 that cradled Choson were considered more protection than threat. A series of “brush fire” wars with the Jurchen tribes in the 1580s tended to confirm the notion that the northern border held the most danger for the Korean nation. In the 16th century the line between a navy and army career was less sharply defined than it is today. Yi Sun Shin first honed his military skills fighting the Jurchen tribes.
While yangban civil servants squabbled, or warily eyed the nomadic tribes in the north, a new power was rising to the east 120 miles from Choson’s shores. During much of the 16th century Japan had been nearly torn apart by internecine wars, a period still known as Sengoku-jidai (The Age of the Country at War). After a series of bloody clashes Toyotomi Hideyoshi emerged as victor. Even today Japanese revere Hideyoshi as the man who unified their country.
Toyotomi Hideyoshi was a man of humble origin, a peasant boy who started his career as a simple ashigaru or foot soldier. Hideyoshi was a good soldier, efficient administrator, and masterful politician, attributes that enabled him to rise and eventually overcome his more aristocratic rivals. Using the carrot-and-stick approach, he maintained control by generously rewarding retainers and punishing—or at least politically neutralizing—rivals. Although nominally subordinate to the Japanese emperor, Hideyoshi was the supreme power in the land, confirmed by his title of kampaku, or Imperial Regent.
It took time for China and Choson to awaken to the growing menace of Japan.
To them the Japanese were little better than barbarians, crude uncivilized pirates whose plundering raids had plagued Asian shores for centuries. As far as the Chinese and Koreans were concerned, Japan was a pariah nation that should be held at arm’s length.
Ironically, China and Choson’s disdain gave Hideyoshi another rationale for conquest. Japan desperately needed foreign trade, yet China and Choson’s contempt, coupled with Japanese pirate raids, had caused such commerce to decline. To get the goods it wanted, Japan was forced to rely on middlemen, particularly Portuguese merchants, but they charged high commissions for their services. A conquest of China would be a conquest of markets at their source.
Hideyoshi committed himself to the conquest of China, but before he could proceed he needed Choson’s cooperation, or at least, its acquiescence. The Korean peninsula was a literal stepping-stone to China, an avenue that led figuratively to the gates of Beijing. After some diplomatic exchanges, Hideyoshi sent a letter to Choson’s King Sonjo that requested free passage for Japanese troops en route to China. If the Koreans allowed the Japanese free passage, the kampaku’s envoys assured, Choson’s territorial integrity and independence would be respected. If not, Choson would be invaded and forced to yield by conquest.
King Sonjo rejected Hideyoshi’s overtures, rightly feeling such cooperation would be a betrayal of Choson’s long friendship with China. It was a hopeless situation, but the Korean government stalled for time by engaging the Japanese in protracted negotiations for several years. In 1590 King Sonjo sent an embassy to Japan to find out if Hideyoshi really intended to invade the Asian continent. His diplomats reflected the internal divisions of the yangban, with one envoy feeling the Japanese would invade, another feeling strongly that they would not.
Choson was woefully unprepared for a major war, its troops ill trained and armed with spears and bows. This was at a time when Japanese armies were armed with matchlock muskets called arquebuses. These matchlocks were of a superior European design, introduced by the Portuguese in 1543. Later, during a battle at Pusan, it was said the Koreans laid down a “curtain of arrows,” but were wiped out by Japanese gunfire.
Luckily the king’s chief minister, Yi Song Nyong, was a man of intelligence. Despite considerable opposition he saw to it that a number of towns in vulnerable Kyongsang province were fortified. Incredibly, some had objected to Yi Song Nyong’s program on the grounds the common people would be “alarmed” by such defensive measures. Yi Song Nyong was also instrumental in having his old friend Yi Sun Shin appointed as commander of the chollajwasyong, or the Cholla Left Fleet. His formal title was Chollajwasusa, or Admiral (susa) of the Cholla Left Fleet. Although little noted at the time, this appointment was to prove the salvation of Choson/Korea.
Admiral Yi took up his duties on February 28, establishing a headquarters at Yosu, along Choson’s island-sprinkled southern coast. A soldier much of his life, Yi was a serious student who read the seven Chinese military classics, including Sun Tzu’s Art of War. He applied the principles he learned, but had the courage to refute such authorities if he felt they were in the wrong. Above all he was gifted beyond any of his peers, a man who was touched with true genius.
While others wasted time debating about the possibility, Yi Sun Shin was positive the Japanese were going to invade. He strengthened the garrisons under his jurisdiction, and trained his ship crews until they worked together like a well-oiled machine. The admiral was well aware of Japanese naval tactics, and knew they relied on grappling and boarding to achieve victory.
A Japanese sea soldier’s “secret weapon” was the kusari kagi, or grappling chain, which was swung over the head and flung forward when it gained enough momentum. The “business end” of the kusari kagi was a four-pronged hook that bit into an enemy ship’s deck and held fast. Thus locked in a fatal embrace, the enemy vessel was helpless while Japanese soldiers tugged on ropes attached to the kusari kagi that brought the two ships closer together. Once a Japanese ship was side by side with its victim, Japanese soldiers could rake it with musket fire and then board.
Yi Sun Shin gave the matter serious thought and came up with a brilliant solution that was so typical of the man: He would resurrect the kobukson (turtleship). Contrary to popular belief, Yi did not invent the kobukson, but modified it and added his own unique touches to its design. There had been turtleships in the 15th century but they had fallen out of favor since that time. No kobukson had been built for over a century, but Yi Sun Shin was about to stage a spectacular revival.
The turtleship was a vessel whose vulnerable upper decks were protected by a curved roof. Working closely with a shipbuilder named Na Tae-Yong, Admiral Yi drew up plans that met his own exact requirements.
In a fit of political myopia, officials in Seoul wanted to disband the fleet, the better to concentrate on land forces. Admiral Yi’s forceful arguments against such a move finally prevailed, but it was a very close call. Work on the turtleships continued, with Yi supervising every phase of the construction. He left a war diary that charts in minute detail the progress that was made. Nothing escaped his attention; on February 8, 1592 he records,“Received at headquarters 29 p’il [one p’il is about 40 yards] of canvas to be used in the turtleship [sails].” March 27, 1592 was a typical day for Yi Sun Shin. He writes in his war diary, “I watched the test firing of cannons from the deck of a turtleship.” These preparations proved timely, because on April 13 the Japanese invaders appeared off Pusan. Their arrival marked the beginning of the Imjinwaeran, or Imjin War. “Imjin” is the name of the year 1592, based on two Chinese characters from a 60-year Chinese calendar cycle.
There is some controversy about how many turtleships were built and saw combat. In 1979 a group of historians studied the matter and felt three kobukson were constructed. Others say as many as 20 were built. No one knows, but the admiral probably had at least three to five turtleships.
The coming naval campaigns against the Japanese would be fought along a 93-mile stretch of the southern Korean coast now known as the Hallyeosudo Waterway. A region of great natural beauty, Hallyeosudo is a labyrinth of channels, bays, and inlets punctuated by four hundred tree-crowned islands and islets.
Yi Sun Shin’s efforts to mount an adequate naval offensive were hampered by the cowardice and incompetence of his colleagues. Like Cholla, neighboring Kyongsang province was divided into a Right and Left naval command. The Kyongsang Left Admiral Pak Hong literally deserted his command, taking to his heels when he saw the might of the Japanese armada. Kyongsang Right Admiral Won Kyun wasn’t much better. A man noted for drunkenness, he seems to have panicked and ordered his fleet to be scuttled to prevent it from falling into enemy hands.
Over a hundred badly needed warships went to the bottom, in essence handing the Japanese a bloodless victory. The thought that such ships might have been useful for fighting the enemy doesn’t seem to have entered his drink-befuddled mind. The invasion might have been stopped in its tracks if Yi Sun Shin, not