THE MARCH BEGINS
Colonel Kelly assumed command on the 22nd March, and the next morning
the first detachment of two hundred Pioneers, under Borradaile, marched
off. The local Bible, commonly known as the Gazetteer, states that it
never rains in Gilgit; this being so, it naturally started to rain on
the morning of the 23rd, and kept it up for two days. We were marching
without tents, so the first night the men had to run up their waterproof
sheets into shelters.
Colonel Kelly, Luard, and myself started about 2 P.M. to catch up the
troops, who had started about 9 A.M. Luard had a beast of a pulling
pony, and as his double bridle hadn't got a curb chain, it was about as
much use as a headache, so I suggested he should let the pony rip, and
promised to bury his remains if he came a cropper. He took my advice and
ripped; you couldn't see his pony's heels for dust as he disappeared
across the plain. We found him all right in camp when we got there.
The men were already in camp, and pretty comfortable, in spite of the
rain. Colonel Kelly had a small tent, and the rest of us turned into
convenient cow-sheds. We were not troubled with much baggage, bedding,
greatcoats, and a change of clothing; the men had poshteens (sheepskin
coats), and everybody pleased themselves in the matter of boots, most of
us preferring chuplies--a native kind of sandal with a leather sock, a
very good article in snow, as you can put on any number of socks without
stopping the circulation of blood in your feet. Officers and men were
all provided with goggles, and very necessary they were.
We had a very jolly mess. The force being so small, the 32nd Pioneers
kindly asked the remaining officers to mess with them, every man of
course providing his own plate, knife, fork, and spoon, the cooking pots
being collected for the general good. We had breakfast before starting,
the hour for marching being 7 A.M. as a rule. The Pioneers had some
most excellent bacon; good eggs and bacon will carry a man through a
long day most successfully. I remember that when that bacon gave out,
there was more mourning than over all the first-born of Egypt. Mutton we
never ran out of; like the poor, it was always with us.
We got into camp as a rule some time in the afternoon, and then indulged
in tea and chupatties; whisky was precious, and kept for dinner, which
took place at dusk. Sometimes, when we got into camp late, dinner and
tea were merged into one; however, it made no odds, we were always ready
to eat when anything eatable came along. The mess provided some camp
tables, and most of us managed to bring a camp stool, so we were in the
height of luxury. After dinner a pipe or two, and then we turned in; we
generally managed to get some grass to put under our blankets, but if we
didn't, I don't think it made much difference; we were all young, and
used to sleeping out on the hillside after game, frequently above the
snow line, so it was no new experience. If it rained or was cold, we
generally managed to get into a hut; these are remarkably strongly
built, good stone walls, and thick, flat, wooden roofs with a mud
covering, a hole in the middle of the floor for the fire, and a hole in
the roof for the smoke--at least that was what we supposed was the idea,
but the smoke generally preferred to remain inside.
There were also other discomforts of a minor nature. For instance, the
cows and goats used to take it as a personal matter if you objected to
their sharing the room with you; they were big enough, however, to catch
and turn out, but there were other occupants of a more agile nature,
armies of them, whom it was hopeless to try and eject; we suffered so
much from their pleasing attentions that we generally preferred to sleep
outside, weather permitting.
Our second march was to a village called Suigal in the Punyal district,
governed by Raja Akbar Khan, a jolly old chap who came out to meet us on
the road; he lives in a castle on the left bank of the river, which is
here crossed by one of the highest and longest rope bridges in the
country. In spite of his size, he is a very good polo player, as are all
his family, some of whom were shut up in the Chitral Fort with Dr.
Robertson. He now offered his services and those of his people to
Government, which Colonel Kelly accepted, and the old man retired very
pleased, to rejoin us later on. At Suigal we managed to get all the
troops under shelter, as it was still raining, and it was now the second
day that they had been wet through.
The next day the rain had luckily stopped, and towards noon the sun came
out, and everybody's dampened spirits cheered up. We marched that day to
Hoopar Pari, making a double march instead of halting at Gurkuch. Pari
means a cliff--and the camping ground is a horrid little place shut in
by high cliffs close to the bed of the river. There is no village near.
It is a desolate place at the best of times, and when there is any wind
blowing, it is like camping in a draught-pipe.
From Hoopar Pari we marched to Gupis. Gupis is a fort built by the
Kashmir troops last year, on the most scientific principle, the only
drawback being that it is commanded on all sides, and would be perfectly
untenable if attacked by three men and a boy armed with accurate
long-range rifles. Here we picked up Stewart, who was turning catherine
wheels at the thought of taking his beloved guns into action. He
expressed a desire to try a few shells on the neighbouring villages, to
practise his men in ranging; but as there were objections to this plan,
the idea was allowed to drop. At Gupis we made a raid on the stores in
the officers' quarters and pretty well cleared them out. De Vismes, who
took command, had to get a fresh supply up from Gilgit.
[Illustration: A "Pari" on the road to Gupis.]
We had a merry dinner that night, provided, I think, by Stewart, who
used to get up at intervals and dance a jig at the idea of seeing his
guns the next morning--they were coming on with the second detachment
under Peterson. From Gupis I sent my pony back to Gilgit, as it was
useless taking it any farther, as we doubted being able to take animals
over the pass, which eventually proved to be impossible. From Gupis
onwards we had to be content with the usual hill track of these
countries, good enough for a country pony, but still nothing to be proud
of; here we discarded our Government mules, and took coolie transport
instead. The march from Gupis to Dahimal is a long, trying one, up and
down all the way. Cobbe, who was on rearguard, didn't get in till long
after dark.
The village of Dahimal lies on the opposite bank of the river, so we did
not cross, but bivouacked on the right bank, where there was some scrub
jungle that provided us with wood. The Pioneers had brought four ducks;
they were carried in a basket along with the mess-stores.
Browning-Smith, who ran the messing, got quite pally with these ducks,
and as soon as they were let out of their basket, he used to call them,
and off they would waddle after him in search of a convenient puddle. I
forget when those ducks were eaten, but I don't remember them at Ghizr,
and am sure they didn't cross the pass.
Our next march was a short one to Pingal, only about nine miles. Here we
were met by Mihrbhan Shah, the Hakim or governor of the upper part of
the valley. Mihrbhan Shah is a bit of an authority in the murder line,
having been employed by the late lamented Nizam-ul-mulk as chief
murderer. Mihrbhan Shah is particularly proud of one of his little jobs,
which he flatters himself he accomplished in a very neat and artistic
manner. I forget the details, but it resulted in the death of five men.
I asked him in to afternoon tea, Shah Mirza acting as interpreter. We
had a long chat, from which I gained some very useful details about the
state of the parties in Chitral, who was likely to help, and who wasn't,
also a description of the road to Killa Drasan, which I did not know.
This latter information seemed so important that I reported it that
night to Colonel Kelly, and it was then and there decided to march _viâ_
Killa Drasan instead of by the usual road through Buni.
I don't, think I have mentioned Shah Mirza before, so I will introduce
him now, as he was one of our most useful allies, and is now one of my
greatest friends. He belongs to the Punyal family, and is Wazir or
governor of Sai and Gor. He lives at Damot, a village in the Sai valley,
opposite Bunji, and it was during my stay there that I first got to know
him. He has an interesting history, and, among other adventures, has
travelled through the Pamirs and Chitral in disguise. He was our chief
interpreter, and he, or one of his followers, of whom he had five,
always kept near us. His followers were enlisted Levies, and one of them
had formerly been my shikaree; in fact, he only left me as he was
called out as a levy.
It is the custom of the country for the headmen of districts to come and
pay their respects to any Sahib who may travel through their country,
and the proper etiquette is to supply your visitors with tea and
sweetmeats--biscuits will do just as well, and they like plenty of
sugar. They then pay you the most barefaced compliments, and make the
startling assertion that you are their father and mother; upon which you
reply that all you have is at their disposal. If they have any
petition,--and they generally have,--they insinuate it gently in the
general conversation, so you have to be looking out for traps of this
sort. When you have suffered sufficient evil for the day, you mildly
suggest that they are probably fatigued, and would like to rest. They
take the hint, and the remainder of the biscuits, and depart. We used to
have lots of these visits, which went by the name of "political teas."
Mihrbhan Shah proved very useful to us, I fancy he knew he would get
small mercy if he fell into the hands of the opposition, and therefore
did all he could to place our force between them and himself. Both at
Pingal and our next halting place, Cheshi, he managed to billet all our
small force in the villages, and no doubt our men were very thankful as
we were getting pretty high up, and the nights were decidedly cold.
Although it was a friendly district, we had regular pickets and
sentries, and a British officer on duty to see everything was correct.