Rotating Volleys of Merchandise: The Battle of Nagashino as Pop Culture Phenom

A few years ago we ran an article about the ‘Selling of Sekigahara’-how battles from Japan’s past were a popular subject for merchandising and found their way into all sorts of pop culture venues. It’s not unusual to see them featured in tabletop board games, video games, models, figures, toys, dioramas, TV programs, movies, and even weapon reproductions. Recently the SA podcast ran a feature on a battlefield archeology conference where the Battle of Nagashino in 1575 was a subject of one of the presentations, so we thought it a good time to run a similar feature on the merchandising of that famous battle that we’ve had in waiting for several months. We’re sticking to Japanese-produced items here, so you’ll have to read about GMT’s interesting depiction of the battle in their tabletop wargame ‘Samurai’ elsewhere (as well as similar efforts in Brian Bradford’s ‘Killer Katanas’ and ‘Total War: Shogun 2’). Likewise, we’re not going to discuss much in the way of books on the battle as they fall a bit outside of pop culture merchandising (although many of them are indeed pop culture efforts). With that in mind, here are some of the products fired the way of shoppers by the soldiers of corporate Japan. 

In passing, we’ll mention several sims/wargames dealing with the battle that have been released over the years. From the 1980’s is “Oda Teppotai (Oda Gun Corps)”, a hex-based rudimentary electronic game that’s beginner friendly, being on the difficulty level of early Avalon Hill games. A step up in complexity is “Nagashino: Shitaragahara Kassen (Nagashino: Battle of Shitaragahara)”, found in War Game in Japanese History #7. It’s a European-style game with area movement and card play that adds specific events and randomness to the proceedings. Finally, there’s Game Journal #23’s “Namida No Shitaragahara (Tears of Shitaragahara)” (one of two games found in this special Nobunaga Senki issue, the other being Anegawa). This hex based effort is the most detailed, accurate, and complex of the three listed here. Since we’ve covered all of these in varying degrees of detail on the Samurai Archives Forum, we’ll just refer you there for more details (particularly the Japanese history war game thread). 

Next up is the recent 90 page mook “Nagashino no Tatakai (Battle of Nagashino)” from Gakken (publishers of the popular pop culture history series “Rekishi Gunzou”). While at first glance it appears to be a pretty standard examination of the battle, the volume’s gimmick appears just inside the back cover. There’s a 3D four-panel fold-out map of the battlefield with troop positions along with a set of 3D glasses for your viewing pleasure. The 3D is of the old-fashioned blue/red 1950’s comics variety and truth to tell, the effect isn’t very good. However, the rest of the book is. Like most Gakken books it’s loaded with maps, charts, biographies, photos, and artwork. Particularly nice are several double paged spreads that show three/quarter bird’s eye views of the area at different points before, during, and after the battle. There are maps for every level-strategic, operational, and tactical, along with more detailed topographical maps. In-depth breakdowns of the armies and the types of unit tactics, weaponry, and defenses employed are shown. The entire campaign is examined with the climactic battle earning expanded coverage. Biographies of most of the major commanders present are given along with their actions during the battle (as expected, Oda Nobunaga, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and Takeda Katsuyori get the lion’s share but even their less famous vassals such as Hara Masatane get mentions). As a bonus, there’s also some nice material on the earlier battle of Migatagahara. Modern day photos explore the battlefield as it appears today. The history is a bit outdated (for example, the barricades are shown as being placed along the entire length of the line as well as having advanced redoubts-see Thomas Conlan's "Weapons & Fighting Techniques of the Samurai Warrior" for why this probably wasn't the case, or check out the excellent video tour HERE), but overall it’s a solid effort. Other volumes in the series include other of the ‘big four’ battles of the Sengoku- Sekigahara and the Siege of Osaka. 

Looking at a 3D battlefield is one thing, but building your own is much more fun. For those interested in giving that a try there’s “Nagashino no Tatakai (Battle of Nagashino)”, part of Facet’s “Sengoku Kassen (Warring States Battles)” papercraft line of products. This inexpensive and entertaining kit gives you everything you need to replicate and bring to life a famous painted screen of the battle. You get a base of the terrain and two sheets of various types of soldiers, sashimono, barricades, and castle sections. Punch them out and bring the battle to life! Enterprising miniature enthusiasts could even build a war game around it. Sure, it’s non-scale, but so much fun you won’t mind a bit. 

More in scale and of interest to miniaturists is Aoshima’s “Nagashino no Tatakai” plastic model kit, part of its “Japanese History Sengoku Battle” series. Aoshima produced a popular series of 20 samurai kits, each themed to a specific type of soldier, an individual leader, a defensive/offensive work, or even a subset of five kits dealing with Chushingura. As the years passed they would produce themed packages encompassing several of these kits along with additional items to make a diorama. There were the battles of Kawanakajima, Sekigahara, Migatagahara, a couple for Osaka, Shimabara, Odawara, an ‘Edo Elegance’ effort, and several kits showcasing the Date, Sanada, and Takeda clans. There was also the one we’re looking at, Nagashino. It was comprised of kits 4 (spearmen), 5 (arquebusiers), and 10 (Oda Nobunaga). A plastic unpainted base was included along with ‘grass’ to sprinkle on it, dowel rods and twine to construct barricades, and paper curtains to construct Nobunaga’s headquarters along with several flags. Ahead of its time, the kit was careful to show a mix of spearmen with the gunners rather than the masses of firearm toting samurai as seen in Kurosawa’s “Kagemusha”. The kits, while issued years ago, are regularly reissued and can be found cheaply on auction sites. 

But by far the best item featuring the battle to date is Videre/Oshiro Diorama Restoring Shops’s “Mikawa: Nagashino Castle”, the initial entry in their ‘Shirorama’ series of Japanese castle dioramas. This package has as its centerpiece a 1/1500 scale of the grounds and buildings of Nagashino Castle, the Tokugawa structure under siege by the Takeda whose relief precipitated the battle. Featuring an attractive 3D prepainted base, modelers can paint and add the included fences, walls, watchtowers, and buildings scattered about the several enclosures (‘maru’) of the castle. While most castle kits focus on the tower ('tenshu') of the castle (often the only part that has survived to the present day-or been reconstructed)-and for castles that never saw combat at that-this one is much more representative of the type of fortresses that were actually used in the Sengoku. Noted castle historian Fujii Hisao has overseen the development of the kit and the reconstruction is as accurate as possible. However, as well done as the diorama is, it’s only the tip of the iceberg of what’s included. 

 

There’s also an excellent 66 page book that details the history of the castle along with the battle itself. It’s loaded with maps, photographs, charts, and period artwork. The history of the castle contains the most up-to-date information, including the results of several recent digs. The battlefield history also contains much of the most recent scholarship, although it too presupposes barricades all along the line. Detailed painting and assembly instructions are given for the diorama. And since my wife told the retailer she was buying it for an English speaker, they included an excellent 68 page English translation by Ninomiya Hiroshi. It reflects the better scholarship also and among its sources are several excavation reports conducted by the local education system. There are quite a few interesting secondary sources used as well. It’s probably the best published English language treatment of the battle to date, being much more reliable than Stephen Turnbull’s outdated Osprey effort. 

Also included are two reproductions of antique maps of the castle, making for a nice wall poster-as well as being useful when putting the diorama together. There’s a great overhead shot of the castle and its environs that comes into play with a feature we’ll talk about in a bit. And-get this-there’s even a SOUNDTRACK CD. How cool is that? Yes, while building the diorama, you can chill out to several tunes specially written and performed for this set by Japanese guitarist Yamada Koji (best known for ‘Passport to Heaven’). 



And the coolest feature isn’t included in the box, but is rather downloaded through Itunes. It’s the Shirorama Nagashino Castle App. If you don’t own the diorama set, then the app does absolutely nothing-you’ll just see whatever you point your device at. But point it at the well done box artwork, or the aerial photo we talked about in the last paragraph, then the Sengoku comes to life. An animated AR version of the castle is superimposed upon the art/photo, featuring soldiers, rivers with running water, and a 3D rendition that can be examined from any angle. The app even challenges you to find the castle’s commander, Okudaira Sadamasa, squirreled away somewhere in the maze of defenses. It took some time, but we managed to ferret him out. Mikawa: Nagashino castle is the complete package, blending together several disparate elements to create a whole that is interactive, entertaining, and educational-showing once again that pop culture is an excellent way to bring history to the public at large. 

So that’s a good note to end on. There are other notable examples, such as the “Briefcase Diorama” of the battle that has over 50 miniature figures and opens up to a detailed prepainted layout of a section of the battlefield. There was a popular “Romance of History: Battle of Nagashino Bullet Revolution” series of plastic candy toys produced by Furuta that allowed buyers to build their own versions of Takeda Katsuyori’s army and their Tokugawa/Oda foes. And there’s the excellent full sized arquebus replica made out of wood and metal that was included with the premium edition of Koei’s “Nobungaga’s Ambition” 30th anniversary set. But this short sampling has given you a taste of the rotating volleys of merchandise that Japanese retailers have laid down on consumers looking for a taste of the battle of Nagashino-and the attraction that it continues to exert on the popular imagination over 400 years after it was decided.

Principled Warfare: Episode 3: The Three S's

Well, folks—sorry for the few day delay, but our series on the 12 Principles of Joint Operations is back with Episode 3: the Three “S”’s : Security, Surprise, and Simplicity. Somehow I get the feeling we’ll be talking a whole lot of Okehazama today…let’s get to it, shall we? The previous two installments can be found HERE (Objective, Offensive, and Mass) and HERE (Maneuver,Economy of Force, and Unity of Effort).

Security

(1) The purpose of security is to prevent the enemy from acquiring unexpected advantage.

(2) Security enhances freedom of action by reducing friendly vulnerability to hostile acts, influence, or surprise. Security results from the measures taken by commanders to protect their forces. Staff planning and an understanding of enemy strategy, tactics, and doctrine enhance security. Risk is inherent in military operations. Application of this principle includes prudent risk management, not undue caution.[1]

The need for security in military operations should be fairly evident. Surprises, especially those that shoot at you, are not good things on the battlefield (and that’s leading to the next principle, but we’ll get to that). As the first bullet says, security is about preventing the enemy from getting the drop on you. Sometimes, this is done through intelligence, i.e. finding out what the enemy is going to do before he does it, so you can counter it. Sometimes, it’s done through maneuver (see, they all flow together), putting yourself in position to take advantage of enemy weaknesses.

Yoshimoto never really liked rain anyways.

I’ll go more into security and its relationship with other principles in the final post in this series, but the simplest way to demonstrate it is to look once again at Okehazama. Imagine you’re Imagawa Yoshimoto in command of your 25,000-man army. You’ve got piddly little Oda Nobunaga in front of you with maybe 2,000 men, and your vanguard under this young Matsudaira Motoyasu kid has already taken some of Nobunaga’s forward fortifications. You’re going to blow through Owari pretty easily. It’s getting to be the middle of the day, and you’re kind of hungry. There’s no hurry, as Nobunaga’s probably just going to hide in his castle. The question is really will he die there or surrender to you? Anyways, it’s lunch time, so let’s just park the HQ here and start eating, shall we? And so you do, and a little while later a fight breaks out amongst some of your men…perhaps someone had a little sake with their lunch and things got out of hand…hey, why is that samurai running this way with his sword drawn? “You, there, stop!”…he’s not stopping…oh crap he’s an Oda samurai!!

We all know the basic story—Yoshimoto stops and is so confident he doesn’t really mount a guard force. Nobunaga’s much smaller force swoops in under the cover of a rainstorm and takes out Yoshimoto and his headquarters. Yoshimoto’s problem? No security—apparently he didn’t feel the need for a security perimeter of guards to give him early warning before Nobunaga’s attack.

Surprise

(1) The purpose of surprise is to strike at a time or place or in a manner for which the enemy is unprepared.

(2) Surprise can help the commander shift the balance of combat power and thus achieve success well out of proportion to the effort expended. Factors contributing to surprise include speed in decision-making, information sharing, and force movement; effective intelligence; deception; application of unexpected combat power; OPSEC; and variations in tactics and methods of operation.

This is another principle that should be fairly obvious to understand. Anyone kid armed with a water gun knows that you have to sneak up on the other side to get them before they get you. As the second bullet says, surprise can shift the balance of power—and it’s the other side of the coin when discussing security. Nobunaga, as we discussed just before, had a vastly inferior force to the Imagawa army that confronted him at Okehazama. However, he did what was unexpected, attacking instead of hiding in his castle, and took the Imagawa unaware.

We won’t go into too much detail, but all of the factors in bullet two played into Nobunaga’s favor. Nobunaga made a quick decision on how to react to Yoshimoto’s invasion; he gave orders on where to attack the enemy (shared info); moved his force through concealed routes; had a clearer picture of what was going on thanks to scouts and knowledge of the area; placed banners and flags at a dummy position and maneuvered without them (deception); appeared “out of nowhere” to attack Yoshimoto’s HQ; kept his plan concealed even from his closest commanders until the last second (OPSEC—Operational Security); and all of these are examples of tactics that deviated from the norm.

You know what else is a surprise? That all samurai generals apparently were members of a boy band.

Surprise isn’t always this dramatic—it can be something much less spectacular than attacking out of the blue like at Okehazama. But surprise gives one side significant tactical advantage that can only be countered with due attention to security.

It also applies to the operational level of war—Akechi Mitsuhide counted on having some time after eliminating Oda Nobunaga at Honno-ji to consolidate his control. That Toyotomi Hideyoshi was able to disengage from the Mori, much less do so quickly enough to be back in the capital area and defeat Mitsuhide at Yamazaki less than 2 weeks later, is a good example of operational surprise.

Simplicity

(1) The purpose of simplicity is to increase the probability that plans and operations will be executed as intended by preparing clear, uncomplicated plans and concise orders.

(2) Simplicity contributes to successful operations. Simple plans and clear, concise orders minimize misunderstanding and confusion. When other factors are equal, the simplest plan is preferable. Simplicity in plans allows better understanding and execution planning at all echelons. Simplicity and clarity of expression greatly facilitate mission execution in the stress, fatigue, fog of war, and complexities of modern combat, and are especially critical to success in multinational operations.

Simplicity is the military version of Occam’s Razor, or, alternatively, the Keep It Simple, Stupid (KISS) Principle. Ultimately, no matter if you’re using swords, guns, or UAV’s, warfare is conducted by people (at least until 2020, when Rock’emSock’em Robots become the preferred method of settling international disputes). People make mistakes, especially under pressure—when what Clausewitz calls “friction”, or what we know now as “Murphy’s Law” happens. The more complicated your plan is, the more steps there are to make it work, the more things that can go wrong to derail it, and the more details there are for a subordinate to forget. The simplest solution is the best solution 9 times out of 10.

 

The 4^th Battle of Kawanakajima is a good example of simplicity done wrong. We’re all familiar with the Takeda’s genius plan “Operation Woodpecker”, supposedly concocted by either Yamamoto Kansuke, Baba Nobuharu, or the two of them together, in which the Takeda split their forces and attempted to maneuver around the Uesugi positions on hills to the north and attack them from behind with one force, forcing the Uesugi to run down the hill into the waiting spears of the other Takeda force. Great plan, but it was a tad bit too complicated to execute—especially the timing of it. Unfortunately for the Takeda, the Uesugi had designs of their own and moved off the hills while half the Takeda army was trying to go around them. The Takeda were faced with the entire Uesugi army charging down on them, with half of their own army actually moving away from the battle. Desperate fighting saved the Takeda from complete collapse before the detached force could arrive back on the battlefield, but the complicated plan opened an advantage that the Uesugi were able to exploit. Historians are divided on who (if anyone) “won” at 4^th Kawanakajima, but it’s fairly obvious that the Takeda took the worst of it, due in no small part to out-thinking themselves.

Well, that’s it for this installment. Next time, we’ll look at the three relatively new additions that the US military has added based on experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan, among others: Restraint, Perseverance, and Legitimacy. We’ll see whether or not these also fit in a Sengoku context. See you then!

The above comments represent the views of the author only, and should not be interpreted to represent the views or official position of the United States Army or the Department of Defense. 

MAJ Nate Ledbetter
Intermediate Level Education Class 12-002
Staff Group D
Fort Gordon, Georgia
 

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[1] Department of Defense. Joint Publication 3-0, “Joint Operations” Washington, D.C.: 11 August 2011. Pg. A-4.

Principled Warfare II: Samurai Combat Done Right (And Wrong)

Welcome to installment 2 of our 5 part series on the Joint Operating Principles and their application to pre-modern Japanese warfare. Go here for the Introduction and Part One of the series, where I examined the Principles of Objective, Offensive, and Mass. Today we’ll look at Maneuver, Economy of Force, and Unity of Command. Since I already did the explanation of what we’re doing in the first post, I’ll just jump into it today.

Maneuver

(1) The purpose of maneuver is to place the enemy in a position of disadvantage through the flexible application of combat power.

(2) Maneuver is the movement of forces in relation to the enemy to secure or retain positional advantage, usually in order to deliver—or threaten delivery of—the direct and indirect fires of the maneuvering force. Effective maneuver keeps the enemy off balance and thus also protects the friendly force. It contributes materially in exploiting successes, preserving freedom of action, and reducing vulnerability by continually posing new problems for the enemy. [1]

Every military commander wants to be in the best position to attack and destroy the enemy. Sometimes that means moving around to the side or rear and surprising him; sometimes it means getting to a certain place, like the defensible high ground, first before the enemy so you have the advantage that location gives you. The way this is done is through maneuver, which as the second bullet says is moving in relation to the enemy to gain the advantage. Like in a wrestling (or judo, or whatever) match, you want to pin your opponent and prevent them from escaping while at the same time being free yourself to move how you want.

The first example for maneuver that we’ll look at is the engagements between the Uesugi and Takeda at Kawanakajima. While everyone remembers the violent and bloody 4^th Battle of Kawanakajima in 1561, it is important to keep in mind that the two sides faced off at the same location three times before that (1553, 1555, 1557), and one time after (1564). In each of these other contests, the opposing armies withdrew after posturing and minimal combat. What was the difference between these four engagements and the 1561 battle? Maneuver...or rather, lack thereof.

In the first three engagements, both sides arrived at Kawanakajima (a plain in northern Shinano province, which now is the location of Nagano City) and took up defensive positions on high ground on either side of the plain. The terrain is such that neither side could venture into the center without exposing itself to attack, and neither side could determine a way to maneuver around the enemy’s flank without abandoning its defensive position. Consequently, after sitting for a while and watching each other, both Kenshin and Shingen would realize the other wasn’t going to make a mistake and move, and so they would retreat to conduct operations elsewhere.

Takeda Forces Maneuver Across the River at Kawanakajima

4^th Kawanakajima, however, is different, because at the 1561 contest, one side concocted a scheme to tactically maneuver and gain an advantage. It’s interesting to note that the sides in this engagement were quite larger (20,000 Takeda vs 12,000 Uesugi, about 40% more on each side) than previous battles. Why is this important? Because with 20,000 troops, Takeda Shingen had enough that he felt he could split his force in two, maintaining some defense on the hills to the south of the Kawanakajima plain while maneuvering a force around the hills the Uesugi occupied to the north, attacking them from the rear and catching them between his two forces. He understood he needed to move his forces, or maneuver, to put them in a position of advantage relative to the Uesugi. 

Unfortunately for Shingen, Uesugi Kenshin saw what he was doing, and also maneuvered his force to take advantage of the situation. Kenshin moved under the cover of darkness from his positions on the high ground down to the valley below and attacked Shingen’s weakened position, almost overrunning it before the detached force that was supposed to surprise the Uesugi arrived to salvage what was becoming a Takeda defeat. Historians debate who was the victor in this battle (for the record, the Uesugi clearly won a tactical victory in my eyes, as they destroyed a higher percentage of the Takeda force than they lost, and defeated Shingen’s tactical plan), ultimately it doesn’t matter as the end operational and strategic result was the same as the previous battles—both sides retreated with no strategic or operational gain. The 1564 battle was a return to the previous pattern, with both sides setting up defensive positions, observing the other side, and eventually withdrawing. I guess Shingen and Kenshin had learned their lesson three years previously.

Fighting at Yamazaki, 1582

Another example of maneuver (among other things) winning a battle is the 1582 Battle of Yamazaki between Hashiba (later Toyotomi) Hideyoshi and Akechi Mitsuhide. If you’ll recall, Mitsuhide had just assassinated Oda Nobunaga, hegemon of central Japan, 13 days earlier and effectively controlled the capital of Kyoto. No rivals were in position to stop his takeover, as they were all engaged fighting Nobunaga’s campaigns in other theaters. Hideyoshi completed a hasty peace with the Mori, whom he was beating pretty badly at this point, and rushed his forces back to the capital region to engage the Akechi. While we can travers his route from the Okayama area to Kyoto now in an hour or two on the bullet train these days, for him to end fighting, negotiate a peace settlement, and turn his 20,000 man army around and march them all the way to Yamazaki to encounter Mitsuhide’s force is staggeringly impressive. His ability to maneuver completely took Mitsuhide by surprise and gave him considerable advantage.

At the tactical level, maneuver played a huge part at Yamazaki as well. The battle began as a race to the promontory of a mountain, as each side recognized that holding the high ground would be key to deciding the battle. Without going into too much detail, forces under Hideyoshi got their first, claiming the terrain and putting the Akechi forces at a distinct tactical advantage.

Economy of Force

(1) The purpose of economy of force is to expend minimum essential combat power on secondary efforts in order to allocate the maximum possible combat power on primary efforts.

(2) Economy of force is the judicious employment and distribution of forces. It is the measured allocation of available combat power to such tasks as limited attacks, defense, delays, deception, or even retrograde operations to achieve mass elsewhere at the decisive point and time.

This Principle boils down to using the bulk of your resources to accomplish those key tasks necessary for victory, and not on things that have little or no effect on the success or failure of the operation. To do otherwise is wasting your efforts. Consider attacking an enemy castle: if you have good security and are not worried about enemy forces coming from elsewhere to attack you from the rear, you would not leave half of your force to guard your supply train. A few soldiers left behind to raise any warning necessary and watch your horses would suffice, while the bulk of your army attacks the castle, to put the necessary mass (see, they all relate) in position (i.e., maneuver) to exploit the weak points in the enemy’s defenses. 

Ueda Castle, where Tokugawa Hidetada wasted time and did not practice Economy of Force!

Economy of force is perhaps best described through an example where it failed. During the 1600 Sekigahara campaign, Tokugawa Ieyasu charged ahead west with his main force to confront Ishida Mitsunari’s coalition in central Japan, meeting them in battle at Sekigahara in Mino province. Ieyasu’s son, Tokugawa Hidetada, was sent along a different route with 38,000 men to meet his father at the battlefield; together they would have had overwhelming force against the enemy. However, along the way Hidetada passed Ueda Castle, held by the Sanada family who opposed the Tokugawa, and he decided to attack it despite orders from his father to bypass it and hurry along to the main battlefield. Even though he only spent a short amount of time trying to take Ueda before he gave up and moved on, it was enough of a delay that Hidetada’s force missed the Battle of Sekigahara completely. Thankfully for the Tokugawa, due to other Principles we will discuss in a bit, the Tokugawa won the day and went on to rule Japan for over 250 years. However, Hidetada’s 38,000 troops were completely wasted, and could have been the difference between victory and defeat. You better believe Tokugawa Ieyasu let his son know this! 

Unity of Command

(1) The purpose of unity of command is to ensure unity of effort under one responsible commander for every objective.

(2) Unity of command means that all forces operate under a single commander with the requisite authority to direct all forces employed in pursuit of a common purpose. During multinational operations and interagency coordination, unity of command may not be possible, but the requirement for unity of effort becomes paramount. Unity of effort—the coordination and cooperation toward common objectives, even if the participants are not necessarily part of the same command or organization—is the product of successful unified action.

You’ve no doubt heard the phrases “Too many cooks spoil the batter” or “too many chiefs, not enough Indians”. These both allude to the fact that systems work best with one person in charge giving one vision for the rest to follow. This is why the military is not a democracy. Operations simply do not work if everyone involved gets to do their own thing. There must be one commander, and everyone has to work towards his objective for things to succeed.

Let’s return to Sekigahara for a perfect example of Unity of Command in action. On one side, you had Tokugawa Ieyasu, a clear leader. Respected by all, even his enemies, there was no doubt who was in charge of the eastern forces. Daimyo that chose to side with the eastern side were choosing to be led by Tokugawa Ieyasu; there was no challenge to his leadership.

On the western side, you had…well, you had a loose coalition. There were a variety of motivating factors for daimyo to choose the western side: loyalty to Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s memory, fear of Tokugawa Ieyasu, a vague sense of how things should be. One thing that wasn’t a motivation was strong coalition leadership. Ishida Mitsunari, the de facto head of the anti-Tokugawa, pro-Toyotomi forces, was generally disliked by most of the daimyo in the coalition. He was not seen as a strong leader, and was not even seen as an equal by many of the daimyo in the western coalition. Several prominent daimyo chose to join the Tokugawa, motivated by their hatred of Mitsunari (Kato Kiyomasa is the most notable example); changing the political leadership of the country was preferable to having to work with “that guy”. Though in command, Mitsunari wasn’t even the “head” of the western coalition; that fell to Mori Terumoto, who wasn’t present at Sekigahara, and who was a representative of Toyotomi Hideyori, the seven year old heir of the late Hideyoshi.

Shimazu Yoshihiro, as seen at Sekigahara Warland Theme Park

This lack of unity of command for the western forces seriously hampered their efforts. Several daimyo delayed their movement east towards the campaign; some, tasked to besiege and take Tokugawa held castles west of Kyoto, took their time to do so. Shimazu Yoshihiro didn’t see Ishida Mitsunari as a leader at all, and took umbrage with being gruffly ordered around. This caused Yoshihiro to sit on the battlefield and brood, waiting until after combat had been taking place for a while before committing his forces. Even more detrimental were the defections of several leading Western daimyo, most notably Kobayakawa Hideaki and Kikkawa Hiroie, whose combined 18,000 men falling on the flank of the Western force they were supposedly a part of (their actions encouraged by Tokugawa Ieyasu, of course) turned a close battle into a rout. (Edited note: this is not a blow-by-blow of tactical action at Sekigahara, which was obviously much more nuanced. I'm illustrating a point, that is all. Don't get bent out of shape because I simplify things.)

Had the western army had any unity of command, Japanese history would likely be very different. They had a number of tactical advantages (better terrain, more troops) that could have resulted in coalition victory, had there been any unity of command or unity of effort. Even a coalition can be very successful if the coalition members all strive towards the same goal. However, that didn’t happen, and the strongly-led Tokugawa forces took advantage of it.

Well, there you have it. Next time we’ll look at the Three S’s: Security, Surprise, and Simplicity. See you then!

The above comments represent the views of the author only, and should not be interpreted to represent the views or official position of the United States Army or the Department of Defense. 

MAJ Nate Ledbetter
Intermediate Level Education Class 12-002
Staff Group D
Fort Gordon, Georgia

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[1] Department of Defense. Joint Publication 3-0, “Joint Operations” Washington, D.C.: 11 August 2011. Pg. A-2.

Shadowboxing: Kagemusha or the Real Deal? Kenshin Vs. Shingen

I thought I'd revisit Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin again for this week's blog post, this time looking at their purported hand-to-hand combat during the 4th battle of Kawanakajima. The typical depiction of this event, from the Koyo Gunkan, is as follows:

While the Uesugi and Takeda armies clashed in mortal combat, a lone mounted warrior with a white cowl covering his head rushed into Shingen's battlefield headquarters, directly at Shingen, who was sitting at his camp stool, and drew his sword. Shingen had no time to draw his sword, and instead was forced to catch the blows on his war fan. Shingen's attendant, Hara Osumi no kami, ran to Shingen's aid, and struck at the rider with a spear but missed, hitting the horse instead. The horse reared, and the mounted warrior retreated.

This is the same famous scene found in books and movies; The warrior in the white cowl is Uesugi Kenshin, and Takeda Shingen's warfan bore eight sword cuts. However, did this really happen as described, or is this just the stuff of legends? It is plausible. Kenshin is known to have held Minamoto Yoshitsune in high esteem, and as such always rode with his men, and personally led his men into battle to emulate his hero. It would not be unreasonable for him to have made his way to Shingen's camp. According to one book (Sengoku Busho Omoshiro Jiten), there are historical records that have been discovered that dispute this personal combat. According to this book, the Kenshin Nenpu (Kenshin Chronological Record), states:

Arakawa, who was dressed as Kenshin, rode at Shingen and attacked. Shingen was unable to draw his sword, and so blocked with his war fan. Hara Osumi no kami ran to Shingen's aid, and drove off the mounted warrior.

Arakawa Izu no kami was supposed to have been Kenshin's kagemusha (double) during the 4th battle of Kawanakajima (although I couldn't seem to find him in the Sengoku Jinmei Jiten). According to the above source, it is thought that the man that Shingen fought at Kawanakajima was Kenshin's kagemusha, rather than Kenshin himself. To further confuse the issue, according to the Hokuetsu Gunki, some time after the battle, Shingen received a visit from a monk by the name of Tenkai, who would later become an advisor to Tokugawa Ieyasu. Tenkai would tell Ieyasu that Shingen told him during thier meeting that "the man who fought with Kenshin that day was not me, but someone who looked like me". Meaning that apparently it wasn't Shingen but his Kagemusha that fought off the attack.

We are left with the somewhat boggling possibility that that they were both kagemusha. Moreover, it is believed that Kenshin and Shingen had never seen each other's face, which likely would also have added to the confusion. Although the personal combat between Kenshin and Shingen is recorded in the Koyo Gunkan, there doesn't seem to be any other additional evidence to support this, however I only flipped through a few books in preparation for this post, so I welcome any comments or sources to dispute or enhance what I have here. In particular, I have to wonder if Terje Solum's Saga of the Samurai series (Which I don't have, but is on my "to buy" list) on the Takeda clan covers this.

Some references for this post:
Koyo Gunkan. (Edited by Yoshida Toyo), 19th edition, Tokyo, August 2005.
Narumoto, Tatsuya. Sengoku Bushou Omoshiro Jiten, Japan, 1998
Sato, Hiroaki. Legends of the Samurai, Overlook, 1995
Arakawa Izu no kami - SamuraiWiki

Why Kawanakajima? Shingen and Kenshin's Five Battles

Sengoku Daimyo Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin are two well known figures from Japan's Sengoku period who fought five battles on the Kawanakajima plain in Shinano province (Modern day Nagano prefecture) between 1553 and 1564. (The fouth battle was depicted in the 1990 Kadokawa Haruki movie Heaven and Earth) Why did Kawanakajima become the main battleground for these two warriors? What made Kawanakajima such a contested area? I thought I'd tackle this question for my blog post this week. After a combination of poking around and deductive reasoning, I can come up with a few reasons. Although, there is no way to really know which reasons might be correct, a little theoretical guesswork never hurt anyone.


1. Shingen was looking to expand his territory. Just like every other Sengoku Daimyo, Shingen wanted to expand his lands. More lands meant more rewards for his retainers, which meant more loyalty, as well as more resources. Kai province, Shingen's home province (Modern day Yamanashi prefecture), did not have ocean access, and as such was at a disadvantage (the need for salt would be an example of a critical disadvantage, and the lack of a ready supply of fish could also be seen as a disadvantage. The lack of access to ocean trade, yet another). In 1554, Shingen entered a three-way alliance with the Hojo and Imagawa, which effectively cut him off from direct ocean access to the south. His only option for direct ocean access would be to go North - Through Shinano and Echigo, through Kenshin's territory.


2. Uesugi Kenshin was the only Daimyo powerful enough to stand up to Shingen. Shingen handily defeated Murakami Yoshikiyo and Ogasawara Nagatoki, leaving Kenshin the only roadblack between Shingen and domination of Shinano province. From a military standpoint, the plain of Kawanakajima was a key route between both Shingen and Kenshin's territory. The Kawanakajima plain was a mere 60 kilometers from Kenshin's home castle of Kasuga, and an occupation by Shingen here could have proved extremely dangerous. From Shingen's standpoint, Kawanakajiima would be a key access point to block southern movement by Kenshin.


3. Kawanakajima was an important key intersection of politics and trade. The Kawanakajima plain falls between the Sai and Chikuma rivers, and are fertile and productive lands. Also, the roads of Kai, Kozuke, and Echigo all intersect here. It was an important highway for the politics and economics of Mino and Totomi provinces. It would also be an important launch pad for Shingen's invasion of Echigo, or a strike south by Kenshin.

The main cause here is Shingen's military aggression. Shingen was, by default, the aggressor. As mentioned above, he wanted ocean access, and to expand his lands. He was boxed in, and after the Alliances of 1554, had nowhere to go but North. Peace with Kenshin would have meant the end of Shingen's expansion, and based on the experience of other Daimyo during the sengoku period, could have meant the end of Shingen. It is likely he had to keep his generals busy with war, or have them turn on him in eventual dissatisfaction. So it is even possible that ocean access might have been a lesser motivation than simply keeping his army busy. Despite this, Shingen still suffered the rebellion of three vassals, Katanuma Nobumoto, Obu Toramasa, and his son Yoshinobu.

Regardless of the reasons, five battles were fought at Kawanakajima, and neither Shingen nor Kenshin were allowed to overtake the other or realize their full potentials as Daimyo. They canceled each other out, and at least in Shingen's case, his expansion was stalled a decade or more, leaving the field open to Oda Nobunaga, who would eventually outdo them both.

A few references for this post:
Kanaya, Shunichiro. Sengoku Jidai Ga Omoshiroi Hodo Wakaru Hon, 2003
Narumoto, Tatsuya. Sengoku Bushou Omoshiro Jiten, Japan, 1998
Takeda Shingen - S-A Wiki