THE SHANDUR PASS
Shortly after leaving Pingal, the character of the country changed
considerably, and instead of a continual alternation of cliff and river
bed, the valley became more open and level; we were, in fact, nearing
the upper end of the valley. Beyond Cheshi the road leads up a bluff and
down the other side on to the bed of the Pandur Lake. This lake had, at
the beginning of 1894, been a sheet of water some four and a half miles
long, but, the dam at its end having given way in July, it had drained
off rapidly; and when I had crossed it in November of the same year, the
mud of its bed was only just becoming firm and was cracked and fissured
in every direction. It was now covered with a sheet of snow, through
which the river twined dark and muddy.
We had now reached the snow line, and our green goggles were taken into
use. The march of our column churned the snow and mud into a greasy
slime, and the going was very tiring. However, we came in sight of the
Ghizr post by 2 P.M., and Gough, of the 2nd Gurkhas, who was in command,
came out to meet us. From him we learned that none of his messengers
that had been sent to Mastuj with letters had returned, and it was now
some ten days since the last communication had reached him; so it became
evident that the enemy were between Laspur and Mastuj. We knew that they
had not crossed the pass, or we should have seen them before this, so we
were pretty hopeful of a fight soon after crossing the pass, and we were
not disappointed. At Ghizr we also found Oldham, a Sapper subaltern, who
had preceded us by a few days. He had with him a party of Kashmir
Sappers and Miners, who were now armed with Snider carbines. The post,
which consisted of a block of isolated houses, had been fortified and
surrounded with a thorn zareba, and was only sufficiently large for the
garrison of Kashmir troops then holding it, so our men were billeted in
the neighbouring houses, one of which we turned into a mess and quarters
for ourselves.
We halted on the 30th March, in order to allow the second detachment of
the Pioneers and the guns to come up, as from here Colonel Kelly
intended to march in one column. Here also we picked up the Hunza and
Nagar Levies, numbering a hundred men, under their own leaders. They
were posted in the village of Teru, some four miles up the valley, and
from there could give timely warning if any hostile force crossed the
pass. Wazir Humayun led the Hunza crowd, and Wazir Taifu the Nagar. I
got to know Humayun very well indeed, and a right good sort he is. He
had formerly lived for some five years in Chitral, when Raja Safdar Ali
Khan of Hunza had made things too hot for him, but when Safdar Ali fled
when we took the country in 1891-92, he was reinstated. Wazir Taifu I
did not get to know so well, as the Nagar Levies were left behind at
Mastuj, when we went on from there to Chitral. The second detachment
under Peterson, and the guns with Stewart, got into camp some time
after midday on the 31st March.
In the meantime, every available coolie and pony had been collected, and
we calculated on being able to start the next morning, with ten days'
rations for the whole force. By 6 A.M. on the 1st April the troops had
fallen in and were ready to start, and a nice handy little lot we had.
Four hundred Pioneers, two mountain guns, forty Kashmir Sappers and a
hundred Levies. Then the coolies were told to load up, and the trouble
began. It now appeared that some hundred coolies and ponies from Yasin
had bolted during the night. We had put too much faith in Mihrbhan
Shah's influence, and all those villagers who were not directly under
his government had gone. Those hundred coolies meant the transport of
our supplies, and without them we should only have the food actually
carried in the men's haversacks. We had cut down our baggage to the
vanishing point, and the men were carrying all they could, and we did
not dare leave our reserve ammunition behind.
The column had just moved off when this state of things became known and
was reported to me. Colonel Kelly was at the head of the column, so I
snatched the nearest pony, tumbled its load on to the ground, and went
scrambling through the snow after the troops. Of course there was
nothing to be done except halt the column until the coolies could be
collared and brought back, so Stewart, who had a battery pony with him,
was sent off down the road after the absconding coolies. They must have
started the evening before, as he only caught a few of them up fifteen
miles back, and had great difficulty in bringing them along with him. We
met him as we were returning to Ghizr at seven o'clock that evening.
Stewart had scarcely gone ten minutes before some fifty coolies were
found hiding in a village; they were soon driven out and made to lift
their loads. This gave us some six days' rations, and with it we moved
off, our great object being to get across the pass and open
communications with Mastuj. After that we could see about getting on to
Chitral. Our transport consisted of country ponies and coolies, and I
remained behind to see the last off and rearguard moving before I
started myself.
About two miles from Ghizr post there was a steep ascent where the road
twisted and curled among a mass of débris fallen from the cliffs above,
and in one place the ponies had to be helped through a narrow passage
between two fallen boulders. About midday I caught up the tail of the
troops, who were already past the village of Teru, the highest inhabited
spot in the valley; there are only a few houses, and these are scattered
about in clumps a few hundred yards apart. Passing on, I caught up the
battery, and reached the leading infantry, when suddenly the word to
halt was passed down the long line.
We were now on a narrow plain, and the snow on either hand of the track
which the troops were following in single file was over my waist, as I
soon found whenever I left the path in order to reach more quickly the
head of the column. On arriving there, I found the track had suddenly
ended, and before us was the level expanse of snow-covered valley.
Attempts were being made to get the gun mules of the battery through
this, but at every step they sank up to their girths, even then not
finding firm foothold. Trials were then made of the ground at the sides
of the valley, but the snow was found equally deep and soft there; and
after spending an hour or so in futile attempts to get forward, it
became evident to all that no animal could possibly pass over the
snowfield in its present condition. We had only gone some eight miles
out of the thirteen to Langar, and it was already three o'clock. There
was nothing, therefore, for it but to return, and the word to retire was
reluctantly passed along the line, and each man, turning where he stood,
moved slowly back towards Ghizr.
But though laden or unladen animals could not cross the pass, we saw no
reason to suppose that men could not, and therefore, at Teru, which we
reached by four o'clock, a halt was made, and two hundred Pioneers, with
Borradaile and Cobbe, and the Sappers under Oldham, were detailed to
remain there with the Hunza Levies, and to try and force their way
across the pass the next day. Borradaile was to receive all the coolie
transport, which he was to send back as soon as he got across the pass,
in order that we might follow with the remainder of the troops. His
orders were to entrench himself at Laspur, which was the first village
across the pass, and if possible open communications with Mastuj.
The guns were immediately sent back to Ghizr, and we set to work to
sort out the kits of Borradaile's party from the remainder. The
unavoidable confusion at first was something dreadful. First of all, the
kits had to be unloaded, then those of Borradaile's party separated and
put on one side; the remaining kits were then loaded on the ponies and
sent off, as fast as the ponies could be loaded up, back to Ghizr. The
ammunition had to be divided, and as much as possible given over in the
way of supplies. All this time we had to have a ring of sentries round
to stop the coolies from bolting, but as soon as we had got the ponies
off, the coolies were collected, and sat down in the snow under a guard.
Borradaile's party were then told off into the different houses, and the
coolies likewise, still under guard, the ammunition and supplies
stacked, and the job was done.
By this time it was about seven o'clock, getting dark, and also
beginning to snow. All of us, officers and men, were covered with slush
and mud from head to foot, and dripping wet. Smith, who was going with
Borradaile's party, had, however, managed to get a fire going in one of
the houses, and had got some tea ready, bless him! We had a cup all
round, and wished Borradaile and his party good luck. The remainder of
us plunged out into the darkness and snow and splashed back to Ghizr.
The men, who had started some time before us, were comfortably in their
former quarters when we reached Ghizr.
On the way we met Stewart, who had just returned from his coolie hunt,
and was seated on a rock, like Rachel mourning for her children, only in
his case he was murmuring, not because the guns were not, but because
they were back in Ghizr. "His guns were going over that pass even if he
had to carry them himself, you may bet your boots on that! and begad,
I'll set the gunners to cut a road; and d'ye think now the snow would
bear the mules at night when it was frozen at all?"
We got back to the huts we had left in the morning by 8.30 P.M., and
there was a general demand for something hot. Our servants, luckily, had
been sent back straight, so it was not long before we had something to
eat; that was our first meal since 5.30 A.M., and it was now about 9
P.M. We had marched some sixteen miles through snow, and been on foot
for some fifteen hours, and here we were back in the same place we had
started from. Since midday we had been pretty well wet through, and the
wind and cold had peeled the skin off our faces till it hung in flakes;
still we were lucky in having a roof over our heads, as it had now
started to snow in earnest. After dinner we weren't long before turning
in.
We were up early the next morning, but Stewart and Gough were up still
earlier, and were making sledges and trying experiments with loads. They
came in flushed with success, swearing that they had dragged the whole
ammunition of the guns by themselves across half a mile of snow, and
that they would have the guns over the pass in no time. Unluckily, the
snow was still falling, and as Borradaile had all the available coolie
transport, we were forced to wait till he could send it back. By noon he
sent in a letter by one of the levies, saying he had been unable to
start, as heavy snow was still falling, but would try the next day.
Shah Mirza now came up to me and said that there was a mullah in the
village who had an infallible charm for stopping the snow, and a present
of a few rupees would no doubt set it in motion. I promptly inquired
how it was the mullah was not carrying a load, but was told he was too
old to help in that way, but would be only too delighted to overcome the
elements; so I gave the Mirza to understand that if the mullah would
stop the snow-storm the Sirkar would make him, the mullah, a great man;
in the meantime, I would give him a couple of rupees on account. Shah
Mirza went off joyfully, evidently having implicit faith in the mullah.
Shortly after this, Gough came up, saying that the Kashmir troops in the
post had volunteered to make a road through the snow, and if he could
take fifty of them with four days' rations to Teru, a sufficient track
might be made to Langar, our next camping ground, just this side of the
pass, to enable the guns to be carried there without much difficulty.
Colonel Kelly's permission having been obtained, we set about collecting
all the shovels and spades we could find in the village. Among others I
got hold of the mullah's, who became very indignant; but I pointed out
to him that as his prayers seemed to have no effect on the snow, perhaps
his shovel would make up for their deficiencies. We managed, by
instituting a house-to-house visitation, to collect some twenty spades
of sorts, and with those supplied by the troops, we got altogether some
forty, which were handed over to Gough. He and Stewart and fifty Kashmir
Sepoys started off that day to Teru, taking with them half a dozen
sledges that had been made out of ghi boxes.
Later in the day we had to send out foraging parties for wood and bhoosa
(chopped straw) as the commissariat reported their supply as running
out; in fact, these parties had to go out every day during our stay in
Ghizr.
Early the next morning I got a note from Stewart, asking that the
battery might be sent up to Teru, as there was enough fodder there for
the mules, and experiments could be made for getting the guns along. I
got the battery off sharp, but it was nearly noon before they got to
Teru. The snow had ceased falling, and, the clouds clearing off, the sun
made a blinding glare off the freshly fallen snow.
After breakfast I started off for Teru myself, to see how Borradaile was
getting along, and, finding he had started, I left my borrowed pony at
the village, and, pushing on, caught up the rearguard a short way
beyond where we had been forced to turn back on the 1st April. Here I
found Stewart, Gough, and Oldham with the fifty Kashmir troops, two
Sappers and Miners, and rearguard of the Pioneers, staggering along
under the guns and ammunition in a track that had been beaten out by the
troops marching in front. For some reason or other the sledges did not
seem to act, partly, I think, because the track, being made by men
marching in single file, was too narrow and uneven; at anyrate, when I
arrived, the guns, wheels, carriages, and ammunition had been told off
to different squads, about four men carrying the load at a time, and
being relieved by a fresh lot every fifty yards or so. Even thus the
rate of progression was fearfully slow, about one mile an hour, and the
men were continually sinking up to their waists in snow. Added to this,
there was a bitter wind, and a blinding glare, while the men were
streaming with perspiration.
I know my own face felt as if it had been dipped in boiling water, and
during the next few days the whole skin came off in flakes.
I may as well here describe the tribulations of the advanced party,
prefacing my remarks by saying that they are founded on reports and
hearsay, and therefore I beg any slight inaccuracy may be forgiven me.
When I turned back to return to Ghizr, the party carrying the guns were
just arriving at a stream called the Shamalkhand, which flows from a
high pass of the same name, which is often used as a summer route to
Mastuj, but at that time of year is impassable. From this stream to
Langar, the camping ground on the eastern side of the Shandur Pass, is
some four miles, the valley being open and fairly level, but covered
with thick dwarf willow on the banks of the stream flowing down the
centre which confines the road to the western side of the valley. The
main body of the party I could see about one and a half miles ahead;
they had already crossed the stream. That was about 4 P.M., and the
rearguard did not get into camp till 11 P.M., and even then the guns had
to be left about a mile from camp.
At Langar there is only one little wretched hut about six feet square,
which was used as a shelter by the officers and one or two sick men, the
remainder huddling round fires in the snow. Luckily, as I have already
said, there was a plentiful supply of wood to be had for the cutting.
Many of the men, I hear, were too tired to cook their food, but simply
lay down exhausted near the fires, the officers getting something to eat
about midnight. Very little sleep was there for either officers or men
that night, most of them passed it huddled up round the fires, or
stamping up and down to keep warm.
Early the next morning the Pioneers and Levies started to cross the
pass, while the remainder brought the guns into camp, which work, I
believe, took the best part of the day.
On leaving the camping ground, the track leads sharply to the right,
following the course of the Shandur stream, which is now merely a
rushing brook. The ascent is fairly precipitous for about a mile, and is
followed by a very gradual ascent,--so gradual, in fact, that it is
difficult to say when the top of the pass is actually reached. This
slope constitutes the pass, and is some five miles long, and twelve
thousand three hundred and twenty feet above the sea; absolutely bare of
trees, and with two fair-sized lakes upon its surface, it is easy to
imagine the deadly cold winds that sweep across it. The lakes were
now frozen over, and the valley was one even sheet of spotless snow
lying dazzling under the sun. It is this combination of sun and snow
which causes so much discomfort and snow blindness; I had before crossed
this same pass in December on a cloudy day, and although the whole of it
was covered with freshly fallen snow, I did not even find it necessary
to wear the goggles I had in my pocket ready for use.
[Illustration: The Shandur Pass.]
The distance from Langar on the east to the village of Laspur on the
west of the pass is not more than ten miles, yet Borradaile's party,
leaving Langar at daybreak, did not reach Laspur till seven o'clock at
night.
Strange as it may seem, the men suffered greatly from thirst, and from
some mistaken idea of becoming violently ill if they did so, they
refused to eat the snow through which they were floundering. Towards
evening, as they reached the western end of the pass, three men,
evidently an outpost of the enemy, were seen to bolt from behind some
rocks and make good their escape, in spite of an attempt by the Levies
to catch them.
The descent from the pass to the village of Laspur is some two miles
long, and down a steep and rather narrow ravine. The Hunza Levies
covered the spurs on each side, while the Pioneers descended down the
centre. So sudden and unexpected was their arrival that the inhabitants
were caught in the village, and naturally expressed their extreme
delight at this unexpected visit--so polite of them, wasn't it? They
also said that they would be glad to help us in any way we desired. They
were taken at their word, and sent back next day to bring on the guns,
while that night they were politely requested to clear out of some of
their houses, which were quickly put into a state of defence and
occupied by our troops. Supplies were also required of the village.
The next day was spent by the detachment in completing the defences, and
collecting supplies and coolies. Towards evening a report was brought in
that the enemy had collected to the number of about a hundred some three
miles away. So Borradaile took out some of the men to reconnoitre. Some
men were seen in the distance, but these the Levies declared to be only
villagers, and as it was getting dusk, the party returned to camp, only
then learning that a levy had been taken prisoner. The man had gone some
distance ahead of his fellows, and had been captured by two men who
jumped out on him from behind a rock. That evening the guns were brought
in by the Kashmir troops and the coolies, amid cheers from the Pioneers.
Nothing, I think, can be said too highly in praise of this splendid
achievement. Here were some two hundred and fifty men, Hindus and
Mussulmans, who, working shoulder to shoulder, had brought two mountain
guns, with their carriages and supply of ammunition, across some twenty
miles of deep, soft snow, across a pass some twelve thousand three
hundred and twenty feet high, at the beginning of April, the worst time
of the year. It must also be remembered that these men were carrying
also their own rifles, greatcoats, and eighty rounds of ammunition, and
wearing heavy sheepskin coats; they had slept for two nights in the
snow, and struggled from dawn till dark, sinking at every step up to
their waists, and suffering acutely from a blinding glare and a bitter
wind. So much for the rank and file; but in their officers they had had
splendid examples to follow, especially Stewart and Gough, if one may
select when all did so nobly. Both these officers took their turns with
the men, Stewart with his gunners, and Gough with his Gurkhas, in
carrying the guns, and both, with utter unselfishness and with complete
disregard for their own personal comfort, gave their snow glasses to
sepoys who, not having any, were suffering from the glare experienced on
the first day. It is by these small acts that officers can endear
themselves to their men, who, knowing that their officers have their
welfare at heart, will follow wherever they may lead.
Thus was the Shandur Pass first crossed, and a position established from
whence the force could work down to Mastuj and thence to Chitral.
I may here mention that so little did the Chitralis imagine that we
could cross the pass, that letters were found in Laspur stating that the
British force was lying in Ghizr, the men unable to move from frostbite,
and the officers from snow blindness; also that since then fresh snow
had fallen, and no forces would now be able to cross for several weeks.
In fact, the Chitralis looked upon the game as entirely in their own
hands; the surprise of our arrival was therefore all the more complete.
Having brought the guns and Borradaile's party safely across the pass, I
return and relate Colonel Kelly's and my own experiences.
After leaving the guns being dragged through the snow to Langar on the
3rd April, I walked back to Teru. On the way I saw the mullah's shovel
sticking up in the snow, with one half of the blade snapped off. Alas,
poor mullah! At Teru I found the battery mules and drivers; these were
ordered back to Ghizr, as they could be more easily fed there, and would
be protected by the garrison of the post. I eventually got back to Ghizr
before dark and reported events, and, just my luck, got a bad go of
fever the next day. Great Scott! I did feel a worm! I was shivering with
ague and my face was like a furnace. I hadn't a bit of skin on it
either, and it was painful to eat or laugh from the cracked state of my
lips. I managed to struggle through some necessary official letters, but
as a staff officer that day I was not much use.
Colonel Kelly determined to start himself the next morning, with the
Nagar Levies and Shah Mirza, as we had managed to collect half a dozen
coolies to carry our kits. I went with Colonel Kelly, the remainder of
the Pioneers coming on as soon as the coolies from Borradaile's party
arrived; we were expecting them the next day, the 5th April.
I turned in early that night, after having covered my raw face with some
Vinolia powder that Colonel Kelly happened to have. I had not before
known that these powders were supposed to be of any use. I had a vague
sort of idea that they were used for sprinkling babies, but was unaware
of the reason of this strange rite; however, I will now give the Vinolia
Company what I believe is called an unsolicited testimonial. I stuck to
that powder till I got to Mastuj, by which time my face had become human
again. Colonel Kelly had a beard, so he didn't suffer so much. The next
morning I felt much better, had no fever, and, thanks to the Vinolia, my
face was much less painful.
We got the Levies and our kits off early, and about noon Colonel Kelly
and I started on some borrowed ponies, which we rode as far as we could
and then sent back. Having caught up the Levies, we tramped forward
along the track made by the first column, occasionally finding deserted
sledges and bits of broken spades. The snow was now somewhat firmer than
when the first party had crossed, owing to the top of the snow thawing
slightly in the sun every day and being frozen hard again every night;
all the same, the slightest divergence from the track plunged us up to
our waists in snow.
The only one of our party who could walk on the snow without difficulty
was my bull-terrier "Bill," a spotted dog of doubtful ancestry. He had
been given to me as a bull-terrier when he was only a little white rat
of a thing, and I had raised him at Bunji on tinned milk. He was a most
uncanny dog (the joke is unintentional), and it was commonly believed in
the force that his father was a tom cat. Poor Bill! Before he got to
Laspur he was so snow blind that until we got to Mastuj I had to open
his eyes for him every morning and bathe them with hot water before he
could see, and he was hardly well again a month later.
We got into camp that night before dusk, pretty well fagged and wet, and
as soon as the coolies came in with our kits, we scraped a hole in the
snow and pitched the colonel's small tent. In camp we found a few men
who had been placed in charge of some ammunition that had been left
behind for want of transport. This guard were mostly suffering a bit
from snow blindness, but were otherwise all right, as they had run up
shelters and had plenty of wood and their bedding. When I got at my kit,
I took out a bottle of quinine and dosed our servants and orderlies all
round, so that they should not have any excuse for getting fever, and
then took some myself for the same reason. We then laid out our bedding
in the tent, while the servants went into the hut, and turned in
immediately after dinner, and had a very comfortable night.
We were up before dawn the next morning, and, as we had slept in our
clothes, it was not long before we had had breakfast and struck camp. By
6 A.M. we were climbing the ascent to the pass. There was a wind
whistling straight in our faces, and I had no idea anything could be so
cold; it simply went clean through you, and I quite expected to hear my
ribs sing like an Aeolian harp. When we got on to the pass, the sun rose
and the wind dropped quite suddenly, and presently we had taken off our
greatcoats on account of the heat. After going about an hour, I began to
suffer from mountain sickness, a curious and distinctly unpleasant
sensation, very much like having a rope tied tightly round one's chest
and back, and the shortness of breath necessitating a halt every hundred
yards or so. Colonel Kelly did not suffer from it at all, but trudged
along without a halt the whole way. That is the only time I have ever
suffered from mountain sickness, and I have crossed the Shandur both
before and since, as also other passes, without feeling any
inconvenience.
By noon we had almost reached the highest point of the pass, and were
skirting the larger lake, when we met the coolies of Borradaile's party
returning with an escort of some of the Kashmir troops. They all seemed
pretty lively in spite of the poor time they had been having; but as
they are used to crossing the Shandur at all times of the year, I
daresay our sympathy was a good deal wasted.
We were soon descending into the Laspur valley, and we had hardly
dropped three hundred feet before all sense of sickness left me, and I
felt as fit as possible. A short way out of the village we were met by a
patrol which Borradaile had sent out to meet us, and by two o'clock we
were in camp, where we found Oldham in command, Borradaile having gone
on a reconnaissance down the valley. The previous day news had been
brought in that the enemy were assembled in the valley, and a small
party had gone out, as I have already related. On the morning of the 6th
April, Borradaile accordingly determined on another reconnaissance, this
time taking the guns with him, they being carried by Laspuri villagers,
who no doubt thought the game very poor fun. Gough went with the party,
Oldham remaining in command of the post, which was garrisoned with the
maimed, the halt, and the blind--in other words, with men suffering from
frostbite and snow blindness, of whom there were some twenty-six of the
former and thirty of the latter; those men of the Kashmir troops who
were fit to march being sent back across the pass as escort to the
coolies.
When the reconnoitring party had gone some three miles down the valley,
they came across the old camp fires of the enemy. At Rahman, two miles
farther on, they left the snow behind, much to everybody's delight, and
by one o'clock entered the village of Gasht, some eleven miles from
Laspur, and about half-way to Mastuj, the Levies crowning a small knoll
in the middle of the valley at the lower end of the village. From here
they reported they could see the enemy some three miles farther down the
valley, who were evidently engaged in building sangars and entrenching
themselves. A short council of war was held as to the advisability of
attacking them, but, considering that the force consisted of only a
little over a hundred men and some fifty Levies, besides the two guns,
and also the time of day, it was decided to return to camp, which was
reached by dark. The day's work was highly creditable to all concerned;
the march to Gasht and back had been some twenty-two miles, and
information had been obtained of the position in which we might expect
opposition from the enemy. On getting into camp, Borradaile's party
found Colonel Kelly and myself waiting their arrival, eager to hear
their news.