From the finish of the battle of Festubert until the Indian Corps took
part in the subsidiary attack in front of Mauquissart on the opening day
of the battle of Loos in September 1915, was for us what was called in
France a quiet time. No big attack was undertaken and no special
features marked this period. The troops, however, had plenty of hard
work, and a few incidents are worth recording. Some of our old
battalions left us, and a few others arrived from Egypt, etc. Among the
departures were the 15th Sikhs, 6th Jats, 9th Bhopals, 41st Dogras, and
125th Rifles. I was sorry to miss the old numbers, but after being
refitted, brought up to strength, and re-equipped, they again joined one
or other of our numerous forces operating in the many theatres of war,
and shared in the toils and triumphs of Great Britain’s armies.
After the Indian Corps had left France, I wrote, as part of a story for
a magazine, a tale of one Naik Ayub Khan of the 124th, attached to the
129th Baluchis. This was not allowed to be printed by the Censor, but
all the same long before the war ended it appeared in full in _The
Indian Corps in France_. I suppose if the Germans had found out that it
was written by a former Commander of the Indian Corps it might have
altered the whole course of events in Europe, so I presume it was that
Solomonic Censor (and not Marshal Foch) who ended the war!
Here is the story, and I will give it in his own words:
“At 10 P.M. on 21st June I started with one other man to patrol the
ground in front of our own trenches. The grass for about 100 yards
this side of the German trenches has been cut. Their wire is about
fifteen yards wide, and is composed of high wire entanglements (3 feet
to 3 feet 6 inches high) outside, and _chevaux de frise_ inside. It
commences about five yards outside the German trenches.
I arrived at the ditch on the left of the road close to the barricade
on the road near Point 63 one hour before dawn. I waited until it was
light, and till the Germans stood to arms, and then stood up and held
up my hands, saying, “Germany, I am an Indian Musalman.” The Germans
immediately called an officer, who signalled to me to put down my
rifle by the barricade. I then gave up my bayonet and ammunition and
climbed over the barricade. The time was about 2 to 2.30 A.M.
There were many Germans in the trench, all wearing the number “15” on
their shoulders. They wore grey uniform and soft forage caps, with a
stiff and black shining band, apparently made of the same material as
the German helmet. They had no pack on their backs, only a belt with
several ammunition pouches and a bayonet.
The trench was very deep and strong, and is revetted entirely with
boards held up with stakes. The floor of the trench is boarded and is
kept dry by means of pumps.
Traverses are frequent, I cannot say at what intervals, but about six
to eight men between each traverse. Dug-outs are well built and
covered with sandbags. Some have doors and windows; these probably
belong to the officers.
The parapet is very strong. There are a few loopholes in it for
sentries and (perhaps) snipers, but in the case of attack the men
would, I think, all fire over the top of the parapet (probably
standing) on steps or sandbags. The German trenches appear to be
considerably stronger and better built than ours.
About five yards behind their front trench and parallel to it runs a
communication trench, connected with the firing-line in every
traverse. It is dry and in good condition and I was taken along part
of it.
Until the sun rose I stayed with the officer who called me in, and
then he took me along the trench to a senior officer about 500 yards
towards the German right.
During my walk through the trenches I saw some iron loopholes,
probably for day sentries, also some wooden loopholes which may be
used at night. There are more men in the German front-line trenches
than in ours, perhaps in the proportion of three to two.
The senior officer had a shoulder-strap covered with silver braid, and
the number “15”: I could see no other marks. I was sent off in charge
of one N.C.O. and two soldiers. I was treated well and the men in the
trenches gave me cigarettes.
The support trench was about 100 yards behind the firing-line. There
were no dug-outs, and the trench was absolutely unoccupied. I saw no
third line of trenches.
The course I followed seems to have been _via_ (here he described it
in detail). I then entered a wood, and went through it by a _kacha_
road. (He emerged at Point 72 or 73, and turned sharp to the left,
going for about 200–300 yards with the wood on his left.) I was then
taken to the second of two houses on the right, quite close to the
turning. The first of these houses is half destroyed and is used as a
telegraph and telephone office. A trolley line runs along behind the
wood and turns to the right by these two bungalows.
I was taken into the second house and saw two officers. The younger
had no coat on; the senior, who saluted me (mark the salute) and gave
me cigarettes, had silver braid on his shoulder and a brass crown and
a number which I cannot remember. I think they must have been the C.O.
and Adjutant.
I stayed there only about five minutes.
I started off along the trolley line, which continued till it reached
a main road, probably the Aubers road. (From here the description is
vague. Apparently he went past the factory west of Illies church, on
to the main La Bassée-Lille road, and thence to Wicres.)
After crossing a railway line, some five minutes afterwards we came to
a small village, well built and with only a few houses damaged. There
were French women and children in the village. I passed straight
through the village, seeing on the right an unmetalled road on which
were horse-drawn artillery wagons. I was taken to a house amidst trees
in the fork of two main roads.
An officer who spoke a little Hindustani and had been in India came
out with a senior officer (whom I took to be a General), white-haired
and with a grey moustache, whose shoulder-strap carried thick silver
braid as thick as my finger. The Interpreter brought a map and asked
me what trenches I knew. I told him that I could not read.
He asked me why the —— Regiment had left. I said they had been engaged
for a long time and had lost heavily. Other questions and answers were
as follows:
_Question._—Were you in the attack at Ypres?
_Answer._—Yes.
_Q._—How many men did your Brigade lose?
_A._—About 300 killed and 200 wounded.
_Q._—Is your Brigade very weak now?
_A._—No, a new battalion of 1100 rifles has just arrived.
_Q._—What is this battalion?
_A._—The 89th Punjabis. (The Interpreter then produced a book and
wrote this down.)
_Q._—Have the 124th (Ayub Khan’s proper battalion) come to this
country? It is not in my book. (He saw an old shoulder badge of the
124th in my pocket.)
_A._—No. When the 129th had lost 300 men, 400 more came from the 124th
to bring them up to strength. When we returned from Belgium drafts
arrived from other regiments. We are now 100 under strength but there
is a draft of 600 men waiting for us (a good lie) when we are relieved
from the trenches. I told him that the present strength of our
companies is about ninety men. (Indian battalions formerly had eight
companies.)
_Q._—Do you have plenty of rifle ammunition?
_A._—Each sentry is given a box and can fire what he likes.
_Q._—Have the guns plenty of ammunition?
_A._—Each battery has a dug-out full of ammunition, and they can fire
what they like. (Good lie!)
_Q._—What rations do you get?
_A._—In the morning, tea, milk, and biscuits. In the evening, meat,
bread, and vegetables.
_Q._—Do you get pay?
_A._—We are fed and clothed and get soap from Government. We get ten
francs monthly in the field, and the rest accumulates at the depot.
_Q._—Why did you, a non-commissioned officer, desert?
_A._—My section is tired of the war, but dare not come over in case
they get fired on. We discussed the matter and I decided to go alone
and arrange for the others to come over. There are fifteen men in my
section who want to desert, and I can find five more in the battalion.
The senior officer then said that, if I would come over to the
Germans, I should get very good pay, and that he would give me Rs. 300
if I brought over twenty men.
These questions were asked at about 12 noon on the 22nd.
I was then sent to sit in an orchard. They brought me milk and bread
on three occasions. A number of soldiers came to look at me. I saw
about eight men with the number “55” on their shoulder-strap, and
about ten men with the number “13.”
I sat in the orchard until 9 P.M. with some German soldiers. They all
had a crown on their shoulder-straps and another mark I could not
understand. They wore an ordinary black German helmet, with a black
board on the top, raised up a little. One man took the grey cover off
and showed me his helmet. It had a big white badge in front.
(N.B.—This appears to be the 16th Uhlans.)
At about 9 P.M. the Interpreter, one of the officers, and I returned
to the trenches in a motor-car. The officers in the trenches did not
want to let me go. However, it was arranged that at dawn I should
bring over the twenty men and call out my own name. The men were to
bring rifles with them but leave them in the grass. I then left the
German trench and arrived back in our own trenches about midnight the
22nd-23rd instant.
I brought back my rifle, belt, and bandolier. They took my ammunition
and bayonet.
As regards the distance of the place of interrogation from the German
trenches I cannot remember, but was walking for about two hours on the
morning of the 22nd. My motor-car ride the same evening was about five
or six miles.” Ends.
The story is a remarkable one and its general correctness was proved by
subsequent events. Ayub Khan carried his life in his hand, for had his
actions caused one doubt of any kind among his captors he would
assuredly have been shot. One spot indicated by him as an ammunition
dump was subjected to a heavy fire two days later and a very
considerable explosion occurred which we at the time attributed solely
to the information gained. The Hun was notified by unmistakable signs
that the naik’s treachery had been discovered and rewarded, as such
conduct in war should be.
Meantime I had the pleasure of presenting Ayub Khan with a larger sum of
money than he had been promised by the Germans, promoting him to a
higher grade of N.C.O., and getting him the Indian Order of Merit.
Promotion to the commissioned rank of jemadar soon followed his other
rewards.
Towards the end of June 1915 I wrote to G.H.Q. through the First Army on
the subject of the depots, convalescent camps, and drafts at Marseilles.
I have before me reports of a Committee of experienced senior officers,
also separate reports of other officers concerned. Those who only judge
Army Corps by the number of rifles and guns available might receive a
shock on reading these documents, and incidentally gather therefrom some
of the difficulties that had to be faced by the Commander of the Indian
Corps in France. The truth is that Marseilles proved to be the most
unsuitable place that could have been selected as the Indian Base. When
we first arrived it was intended to move it farther north, Havre or
elsewhere, as soon as the main body of the Corps had reached the front;
but once established, Marseilles remained our Base to the end. Its
geographical position and the shortage of shipping, of course, had much
to say to this.
The Committee did not shirk responsibility. On the contrary, its report
is a document that should be valuable to those who may ever again be
called on to select bases in Europe for Indian troops, and assist them
to avoid the stupid blunders that were made and the chaotic conditions
that prevailed. The Commandant, Colonel G. F. Tinley, did all a man
could do. He worked all and every day, but he could not refashion a
rotten system nor cleanse the Augean stable. Some of the reservists and
drafts that were sent from India were a humiliation to our name. Some of
the officers who passed them as fit should have been removed from the
Army.
For what did it all mean? Merely this, that from reasons either of
laziness or stupidity they did not hesitate to send men marked as fit
for service in the field who were absolutely unfit, and who they must
have known were unfit. They themselves were safe enough in India; if
anything went wrong, well! their comrades in France and not they would
suffer. As I look back on it all I cannot but hope that in most cases it
was only ignorance, but of what use are such officers in the Indian
Army?
It is difficult to write calmly on such a subject, for on 15th July I
myself went down to Marseilles and remained there four days. I saw all
that was being done, inspected every hospital, depot, and draft, and
returned to Flanders, only realising fully for the first time that the
authorities in India knew as much about the requirements of a European
war as I did about a Zeppelin.
Talk of the mentality of the East: I truly learned more of it in those
four days in Marseilles than I had in a lifetime. The mind of India was
laid bare. The ignorance of the West, when endeavouring to understand
the viewpoint of the East, suddenly stood naked before me. I thought I
knew something of Indians; I left Marseilles knowing a little more, but
still very far from all.
A few details may amuse the reader; they certainly afford material for
amusement, though little comfort was it at that time. I will quote from
the official reports. One lot of reservists was classed as “utterly
valueless.” Of nineteen men of one regiment “three are fit for service.”
Another small draft was classed together as “particularly poor,” of
another out of thirty-five men sent “ten are plague convalescents who
have not even yet recovered their full vigour.” One boy was referred to
as fourteen years of age, and another as a “mere child.” Of a draft of
sixty-seven reservists nine were of “indifferent physique” and
fifty-eight “unfit.” India appeared anxious to fill up sorely needed
shipping with trash of this sort. One draft of thirty Hindus was sent
for the 129th Baluchis, a Class Mahomedan regiment that had not had a
Hindu in it for thirty years, and of the thirty, twenty-two were
pronounced unfit on arrival at Marseilles.
Finally this particular Committee closed its proceedings with the
remark: “Of 212 men inspected only five or six—who (also) are
temporarily unfit—are suitable for service in France.”
G.H.Q. was shouting to us, “Promite vires,” on the battle front, but we
were fast reaching the Ultima Thule of our resources in the rear.
Attached to the Indian Corps was Captain P. J. G. Pipon of the Indian
Civil Service. He had volunteered for active service and in addition to
his military duties did much work of a political nature. His assistance
in all matters connected with religion, interior economy, etc., always
proved most valuable, and his inquiries at Marseilles unearthed many
details which make strange reading. He received the Military Cross and
C.I.E. for his services in the war. My Indian A.D.C., Risaldar Khwaja
Mahomed Khan, I.D.S.M., accompanied him on one occasion, and then, as
always, rendered invaluable service. Of course in the doing of this he
made many enemies, and those who understand the East will know what this
means. His loyalty and zeal deserve strong recognition, and I feel
certain that should the Viceroy or Commander-in-Chief ever hear of these
remarks they would not fail to inquire, and would assuredly see that
this distinguished Indian officer was honoured by those who owe him a
debt of gratitude. Captain E. B. Howell (I.C.S.), Censor with the Indian
troops, rendered valuable service and received a C.I.E.
In March 1915 I had recommended to G.H.Q. that wounded Indians should
not be sent back to the front, and the Adjutant-General had issued
orders to this effect. They still continued, however, to be sent, and in
May the G.O.C. First Army himself made similar recommendations, to which
the A.G. replied that only those who volunteered would be returned. It
was a great mistake keeping wounded men at Marseilles. They did little
good and much harm, and they should either have been kept in England or
returned to India. It was folly to mix them up with fresh drafts, who
were not cheered on first arrival by meeting a lot of bandaged men. The
Indian is not built that way.
However, it was eventually decided that all recovered wounded, as well
as sick, should as soon as pronounced fit be sent back to the front. On
this I made fresh recommendations for forming a working battalion behind
our lines, which could be utilised, at any rate for military working
parties. This project had taken shape before I left France. It was
indeed the only way out of the difficulty, and served as a means of
partially clearing that focus of discontent, Marseilles.
On 2nd July I attended the regimental sports of the 4th Cavalry. A big
French crowd had gathered, and the proceedings recalled many happy days
in India. The tent-pegging was quite good, and the jumping showed that
the horses were in good fettle and well trained.
The 4th Cavalry, the Divisional Cavalry Regiment of the Meerut Division,
was originally raised in 1838 as the “Cavalry Regiment of the Oudh
Auxiliary Force,” and received its present title in 1904. It was granted
an honorary standard for service in Scinde in 1844, and served in
Afghanistan (1879–80).
On 8th July Lord Kitchener visited us. He told me the Indians were to
have a rest and also said very decidedly that he meant to keep them in
France to the end of the war. He informed me that they would be formed
into ONE Division, and not kept as two, which was the opposite of what
he had sturdily maintained when I last saw him, so I presume the
pressure brought to bear on him had been too much even for his
determination. The G.O.C. First Army also informed me that the Indians
were to have three weeks’ rest, and that the British battalions were to
be formed into two Brigades and have a third added whilst the Indians’
rest lasted. By the 16th July this reorganisation had been completed,
but was of short duration, as only a week later we were again ordered to
change our front, and 3000 rifles of those in rest were sent to the
Lahore Division, which had been detailed to hold the line whilst all the
Indian units had been temporarily turned into the Meerut Division. Lord
Kitchener on this visit was in peculiarly happy vein and made light of
all his difficulties.
On 11th July the pipers of the 40th Pathans played in the square of the
village where our Headquarters was located and a large crowd of French
people gathered to listen. It was a very cheerful sight, and an old
Frenchman who was bent double came up to me and said, “Your Indians are
just like the British, you are a wonderful race of people.”
My own old battalion, the 1st Leinsters, was at this time quartered at
Armentières not far from us, and I went over to see them. Unfortunately
I had selected the 14th July for my visit, not remembering that it was a
great date in France, and that, in consequence, the Boches would
certainly select it as a special day of hate. Before I reached the town
this was forcibly brought home to me by the heavy shelling it was being
subjected to. However, I had fixed an hour and I knew the battalion
would be on parade waiting for me, shells or no shells. With some
difficulty I wended my way in a motor-car by back streets full of
debris, and arrived in time. I carried out a formal inspection while the
big shells were falling in the Square quite close by; but the men were
in high spirits, and I believe had a shell burst in our midst, not a
Leinster would have budged even to pick up his comrade. I could not but
compare it with the very last occasion on which I had met my old Corps
in India and had the high honour of presenting it with new colours, a
distinction that does not often fall to the lot of an ordinary officer.
We had lunch to the accompaniment of a chorus of projectiles, and I left
after the Hun had poured out the vials of his wrath. The Irishmen looked
grand. Would that we could enrol many Army Corps of such fine soldiers.
On 18th July Sir John Hewett, late Lieutenant-Governor of the United
Provinces of Agra and Oudh, paid us a visit. He came on duty in
connection with the “Indian Soldiers’ Fund,” for which he had done so
much and which I have written of elsewhere. Sir John was one of the
greatest of modern India’s Proconsuls—a man full of saving common sense,
strong in character, quick in decision, just in dealing, such an one, in
fact, as Indians respect and love, and his visit was much appreciated by
us.
Towards the end of July we received a very fine draft of 900 men from
India. I saw them on parade and was very pleased with their physique and
general appearance. They were nearly all highly trained and keen to see
fighting, and I saw that the authorities had at last begun to realise
that what we needed were soldiers and not useless reservists.
Hudson, by this time promoted Major-General, my Chief of Staff, left us
to command the Eighth British Division. I was truly sorry to lose so
excellent a Staff officer and so good a friend. His knowledge and advice
had been invaluable from the day we landed in France. Captain Langhorne,
R.A., also rejoined his own Army, and I felt his loss much. Hudson was
succeeded by Brigadier-General Charles, R.E., and Captain Forbes, 57th
Rifles, relieved Langhorne.
It is of interest to record that at the beginning of July the casualties
of the Indian Corps had reached a total of over 26,000, exclusive of
nearly 500 other deaths among the Indians.