If for no other reason than for the sake of being alive to read the
monumental history of Armageddon, I wish I were young again. How atomic
appears one’s own humble share in the great conflict. To Britishers who
looked on manœuvres at Aldershot or Salisbury Plain as something to
record, as Napoleonic military feats of arms which were an insurance
against all aggression, how different do matters now appear. “The
Contemptible Little Army” of those days is no more, but even so, it will
ever remain the lodestar for the armies to come, and the historian of
the five years’ clash of the world’s arms will have material to work on
such as never fell to the lot of man. What an opportunity for still
closer welding together the divers races and peoples that combine to
make the Empire of Great Britain.
I will here cease for a while recording facts, and deal with matters
which are of interest to those who look on the Indian Corps (minute as
it was in comparison) as something else besides mere congeries of
soldiers to feed the guns. There are some details which may not prove
uninteresting to the student of psychology.
By the end of May it was plain that the Indians needed a complete rest
and sorting out, if they were to continue as a Corps. The losses in
France after the May fighting had totalled up to:
Killed. Wounded. Missing.
British Officers 213 501 58
Indian Officers 88 260 53
Other Units, British 1,376 6,073 1,724
Other Units, Indian 1,943 10,650 2,504
————— —————— —————
3,620 17,484 4,321
In addition, 450 Indians had died from various causes. (Taken from _The
Indian Corps in France_.)
The above included the Territorial battalions forming part of the Corps,
but not the losses of Divisions or Brigades temporarily attached.
In my opinion it was useless to retain two Divisions in name without the
substance, and I recommended that one strong Division with Brigades
averaging 4000 rifles each should be formed, the weakest and some other
named Indian battalions being turned into a Reserve Brigade from which
casualties could be replaced. Also, should reinforcements prove larger
than I anticipated, complete battalions could replace others, and thus
give all an opportunity of sharing in the fighting. The Highland
Division had just been allotted to us also, and the two combined
Divisions would have formed a fine Army Corps.
I explained that as matters then stood the British battalions were doing
more than their share of work in the various fights. The quality of our
Indian troops had deteriorated, as we received drafts of all sorts and
kinds, and the old and tried British and Indian officers had been
reduced to a minimum; but with that spirit that animates the sons of
Britain, the British units, without complaint, continued to give of
their best (and it was of the very best). Not that I did not
occasionally receive hints from the officers of both British and Indian
regiments that this process could not be indefinitely continued, and
they had good reason too; and although I mostly kept my counsel I never
failed to impress strongly on those in higher authority, that some
drastic change was absolutely necessary.
I recommended three Indian battalions being transferred from France, and
gave my reasons in full. The two Divisional Commanders were in complete
accord with me in these suggestions, and as a proof that they were
necessary I will give a few instances of the composition of units, which
those who know the Indian Army will appreciate.
The 57th Rifles (one of the best Corps in India) was at this time made
up from six different units—total strength 446; the 129th Baluchis, of
seven different units—total strength 263 rifles. The 9th Bhopals
consisted of men from eleven different units—strength 409. I recommended
that the 57th and 59th Rifles should be combined, the total strength of
the latter then being 271 rifles with seven officers all told.
The 15th Sikhs, with a total strength of only 250, was suggested for
combination with the 47th Sikhs; the two battalions would then have
numbered 701. Think of it, after over eight months of war. The 1st
Gurkhas had only three Regular officers; the 4th Gurkhas only four. In
the 6th Jats only 160 of the original battalion remained.
The two battalions of the 39th Garhwal Rifles had already been
amalgamated. They had both done most gallant service and proved
themselves to be second to none in India. This combined corps was now
short of ten Indian officers and 64 N.C.O.’s. The C.O. reported that he
had “only four N.C.O.’s fit for promotion,” and “hardly a single
rifleman whose education would enable him to keep a company roll!” What
would some of our Solomons who came to judgement on the Indian Corps
have said to this, if it had been possible to find similar conditions in
two combined British battalions?
On 26th May the First Army informed me that my recommendations had met
with the approval both of the G.O.C. and the Commander-in-Chief. Some
alterations regarding Staff officers and others had been made, but
amongst them was one, that the appointment of Officer for Press Work
(Lieut.-Colonel Merewether) might be abolished when the Indian element
was reduced. Now if there was one person who should certainly not be got
rid of, it was this officer. India had long enough been kept in the dark
regarding the doings of her soldiers, and to have abolished him would
not only have finally severed all connection with that country, as far
as news was concerned, but would have made it impossible to compile any
detailed history of the Corps for the benefit of future generations. I
strongly protested against this on behalf of the Army and people of
India, and pointed out that after the loyalty shown, that country would
never forgive us if any such radical step was taken. India, in point of
fact, during the war sent to France alone 86,300 combatants and 48,500
non-combatants; whilst the numbers of both sent to all theatres of war
totalled one million and forty thousand men. Nothing came of it, as Lord
Kitchener was then arranging to replace several of the battalions by
others from Egypt and elsewhere, and had telegraphed to the Government
of India regarding this. Finally, before any great changes could be
made, the Indian Army Corps had left France.
There is no need to string out many other modifications I proposed, and
some I carried out, in the various Brigades. From this time till I left
the Corps it was one continuous effort to keep things going. It was
necessary to carry out tasks with the best grace we could muster, and at
the same time try and satisfy the powers that were.
I began this chapter with a remark that a student of psychology might
find something of interest in it. Put yourself in the place of a sepoy,
say of the 9th Bhopal Infantry. He had been brought up in a regiment
composed of four classes of Indians: Sikhs, Rajputs, Brahmins, and
Musalmans. He had been bred to the idea that his regiment was his
military home and that it was the best in the army. He had understood
that no man could be compulsorily transferred to another corps. He had
firmly believed that our Army was not only the best trained but best
equipped in the world, and he trusted his British officers as only
Indians can trust them, _i.e._ absolutely, implicitly. Any recruit or
trained soldier who joined his battalion he knew came there of his own
free will, and he could not for a moment imagine that all sorts and
conditions of men, out of all sorts of outlandish districts from Cape
Comorin to Peshawar and from Quetta to Assam, talking different dialects
and with entirely different ideals, might one fine morning arrive with
shoulder badges denoting anything from police to Raj troops, and claim,
not only acquaintance, but close comradeship with him as one of the 9th
Bhopals.
And yet, dumped down in the heart of Europe mid ice and snow, shot,
mangled, and torn day after day, many of these things, of which he was
so sanguine, were suddenly directly reversed. His old battalion and his
officers still stood to him in the same relation, but he awoke to the
truth that ours was by no means the best equipped Army for war; far from
it. The exigencies of the time had shattered his dream. All kinds of
strangers entered the ranks almost daily; all kinds of officers who did
not understand him took command of his company. The promotion he had
looked for in his battalion was going to outsiders; his own officers
were being wiped out week by week, and his periods of leave home were
_nil_.
He was indeed a derelict! but he still stood in his trench, his rifle
ready and his loyalty unimpaired. Only one belief had not been
shattered, and that was, that his family would regularly receive the
small dole that was his due, and that if he died this would still
continue. In this knowledge lay his contentment.
Is there not material here to ponder, for those who issued battle orders
as if the whole Army was of Anglo-Saxon blood?
Man is not cast in common mould; as iron is to unwrought gold,
So is one man, ne’er mind his faith, distinct as love is far from hate,
From all his fellow-men.
It was Lord Kitchener who wisely made the appointment of “Recording
Officer with the Indian Corps,” and it must have been he who refused to
consider his abolition under any circumstances.
On 2nd May, as on numerous other occasions, I had spent the whole day in
the trenches. There alone could one understand the real life the men
lived, and appreciate what they were doing. Besides, a big attack was
pending, and a thorough survey of the ground to our front was necessary.
The particular battalions I saw in the most advanced line this day were
the 9th Gurkhas and 6th Jats. I chatted freely with the men and was
struck by their eagerness to ask questions. One _jawan_ of the Jats
said: “We have been arguing as to whether there is a hill in this
country: why, we had one even in my own village near Hissar (it was
probably an old disused brick kiln), but although the troops who fought
near Ypres in April tell me that they saw hills and valleys, I can
scarcely believe it.” I told him there were plenty of high mountains on
some parts of the Allied front. He said: “Then send us for a motor bus
trip, and if it turns out to be so, I will give a banquet to my company
when we again get a rest.” Another young Jat quickly added: “You are too
generous. You need not trouble about the banquet, for that time will
never arrive.” This raised a general laugh, and as I passed on I said:
“You see we cannot spare the 6th Jats because the Germans are afraid to
attack as long as you are up in the front trenches.” “Well said, General
Sahib! now we understand,” came from several men.
The G.O.C. First Army was a very frequent visitor to our Corps
Headquarters. I see in my diary over and over again how often he came to
see me and discussed operations past or future. This was a great help in
carrying them out, and his intimate knowledge of the maps showing our
trenches, defensive posts, and situation generally, was quite
astonishing. It was only one of his many fronts, but you had to be
pretty quick with him, and I do not doubt that he knew as much of the
front he was eventually responsible for as he did of our own short line.
He has since made a world-wide name as a soldier. I wonder if he
sometimes recalls the days when the Corps yclept “Indian” was under his
command.
In my diary of 10th May, the day after our severe fighting at Festubert,
there is an entry, “Nice letter from Viceroy.” As I have often said
before in this book, Lord Hardinge never failed to write fully regarding
the Indian Army. I have a big file of his letters, which as I re-read
them show plainly that no man could possibly have done more to help the
Corps in France.
On the 2nd June I inspected a company of the Hazaras of the 106th
Pioneers, who had just arrived as a reinforcement for the 107th
Pioneers. It was worth a lot to see these honest-looking men, for simple
faith in the Government they served was written on their faces. A
havildar whom I asked what he thought of the country said, “Every
country to which the Government sends us is good.” A somewhat Oriental
reply, but he looked as if he meant what he said, though he was probably
wondering where he really was.
On the 7th and 8th June I saw the 69th and 89th Punjabis, just arrived
from the East to replace corps leaving France. The last time I had seen
the 69th was on the Malakand Pass on the road to Chitral; it was a
different scene now, although the ugly village they were billeted in
bore the somewhat ridiculous name of “Paradise.” They had justified
their regimental motto, “By sea and land,” and they rendered good
service in Flanders. This battalion was originally raised in 1764 at
Madura as the 10th Battalion of Coast Sepoys, and after undergoing many
changes in name and constitution, received its present designation in
1903. Ill fortune attended their arrival, for the day following, both
the Second in Command, Major Copeland, and the Adjutant, Lieut. J. R.
Dill, who had gone up to visit the trenches, were killed by a shell.
Dill was a brother of Captain R. F. Dill, 129th Baluchis, who had
behaved with such distinguished gallantry at the first battle of Ypres,
and received one of the first D.S.O.’s awarded to the Indian Army in
this war. They were sons of the Very Reverend Dr. Marcus Dill of Alloway
Manse, Ayr, who sent four sons to the war.
The 69th bears on its colours the battle honours, amongst others, of
Mysore, Ava, and Pegu.
The 89th Punjabis was raised in 1798 as the 3rd Battalion of Madras
Native Infantry, and like the 69th underwent many changes of
constitution until 1903, when it received its present title. The
battalion served in six different theatres of the Great War. One Naik
Shahmad Khan won the Victoria Cross in Mesopotamia.
Another battalion which joined the Corps later on was the 33rd Punjabis.
They were raised during the Indian Mutiny of 1857 as the “Allahabad
Levy,” and received various designations as Bengal Infantry. In 1903 it
became the 33rd Punjabis. On its colours is shown “Burma, 1885–87.”
On the 22nd June I visited the trenches and spent the night there with
the 57th Rifles. How quickly one realises in the darkness the chances of
being knocked out. Even though nothing unusual occurred, so many bullets
were flying about, ricochetting on every side, clattering on the tin
roof of the dug-out, etc., that it was made plain at any moment any man
might meet his end. And the men took it so much as a matter of fact and
appeared so unconcerned. It was only the experience hundreds of
thousands were going through every night, but it may be of some interest
to write what I, as one humble individual of that great host, myself
went through, for it just describes what occurred every day, more or
less. Towards dusk it began to rain, and seeing a young officer who had
to proceed to Divisional Headquarters on duty, starting without a
waterproof, I offered him mine. The La Bassée-Estaires road was his
shortest way, and although this was always kept under fire by the
Germans, it was still a fairly possible bicycle route if you did not
mind an occasional toss into a shell-hole, and was used by everybody who
had urgent business. The officer returned before dawn, and in handing me
back my coat said, “General, I am so sorry I have damaged it,” and on
examination I found two bullet-hole marks. Small thing, no doubt, but it
showed the kind of life those lived who spent their nights on that
Godforsaken road.
As the evening wore on a ration party assembled outside the C.O.’s
dug-out, where I was then standing. Just as they were collected, a
machine-gun, evidently fired on the signal of some watcher, pumped a
shower of lead into them; no one was hit, but in an instant that ration
party had disappeared. Evidently it was unsafe to show a head anywhere.
About midnight I lay down for an hour’s sleep as I hoped, but hardly had
I closed my eyes than a huge rat walked over my face. I jumped as if
shot, with the result that I knocked my head against the supporting
timber and remembered it for some days. I was fast appreciating the
luxuries enjoyed by those millions of brave men who spent, not one, but
hundreds of nights in this kind of inferno. But my experiences were by
no means ended; the most interesting was to come.
After a night in which I saw much of my old comrades of the 57th Rifles,
I proceeded at dawn to return to my headquarters, and remembering my
steel-bound leg, I took the La Bassée-Estaires road, instead of the
longer route by a communication trench. Not being one of those who do
not mind bullets whizzing about, I soon had cause to regret it, for the
Germans had apparently chosen the self-same hour to search this road
with a machine-gun. My orderly, Birbal, a Naik in the 69th Punjabis and
a very old friend of mine, was with me, and as we moved along for over
1000 yards we were under a most unpleasant fire which swept past us in
gusts. Birbal evidently thought “out of sight out of danger,” for he
insisted on opening his greatcoat wide and remaining on my weather side.
I ordered him to cease his folly, but, brave fellow, he replied, “They
will never see you as long as I keep this open.” None of the party of
four of us either had the time or inclination to argue, and our pace, to
say the least of it, was exceedingly rapid, and Birbal had his way.
At last we reached the waiting motor-car and were soon out of
machine-gun range; but as we spun along towards Headquarters, I could
not but realise how strange must have been the feelings of thousands of
Indians who underwent similar experiences daily and did it only because
they had sworn loyalty to England’s King. I also reflected for the
hundredth time, how safe, ordinarily speaking, was the lot of a Corps
Commander in comparison with those brave juniors who really won the war.
Sir John French, by his actions at different times during our year in
France, proved his strong sympathy, even in trivial matters, with
soldiers as a class. He could say a thing just in the right way to win
the regard of all ranks. When he found that one of our few periods of
rest behind the firing-line coincided with the Mahomedan Ramazan, he
immediately let me know that he was very pleased our men had this
opportunity of observing a religious duty. In the same way, when I was
gazetted G.C.M.G., the Commander-in-Chief did not fail to write and
congratulate me. I hope, should the great Field-Marshal ever come across
this book, he will believe that whatever I may have said in no way
reduces the very high esteem in which I bear him. The Indian Corps owes
him a debt of gratitude for his remarks in his book, “1914.”
Several French Generals also frequently sent their congratulations and
best wishes to me and the Indian Corps. The _camaraderie_ between the
French and the Indians will ever remain a precious remembrance.