Riding up along the column, Oyamada Nobushige galloped to Shingen's side. Nobushige's voice was unusually excited and could clearly be heard by those nearby as he spoke from horseback: "My lord! We'll never have an opportunity like this again to massacre ten thousand of the enemy. I've just come from reconnoitering the enemy formation attacking our rear guard. Each company is spread out in a stork-wing formation. At a glance, it looks like a huge army, but the second and third ranks have no depth at all, and Ieyasu's center is protected by a small force hardly amounting to anything. Not only that, but the companies are in extreme disorder, and it's clear that the Oda reinforcements have no will to fight. If you'll take this opportunity and attack, my lord, you are bound to win."
As Nobushige blurted this out, Shingen looked back and then ordered some scouts to verify Nobushige's report.
Hearing the tone of Shingen's voice, Nobushige reined in his horse a little and held himself in check.
The two scouts galloped away. It was known that the enemy force was much smaller than their own, and Nobushige respected Shingen's refusal to make unconsidered movements, but he himself had the impatience of an unruly horse stamping at the ground and he was almost unable to restrain himself.
A military opportunity can disappear in the instant it takes lightning to strike!
The two scouts returned at a gallop and made their report: "Oyamada Nobushige's observations and our own reconnaissance are in complete agreement. This is an opportunity sent by heaven."
Shingen's voice boomed out. The white mane of his helmet shook back and forth as he gave out commands to the generals on his right and left. The conch rang out. When the twenty thousand men heard its sound, as it reverberated from the vanguard to the rear of the army, the marching line broke up with a pounding of the earth. And just as it appeared to be breaking up completely, it re-formed into a fish-scale formation and marched toward the Tokugawa army to the beating of drums.
Ieyasu was overawed when he saw the speed with which Shingen's army was moving and how it responded to his every command. He said, "If I ever reach Shingen's age, just once I'd like to be able to move a large army as skillfully as he does. Having seen his style of command, I wouldn't want him killed, even if someone offered to poison him right now."
Shingen's ability to command impressed even the generals of the enemy to that extent. Battles were his art. His brave generals and intrepid warriors decorated their horses, armor, and banners to achieve a more glorious passage to the next world. It was almost a though tens of thousands of hawks had been released at once from Shingen's fist.
In a single breath, they dashed close enough to see the enemies' faces. The Tokugawa turned like a huge wheel, holding their stork-wing formation, and faced the enemy like ahuman dam.
The dust raised by the two armies darkened the sky. Only the spears shining in the setting sun glittered in the darkness. The spear corps of Kai and that of Mikawa had advanced to the front and now stood facing each other. When either side raised a war cry the other side answered—almost as an echo. When the clouds of dust began to settle, the two sides could clearly see each other, but the distance that separated them was still considerable. No one would take a step out from the twin lines of spears.
At a time like this, even the bravest warriors shook with fear. One could say they were “scared," but this was completely different from ordinary fear. It was not that their wills were shaken; when they trembled, it was because they were making the change from everyday life to the life of battle. This took only seconds, but in that instant a man's skin turned to gooseflesh as purple as a rooster's comb.
For a province at war, the life of a soldier was no different from that of the farmer carrying the hoe or the weaver at his loom. Each was equally valuable, and if the province should fall, all would perish with it. Those who nevertheless ignored the rise and fall of their province and led lives of sloth were just like the dirt that clings to the human body—of less value than a single eyelash.
All of that aside, it was said that the instant of meeting the enemy face to face was terrifying. Heaven and earth were dark even at noon; You could not see what was right before your eyes, you could not go forward or retreat, and you were only jostled and shoved around on a line of readied spearheads.
And the man who was brave enough to step out from this line before all the others was granted the title of the First Spear. The man who became the First Spear won glory in front of the thousands of warriors of both armies. That first step, however, was not so eaily taken.
Then one man stepped forward.
"Kato Kuroji of the Tokugawa clan is the First Spear!" a samurai shouted out. Kato's armor was plain and his name unknown; he was most likely a common samurai of the Tougawa clan.
A second man dashed from the Tokugawa ranks. "Kuroji's younger brother, Genjiro, is the Second Spear!"
The older brother was swallowed by the enemy and disappeared into the confusion. "I'm the Second Spear! I'm Kato Kuroji's younger brother! Take a good look, you Takeda insects!" Genjiro brandished his spear at the mass of warriors four or five times. A Kai soldier, turning to meet him, yelled an insult and leaped forward to strike, Genjiro fell backward, but grabbed the spear that had slipped across the breastplate of his armor and jumped to his feet with a curse.
By that time his comrades had pushed their way through, but the Takeda had also turned and now came charging toward them. The scene was like billowing waves of blood, spears, and armor crashing into one other. Trampled by his own comrades and the horses' hooves, Genjiro screamed for his brother. Crawling on his hands and knees, however, he grabbed a Kai soldier by the foot and brought him down. He immediately cut off man's head and threw it away. After that, no one saw him again. The battle erupted in total confusion. But the clash between the right wing of the Tokugawa and the left wing of the Takeda had not reached this pitch of violence. The lines were spread out over a wide area. The droning of the drums and the sound of the conch shells rang within the dust clouds. Somehow, Shingen's retainers seemed to be situated to the rear. Neither army had the time to send their gunners to the front, so the Takeda sent the Mizumata—lightly armored samurai armed with stone slings—to the front line. The stones they shot fell like rain. Facing them were the forces of Sakai Tadatsugu, and behind them the reinforcements from the Oda clan. Tadatsugu was on horseback, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
The stones raining down on them from the front line of the Kai army were hitting his horse and making it go wild. And not only his horse. The horses of the mounted men who were waiting for their chance behind the spearmen reared and became so panicked they broke formation. The spearmen waited for orders from Tadatsugu, who had been holding them back with hoarse cries: "Not yet! Wait until I give the word!"
The slingers on the front line of the enemy had played the part of army sappers opening up an avenue of attack for the main force. Therefore, although the Mizumata corps was not particularly fearsome, the hand-picked troops behind them were waiting for their chance. Here were the banners of the Yamagata, Naito, and Oyamada corps, famed for their valor even within the Kai army.
It looks as though they're trying to provoke us by sending in the Mizumata, Tadatsugu thought. He could see through the enemy's strategy, but the left wing of the Tokugawa troops was already engaged in hand-to-hand combat, so the second line of the Oda was on its own. Furthermore, he couldn't be sure how Ieyasu was viewing this from his position in the center.
"Charge!" Tadatsugu yelled, opening his mouth almost wide enough to snap the cords of his helmet. He knew full well that he was falling into the enemy's trap, but he had been unable to gain the advantage since the beginning of the battle. The defeat of the Tokugawa and their allies began here.
The shower of rocks suddenly stopped. At the same moment the seven or eight hundred Mizumata broke off to the right and left and abruptly fell back.
"We're done for!" Tadatsugu yelled.
By the time he had seen the second line of the enemy, it was already too late. Lying concealed between the slingers and the cavalry was yet another line of men: the gunners. Each man was lying on his stomach in the tall grass, his gun at the ready.
There was a staccato clatter of musket fire as all the guns went off in a single volley, and a cloud of smoke rose from the grass. Because the angle of fire was low, many of the charging men of the Sakai corps were hit in the legs. The startled horses reared and were hit in the belly. Officers leaped from the saddle before their horses fell, and ran with their men, stepping over the corpses of their comrades.
"Fall back!" the commander of the Takeda gunners ordered.
The gunners immediately withdrew. To stay where they were would have meant being overrun by the charging Oda spearmen. With the muzzles of their horses in line, the Yamagata corps, the flower of Kai, galloped out with composure and dignity, followed immediately by the Obata corps. In minutes they had annihilated Sakai Tadatsugu's line.
Victory cries were raised proudly from the Kai army, when just as suddenly the Oyamada corps took a roundabout route and advanced on the flank of the Oda forces—second line of the Tokugawa defense—their horses raising the dust as they came. In the twinkling of an eye the Tokugawa were surrounded by the huge Kai army, as though by an iron wheel.
Ieyasu stood on a knoll and looked over at the lines of his men. We've lost, he said to himself. It was inevitable.
Gazing fixedly ahead, Torii Tadahiro, the ranking general of the Tokugawa under Ieyasu, had warned his lord not to advance, but rather to send out incendiary raids where the enemy would be bivouacking that night. But Shingen, ever the crafty enemy, had purposefully thrown out the bait with the small rear guard, and encouraged Ieyasu's attack.
"We can't just sit here. You must retreat to Hamamatsu," Tadahiro urged. "The faster you withdraw, the better."
Ieyasu said nothing.
"My lord! My lord!" Tadahiro pleaded.
Ieyasu was not looking at Tadahiro's face. As the sun set the white evening mist and the darkness were gradually becoming deeply divided at the edge of Mikatagahara. Riding the wintry wind, the banners of the messengers repeatedly brought in the sad news:
"Sakuma Nobumori of the Oda clan was crushed. Takigawa Kazumasu fell back in disorder, and Hirate Nagamasa was killed. Only Sakai Tadatsugu stands fast in hard fighting."
"Takeda Katsuyori combined his strength with the Yamagata corps and surrounded our left wing. Ishikawa Kazumasa was wounded, and Nakane Masateru and Aoki Hirotsugu are both dead."
"Matsudaira Yasuzumi galloped into the midst of the enemy and was cut down."
"The forces of Honda Tadamasa and Naruse Masayoshi aimed for Shingen's retainers and cut deeply into the enemy, but they were completely surrounded by several thousand men, and not one returned alive."
Suddenly, Tadahiro grabbed Ieyasu's arm and, with the help of other generals, pushed him up onto his horse.
"Get out of here!" he yelled at the horse, slapping it on the rump.
When Ieyasu was in the saddle and his horse was galloping away, Tadahiro and the other retainers mounted and went after him.
Snow began to fall. Perhaps it had been waiting for the sun to set. As the wind blew the snow thick and fast, it swept around the banners, men, and horses of the defeated army, making their way even less sure.
The men shouted out in confusion, "His Lordship… where is His Lordship?"
"Which way to headquarters?"
"Where is my regiment?"
The Kai gunners took aim at the fleeing men lost by the roadside, and fired volleys at them from the midst of the swirling snow.