THE INDIANS IN THE TRENCHES.
Every boy and girl has heard of the wonderful valour and daring of the
Sikhs and Gurkhas. Many people in this country fully believed that they
would prove invincible on European battlefields. Too much was, perhaps,
expected of them: they found themselves waging an entirely new kind of
warfare in a cold, clammy land, which numbed their limbs and broke down
their stamina. It was all so strange and new--the awful roar of the
great howitzer shells, the fighting from holes in the ground, the
endless stream of shrapnel, the bitter cold, and the absence of those
fierce, furious charges in which they delight. At first their nerve was
shaken, but they quickly recovered, and it must be remembered that when
they broke they dashed forward just as frequently as they retired.
Nevertheless, their splendid courage was not in doubt for a moment, and
before long the enemy went in terror of them, as the following letter,
published in a German newspaper, plainly shows:--
"To-day for the first time we had to fight against the Indians,
and Heaven knows those brown rascals are not to be underrated.
At first we spoke with contempt of the Indians. To-day we
learned to look at them in a different light.... When for three
days it had rained shells and the British thought we were beaten
to a jelly, they had then in store for us a visit from their
brown allies. Heaven only knows what the English had put into
those fellows. Anyhow, those who stormed our lines seemed either
drunk or possessed with an evil spirit. With fearful shouting,
in comparison with which our hurrahs are like the whining of a
baby, thousands of those brown forms rushed upon us as suddenly
as if they were shot out of a fog, so that at first we were
completely taken by surprise. At a hundred metres (109 yards) we
opened a destructive fire which mowed down hundreds, but in
spite of that the others advanced, springing forward like cats
and surmounting obstacles with unexampled agility. In no time
they were in our trenches, and truly these brown enemies were
not to be despised. With butt-ends, bayonets, swords, and
daggers we fought each other; and we had bitter hard work,
which, however, was lightened by reinforcements which arrived
quickly, before we drove the fellows out of the trenches."
The Indians are famous for "ruses"--that is, for tricks of war. Here is
a striking instance of the resource and presence of mind of an Indian
soldier. He and a comrade were instructed to creep out of the trench
which they were defending, in order to spy out a German position some
two hundred yards distant. They crawled along in the dark, and when they
were half-way to the German trench a brilliant searchlight was suddenly
flashed on them. At once they were revealed. One of the men was
quick-witted enough to realize that only by a trick could he save his
life. He immediately rose to his feet and advanced, salaaming to the
Germans. They were so surprised that they ceased fire, and after some
dumb show let him enter the trench. Then began a conversation, which, as
you may imagine, was not very fruitful. The Germans were trying to find
out the Indian race to which he belonged. When the word Mussulman was
mentioned he nodded his head; but when the word British was uttered, he
made a gesture of disgust. The Germans naturally concluded that he hated
the British, so they gave him some rations and a blanket, and let him
spend the night with them. Next morning, by means of dumb show, he made
an officer believe that there were twenty-five other Mohammedans in his
trench who were eager to join the Germans. Completely deceived, the
officer gave him a final cup of coffee, and sent him off to bring in his
friends. Needless to say, he did not return. Unhappily, a few weeks
later this nimble-witted soldier was killed in action.
* * * * *
You must not suppose that the Indian army consists only of Gurkhas and
Sikhs. There are many other Indian races serving as soldiers, and
amongst them are the Pathans, fierce hillmen of the North-West Frontier
Province. Somewhere south of Ypres British troops who were holding a
line of trenches one misty night became aware of some hundreds of lithe
gray figures silently gathering in their rear, and gliding forward like
ghosts amidst the trees. Shortly afterwards a score of these gray
figures detached themselves from the larger body, and stealthily, like
Red Indians on the trail, moved up to and beyond the advanced line of
the British trenches. Under their breath our soldiers whispered, "The
Indians are going out," and as they craned their necks they saw the
ghostly figures disappear from view, crawling python-like towards the
first German trench.
[Illustration: A Night Attack by Pathans.
The People of Afghanistan and the adjoining borderland of India are
known as Pathans (_Pat-ans'_), and their language as Pushtu. They
include all the strongest and most warlike tribes of the North-West
Frontier Province, and make excellent soldiers. The Afridis (_Af-ree'
dees_), against whom 35,000 British and Indian troops made a campaign in
1897-98, are Pathans. The Khaibar Pass, that great gloomy defile in the
mountain barrier, through which every invader of India except the
European has had to fight his way, is jealously guarded by Afridis in
the pay of Britain.]
What happened there no one quite knows. There was no shout or sudden
cry, but in a few minutes the British saw one of the score reappear and
glide back to his comrades in the rear. Then the hundreds who were
waiting behind in the shadow of the trees went forward in dead silence
to join the advanced party. For five minutes there was perfect quiet.
Then came a few shots, followed by a wild splutter of musketry,
intermingled with cries and groans. Three or four light-balls were
thrown in the air, and by their means the British saw, some 600 yards to
their front, a mass of wild and struggling men. They saw the gleam of
steel and the whirling rifle butt as the Pathans smote down the foe.
For ten minutes they hacked and slew amongst the half-awake and wholly
bewildered Germans, who had been lying down awaiting the order to attack
the British trenches. The score of Pathans who had gone out in advance
had silently slain the German pickets, and their main body had thus been
enabled to get right amidst the sleeping foe unchallenged. The slaughter
was terrible, and only ended when the Germans, thoroughly aroused to
their peril, ran for their lives. The threatened attack had been turned
into a ghastly defeat.
* * * * *
In these pages I have given you countless instances of German cunning
and audacity. The Indians, being in a strange country, incapable of
speaking any language but their own, and not able to distinguish between
the French and the German soldiers, were thought to be easy prey. Here
is a story of a piece of German deception which utterly failed. A
figure, standing out clear in the moonlight, and wearing a complete
Gurkha uniform, suddenly appeared one night in front of a Gurkha trench,
and delivered this message: "The Gurkhas are to move farther up the
trench; another Gurkha contingent is advancing in support." Puzzled by
this order, the officer in charge replied, "Who are you? Where do you
come from?" To which the only answer was: "You are to move up to make
room for other Gurkhas."
[Illustration: Two London Scots and a Wounded Gurkha.
(_Photo, Sport and General._)]
The English was good, but something (or many small things) excited the
officer's suspicion. "Answer, and answer quickly," he said: "if you are
a Gurkha, by what boat did you cross?" The question was, in the
circumstances, no easy one to answer, and the German (for such he was)
turned at once and fled. But he had not gone five yards before he fell
riddled by bullets. Had the officer been deceived, the trench would have
swarmed with Germans almost before the Gurkhas had made room for them.
An officer in a Gurkha regiment relates the following amusing story:
"One night our men rushed a German trench, and one of them captured a
big fat German, who surrendered at the sight of cold steel.
"There is a reward for any man who brings in a prisoner, so the Gurkha
started back across the open towards the British trenches with his
captive. Unfortunately the little man got hit in the leg, so he climbed
on the German's back, and made him carry him to our trenches, where he
triumphantly handed his prisoner over, and was then carried off to
hospital!"
* * * * *
German troops were holding a copse near a village north of the
British-French position, and, fearing an attack, were in the habit of
protecting themselves every night by a double line of sentinels. The
copse considerably hampered the advance of the Allies, and an Indian
regiment was brought up as a reinforcement. The officer in charge said
that the wood would soon be captured, and without too great a sacrifice
of life. A French officer who was present thought that the Indians were
too big to enter the wood unnoticed, and declared that they would soon
be perceived by the German sentinels. Thereupon the British officer
offered to bet the Frenchman a sovereign that all the German sentinels
would be removed. The bet was taken.
At eleven o'clock that night, when every one, except the sentries, was
slumbering, the copse was suddenly filled with a fearful din, with
occasional shots, and a few shouts. Then all was silent again.
Shortly afterwards the Indians returned. Two by two they came in and
placed before their officer a prisoner tied up like a sausage, and
carefully gagged. This went on until all the thirty German sentinels who
had been guarding the entrance to the wood had been brought in and
handed over to the officer.