THE ARMY IN INDIA: (c) THE ARMY OF THE QUEEN-EMPRESS—1858–96
After the great Mutiny, the disturbed districts soon settled down to their normal calm. Discontent, if still existing, was concealed with Asiatic astuteness. The justice of our rule was evident, even if antagonistic to natural prejudices and antipathies. The extension of railways rendered rapid concentration of troops more possible, and the great increase in the permanent establishment of European troops soon impressed the native mind with the futility, for the time at least, of any further effort to upset the British rule.
The danger to which India was to be exposed for the future was more external than internal, more political than domestic. The natural extension of the Empire had brought it into intimate connection with semi-savage peoples on the one hand, and, what was of more serious importance, had, through the rapid absorption by Russia of the Central Asian khanates, brought the frontiers of two mighty Empires within striking distance. Hence the military history of India since the Mutiny is composed of small punitive expeditions against the mountain tribes of the Himmaleyehs and Hindu Koosh, or political campaigns such as that in Afghanistan.
Many of the former are too unimportant to mention, and reference will therefore be confined to those for which medals or clasps have been given, or whose names are borne upon the colours. But all spring from the same source. It is the contest, as old as the hills themselves, between the people of the mountains and those of the plain. To the former, rapine319 and plunder is a profitable pastime, and war an agreeable change. Like the Scottish Highlander of the time of “Roderick Dhu,” who looked on the Saxon or Lowlander as justifiable prey, and to whom to “spoil the Egyptians” was not merely right, but laudable, so all hill-tribe peoples feel with regard to the Lowlanders. Their own land provides little even of bare necessaries, still less of common luxuries. In many cases their condition necessitates, in their eyes, raids for slaves or wives; in all they know they will long enjoy comparative immunity from unpleasant consequences, provided their hostile acts are not too pronounced. They are aware, as are the military police and the government of the more peaceful districts, that to punish minor acts of theft is a costly, though rarely a dangerous, proceeding. Emboldened by immunity, and forgetful of past punishment, they grow bolder and bolder, until at length the patience of the other side is exhausted, and a second or a third punitive expedition is despatched. Even when, after such a one, superficial peace is established, the presence of foreign Residents, to see that that peace is kept, is often a constant source of danger. Some patriot more zealous or hyper-sensitive to the presence of the foreigner—all the more if he be a “Feringhi”—than the rest resents this apparent vassalage, and carries his resentment to its natural end with people whose fighting instincts are still strong. The early history of all dominant military nations or clans is the same. When they are fully subdued, they become as valuable servants and coadjutors in the principle of keeping order and the peace, as they were before hostile to both.
Where are there better soldiers than the Highland Scotch? and yet for generations they were deadly hostile to those with whom they now work with absolute cordiality. So with the Sikh and Beloochee. They furnish some of the best and most reliable of the native regiments.
Hence it is that frontier wars in India are, and will be, matters of common occurrence, until the peoples see the error of their ways, and learn that resistance and robbery, for it is little else, do not pay.
320 There is yet another reason why these wars must long continue to be inevitable. Semi-civilised man with arms in his hand (and all such tribes rejoice in having arms) are not content with looking at them. They desire to use them, and therefore do. Doubtless often enough it is a case of cherchez la femme, and it would be strange indeed if in some cases the male had not been egged on by ambition, or the desire for something which a raid would give her, by his feminine belongings. Barbaric woman thinks little of a peace-loving man. She likes the man none the less, but all the more, because he is strong in battle, and fearless when danger comes.
Frontier wars, however, are at anyrate a valuable training-school for our army, and give, in piping times of general peace, the only practical experience of how often death, and at all times difficulties, may be met and overcome. The first of these after the Mutiny was that of Sikkim, a district north of Darjeeling. There had often been friction before, and the turbulence of some of the tribes led to the “temporary occupation” of a portion of the Rajah of Sikkim’s territory. The natural consequences followed. The detachment was after a while driven out. Of course, too, there was the necessity to punish the “unjustifiable action,” and there was also the political effect such a minor reverse might have on the neighbouring populations.
As “Ramrod Joe” wrote long since—
“Wotever ye does hout ’ere, stick hup for your pride o’ race. Keep your prestige. Wot’s that? Why, keep them blacks in place.”
In 1860, therefore, an expedition was prepared under Colonel J. C. Gawler; and, in all these cases, the physical difficulties were more serious than the military. Only the 6th European Regiment, with the 3rd Sikhs, the 73rd Native Infantry, etc., with some 12-pounder howitzers, took part in these operations.
The country was difficult, consisting of rude mountain tracks, with dense and impenetrable jungle between. One peculiarity of this jungle was its being infested with leeches,321 which “penetrate loosely-woven cloths, and deprive the wearer of a good deal of blood before he finds them out. They get far up the noses of horses, goats, etc., and cannot be removed without subjecting the poor animal to a couple of days without water, which being afterwards offered to him, the leeches also want to drink, and may be seized. If allowed to remain, the animal becomes a mere skeleton.” The order of march, too, was peculiar in such a terrain. Flanking patrols were impossible, and the column was therefore protected by small bodies halted in succession, which in due course joined the rear of the column as fresh bodies in advance took their place.
The defence was not serious: there was some desultory jungle fighting, with little loss on either side; there were stockades and stone breastworks constructed, but not seriously held or for long; there were huge masses of stone, “booby traps,” so arranged on a bamboo platform that a few cuts with a knife would release them to roll down the mountain side, but no loss was effected by them. Finally, the country was pacified and war ceased; but a second expedition, in which the Derbyshire Regiment took part, was necessary in 1888, where the same difficulties were encountered and surmounted, and a small engagement took place at Gnatong.
The small Umbeylah, or Ambela, campaign, as it spelt in the official history, was somewhat more serious. There had been fanatical outbreaks by Hindustanis in the district beyond the territory of the Buner Khels, lying opposite the Hazara district of the Indus valley, and bordering on the area ruled by the Akhund of Swat. This personage was a spiritual as well as a temporal ruler, and combined theological distinction with political power.
The force was organised in two columns. That in the Hazara district had the 51st and 93rd Regiments, with the native troops, and was intended to watch the frontier at first defensively. The other had at first the 71st Highland Light Infantry and the 101st Royal Bengal Fusiliers to stiffen the Indian regiments, and to these were added later the 79th and 7th Royal Fusiliers, with the 7th Hussars.
322 The operations lasted from October to December, and are noteworthy for the heavy loss in officers and the tenacity with which the enemy, taking the offensive, conducted the fighting. To begin with, it was a continuous affair of outposts, for, penetrating into the mountains, the Buner people refused to let the column pass, and the small army, under Sir Neville Chamberlain, halted and posted outposts on commanding points known then as Eagle’s Nest, the Craig, the Water piquet, etc. The fighting round these was most severe. Taken and retaken frequently, always with loss, it was impossible to advance until a secure line of communication had been made, and reinforcements pushed to the front. The Punjabis fought gallantly, and Lieutenants Pilcher and Fosbery won the V.C.; but the instances of individual gallantry were most numerous. So desperate was the continued struggle for the Craig piquet that it got the name among the men of Kutlgar, the place of slaughter. But eventually the invading force was increased to 9000 men, and then, with a vigorous offensive, the tribal gathering was dispersed. The medal issued to the Usafzai Field Force was well earned; 36 British and 31 native officers, and 152 British and 689 native soldiers had been killed and wounded.
Private 14th Regt 1864.
In such frontier wars, one frequently leads to another. The Bhoteas had passively, if not actively, sympathised with their neighbours in the Sikkim campaign, and soon in their turn became troublesome. In 1864, therefore, an expedition formed in four columns, for which detachments of the 48th, 80th, and the artillery, together with a large force of native regiments, were detailed, invaded Bhotan, which is situated on the north-east frontier, and whose people are more nearly allied to the Thibetans than to the Hindus. There was but slight opposition to the left column at Dhalimcote. The fort was bombarded and stormed, but the enemy, armed with stones, matchlocks, and bows and arrows, did not await the assault. The fort of Dhumsong and most of the stockaded positions built to check the advance were abandoned without firing a shot, and a brief stand was323 made at Chamoorchee, after which the Deb Rajah wrote a somewhat remarkable letter to the following effect:—
“If you wish for peace, do not disturb our peasantry; it will be best for you to go back to your own country without doing any harm to ours. But if you will take possession of my country, which is small, without fighting, and attach it to your own kingdom, which is large, I shall send the divine force of twelve gods, as per margin, who are very ferocious ghosts. Of this force 7000 stop at Chamoorchee, 5000 at Durma, 9000 at Buxa, and 102,000 at Dhalim Dooar. You have done great injury to our country, and should not repeat it.”
The other column on the left of the general line of advance, under Colonel Watson, none the less took Buxa without the “ghosts” raising any objection; while one of the right columns reached Dewangiri and the Darungah Pass after a brief skirmish, and the other marched on Bishensing without meeting the enemy. The formal annexation of the country was ordered, and a chain of military posts fixed for the garrison of the country until its government had become settled. But the Bhotanese made a second bid for freedom in 1866, and there was some brisk fighting at Dewangiri, which was for a time practically invested, as the Darungah Pass was held by the enemy. Water was running short, and, seeing little hope of reinforcement, Colonel Campbell decided on retreating by the Libia Pass, and was compelled to abandon his guns on the march.
Attacks were made afterwards on all the hill posts from Dewangiri to Chamoorchee, at Bishensing, Buxa, and Tazagong, and it was evident that the force there was insufficient to quell the now extensive rising. More artillery, the 55th and 80th Regiments, and three native battalions, under General Tombs, C.B., V.C., were hurried up. This was to act on the right, the other troops under Fraser on the left wing, for the reconquest of the country; and when Balla, Buxa, and Chamoorchee were taken with but little fighting by Fraser, as well as the stockades in the Balader Pass, the Darungah Pass, and Dewangiri (where the enemy made an324 ineffective stand), the war practically ceased; though after these active hostilities it was found necessary to despatch a strong force to check a tendency to further disturbance, though there was no more fighting.
Nothing of any note occurred until 1872, when the introduction of tea-planting into Assam led to a considerable immigration of Europeans, and offered greater temptations to the Lushai hill tribes to make incursions into the richer districts at the foot of the mountains. As far back as 1840 these people had been troublesome, and a punitive expedition had been despatched in 1850; but numerous outrages and forays had occurred in 1862 and 1869, and the Indian Government at length decided on the suppression of the annoyance.
The country was to be invaded in two columns: the left, from Cachar, under Colonel Bouchier, was composed of native troops and Royal Artillery, and, though opposed, the loss was trifling. The march towards Lalboora was made by Mynadhur (the last tea plantation in Assam), Khotel, and Kalhi, where the enemy assembled in such numbers that it was deemed advisable to fall back to the post at the Tuibuin river, and, after some fruitless negotiations, hostilities were continued in a haphazard fashion at Pachin Poiboi and Chelam, but the small force was so much weakened by the numerous detachments that had to be left to hold the more important points seized, that on more than one occasion the main column ran serious risk of being overpowered by numbers. Fortunately the arms of the adversary were of no great value, being very old flintlock Tower-pattern smooth-bores, bows and iron-tipped arrows, spears, and a species of Burmese dah. The bullets were not cast, but beaten into shape. It is to this fact that the extremely small loss, even when the jungle fighting was at close quarters, must be attributed. Meanwhile the right column, starting from Chittagong, had been similarly employed, and finally the whole force assembled in the final stronghold of Lungvel, and, first hoisting the British flag there, burned the village and returned to India. The terms of peace were325 the payment of a small fine, and the admission of Government agents in their villages, whose chief mission was to prevent disturbances, and report if such were likely to occur.
In 1875 and 1877 troubles sprung up nearer the Afghan frontier with the Jowakis, a branch of the Afreedis, who had persistently raided the Peshawur Valley, and finally attached a British outpost. To burn villages and slay defenceless villagers was one thing, to lay violent hands on a wearer of the Queen’s uniform was far more serious. So the second battalion of the 9th Regiment accompanied a small expedition which effected its object with but little loss on either side, and indeed no resistance worthy the name was offered. But of all these frontier campaigns, that against the Afghans, 1878 to 1880, was far more serious and prolonged. It was not a war with a small tribe only, but with a nation, though even then that nation was built up of many semi-independent and wholly barbaric bodies, serving under their own chiefs. In the casus belli, history repeated itself exactly. Fear of Russian influence at Cabul, and the refusal of the Ameer Shere Ali to dismiss a Russian envoy, led to the declaration of war, this to the occupation of Cabul, that to the placing of a British Resident at the capital and his consequent murder, and then another “Army of Vengeance.” The sequence of events was much as in 1844.
Space fails to tell fully the story of this remarkable contest. Remarkable not merely for the bravery of the enemy, his extraordinary power of recuperation after a beating, which had something very British about it, his strong political patriotism for his mountain home, his passion for freedom from all alien domination, especially of the hated “Feringhi”; but also for the enormous difficulties presented by the frowning defiles of the mountain barrier which separates the basin of the Indus from the wide, secluded valley which runs from Cabul to Candahar. The British seem to have been peculiarly obnoxious to the people, for other reasons than that of faith. The Ameer, when he proclaimed a Jehad or holy war against us, struck, probably, the326 keynote as far as his people were concerned, when he said, “A foreign nation, without cause or the slightest provocation, has made up its mind to invade our country and conquer it.”
The first advance was made direct on Cabul by the Khyber Pass. The small fortress of Ali Musjid was attacked on the 21st November 1878, by the 51st and 81st European, and the 6th and 45th Native Regiments, and abandoned by the enemy after some sharp fighting; but many of the fugitives were stopped by the first battalion of the 17th in their retreat and taken prisoners. By the end of the year the head of this column was about Jellalabad. Coupled with this was the penetration of the Kurram Valley by the second column under General Roberts, which was composed of the 10th Hussars and 12th Bengal Cavalry, four batteries of artillery, the second battalion of the 8th, the Duke of Albany’s Highlanders, and many native regiments, to which were added, later, another battery of artillery, a squadron of the 9th Lancers, the 67th and 92nd, and more native cavalry and infantry battalions, raising the force by November 1878 to about 14,000 men. Advancing up the Kurram Valley to Fort Azim, which was garrisoned, the Afghan position on the Peiwar Kotal was attacked frontally by General Cobbe with a wing of the Gordons and other troops, and turned by the Spin Gawi Kotal with the 8th, the other wing of the Highlanders, and the 29th Native Infantry, with the 5th Ghoorkas. Finally, troops pushed on to Ali Kehl, which was garrisoned. Both these passes were held during the winter, and the troops, especially detachments, were frequently harassed by the semi-independent action of the hill tribes, rendering necessary punitive expeditions, such as those in the Khost Valley against the Mangals and Wazaris by Roberts’ force; and those against the Lughman tribes, north of Jellalabad, during which occurred the disaster to a squadron of the 10th Hussars, which, missing its way in crossing a ford on the Cabul river, lost forty-five men and one officer by drowning. Expeditions also on this side against the Khugranis led327 to fighting at Futtehabad and at Dehowink with the Afreedis. At the same period Sir Donald Stewart had occupied Candahar with but little opposition, and had also seized Khelat-i-Ghilzi and Girishk. There was much outrage, also in the Pishin and other valleys, both by the turbulent hill tribes and the dispersed or disbanded soldiery of the Amir.
By May 1879 Yakoub Khan, who had succeeded to the throne on the death of his father, Shere Ali, had recognised the futility of further resistance. The Peace of Gandamak was signed, by which the control of the foreign affairs of Afghanistan was to be vested in the Indian Government, the Kurram, Pishin, and Sibi Passes were to be attached to the Indian Empire, the Khyber Pass was also to be under our control, and a British Resident was to be installed at Cabul. Sir Louis Cavagnari accordingly proceeded there with a small escort on the 17th June 1879.
The calm that followed on the conclusion of the first period of the war was rudely broken. Sir Louis Cavagnari’s sanguine belief in a friendly Afghanistan was ill founded. But unlike the close of the first period of the previous war in 1843 to 1844, the massacre of the Resident and his people, which caused the second “army of vengeance,” took place while they were in apparently peaceful occupation of the Residency, and in Cabul, and not when in full retreat on India. There was even less warning of disaster in 1878 than in 1844.
When the news came there were troops in the Khyber, and Kurram Vallies, and at Candahar. In the Kurram Valley rapidly assembled the brigades of Macpherson and Baker, in which served the 72nd, the 67th, and the 92nd European Regiments, with many gallant Sikh and Ghoorka battalions, well provided with artillery and a cavalry brigade, in which were the 9th Lancers. Pushing on at once beyond the Peiwar Kotal, the Shaturgardan Pass was occupied before the enemy could get there, and garrisoned; and then the army, pushing on by Ali Kehl, in the Logar Valley, first met and defeated the insurgent Afghans at Charasia, where twenty guns were taken with but little loss.328 Yet another skirmish, and the army reached Cabul. The 67th was the first to enter, playing the quickstep that had been played long years before by the unhappy 44th, and the army then took up cantonments in the fortified district of Sherpur without the city walls.
Here for many a week they were practically shut in. The Shaturgardan garrison was isolated until relieved by Gough, and then that line of communication was abandoned and a fresh one opened by Gandamak and the Khyber. Throughout the whole of December there was almost continual fighting. General Roberts, slender as his force was, fully recognised the overwhelming advantage of the offensive in such a war and with such a people. Wherever armed bands gathered, there a force was sent. Often enough it barely carried out its purpose, and only then with heavy loss, because of the overwhelming numbers and determined bravery of the enemy. On one occasion the 9th Lancers suffered heavily, and three guns were temporarily abandoned; and at length the tribal gathering was too large to face, and, seizing Cabul, the Afghans shut up the small British army within its defences at Sherpur. But it was not for long. An attack on the 23rd December was beaten sternly back, and again the hostile host melted away and left Cabul alone. A few days after, Gough, with reinforcements, including the 9th Regiment, arrived by way of the Khyber.
Meanwhile, Sir Donald Stewart had moved up from Candahar, as Nott did in 1844. Meeting the enemy at Ahmed Kehl with his small force, which included the 59th and some of the 60th, he was victorious, though heavily outnumbered, and at one time, because of the desperate gallantry of the Ghazi charge, in a position of some peril; while, after entering Ghazni, he had a second “affair” at Urzoo, and then joined hands with General Ross’s force of Sikhs, Ghoorkas, and the 9th Foot, which had had another fight at Charasia before communication with the relieving column was effected.
Sir Donald Stewart now assumed supreme command at Cabul. Abdul Rahman was recognised as Amir by329 the Indian Government; and preparations were made, on the establishment of his authority, to abandon the Afghan capital and withdraw the army to India.
Meanwhile, General Primrose, with the 66th and 7th Fusiliers and some native troops, had been left in Candahar. The total garrison numbered less than 3000 men. But, hearing of the advance of another of the Afghan pretenders, Ayub Khan, from Herat, a considerable portion of the garrison, including the 66th, was pushed out to the north, as far as the Helmund, to check his advance. In this General Burrowes, who commanded, was unsuccessful. The battle of Maiwand was a terrible disaster, brought on chiefly, if not entirely, by taking up a fatally bad position to resist a powerful force furnished with a well-served artillery.
Here the 66th lost their colours, notwithstanding the desperate bravery of the remnant that rallied round them. Olivey and Honeywood carried the colours on that dreadful day, and the latter was heard to cry, as he held the standard on high, “Men, what shall we do to save this?” when he fell dead, as did Sergeant-major Cuphage, who next tried to take it. Colours—the signa militaria still, though not of such importance as a rallying centre in these days of extended order and fire fight, as in the days of line formation and the Brown Bess—lost as these were lost reflect honour, and not discredit, on the history of a regiment.
Remarking on the use of colours in the past during battle, Sir Charles Napier writes: “Great is the value of the standard; it is a telegraph in the centre of the battle to speak the changes of the day to the wings. Its importance has therefore been immense in all ages, among all nations, and in all kinds of war. ‘Defend the colours! form upon the colours!’ is the first cry and the first thought of a soldier, when any mischance of battle has produced disorder; then do cries, shouts, firing, blows, and all the combat thicken round the standard; it contains the symbol of the honour of the band, and the brave press round its bearer.” So it has ever been since330 the standard-bearer of the Tenth Legion threw the honoured insignia of his regiment among the British-Celtic, or Belgic, militia on the Dover coast, when Christianity had not yet dawned. The breech-loader has caused the colours to be omitted in the battle-order paraphernalia of modern war, and, as gunpowder had, in the past, destroyed some of the glory and panoply of the medi?val host, so it has lessened some of the picturesqueness of the line of battle of to-day.
Worn-out colours have one of three endings. First, and naturally, in the church of the district whose name the regiment bears, because the consecrated banners find fitting resting-place in consecrated buildings. Next, with the colonels of the regiments, who may be well expected to revere the standards of the battalions which have honoured them by such a gift. And lastly, as the old 50th did when it was made a royal regiment, and when, in place of the black standard, it received one of royal blue; then the silk of the old colours was burned with careful reverence, and the ashes placed in the lid of the regimental snuff-box, made out of the wood of the staff, on which is also engraven the names of those who had borne the colours in the storm of battle.
The sentiment that dwells around the regimental colours has been very well expressed by the late Sir Edward Hamley. Speaking of the colours of the 43rd, now resting and rusting peacefully in Monmouth church, he says—
331 “A moth-eaten rag on a worm-eaten pole, It does not look likely to stir a man’s soul. ’Tis the deeds that were done ’neath the moth-eaten rag, When the pole was a staff, and the rag was a flag.
For on many a morn in our grandfathers’ days, When the bright sun of Portugal broke through the haze, Disclosing the armies arrayed in their might, It showed the old flag in the front of the fight.
By rivers, o’er bridges, past vineyards and downs, Up the valleys where stood, all deserted, the towns, It followed the French, and when they turned to bay, It just paused for the fight, then again led the way.
And whenever it chanced that a battle was nigh, They saw it then hung like a sign in the sky: And they soon learned to know it—its crimson and white— O’er the lines of red coats and of bayonets bright.
* * * * *
In the church, where it hangs when the moon gilds the graves And the aisles and the arches, it swells and it waves; While, below, a faint sound as of combat is heard From the ghostly array of the old Forty-Third.”
The feeling here expressed must have been strong with those who tried to save the colours at Maiwand. More than 1300 men had fallen there when the relics of the little army returned to Candahar, which was then invested, and all communication with India cut off by the destruction of the telegraph.
The nearest force for its relief was that of General Phayre in the Quettah Pass, where the difficulties of transport and supply were extreme. The other available army was that under Stewart and Roberts at Cabul. It was from them assistance was to come; but, while awaiting relief, a most useless and injudicious sortie was made, which had no result save the loss of valuable lives and a slight break in the monotony of the siege of Candahar.
The country in this part of Afghanistan was fully roused, though the northern portion, now held by the Amir, was quiet. The hatred to the British seemed to increase day by day. The deportation of prominent Afghan chiefs to India added fuel to the flame. The horror of such exile, in the Afghan mind, is extreme; the suffering infinitely greater than any death.
The fact that the tide of unvarying success which usually characterises the action of our arms in the East had been so far checked, had acted curiously on even the Indian mind. Hitherto there had been no reluctance to serve beyond the borders of the Indian Empire, and no difficulty in obtaining recruits. Now there was; and to such an extent that bounties of ￡5 had to be offered, a sum equivalent with a native to what ￡56 would be with an English soldier, in order to fill up332 the depleted ranks. Even the often despised Madrasee was willingly taken.
Ayub’s army therefore gathered strength as it advanced, especially after the Maiwand disaster, and with the prospect of the rich plunder of Candahar. He certainly numbered at one time some 10,000 men, but the numbers varied, and these irregulars, like the Highlanders in the Jacobite wars, often returned home to deposit plunder, see to their crops, or visit their families.
The Amir who then ruled Afghanistan was by no means averse to the crushing of this somewhat formidable personage. His seat on the golden throne was not yet so firmly secure that he could view with equanimity the rise of a powerful and possibly victorious chieftain, who might be his rival in the allegiance of the people. He assisted the British expedition in every way, arranging, as far as he had power, for supplies to be procured.
To General Roberts was entrusted the command of the relieving column. It numbered about 10,000 men, with 8000 camp followers, and with it marched the 92nd, 72nd, and 60th line Regiments, and the 9th Lancers; but the only artillery were three batteries of 7-pounder screw mountain guns.
The remainder of the army, including the 9th, 59th, and 67th Regiments, under Stewart himself, marched back to India by the Khyber Pass, unmolested by even a single Ghazi bullet, and Lundi Kotal became an advanced post on this road, as Quettah was on that to Candahar.
Though Stewart’s march from Candahar to Cabul was an anxious one, and seriously resisted throughout, the return journey was uneventful and unopposed. Joining hands with Primrose, the combined troops, leaving a weak garrison in the city, marched out to attack Ayub, who had taken up a position north of the fortress near the Pir Paimal ridge. Here, while the 7th and 66th, with some native detachments, freed the central attack, the right wing movement was effected. Macpherson’s Brigade, in which served the 92nd, and Baker’s Brigade, forming the left wing, and having the333 72nd Regiment and the 2nd Sikhs in first line, the 5th Ghoorkas and 3rd Sikhs in second line, and the 2nd Beloochees in third line, was thrust forward on this side against the enemy’s right. The cavalry had to make a wide detour on the left to cross the Argandab river. The victory was complete, 31 guns and 2 Royal Horse Artillery 9-pounders were taken, one of which was claimed by a plucky little Ghoorka, who, rushing on the gun, thrust his cap in the muzzle, shouting in Hindustani, “This gun belongs to my regiment, 2nd Ghoorkas, Prince of Wales’s!” The loss was only 46 killed and 202 wounded.
With the battle of “Baba Wali,” or “Candahar,” all opposition ceased, and the British troops returned to India. Quettah and Lundi Kotal in the two main passes were garrisoned, and the former has, since the war, been strongly fortified, while a railway has been constructed to unite this advanced post with the Indian railway system.
Medals, with clasps, were given for Ali-Musjid, Peiwar Kotal, Cabul 1879, Charasiah, Candahar 1880, Afghanistan 1878 to 1880, and Ahmed Kehl; while all those who took part in the 318-mile march from Cabul received a bronze star supported by a rainbow-hued ribbon, as did those who participated in the first Afghan war thirty years before.
Since the annexation of the Punjab, and between 1849 and 1881, no less than forty-four expeditions have been undertaken against the hill people, and since then there have been other minor disturbances in Sikkim, Waziristan, on the Black Mountain, Manipur, and elsewhere. Finally, the British army, native and European, has brought to a successful conclusion the expedition for the relief of Chitral, which has shown, by the rapidity and secrecy of its mobilisation, and the skilful conduct of this last “little war,” the preparedness of the army in India for the work it may have eventually to perform, on a larger scale even than that of the last Afghan campaign.
Notwithstanding the difficulty of mobilising an Indian334 army widely dispersed, and with often indifferent means of intercommunication, the first division received the order on the 19th March, and was fully mobilised by the 1st April. The men carried but ten pounds weight of kit, and the officers forty, and there were no tents; yet, notwithstanding, 28,000 pack animals were required for this limited transport. The relief of Chitral, in the fort of which a small British force, with the British agent, Surgeon-Major Robertson, was besieged by a native rising composed of Pathans from Jandul, a state bordering on Chitral, under Umra Khan, and Chitralis under Sher Afzul. It was proposed to effect the invasion of this mountain district from two sides. From the south was to advance the first division, in which were the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, the Gordon Highlanders, the Bedfordshire Regiment, and a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifles, and their route lay by Sivat and Dir, with four hill ranges and three considerable streams to be crossed. From the north-east by Gilgit and Mastuj a second and smaller column under Colonel Kelly was to march, having to cross in deep snow a pass 12,000 feet high. Both expeditions succeeded. Colonel Kelly’s force overcame every difficulty with the greatest determination, and the rapid and decisive defeat of the enemy in the Panjkora and Jandul valleys by the main army soon brought about the complete submission of the revolted tribes. The defence of the fort of Chitral may be classed among the gallant deeds English soldiers are proud to recognise, though there were no European troops other than officers to conduct the operations. There are some curious stories as to the indifference with which wounds are regarded by Asiatics. After one of the skirmishes, one of the enemy with six bullets through him walked nine miles to the British camp to be treated, and fully recovered; while in another case a lad looking on at the fight was wounded by a bullet in the arm, which “passed through it in several places, splintering it badly.” The doctors gave him the choice between death and amputation, but he declined the latter, and “in a few days, instead of being dead, he was better, and in a few days was out and about335 again.”66 Against foes with such nerve strength or indifference to pain, small-bore rifles will be of little value to check a fanatic rush. The leaders of the little garrison of Chitral richly earned the rewards bestowed on them; and Surgeon-Captain Whitchurch won the Victoria Cross.