From General Headquarters I proceeded to my billet at Merville for the
night, and was met by the Frenchman, his wife and children, in whose
house I was quartered. The room had only been vacated by another
occupant an hour previously, and the hall and drawing-room bore the
marks of hurry and scurry everywhere. I was often in the year to come to
be the uninvited guest of other French people, but these were enough to
show me the great heart of France; a heart so true and brave that it at
first set one wondering what manner of people is this.
When I got to know them better I ceased to wonder; I ceased to doubt
what might be the end of it all; this glorious race in its dire trial
was indeed setting an example to the whole world. My hosts could not do
enough to help me; tea was served: the children ran up and down stairs
carrying something, anything, so long as they could show they were
anxious to make me welcome. I thought perhaps they imagined the Indian
General was some peculiar class of animal, but no! I soon discovered it
was because I was an ordinary Englishman and they were typical French,
that their kindness was lavished on me. And as months went on and we
mixed more and more with them, we all discovered that high as had always
been our opinion of our neighbours across the Channel, we had known but
little of them after all. The unselfishness of their race is to my
thinking unique; and from civilians, men and women alike, I never
received anything but the greatest courtesy. For two months my corps
held the trenches next to the French, and during that time I conceived a
liking for their soldiers, and an admiration for their brave and
courteous Generals and Staffs that I had never thought possible to
entertain towards any other than our own army.
There was never any kind of difficulty in working with a French General;
one was only too glad to meet his wishes, for they were always expressed
with courtesy, a natural gift with them, sometimes sadly lacking with
us.
I had the honour of knowing and working with General de Maud’huy,
Commanding the Xth Corps, and General Maistre, Commanding the XXIst
Corps d’Armée, both splendid comrades in the field. Many others, too, I
had dealings with; and amongst Staff Officers attached to the Indian
Corps none could have been a greater favourite with British and Indians
alike than Captain de la Ferronays. He joined us at Marseilles, and
remained for some months until transferred to the French General Staff.
One of my saddest days in France was when we had to part from our French
comrades for our first period of rest, and we did not serve next to them
again except for short periods.
My great hope had been that the Indian Corps would not be split up as it
arrived but be given a few days wherein to pull themselves together and
form some idea of what was before them. This later on became the policy,
and troops new to the country and form of warfare were not only kept
behind the trenches but were instructed in all that was necessary, so
that when their turn came they did not walk blindly into the hurricane.
It was, however, impossible in these days; every man as he arrived was
wanted, and wanted badly, and hence some of the first arrivals were just
pushed into the firing-line and took their chance. The Indians had one
disadvantage: their Generals and officers had no previous training in
this novel form of fighting. The British forces, even though composed of
men of all kinds, had most of them a nucleus of officers and soldiers
who had already seen the backs of the Germans. The retreat from Mons was
fresh in their memories, but the advance to the Aisne was a retort that
no retreat could dim, and with these to their credit they felt that no
matter how strong the foe, they were the same men who had turned to bay
on the Marne and driven the Prussian Eagles away from their goal.
The orders however were given, and with that spirit which they had shown
on many a field from Meanee to Delhi and Lucknow the soldiers of India
entered into battle.
The 1st Connaught Rangers, forming part of the Ferozepore Brigade, was
the first battalion of the Army Corps engaged, and the 57th Rifles and
129th Baluchis were the first Indian regiments. As the Dorsets rightly
carry on their colours the motto, “Primus in Indis,” so surely should
each of these two battalions be given “Primus in Europa,” a fitting
reward for their good fortune. On the 22nd October 1914 the Connaughts
arrived at Wulverghem by motor buses, a new form of battle transport,
and on the 23rd a portion of them took the place of the Essex regiment
in the trenches in front of Messines. The remainder of the battalion
next day relieved cavalry on the same front.
On the 26th October they were again relieved by cavalry, during which
operation they suffered some casualties. Rendezvousing near Wytschaete
they shortly afterwards received orders to attack the German trenches
near Gapaard in conjunction with the 57th Rifles, both then being under
the orders of the First Cavalry Division. The 129th Baluchis attached to
the 3rd Brigade of the Second Cavalry Division operated on their left.
The Connaughts’ attack was led by Lieut.-Colonel H. Ravenshaw, Major
Murray being in command of the firing supports. Owing to darkness it was
found impossible to keep touch with the 57th, but eventually Captain
Payne’s company, after passing through a fairly heavy fire, rushed three
German trenches, taking an officer and some men prisoners, and skilfully
withdrew. Ravenshaw specially commended Major Murray and Captain Payne
on this the first occasion of an attack by the battalion. The total
casualties were seventeen men.
On the 29th October the Connaught Rangers rejoined the Lahore Division.
This fine battalion, which did excellent work on many occasions, was the
only Irish corps then under my command; six weeks later the 2nd
battalion, which had originally formed part of the 5th Infantry Brigade
of the Second Division, was also sent to me to supplement its sister
battalion; it arrived in a very depleted state, and with only one of its
original officers, but soon recovered its condition and rendered
splendid service.
I have the greatest affection for Irishmen and have done all my
regimental soldiering with them and was proud to have so distinguished a
regiment under my command. To those who know how to treat them they are
indeed impossible to beat in any Army, and I shall hope again some day
to meet my comrades, such as may be left of them.
The 57th (Wilde’s) Rifles on arrival at the advanced scene of operations
found themselves in occupation of trenches near Oost Taverne and between
Wytschaete and Messines. Sepoy Usman Khan of the 55th (Coke’s) Rifles
(commonly known as “Cookies” on the Frontier) on this occasion won the
Indian Distinguished Service Medal. I believe he was the first Indian to
gain a decoration in France.
As stated before, the 57th took part with the Connaught Rangers in the
attack on Gapaard. Lieut.-Colonel Gray, the Commanding Officer, was
unfortunately wounded early in the day by shrapnel. He had served with
me on Frontier expeditions, and his wild fighting spirit and cheery
manner made him a typical leader of Indian troops. It was not long after
before he was back in France with his beloved regiment and later went on
to the Eastern Mediterranean as a Brigadier-General.
The 57th was composed of exceptionally good officers and a fine class of
Indian officers and men all round. In this affair they did not have a
chance of doing much and their casualties were slight. The composition
of this unit was two companies of each of the following classes, Sikhs,
Dogras, Punjabi-Musalmans, and Pathans, and their last active service
had been in China, 1900.
Meantime the 129th Baluchis who were attached to the 3rd Cavalry Brigade
and were operating on the left of the Indian battalion had to advance
over very bad ground and made but small progress. This battalion had
taken over trenches already prepared by the cavalry on the 23rd October,
and came under rifle and machine-gun fire for the first time, and as the
Commanding Officer reported, “they stood it well.”
In the attack on Gapaard a company of the Baluchis got to within 300
yards of the German trenches and were quite annoyed on receiving orders
to retire, but it was necessary as the enemy machine-guns were skilfully
posted. Captain Hampe-Vincent was killed, and besides there were
forty-six other casualties. The battalion carried out various duties
between this date and the 30th, losing another twelve men.
The movements and duties of the 57th Rifles and 129th Baluchis, during
their detachment from their own Brigade, read strangely to any one who
was not in the area at the time. Here were two Indian battalions,
suddenly dumped down in a maelstrom, depending for guidance entirely on
their few British officers, split up into half companies, attached to
various British corps in turn, cavalry, infantry, guns; hurried from one
trench to another, from one front to another, hardly realising the
meaning or object of it all; and then comes the hardest trial; their
gallant leaders are everywhere, encouraging and guiding with a spirit of
unselfish bravery that will live for all time, when the hand of death
strikes them down; others fall sorely wounded; Indian officers share
their fate; the sepoys bewildered but faithful still fight on. They may
be driven (they were driven) time after time from their trenches but
such a retreat is glory, and they shared it to the full with their newly
found British comrades in those few but stormy days of Ypres.
The difficulty of recording these events may be gathered from the
Commanding Officer’s report on the actions round Wytschaete and
Messines, which he begins with the remark: “It is not possible to submit
a detailed report or make special mention of individuals, owing to the
fact that six out of seven British officers employed with my companies
were killed or wounded.” With the help of the Indian officers later on,
all that could be discovered was noted, and as many rewards were given
by the Commander-in-Chief as there was evidence to prove had been
earned.
As a record of the kaleidoscopic movements of the 57th Rifles the
following orders are interesting: On the evening of 28th October the
Commanding Officer was directed to place one company at the disposal of
the G.O.C. 4th Cavalry Brigade, and another at that of the G.O.C. 5th
Cavalry Brigade; these two companies relieved portions of their British
comrades in the trenches. Later the same evening he was ordered to send
his two remaining companies to report to 3rd Cavalry Brigade at Messines
by 5 A.M. next morning. Headquarters of the battalion were ordered to
remain at Wytschaete; and to complete the break up, the machine-gun
section was sent to the 4th Cavalry Brigade. Of course the situation was
such as to render even such extraordinary orders necessary, but my
object in quoting them is to show the immense difficulties the
battalions had to face under most abnormal conditions, and the fact that
notwithstanding the shortage of British officers, and hence the absence
of any one who could speak their language, these gallant men of the 57th
and 129th put up and sustained so good a fight as to earn the high
encomium and thanks of leaders as distinguished as Generals Hugh Gough
and Allenby, no mean judges of human nature.
During the 29th, the 57th Rifles suffered only a few casualties, but on
the morning of 30th October the Germans plastered the trenches of the
4th and 5th Cavalry Brigades with shrapnel and high explosive and
attacked with infantry. About 2 P.M. a portion of the troops north of
the 5th Cavalry Brigade was compelled to fall back, thus exposing the
trenches to the south to enfilade fire, and the Brigade commenced a
retirement from its left flank.
Captain Forbes of the 57th, with No. 3 Company, by some mischance did
not receive the orders to retire in time and became isolated. The enemy
was soon on both his flanks, but Forbes is made of the stuff that never
acknowledges danger. He was severely wounded a day or two after and
invalided, but I was glad to have an opportunity on his rejoining, of
placing him on the Corps Staff as Camp Commandant. As the company
retired, a half of it with its leader, Lieut. I. H. Clarke, was mown
down by machine-gun fire, only a few getting away. As the Commanding
Officer put it tersely but with how much pathos—“They did not return.”
The survivors moved back to Wytschaete.
Major Willans, a sturdy soldier, with No. 1 Company farther to the right
had fared slightly better and was able to withdraw with his machine-gun
to the east of the Wytschaete-Messines Road. The bombardment of the
trenches and Wytschaete continued during the 30th and 31st October, and
on this latter night, between 3 and 4 A.M., the Germans made an infantry
attack in overwhelming numbers. The supports were commanded by Major E.
E. Barwell, and on hearing the burst of musketry he pushed forward but
was killed as he advanced. A personal friend and a brave gentleman, he
died as he once told me he hoped he might.
No. 4 Company of the 57th was bearing the weight of a strong attack at
the same time, and Captain R. S. Gordon commanding No. 2 Company at once
led them to its assistance. As the Highlander leaped from his trench he
was killed; and thus passed away an ideal soldier. “Jock” Gordon was a
very uncommon man, loved by all who knew him, of a nature that knew no
guile, literally worshipped by his men, on that cold October morn he
found his place in the Valhalla of his northern land.
Lieut. Malony, notwithstanding that he was opposed to vastly superior
advancing numbers, kept up so heavy a fire that the enemy began to cry a
halt and endeavour to dig themselves in. He held on as long as his
ammunition lasted but was then himself severely wounded and
incapacitated.
Meantime half of No. 4 Company was nearly surrounded, and the detachment
was left without a single British officer; but the occasion generally
discovers the man, and he was there in the person of Subadar Arsla Khan,
one of those legendary heroes of the days of Timour. I had known him for
years in peace and war; he had won his Order of Merit with me on the
North-West Frontiers of India, and has since added the Military Cross to
his numerous decorations. Leading a counter-attack with the bayonet he
gained sufficient time to pull his men together, and then, although
vastly outnumbered, skilfully withdrew both companies to Messines; here
the men became separated in the streets and were eventually taken in
charge by Lieut. Reardon, the British interpreter attached to the
battalion. In the counter-attack Jemadar Kapur Singh, a Dogra, was
killed after all his men had been placed _hors de combat_.
It is instructive to read in the reports that some of the men in
Messines “had the good fortune” to come across an officer who spoke
Hindustani, and was thus able to direct them to rejoin their
Headquarters; and the report concludes with, “and some of them did
arrive at Kemmel.”
Necessity may know no law, but you cannot expect a dweller of these
islands to ask his way of a Chinaman of the Yangtse, especially should
both have the misfortune of being under a heavy fire of high explosive
shell at the time. You may perhaps expect it, but one often expects too
much.
Captain Forbes, of whom I wrote above, was severely wounded whilst
conducting his men back from the north of Wytschaete, where the Germans
had gained a footing. A withdrawal also became necessary from other
portions of our trenches, and Major Willans, finding his position
untenable, had retired his Sikhs on to a battery near a windmill
south-west of Wytschaete. Lieut. Fowler, who commanded the regimental
machine-guns, was severely wounded. He had exercised his command with
great coolness.
Major Swifte, who had succeeded to the command of the 57th when
Lieut.-Colonel Gray was wounded, collected all the men he could and on
the morning of 1st November was ordered to report to G.O.C. 4th Cavalry
Brigade, who directed him to take up a position on the right of the 3rd
Hussars. Here he was joined by Major Willans with his own company and
what remained of the companies from Messines, and late that night was
ordered to report himself to O.C. 129th Baluchis.
This battalion had, like the 57th Rifles, been doing its share in
another place. After its first experience in the trenches it had a rest
in billets on 27th October, and was at work again on the 29th
entrenching a position. Whilst at this duty, at 11 A.M. on the 29th, two
companies received orders to proceed to a bridge over the Canal
north-west of Hollebeke to support the cavalry in the château there, but
at 1.10 P.M. it was moved to Klein Hollebeke to form part of the reserve
to the 1st Army Corps, and at 7 P.M. marched back to its billets. The
casualties only amounted to twelve killed and wounded.
Orders for relief had been issued for 7 A.M. on 30th October, but at
6.30 A.M. the enemy opened a heavy fire which continued throughout the
morning. Lieut.-Colonel W. M. Southey was in command of the 129th. His
was one of the few battalions of the Indian Corps that I did not then
know well, but I had seen them for a few days and made as thorough an
inspection as was possible. It had in its ranks Mahsuds and some
Mohmands, good fighters in their own Frontier hills; the Mohmands were
now being for the first time tested in our regular Army. In consequence
these were of necessity young soldiers, but under Southey all soldiers
will fight, and notwithstanding their youth the new classes gradually
acquired the discipline which is so essential for any military body.
Southey soon after this got command of a brigade and at once justified
his selection.
The 129th was originally raised in 1846 and has always been known as a
“Baluchi” battalion. It consisted in 1914 of two companies of
Punjabi-Musalmans, three of Mahsuds, and three of other Pathans, and had
seen service in Persia, Afghanistan, and Egypt, 1882. The Duke of
Connaught is their Colonel-in-Chief.
A story is told of Southey during the heavy fighting near Givenchy and
Festubert in December 1914. When commanding his battalion in the
advanced trenches he received a message from some higher authority
directing him to hold on at all costs to his somewhat precarious
position—“Never mind about holding on, I will of course do that, but
where are my rations?”
In this battalion was an Indian officer of whom also I must tell a
story. Six years previously I was in command of an expedition on the
North-West Frontier of India, when one day the tribesmen had gathered in
force and held a very strong Pass. All arrangements were completed and
our attack was just beginning when suddenly, 800 yards directly in front
of my own position, a single man carrying a large white flag appeared on
a knoll and deliberately began walking towards us. Had there been no
firing, or had the tribesmen ceased firing, the flag would of course
have been respected, but on the contrary as he advanced the Martinis of
the Mohmands began to crack louder than ever, and presently casualties
occurred here and there in our ranks. Of course such conduct could not
be tolerated, and it appeared as if one fanatic had adopted this ruse to
put us off our guard. However on came the flag, now at the double, and I
do not think I exaggerate when I say scores of shots were aimed at it.
The man kept tacking from side to side, appearing and disappearing in
the holes and hollows and behind rocks, but remaining scatheless, until
he was less than 400 yards from us, when as if from a chivalry inborn
every one ceased to fire at him, and only stared at what they thought
was a madman. The firing went on steadily elsewhere. At last he arrived
where I was standing, and saluting delivered himself of the following
speech: “General, my name is Ahmed Din, I am a native officer of the
129th Baluchis. I am on leave from my regiment. This is my home and
these people on the hills are fools and do not know the power of the
British Government. I ask you to cease firing and they will at once
surrender. I have only one request and that is that you spare the large
village just the other side of the Pass and we will pay any fine you
impose.” Whatever else he was he certainly did not fear death, for he
had faced it as coolly as man could do. I sounded the “Cease fire,” and
in five minutes all firing had ceased and white flags floated all along
the ridges and peaks. We marched over the Pass and occupied the village
but every precaution was of course taken and picquets posted. Ahmed Din
remained with me as a hostage and guest combined.
No sooner was it dark than from every side bullets came raining into our
camps, and for that form of warfare we had quite a number of men,
horses, and mules hit. I told my gallant friend that if I was killed (he
winced) the sepoys would certainly see that he followed suit. He took me
aside and said, “Remember, General, this is not my village, mine is
farther on.” “All right,” I answered, “I will burn yours to-morrow,” and
he believed I would, but of course I did not.
We left next morning but not before the rearguard had left the village
in ashes, and Ahmed Din smiled as he looked back on the smoke being
borne towards his own untouched belongings. The climax was reached when
later he came to me in Peshawar and asked to be given the medal for the
expedition; he got it, but thought it rather hard luck that he was not
given the field allowance as well. Poor fellow, I met him again in
France and we laughed over the incident. He will see his native hills no
more.
Amid the sloughs of Festubert, where India’s heroes sleep and share
With England’s sons a common grave; when Azrael’s trump shall call the
brave,
And ranks fall in and stand to arms, to answer God, not war’s alarms,
A tomb with crescent marked in green shall yield the soul of Ahmed Din.
The 129th experienced varying fortunes during the 30th October; after
reinforcing the firing-line with all available men, they were pushed
back by a strong German attack. One company held on to a farm where it
was reinforced by Colonel Southey himself but eventually had to retire.
The demoralising effect of continued retirement was beginning to tell on
the men, many of whom were very young soldiers, and it was necessary to
pull them together. Detaching a portion of them to hold a wood to the
right, the remainder were rallied in the vicinity of a château which was
held by Lieut. H. Lewis and Subadar Adam Khan. Evening saw them still
holding the wood and some trenches north of the château, and later three
companies moved to billets near the canal bank, leaving one company to
hold the trenches north of the château.
On 31st October further moves took place, resulting in three companies
taking over some cavalry trenches, with one company in support and forty
men in reserve. Firing by the enemy continued till 11 P.M., when it
increased, and news was received through some French officers that a
farm held by the Baluchis had been captured by the Germans. Colonel
Southey at once proceeded with Major Hannyngton and Lieut. Lewis to find
out what was happening. The truth was soon ascertained, viz. that Major
H. W. Potter, in local command, was still holding on round the farm
which was in possession of the enemy. It is a strange fact that
notwithstanding the difficulty of the Indians recognising the difference
between French and Germans, in this case they had been right and
insisted they were Boches, but it was the British officer who thought
them French, and would not open fire until they had arrived at twenty
paces; too late to stop them, but what a fine example of self-control;
even though it was a matter of life and death, the Englishman refused to
kill until he was sure it really was the enemy.
Fifteen or more were accounted for when the party fell back, and the
Germans entered the farm. The last bit of work that fell to the Baluchis
is best told in the brief official report of Colonel Southey himself:
“We formed up about 3 A.M. and advanced on the left of the farm, Major
Potter taking the right, and marched up to the farm. We killed about
three and wounded three, and the remainder who had not bolted
surrendered, fourteen in number.” That is all.
Thirty-five Germans had been accounted for, and many of our own brave
fellows, but the adventure on a dark night in rain-soaked fields carried
out by aliens in a strange land is dismissed in three lines.
Lieut. Lewis during this advance was twice shot at, at a distance of not
less than fifteen yards; both shots hit his field-glasses in front of
his left hip and smashed them to bits, the second one glancing off and
hitting his hand. A few days later he received a letter from a friend in
Ceylon who wound up by saying, “Take my advice and always wear your
field-glasses in front of your belt.” Lewis had another narrow escape at
Givenchy two months later. Whilst working his machine-gun in the front
trench the Germans broke in on his right, unknown to him. One of his
team suddenly saw them coming down the trench a few yards away, and
Lewis saw one man covering him with his rifle from the parapet only
three paces off. He gave the order to retire (these stories were told me
by a brother officer of his) and heard the click of the man’s rifle but
no shot followed. The rifle was not loaded.
And if any have ever doubted the splendid gallantry shown under the
severest trials let them read this example of what Indian soldiers will
do when called on by their leaders. Each battalion had in those days two
Maxim machine-guns. With the team of one gun of the Baluchis were three
men whose names deserve to be recorded: Naik Sar Mir, Lance-Naik Hobab
Gul, and Sepoy Redi Gul. These men worked their gun until it was blown
to bits by a shell and only retired under orders of their commander
Captain R. F. Dill, who, displaying splendid coolness, continued the
fight with his other gun. And what of this machine-gun? I believe the
Victoria Cross is made from the metal of guns captured at the Alma. The
second machine-gun of the 129th Baluchis might well be manufactured into
the future Victoria Crosses of the Indian Army, for it has a famous
story attached to it.
Dill had lost one gun but whilst the other remained he would remain with
it. He was disabled by a splinter of shell in the head, his glorious
team fell fast, but as each man fell another took his place. Engrave
these names in letters of gold for all time: 2524 Colour-Havildar Ghulam
Mahomed, 2813 Sepoy Lal Sher, 4182 Sepoy Said Ahmad, 103 Sepoy Kassib,
3600 Sepoy Afsar Khan; and only one remained, severely wounded. He
worked the gun till strength failed him and he lay unconscious and hence
untouched by the enemy—No. 4050 Sepoy Khudadad! and he has lived to wear
the Victoria Cross, the first Indian soldier who ever won it. His home
is in the village of Chakwal near Jhelum’s river. There I can see him in
imagination, telling the children of the deeds of his regiment, but like
all brave men saying little of his own share in it.
A tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney
corner.
The 129th on relief by French cavalry rejoined their own Brigade on the
La Bassée front.
And so the first experience of the Army Corps in the war had been gained
and the price paid. Not that any one of them grudged it, nor was the
toll as heavy as the British units had to pay, and yet comparatively it
was heavier, because it was taken from men who had had no opportunity of
realising what it was all about. They had been trained to the
understanding that when they entered into the battle it would, at any
rate at first, be alongside the British comrades with whom they had
served in Brigades in India; these at least they knew and understood;
and even if this could not be, they had every reason to believe they
would at least fight as battalions under their own Commanding Officers;
but here none of these things happened. They were split up in fragments,
and that they stood the strain as well as they did is the best possible
testimony to their discipline and efficiency. As an Indian officer said
to me on the return of the two battalions to rejoin their Headquarters,
talking about the separation from their own Brigades, “Sahib, they do
not understand anything about us.”
The short fighting round Ypres had cost the 57th Rifles the loss of two
British officers killed, three wounded, and one missing out of a total
of eleven present, three Indian officers killed or missing, and one
wounded, whilst 290 other ranks made up the casualty list for those few
days. An Indian battalion numbered only 750 all told—450 remained. In
the 129th Baluchis the losses were three British officers killed, three
wounded, and of Indian officers three were killed and two wounded, and
other ranks totalled 230.
Of Major G. G. P. Humphreys his C.O. wrote: “I most deeply deplore his
loss.” Captain W. F. Adair, though mortally wounded, refused to allow a
havildar and two of the men of the 129th to remove him as it might
entail their being killed themselves. Colonel Southey calls him “a most
gallant and cool leader.”
Subadar Zaman Khan of the 129th had the honour of being singled out as
an officer of the “greatest coolness and courage,” and Havildar Sobat
Khan of the same battalion “showed bravery and coolness above the
average,” and on the 30th October set a splendid example to his men
under a heavy shell and rifle fire by rushing out from the support to
the firing-line trenches and thus getting them to follow him.
Individual deeds of the men are difficult to record, for as the
Commanding Officer wrote at the time: “Owing to the casualties amongst
the officers of Nos. 1 and 2 Companies I find it very hard to get any
information regarding individuals.”
After the fighting near Messines the English papers got hold of a story
of how one “Ganga Singh” of the 129th had won and received the Victoria
Cross. Pictures appeared showing him being carried ashore in a stretcher
“somewhere in England, the first Indian to win the V.C.” Lord Kitchener
wired to ask for information, but I had heard nothing of it and it was
not till long after that evidence could be gathered from men who had
themselves been wounded and left the battalion. Then the true story came
out, and it was this:
On 31st October, when the trench held by his party was overwhelmed by
the enemy, Havildar Ganga (for that was his correct name), who had been
a gymnastic instructor, commanded his section and fought with his
bayonet, killing several Germans, and his weapon being bent or blunted,
and the enemy being still in the trench, he seized a sword which he had
picked up and continued to fight. In this mêlée he received five wounds
which left him disabled, and it was nearly a year before he could be
sent back to India. He was awarded the Indian Order of Merit, which
carried with it a life pension, and the Russian Cross of St. George.
Sir John French was always anxious to bestow well-earned rewards on
Indian officers and men, and it was very rarely in the early stages of
the war that any exception was taken to my recommendations. This was a
very great help to all Commanding Officers, who felt that they could
count on being supported in their selections. Later on this generosity
was considerably curtailed, although Divisional and Brigade Commanders
were very careful in sending in names.
To those who understand Indians there can be no greater mistake than to
be niggardly in the bestowal of war honours. The Indian Order of Merit
carried with it a small life pension, and this was of very great
importance to men who gave their services for a totally inadequate
remuneration. It was the highest honour a soldier could earn until the
Victoria Cross was opened to him by His Majesty the King at the great
Delhi Durbar. To show how well Lord Roberts understood the value of
immediate rewards to the Indian Army, after the defence of Thobal in
Manipore by Major Grant in 1891, a feat which made India ring with
praise of the gallant little band, Grant was especially promoted from
Lieutenant to Brevet Major and awarded the Victoria Cross, and every man
of his party (I think about seventy) received the Indian Order of Merit.
How much greater were the toils and dangers of Flanders!
Willans of the 57th Rifles received a D.S.O., and his brother-officers,
Captain W. S. Trail and Lieut. E. K. Fowler, the Military Cross. Dill of
the 129th Baluchis received the D.S.O.; and besides Sepoy Khudadad, who,
as already told, won the first V.C. given to the Indian Army, the five
men of his Maxim detachment who were all killed were rewarded
posthumously, the havildar receiving the Indian Order of Merit, and his
comrades the I.D.S.M.
It was the fate of the Indian Corps to be allotted for nearly fourteen
months almost exactly the same part of front, with only two small breaks
in the monotony. One has already been described, and the other was when
the Lahore Division was temporarily detached for a few days to take its
share in the second battle of Ypres in April 1915. With these two
exceptions the Indians were confined to the fronts from just north of
Neuve Chapelle to Givenchy, a distance in a direct line of about seven
miles.
If any one had thought how best to dishearten good soldiers, they could
not have chosen a better method. Often did I urge that we might be given
a change from the same bogs and swamps to somewhere north or south, but
it was not agreed to, and so for over thirteen months the men went up to
the same old trenches and returned to the same monotonous billets, until
many of them believed it was probably all or a greater part of the
entire British line. We often wondered what could be the reason: I knew
myself, but that is another story.
Those were the last of the days of the old Regular Army, the staunchest
and most trenchant weapon that Britain ever possessed. Signs were even
then appearing of the younger formations, which were within a year to
submerge the old and create a new Army, in which the names of historic
corps would alone form the link between them. But owing to those very
associations how strong did that link become; what a heritage did the
old regiments and battalions bequeath to their younger brothers. When
the Territorials and the New Army began to swamp the battle front they
had the good fortune to build on foundations of granite, the builders of
which had learned their trade not in months or years, but in the school
of generations of soldiers who had created and maintained the Empire of
Great Britain.
The New Armies found the bogs and the climate the same, but they also
found to hand implements to dig with, guns with countless ammunition to
help to defend or clear the way for them, howitzers, grenades, trench
mortars, searchlights, heavy guns, machine-guns galore, aeroplanes,
balloons, communication trenches, light railways, flares, etc., etc. If
they wished then to understand the conditions of those early months of
the war it was not difficult. Remove all, or nearly all, of the above
accessories, divide the numbers per mile of trench by five, reduce the
gun ammunition to an almost infinitesimal amount, double the enemy and
allow him the high _morale_ he originally undoubtedly possessed, and
they could then form some idea of the war as it had to be carried out in
the winter of 1914–15.
The part played by the Indian Corps in the first great battle of Ypres,
in as far as it relates to the fighting in the immediate vicinity of the
town itself, has been told as nearly as I can gather it from official
reports and private letters in my possession, but although the most
critical time was in the north, the country to the south as far as La
Bassée was the scene of incessant hard fighting and contests for every
inch of ground. Behind us lay the plains of Flanders, and behind them
the ports of Calais and Boulogne and the shores of the Channel. The eyes
of Germany’s War Lord were fixed on these; could he but succeed in
pushing back far enough, or breaking through, that thin khaki line, what
was the prize? Had he succeeded history might have had to tell a
different tale.
There was at one time little else between the Hun and the sea he sought
than the war-worn and battered troops of England. How they held that
line, with what fortitude and endurance they fought, with what
incredible valour they died is already a matter of history, but the
object of this book is only to tell of the part played (small in
comparison though it may be) by the Army Corps from India, the British
battalions and batteries and the soldiers of Hindustan, inhabitants of
warm climes, fighting in a country so strange and so unlike anything
they had ever heard of or imagined. The man must be totally devoid of
generosity who does not read and wonder with what fidelity and loyalty
they gave their lives, and in doing so left behind a legacy of which not
only India but Great Britain itself may be proud.
It was their good fortune to arrive just at the moment when they were
most needed; just when our troops were using their very last reserves
and fighting against terrible odds, in fact just when two extra
divisions could still help to stem the tide, and even if they had never
done another day’s fighting their advent would more than have justified
their having been sent, for they helped in some degree to save the Army
in the hour of its great trial.