. At that time the goal had been to surround towns and cities with expansive walls—mostly low earthen ramparts and flimsy wooden stockades—so that the largest number of people could be accommodated inside. The subsequent course events had demonstrated how wrong this strategy was: the kilometers of walls made towns difficult to defend and easy prey for the militarily experienced Japanese. With the building program begun in 1593, the Koreans returned to what they did best: the construction of impregnable mountain fortresses of stone, compact and easy to defend, situated to take advantage of the natural terrain. The location of these forts gives a clear indication of how the Koreans’ concept of defense had changed since early 1592. Previously they had expected in the event of an invasion to meet and repel the enemy before he had a chance to advance very far inland, and had thus largely confined their construction efforts to centers lying between the southern coast and the city of Taegu one hundred kilometers inland. The Koreans now knew that the Japanese were too strong to be stopped by such a forward defense. Any renewed aggression would have to be gradually brought to a halt by a defense in depth, a defense based upon a network of fortresses extending a further three hundred kilometers north, from Taegu all the way to Seoul. A string of forts was also built along the westernmost border of Kyongsang Province to meet any Japanese move against Cholla. Such a defense in depth, Yu Song-nyong observed, would be like “a double door or a double wall.... [E]ven though the enemy might be able to penetrate one of the layers, there would always be another one [behind it].”
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It is a testament to the quality of these fortifications that a number are still standing today, for example Kongsan near
Taegu, Toksan in the vicinity of Suwon, and most notably Namhansansong (South Mountain Fortress) south of Seoul.
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Beginning in the latter part of 1593 the Korean government also set to work modernizing its army, which the Ming generals frankly told them was behind the times in terms of both weaponry and organization. Prime Minister Yu Song-nyong wholeheartedly agreed, conceding, “Basically [our troops] do not know anything about fighting, and they have no units such as platoons, squads, banners, or companies to which they are attached. They are in confusion and without order, make a big racket and run around in chaos, not knowing what to do with their hands, feet, ears, or eyes.” As for weaponry, he continued, “When [our] soldiers are lined up against the enemy ranks, our arrows do not reach the enemy while their musket balls rain down upon us.” It was therefore imperative to start manufacturing muskets, and in a wider sense to start borrowing and adapting superior things from other nations.
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In response to Yu’s urging for adaptation and progress, King Sonjo authorized the adoption of the musket as a standard weapon for the army, and ordered the establishment of a Military Training Agency in
Seoul that in the coming months would grow to employ ten thousand men. He also ordered—again upon Yu’s recommendation—the printing and distribution of the military training manual
Jixiao xinshu
by the famous Chinese general Qi Jiguang (1528–1588), which detailed how to organize an army and train soldiers in the “three skills”: using the musket, the sword, and the bow. General Qi’s manual would become the basis for much of the reorganization of the Korean military undertaken between 1594 and 1596 by Prime Minister Yu.
The new Korean army that took shape during this three-year period was an adaptation of General Qi’s
chin-gwan
model. The Koreans called it the
sogo
system. The smallest unit was the squad of eleven men. There were three types of these squads: archer squads, musketeer squads, and hand-to-hand “killer” squads armed with sword and spear. Three squads, one of each type, formed a platoon; three platoons formed a company; five companies formed a battalion, and twenty-five battalions formed a division, totaling in theory 12,375 men.
Before this new type of army could be formed, the Korean govern
ment first had to find a way to feed it, no small problem considering that the nation’s economy was now in ruins. There was only one solution: make the army a militia. Yu Song-nyong and his colleagues found ample justification for this in the Chinese military classics, and accordingly applied the principle to almost every military unit, even to the Military Training Agency in Seoul. Throughout the mid-1590s the ten thousand troops making up this premier force would divide their time between training in the capital and working in the fields on government land. Elsewhere in the country soldiers were assigned to units near their homes and were commanded by local men. This saved the time and expense that would otherwise have been wasted in traveling long distances, and not incidentally made men less likely to try to avoid their duty. These local troops met periodically for training, and less frequently for large-scale exercises involving the entire locally based division. Other than that they were free to work their farms or practice their craft, and in so doing contribute to the nation’s rebuilding.
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In the Korean navy, meanwhile, a number of fundamental changes had been instituted as well. In September of 1593 Cholla Left Navy Commander Yi Sun-sin, who had given the Japanese fleet so many drubbings during the first year of the war, was promoted to the newly created post of Supreme Navy Commander of the Three Provinces of Kyongsang, Cholla, and Chungchong. He was thus now the ranking superior of his colleagues Cholla Right Navy Commander Yi Ok-ki and Kyongsang Right Navy Commander Won Kyun, and the top naval officer in the south. Yi had previously moved his home port eastward from Yosu to
Hansan Island, half the distance to the Japanese stronghold at Pusan, so that he could keep a closer watch on the enemy camped in their line of fortresses encircling the port. Hansan-do would remain the headquarters for the Korean navy in the south until 1597.
Little in the way of naval activity took place throughout the remain
der of 1593. As Yi Sun-sin reported to the government in Seoul, the Japanese refused to come out onto open water and engage his ships in battle.
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Although Yi remained bellicose in his diary and dispatches, the break in the fighting was probably welcome, for simply maintaining his navy under the conditions then prevailing in
Korea was a difficult task. With the kingdom’s agricultural base in disarray and tax revenues slowed to a trickle, he could not expect anything from the central government in the way of support. He and his colleagues were obliged to rely on their own resources simply to keep their men fed and their ships afloat. Back in the spring of 1593 Yi had bowed to the inevitable and released half his men to return to their fields to grow the food that the nation so badly needed. Those kept in service were put to work farming and fishing and manufacturing salt and earthenware to sell in the markets for cash. In this way Yi managed not only to keep his command alive, but started to stockpile a reserve of grain in government warehouses in anticipation of the coming counter-offensive to drive the Japanese out of Korea. Won Kyun in neighboring Kyongsang Province appears to have been less successful, complaining in his dispatches to Seoul of dire hardship throughout his command, with some of his men on the point of starvation.
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Yi Sun-sin also began unraveling the secrets of the Japanese muskets he had captured in his earlier sea battles, for in his opinion “no other weapons are more effective.” During the first half of 1593 he put his ablest men to work examining and testing these captured weapons. By the end of the summer they had developed an effective copy, one “whose shooting force is exactly the same as the Japanese guns, although the fire-kindling apparatus at the breech is somewhat different.” Since they were relatively easy to manufacture, Yi commanded that workshops be set up in every town and port under his command to turn out copies. He also sent five samples to Seoul, with the suggestion that officials in every province begin producing weapons of their own.
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*
* *
And so
Korea began to get back on its feet after a year and a half of war. The nation had been driven to the very edge of the abyss, but thanks to its stubborn unwillingness to surrender coupled with military aid from China, the crisis had been averted and the nation had been saved. True, the Japanese were still encamped on the peninsula’s southern coast, but it now was hopefully just a matter of time before they would tire of the game and reboard their ships for home.
It was in this very return to normalcy, however, where trouble lay, for in government circles in Choson
Korea business as usual meant factional strife. Since the start of the war the overriding concern for national survival had forced the contending elements within the government to set their differences aside and work together in what amounted to a coalition government. But now that the worst of the crisis had seemingly passed, factional lines were quietly redrawn. For the Westerners this meant looking for ways to chip away at the ascendant Eastern faction, of which Prime Minister Yu Song-nyong was now the most prominent member. In the political game it was dangerous to go after Yu Song-nyong himself, for he wielded too much power and had the ear of the king. Instead they looked for chinks in his armor by scrutinizing the conduct of the members of his camp.
One member the Westerners were monitoring was Yu’s childhood friend and protégé, Supreme Navy Commander Yi Sun-sin, the recently promoted head of the Korean navy in the south. Since the beginning of the war Kyongsang Navy Commander Won Kyun had been providing interested parties in Seoul with a growing file of criticisms of Yi, beginning with his failure to rush to Won’s aid in May of 1592. With Yi’s promotion in September to the rank of supreme naval commander, this bitterness of Won’s became even stronger, for he resented the fact that a formerly junior officer with fewer years of service than himself should outrank him.
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He was now prepared to say or do almost any
thing to bring his nemesis down. Yi was acutely aware of this, and in his diary began making frequent references to Won’s growing hostility and belligerence:
June 13, 1593:
Yun Tong-ku brought me his commander’s [Won Kyun’s] war report draft addressed to the King. I found his wording in that report to be maliciously deceptive.
June 19, 1593:
Won Kyun transmitted dispatches with false reports, causing a profound sensation among many navy units. His truculent and perverse acts making mischief for his friendly forces with such deception cannot be adequately depicted.
August 17, 1593:
Commander Won Kyun uttered nothing but extraordinary tricks and wicked designs. Nothing could be accomplished by his words. Joint operation will surely result in immeasurable disaster! His younger brother, Yon, arrived later and begged to take away some rice.