WE REACH THE GOAL
I picked out a camping ground even better than we had enjoyed at Mori,
and then shared some chupatties and chocolate with Rajah Akbar Khan.
The main body came in by two o'clock, and the baggage shortly after.
Foraging parties were sent out, and Oldham sent to report on the bridge
in case we decided to cross. He reported it as practicable, so a guard
was put on it to keep it so.
Stewart came into camp that day like a bear with a sore head. "Here had
he been hauling his guns over condemned precipices in pursuit of an
invisible enemy. Call this war! it was only a route march. For a
promenade he preferred the Empire Theatre."
We tried to console him with hopes of a fight before Chitral, but he
declared the Chitralis had grievously disappointed him, and went off to
see about fodder for his ponies. Alas, poor Stewart! he didn't get his
desire.
As soon as we had settled down in camp, Colonel Kelly told me to try and
find some man who would carry a letter into Chitral, to warn the
garrison of our approach. I got hold of Shah Mirza, and asked him if he
knew anyone who would go. First, we tried the man who had escaped from
Killa Drasan, but he refused; then Shah Mirza volunteered to go himself,
but he was too useful to be spared. Just as we were wondering who we
could get to go, Humayun and Akbar Khan turned up, evidently excited,
and escorting a man who was bearing letters from Chitral. He handed over
a letter addressed to "The officer commanding troops advancing from
Gilgit." Inside was a letter from Surgeon-Major Robertson, saying that
Sher Afzul had fled on the night of the 18th April, and the siege of
Chitral was raised. He enclosed a return of the killed and wounded,
which, he requested, might be forwarded to India. Then we went through
the list, and came across poor Baird's name among the killed. This was
the first we had heard of it, the natives all declaring that it was
Gurdon who had been killed. Among the wounded we came across
Surgeon-Major Robertson severely and Captain Campbell severely. Poor old
General Baj Singh and Major Bicham Singh were killed, and all together
the casualties amounted to one hundred and four killed and wounded out
of three hundred and seventy combatants. So the garrison had evidently
had a lively time of it. Then we set to work and pumped the messenger
dry of all the news he could tell, the details of which are now too well
known for me to relate. The man had a passport from Surgeon-Major
Robertson, sending him to Killa Drasan, so he was allowed to go. We also
found out from him that there was no enemy between us and Chitral, at
which Stewart swore openly. My spy returned on meeting the Chitral
messenger.
There was no difficulty now in getting a man to go to Chitral, so we
sent off one with a note, saying we should arrive next day by noon, the
20th April.
The news had spread quickly through camp, and the native officers came
round to hear about it. We sent back a post to Mastuj by some Nagar
Levies who had just brought in a post, and then had a good discussion as
to the causes that led to the raising of the siege.
I don't know if any of the other officers felt it, but I know, speaking
for myself, that with the departure of any uncertainty about our arrival
in Chitral in time to save the garrison, a good deal of interest also
departed.
I felt inclined to agree with Stewart, that the enemy had given us a
just cause for complaint by not playing the game. At any rate, they
might have given us a run for our money in front of Chitral, and this
seemed to be the general idea throughout the column, consequently our
opinion of the Chitrali pluck sank considerably.
We marched at 6 A.M. the next morning punctually, and by noon the
advance guard was in the Chitral valley. A halt was ordered to allow the
main body to form up, as the guns had had a bad time getting through the
Baitali Pari, and had to be unloaded and carried by hand for some
distance.
After about two miles we came in sight of the Chitral bridge, which had
not been destroyed, and, soon after, of the fort, with the Union Jack
still floating on one of the towers.
We crossed the bridge, closed up the column on the other side, the
buglers were sent to the front, and we marched on to the fort with as
much swagger as we could put on.
We found the garrison in front of the main gate, and were very glad to
shake hands again with all our old friends and congratulate them on
their splendid defence.
We had a short halt, and then moved on, and took up a position covering
the fort, with our front on a nullah and pickets facing south. Our
bivouac was in a nice shady garden, with plenty of good water and wood.
When the men had settled down in camp, the officers went back to the
fort, where the garrison gave us breakfast, or rather lunch. There was a
great deal to hear and tell, and for the first time we began to realise
what a touch-and-go time the garrison had been having. There was only
one pause in the conversation, and good old Stewart chipped in with
"D'ye think, now, there's any chance of another fight?"
After tiffin, we went round and saw all the sights of interest, and
generally interviewed the lions. We saw Harley's mine, the gun tower,
the enemy's sangars, the hospital, and we did not forget poor Baird's
grave, which was just outside the main gate. Then we went back to camp,
and most of us took the opportunity to write home. I also took a
photograph when everyone was assembled over the homely cup of tea. The
bottles on the table look like whisky, but they only contain treacle
made by melting down country goor, the extract of sugar-cane. It was our
substitute for butter or jam, luxuries we had not seen for weeks. Whisky
was a dream of the past, and rum a scarcity. In fact, there was no
difference between what we and the sepoys ate, except in the manner of
cooking.
We went to sleep that night with the blissful consciousness that the
next day was a halt at any rate, and I think we needed the rest. We had
put on our least ragged coats to march in and make as brave a show as
possible, but our kit generally was in a pretty disreputable state, and
there was a good deal of work wanted in the laundry line. Most of us,
also, had misgivings about our boots. I was reduced to choosing between
boots with large holes in the soles or chuplies mended with string; the
boots I kept for show days, as the holes didn't show, and the chuplies
for ordinary work. Most of the other officers were much in the same
plight.
So ended the march of Colonel Kelly's column to Chitral. Our record, on
the whole, was not bad, though, of course, judging by actual distance,
we had not done much; it was more the difficult nature of the ground and
the altitude at which some of it was done that lent interest to the
march, and I am unfeignedly glad my luck caused me to participate in it.
The next day the Kashmir troops of the garrison came out and camped with
us, and revelled in the fresh air after the poisonous atmosphere of the
fort. Poor chaps! they were walking skeletons, bloodless, and as quiet
as the ghosts they resembled, most of them reduced to jerseys and
garments of any description, but still plucky and of good heart. They
cheered up wonderfully in a few days with good fresh air and sleep, and
marched from Chitral quite briskly when they left.
The next day I again went round the fort and got some photos, which
follow. One of the British officers of the garrison beneath the gun
tower, which was set on fire, and during the extinguishing of which
Surgeon-Major Robertson, the British agent, was wounded by a Snider
bullet. There is also the loophole, afterwards made, from which a sentry
inside the tower could fire at anyone within a few feet. Then I got
Harley to show me the site of his sortie, and pretty grisly the place
looked, but unfortunately the photograph I took, showing the mine lying
open like a ditch to the foot of the tower, was a "wrong un." But I
succeeded in getting one showing the mouth of the mine, with the
excavated earth.
Then I took one of the sangars from the interior, with the little
shelters used by the Pathans when not amusing themselves with rifle
practice. The water tower is just visible through the foliage.
Then I took a photo of the fort from the corner by the gun tower looking
towards the musjid, which is shown in a photo at the beginning of the
book, but taken in more peaceful times. It shows the bridge in the
distance, which the fire of the Sikhs made too hot for the Chitralis,
who had to cross over the hills in the daytime.
Then I took Harley and the two native officers of the 14th Sikhs,
Subadar Gurmuskh Singh and Jemadar Atta Singh. Atta Singh put on white
gloves to grace the occasion, but evidently trembled violently during
the exposure.
I got a shot at Borradaile sitting in a shelter Oldham had run up for
himself; the hawk and spear were looted at Sanoghar, I think. Borradaile
looks very like Diogenes in his tub. I also took some Kafirs who
strolled into camp. We used to buy their daggers, but they got to asking
as much as twenty rupees for a good one after a time. Every Kaffir has a
dagger, some of them very good ones, but roughly finished.
After we had been some days in Chitral, some of the 3rd Brigade under
General Gatacre arrived, followed by General Low and the headquarter
staff.
There was a parade of all the troops in Chitral, with the usual tomasha
of salutes and inspection. We were then formed up in a square, and
General Low made a speech, in which he said that the honour of raising
the siege of Chitral belonged to Colonel Kelly's force; whereat we of
that force threw out our chest and patted ourselves on the back. We also
winked the other eye.
Little Suji-ul-mulk, the Mehter elect, was present at the review with
his following, and personally conducted by the B.A., resplendent in
political uniform, we soldiers being in khaki. The parade was dismissed,
and, headed by the pipes of the general's escort and of the 4th Gurkhas,
we marched back to our camp.
A few days afterwards, I was ordered back to Gilgit, to take up Baird's
duties, and the Pioneers followed shortly after.
The Kashmir troops have gone back to Sudin on relief, and the Pioneers
have followed. There are only one or two of us now left in Gilgit who
took part in the march; but, black or white, it is a bond between us
which will, I hope, last our lifetime.