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| A Korean general of the past, circa 1900s / Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
Throughout May, Curtis instructed his naval cadets and was very pleased with their progress.
Some days he taught them marksmanship and the use of a cutlass, other days they were taught navigation using a compass and, almost every day, they were taught drill and ceremony. All of this was done in English.
Curtis boasted in one of his letters that his cadets would compare favorably to those trained in other Asian countries and noted they were "becoming voluntarily respectful, clean and smart." But even though his men were becoming well trained and disciplined, he complained he still had to contend with the "odious, subservient serfdom [which] has to be rendered to the Lords Arrogant of Corea."
I am not so sure he was just talking about the Koreans. Lt. Callwell seems to have spent most of his time in Jemulpo with his wife, leaving Curtis to do most of the training and administration.
Among the most unappealing parts of military life are the constant dog and pony shows. The naval academy at Ganghwa in 1894 was no exception. Sometime in June or July, a marksmanship demonstration conducted by his cadets was held. It was quite an important event, despite being of a "very primitive character," and was attended by the island's highest military official.
Each squad of men was marched ― by the beating of a drum ― to their firing point and fired four shots (two from a standing position and the other two kneeling). The wooden targets ― roughly man-size ― were about 90 meters from the shooters. If a cadet hit the target (according to Curtis, this only happened twice while he was there), "the drummer would beat a long roll, at the end of which the man who struck the target would turn and face the official, kneel upon one leg, bow and call [out] his name."
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| The naval academy was just under the bridge. Robert Neff Collection |
After the squad had finished firing, they were marched in single file to where the presiding military official squatted smoking his long-stemmed pipe. The sailors all knelt before him ― "holding their muskets in all the angles possible" ― and would give their names, one by one, and "make a bow of the profoundest servility." The official would then instruct the squad's commander (probably one of Curtis' cadets) as to which man to strike "across the back or legs with a long cane" for failure to perform as expected. The squad was then marched away.
Curtis does not appear to have stayed very long ― his explanation being: "I remained until the whole business became intolerable." He doesn't specify what was intolerable ― the pomp and actions of the high military official or the sloppiness of the sailors' drill and ceremony and their poor marksmanship. If it is the latter, Curtis surely deserves some of the blame.
As for the Korean military officer, shortly after the demonstration, he received orders to take 300 Korean soldiers to help put down the growing rebellion in the southern part of the peninsula. In a letter, Curtis wrote: "We hope these will fare better than the last three hundred who returned without muskets, bayonets, in a filthy condition, hungry, and by piecemeal."
They didn't. China, at the invitation of the Korean government, sent more than 1,500 troops to help quell the rebellion. Japan responded by sending several thousand troops to Jemulpo and Seoul under the pretext of protecting its citizens' lives and property.
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| Monument stones for the old naval academy / Robert Neff Collection |
According to Callwell, the Chinese "allowed themselves to be completely outmaneuvered" and the Japanese were "virtually in possession of the capital." He added: "Whether this business will eventuate in a war between China and Japan remains to be shown. I think it is highly probable."
A little over a month later, on August 1, 1894, Japan officially declared war on China.
This caused a great deal of concern at the naval academy. Curtis reported that many of the cadets and sailors deserted, "which was a rather dangerous proceeding, as it placed them in imminent danger of losing their heads if caught." Others petitioned to be released from service so they could go home and be with their families ― surprisingly, their petitions were granted.
Out of the 300 sailors and cadets, only 140 were left at the end of August. The soldiers who remained soon rued their decision. Wages were cut. The 140 men were forced to split a mere $2 of cash among themselves. Fortunately, they still received their rice rations but that was soon threatened.
"[The] question of rice is becoming paramount, not only for the soldiers and sailors but for the Coreans in general. Many provinces are at this very moment in want, and are drawing from other quarters where it is becoming a question of sending anymore."
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| All that remains of the old naval academy / Robert Neff Collection |
Over the next couple of months more and more cadets and sailors left. So, too, did the instructors. The British consul-general accused the Japanese government of trying to force the Korean government to dismiss the British naval instructors. The Japanese minister denied the accusation and stated he was merely proposing to the Korean government that it abolish its attempts to create a modern navy.
Callwell and Curtis were both on two-year contracts and we know that Callwell stayed until its completion ― May 7, 1896, when the academy was officially closed when he and his wife left for England. Unfortunately, we do not know if Curtis completed his contract or left early.
Korea's dream of a modern navy did not end with their departure but that is a tale for another time.
