THE SIRDAR AND SAVAGE WARFARE
On the morning following the battle of Omdurman, a number of the
townspeople came out to the camp, complaining of the rough usage which
they had been subjected to at the hands of the Soudanese troops left in
charge of the town, and of the looting of their houses. The majority,
not knowing that the Sirdar and his staff were fluent Arabic scholars,
brought their complaints to me, and asked me to interpret for them.
In my then excited and half-dazed state, I rushed off to report the
matters. Colonel Maxwell at once called up a hundred men, and with an
officer and sergeant, instructed me to proceed to the town and see the
men posted to the houses of the complainants. The real truth of the
matter, of course, only came out later, and as I do not know of any one
else who is in as good a position as I am to relate it, I submit the
following.
Long before the troops reached the town, the inhabitants were busily
engaged in looting the Mahdieh institutions and the deserted houses
of the fleeing Baggara and others. Their local knowledge obviated the
necessity of _searching_ for loot; they knew where |282| there was
anything at all worth taking and took it, anticipating the troops by
half a day. Into every occupied house loot was being carried, if not
by the head of the household, then by the servants and others attached
to the establishment, while the head mounted guard. True, the soldiers
did loot towards midnight; but what? angareebs (the native seats and
bedsteads combined), on which to rest themselves instead of lying
down on the filth-sodden ground of Omdurman. Heaven knows they richly
deserved the temporary loan of these angareebs. Wherever residents
were looted, it was their own fault. The victorious and therefore
happy and grinning Blacks kept an eye on their hereditary enemies—the
lighter coloured population, as they passed backwards and forwards,
always entering their huts loaded and emerging empty-handed. In their
eagerness to collect all they could, they threw down their loot, and
hurried off for more, and during their absence the Black “Tommy”
annexed whatever he thought might be useful to him.
[Illustration: TROPHIES TAKEN AT OMDURMAN.]
The Sirdar himself could not have made a better arrangement than that
which came of itself. The troops were enabled to keep at their posts
with an eye open for any lurking Baggara; the looting was being done
for them by the residents, who knew exactly where to lay their hands
upon anything worth taking, instead of time being wasted by searching
empty houses, while the soldiers were kept in good spirits by having
the fun of the looting without running the risk of being suddenly |283|
confronted with half a dozen Baggara concealed in some hut or room.
When some one came staggering along under a particularly heavy load, a
Black would assist him with his burden; some of his comrades would join
in, and when the looter protested that he did not require any help,
a little Soudan horseplay was indulged in, and later on these little
pleasantries came up as grave charges of assault.
The only people in Omdurman who had anything worth looting were the
real Mahdists themselves—and they deserved to be looted of their
ill-gotten gains. In dealing with any claims for compensation for
having been looted, three things should be kept in mind—the complainant
should prove that he was not a real Mahdist; that what he was looted of
on the evening of the 2nd of September was not the proceeds of his own
looting during the day; and, having got so far, should reconcile the
fact of his having been looted of property and valuables with his tales
of abject misery, poverty, and semi-starvation.
It did not take me long to grasp the situation, for after seeing the
soldiers posted to the houses of the “Government” people, I started
on a voyage of discovery after the houses of the principal Baggara
and others, and having had them pointed out to me, I recommended the
soldiers to take their cleaning rods and bayonets, and probe the walls
of the hareem rooms for hidden valuables. I am pleased to say that the
suggested operations were not entirely without some gratifying results;
but a very small find indeed gratifies the native troops. Whoever
possessed property |284| in Omdurman was either a thief or murderer.
Most had bolted with the Khaleefa, and it was through no fault of
theirs that they left a few dollars behind for people who could make
good use of them. I regret now that I did not organize a looting party,
and place myself at the head of it.
I have heard of, but I have not read, the article or articles written
by one of the correspondents who accompanied the Khartoum Expedition,
consisting of a series of wholesale charges brought against the Sirdar
and the troops in connection with “Khartoum Day.” I gauge what the
articles must have been from some of the letters written in reply. As
every one appears to have criticized and shown how much better than the
Sirdar they could have carried out the reconquest of the Soudan, as the
“oldest resident” I think I am entitled to express an opinion, and to
criticize also.
The Sirdar, in my opinion, made one grave error—he gave quarter; and I
have no doubt that, in doing so, he knew that he was doing a positive
injustice to his Black troops in order to pander to an ignorant public
opinion which he knew existed elsewhere. I know that some people,
profoundly ignorant of the Soudan and its tribes, and their history,
religion, laws, customs, and legal rights, will hold up their hands
in holy horror, and jump to the conclusion that my long captivity has
engendered a spirit of vindictiveness against my captors which has
deadened in me every sense of humanity—and in this they will be wrong.
Lord Kitchener of Khartoum made a grave error in |285| extending to
a horde of murderers the advantages of civilized warfare, _and the
clemency he felt called upon to extend to them will cost England the
loss of many a gallant life yet_.
There was not a man in the Black Battalions who had not, by the old
Law of Moses, the laws of his country in which he was then fighting,
the law of the Prophet, and the religious law, irrespective of the law
handed down from the remotest ages, more right to take a life on that
day than any judge in a civilized country has to sentence to death a
man who has personally done him no wrong. Every man there was entitled
to a life in retaliation for the murder of a father, the rape of a
mother, wife, daughter, or sister, the mutilation of a brother or son,
and his own bondage. To prevent, as the Sirdar did prevent, these
soldiers from exercising their rights, was doing them an injustice,
and running a risk as well, when it is remembered how they had slaved
for this “Day of Retaliation.” There may have been, doubtless were,
many cases of the killing outright of wounded dervishes; this was no
more murder than a judicial hanging; and looking at the matter from
a humanitarian point of view, would it not have been better to send
those Blacks over the field to put the wounded out of their misery,
and thus kill two birds with one stone? For let it be remembered, that
when a dervish sits and lies wounded, he is wounded to death, and only
by force of will keeps himself alive until he dies happy at the moment
when he sends his spear through the heart of his would-be saviour. I
repeat, the Sirdar |286| committed a grave error in extending to the
dervishes the advantages of civilized warfare. I who have lived amongst
the people, who have discussed with their greatest exponents of the
religious law, and made comparisons between the administration of their
and our laws, consider that I am well qualified to express an opinion,
and better qualified than those who, with a command of language, can
so present their views to the public that the cant, ignorance, and
humbug—not to say hankering for notoriety which underlies it all—is
hidden.
You who have held up your hands in holy horror at the foregoing,
prepare to hold them up again.
The day after the battle of Kirbekan an outpost was being sent forward.
Moving to its position, it espied a wounded dervish making signs for
water. One of the soldiers slipped off his camel to give him some, and
his comrades moved on. As time went on, and their chum did not catch
them up, they came back to see what had happened. There he was, still
attending to the wounded dervish, his hand resting on his shoulder,
but there was no movement from either. Approaching—this was the tale
plainly written. The lines on the ground showed that “Tommy” had taken
the wounded man in his arms, and half supporting and half dragging
him, had placed him in a sitting posture in the shade, with his back
against a rock; then, taking his water-bottle, he began to pour the
life-giving drops down the throat of the dervish, for he still grasped
the empty water-bottle. With returning life came, of course, returning
strength—sufficient |287| strength for the dervish to slip off his
knife, poise his hand for a second of time behind “Tommy’s” back,
while he was occupied with his mission of mercy, and then, plunging
it in with sufficient force to divide the spinal column, the dervish
died happy as “Tommy” fell dead across his shoulder. That dervish was
glorified in the Soudan, and thousands of others were awaiting the
opportunity of dying as gloriously. Do you like the picture now? These
are the sort of people you howl for the protection of. If you wish the
wounded dervishes to be attended to against their will, then institute
some special decoration for those who return alive from their mission
of mercy, and when you have discovered that for each decoration given,
a few hundred valuable lives have been sacrificed, perhaps you will
agree to the issue of orders which I, knowing what I do know, should
issue now.
If I had my say in the matter, when next the Government troops come
face to face with the tribes, whom Lord Kitchener in his clemency
spared to gather again around the Khaleefa, I should make it a
drum-head court-martialling business for any doctor who risked the
lives of his wounded in hospital by attempting to throw away his own
in attending to a wounded dervish who does not want to live. He is
wounded to death or would not be lying or sitting there, and he wants
to die—but to die killing; he wants your life’s blood, not your aid
and succour. As he wants to die—as he _must_ die—then shoot him at
once and put him out of his misery. In doing this, you are but acting
humanely to a dying but still ferocious |288| animal in the guise of
a man. You are not taking a life needlessly, but in all probability
saving a better one; and as the troops pick their way over the field
of battle, another bullet should be put into the “dead” and “wounded”
from a distance a yard beyond the point to which a dervish can throw
a spear, to prevent any more accidents. The number of soldiers killed
by “dead” and “wounded” dervishes is great enough already, and it
would be criminal to add to it. Have you no thought for some English
mother mourning the loss of her brave lad, who threw away his life in
attending to a wounded dervish, when she had been looking forward to
his return as the hero of the village? How many cottages in England
have been made desolate by the hands of “dead” and “wounded” dervishes?
If none of the foregoing suggestions are acceptable, then let each
correspondent accompanying an expedition into the heart of Africa
declare whether he votes for first aid to the wounded dervishes or not.
If he does not, then let him hold his peace if he sees things which
he would not expect to come across, were he witnessing the sequel to
a fight between civilized peoples. If he declares for first aid, then
give him a packet of bandages and a water-bottle, and let him put his
principles into practice, while his more enlightened brother knights of
the pen tag on to their despatches his obituary notice.
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