TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
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FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION ONLY.
PRIVATE JOURNAL
OF
HENRY FRANCIS BROOKE,
LATE BRIGADIER-GENERAL
COMMANDING 2ND INFANTRY BRIGADE
KANDAHAR FIELD FORCE,
SOUTHERN AFGHANISTAN,
FROM APRIL 22ND TO AUGUST 16TH, 1880.
_For_......................
_From_.....................
DUBLIN:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CURWEN, 3, NASSAU STREET.
1881.
PREFACE.
The following Journal or Diary was written by my dear Husband--to use
his own words--"for _you_, of course, first, but written in this form
_specially_ for the dear chicks, and therefore quite simple and plain,
so as to interest and amuse them; but I shall be very glad _if_ it
interests the others if you will send it the rounds, as then I need
not try to write the same story over and over again, which is very
tiresome."
When on the 20th March, 1880, being at the time Adjutant-General of
the Bombay Army, my dear Husband, to his infinite satisfaction and
delight, and full of ardour and zeal, was ordered to the Front, to take
command, as Brigadier-General, of the 2nd Infantry Brigade at Kandahar,
Southern Afghanistan; knowing how deeply interested we (his wife,
and children, his mother, brothers and sisters) would be in all his
movements and actions, he conceived the idea of writing this Journal,
and most regularly week by week, as he found time to write, and as the
Indian mail arrived, did I receive it, and most eagerly was it looked
for and read. It will be seen that at first going off the wording of
it was simple so that the children might easily understand all that
their dear Father was doing, and _small_ details describing the various
stages of his journey up to Kandahar from Bombay are fully entered
into with the object of amusing and interesting them, and that they
might the more readily picture him both then, and when later on, having
reached Kandahar, and before troubles began, he amused himself by daily
rides into the neighbouring fields and orchards, and still further
into the villages and surrounding districts, not always unattended
without a certain amount of risk and danger, and thus became acquainted
_intimately_ with the country within 12 or 15 miles of Kandahar. But
as difficulties developed themselves, and were followed, first by
the lamentable defeat and retreat from the battlefield of Maiwand,
of a portion of the already too small force that was holding, what
appeared to _him_, the very false military position at Kandahar, and
ended as a climax, in the Siege of Kandahar itself, the subject matter
of the Journal necessarily became of such painful interest, that the
language of it on many points almost went beyond the comprehension of
the children, or, at any rate, was not too "simple" for their elders,
albeit only too "plain" and grievous for all to read hereafter, when
we remembered that He, whom we so dearly loved, had been besieged
within the walls of that city, and had been in _daily_ danger of losing
that life so valuable to his wife and children, and which, alas! it
was God's will--before the Kandahar garrison was relieved--_should
be_ sacrificed in the performance, in the first instance, of his
duty, as a true and ardent soldier in the service of his Queen and
country, during the sortie upon the village of Deh Khoja on the 16th
August, 1880, while in command of the attacking party; and, more
directly, in the endeavour to rescue from a cruel death a brother
officer--Captain Cruikshank of the Royal Engineers--whom he found in
the village severely wounded and unable to save himself! This sortie
had been determined upon six days before it was actually undertaken,
and strongly _then_ objected to, for various sound military reasons,
by my dear Husband, as we now know by what is written in the Journal
of the events that daily occurred during the Siege of Kandahar, and
also from friends who were there themselves, extracts from whose
letters--giving us the sad details of that ill-fated sortie--will be
found in the Appendix. These extracts speak volumes of themselves, and
need no comment from me. The manner and character of my dear Husband's
self-sacrificing death are indications in themselves of the ruling
power which influenced all his actions.
It will be seen that the Journal itself ends abruptly with the events
of the 14th August--all that happened afterwards we have learnt through
the letters of kind friends--and when the former was written it was
never intended that it should have been printed, but as all relating
to my dear Husband has _now_ become of painful interest to those most
nearly connected with him, I have been asked, and have yielded to the
temptation, to print it as it stands, for private circulation among his
nearest relations, to whom he was, in each relation of life, _without
reproach_, and who now mourn his irreparable loss.
ANNIE BROOKE.
Ashbrooke,
Brookeboro',
Ireland,
_June 18, 1881_.
JOURNAL.
RECEIVED ORDERS TO PROCEED TO KANDAHAR.
On Saturday, the 20th March, 1880, I received the official notification
that my appointment to the command of a Brigade of the Kandahar Force
had been approved by the Viceroy, and I decided to leave for Kurrachee
by the mail steamer of the 27th, as, although I had commenced my
preparations a few days before, there was still a good deal to be done,
and many things to be got to complete the small service kit which I had
to take with me. The first thing to be thought of was some horses, as
I had only one at the time, and as the season for purchasing horses in
the Bombay market was over (the best time is November, December, and
January, when the Arabs arrive from the Persian Gulf with horses), I
knew there would be great difficulty in getting horses up to my weight.
After many fruitless visits to the various stables, I heard of a very
large and handsome Arab for sale at the stables of Addool Rahman, the
great horse dealer of Bombay, who strongly recommended me to buy him
if I was prepared to give the long price asked (£120). After seeing
him and riding him, I quite came to the conclusion he was worth the
money, and purchased him, getting him for £110. I then bought a Persian
horse out of Sir Richard Temple's stud, for which I gave £60, and with
my old friend, a chesnut Australian horse which I have now had for
four years, I felt quite made up, and requiring only a pony, which I
will get in Beloochistan. I have named the Arab horse (an iron grey)
"Akhbar," the Persian (also a grey) "Selim," and the Australian's name
is "Rufus." Before going further I must mention that I nearly lost both
my new purchases the day after they came into my stables, as the Arab
got a bad attack of colic, and the Persian got away from the man who
was leading him, and got a very bad cut on his hind leg from some wire
paling, but fortunately both got better much more quickly than I hoped,
and seem very happy and comfortable in their stalls on board this ship
to-day (S.S. "Umballa," at sea March 28th). The next thing to do was to
find servants, and in this I think I have been fortunate, having got a
quiet Portuguese as general servant, to take care of my clothes, cook,
and make himself generally useful. He is to get 25 rupees a month, his
clothes and food. Each horse has its groom, and they seem good sort of
men, but there is not much choice, as one has to take pretty much what
can be got, as there is not much desire among this class of men to see
foreign parts. They
[Sidenote: Preparations for Kandahar.]
each get 15 rupees a month, and their clothes and food. After the
horses and servants were procured the next consideration was how to
get all the things I wanted to take with me into the limit of weight
allowed us by the Regulations. I have, of course, considerably more
than other officers, but even so I find it quite impossible to manage
all I should like to do, so I have brought about 100 lbs. over my
weight, as I can easily take any quantity I like as far as the railway
goes (_i.e._, to Sibi), and I am told beyond that I shall perhaps be
able to hire some private carriage to take the extra quantity on to
Kandahar, and certainly to Quetta, where it can be left, and sent on
after me to Kandahar, when the press of sending up troops is over.
Even with this extra weight I have been obliged, of course, to limit
greatly my desires and wants, but I hope I have got together a fairly
compact kit with nothing but what is absolutely necessary in it. First
of all I have two very small trunks, which contain my clothes (all of
which are uniform), shirts, &c., &c. I have, as a great treat, brought
two white shirts, to be worn on high days and holidays, as a change
from the coloured flannel shirts which, though useful and appropriate
for the occasion, are articles of dress I dislike very much. As the
cold season is now past, and it is heat rather than cold we shall
suffer from, it has not been necessary to bring up warm clothing,
although, of course, I have a few warm things in case of meeting sudden
changes of temperature which is quite possible. General Hogg, the
Quartermaster-General, presented me with an excellent breech-loading
revolver, and I have purchased a sword belt of the kind called the "Sam
Browne Belt" (having been invented by General Sir Sam Browne), as it is
so arranged that without inconvenience the pistol and ammunition can be
carried on it, and the sword itself can be arranged according to one's
pleasure, for riding or walking, which is a great convenience. The
Government carry for me 200 lbs. weight of tents (for other officers
only 100 lbs.), so I have purchased two tents, one for myself and the
other
[Sidenote: Service kit for Kandahar.]
for the servants. My tent is 9 feet by 8, and has a double top as a
protection against the sun, and a sort of small verandah on one side,
which can be used as a bath-room. The furniture of the tent consists
of a bed 6 feet long and 2 feet 3 inches wide, a small folding table
and one chair. When I get to Kandahar, if obliged to live in a tent,
I will, of course, supplement this scanty supply by such articles of
native manufacture as I can get. I have a block tin basin, but no tub,
as that is too bulky and heavy, and the custom on the march is to
have the water-carrier (Bheestie) to empty a skin of water over one,
which, though not so comfortable as a marble bath, answers all the
purposes very well. My cooking utensils are so arranged as to go into
a strong basket 2 feet high and 12 inches in diameter. In this there
are 3 saucepans, which fit one into the other, a kettle, a stewpan, a
frying-pan, and a pewter teapot, and 2 teacups and saucers pack into
the saucepans, and 2 soup plates and 2 dinner plates, enamelled iron,
go into the stewpan. In my luncheon basket are 3 knives, 3 forks, 3
spoons, and a couple of glasses, so on a pinch I can give a dinner
party of _two_, without resorting to the usual fashion, which is that
when you are asked to dinner in camp you bring your own knives, forks,
plates, glass, and generally your chair, your host supplying only the
table, food, and, if he is a very good manager and very generous,
drink. Of course as the country gets more opened up, native traders
will push forward, and everything one can want will be procurable,
although, of course, at exorbitant prices; and even now I hear
almost anything can be bought at Quetta, and a good number of things
at Kandahar. My establishment and kit are therefore constituted as
follows:--
1 General Man Servant,
3 Native Grooms,
3 Horses,
2 Tents,
2 Trunks,
1 Table,
1 Bed,
1 Chair,
Cooking Utensils and Plates, Glasses, Knives and Forks for two. I
have brought up with me a dozen case of whiskey and two small boxes
containing a carefully selected assortment of stores to eke out the
rations on the march. I have brought some soups, some chocolate and
milk, biscuits, sardines, macaroni, tea, pickles and sauces. How far
I shall be able to get these three little boxes I don't know, but
at the worst they can easily be got to Quetta, and after that must
follow me as they can. On the whole, I am quite satisfied with all my
arrangements, especially with my horses, which, if I can only land them
safely at Kurrachee (a very troublesome business) and get them to the
end of the Railway journey without hurt, will, I think, turn out well,
and I am sure I hope so, as all one's efficiency and usefulness (to say
nothing of one's comfort and safety) depends on being well mounted,
and being able to move about rapidly and see everything for oneself.
My saddles (each horse has his own) are all fitted with arrangements
for carrying coats, rugs, &c., &c., and extras of all sorts, and during
the march the horses I am not riding will have to carry their own
clothing, and also that of the horse I ride and of the Syces (native
grooms). It will be quite a delightful change to me, after eight years
continuous office work day after day from ten till five, to live an
active life constantly in the saddle and knocking about, and I feel
sure the change will be very good for me in every way. I have brought
with me a Persian Grammar and Dictionary, and intend, when settled
at Kandahar, to work up a little Persian which might prove useful to
me some day or other. The last week at Bombay was very busy, as, in
addition to my preparation for a start, I wanted to keep up my work to
the last, and leave nothing unfinished, which I am glad to think I did.
I had farewell dinners to go to every night, and indeed had not nights
enough nearly to enable me to accept all the invitations I received. I
must not forget to say that among other superfluities which I have left
behind me at Bombay, are my razors and shaving brush, as I don't intend
to use either till I return to civilization. To-day is the second day
without shaving, and I am very glad to feel that I have only men in
the same stage as myself to meet, as one feels very dirty and scrubby,
and will continue to do so for the next month at least, especially
as I have had my hair and whiskers very well cropped, which, if not
becoming, is certainly very convenient.
On SATURDAY, the 27th, at 6 o'clock, I went down to the Dock to see
my precious horses embarked, and found Alfred Christopher had arrived
before me and was superintending their embarkation, which we managed
without any difficulty, and then drove back to the Camp, where we
breakfasted with Colonel and Mrs. Wardrop, and at 10 a.m. embarked in
the Steamer "Umballa" for Kurrachee. At the embarking place several
of my friends had come to see me off, and General Aitchison, Colonel
Maude, and Colonel Wardrop came off to the ship with me and remained
until we were going to sail. On board, besides myself, there is Colonel
Anderson, who commands one of the Native Infantry Regiments at
Kandahar, returning from sick leave in England; Captain Cooke-Collis,
who is going up as Brigade Major of one of the Infantry Brigades; and
a young gunner called Fox going to join his Battery at Kandahar. We
can just make up a quiet rubber at Whist, which is an advantage, as if
we can we intend to travel together all the way. There are only two
steamers in the week from Bombay to Kurrachee--one on Tuesday which
goes direct to Kurrachee in sixty hours (the distance being under 600
miles), and the one leaving on Saturday which calls in at four Ports on
the way, and takes seventy-two hours. We shall, therefore, not be at
Kurrachee till Tuesday in the forenoon, not in time, I fear, to get off
by that evening's train for "Sibi." I was rather afraid we were going to
[Sidenote: By sea to Kurrachee.]
have bad weather, but it was very fairly smooth for the first twelve
hours after leaving Bombay, but early this morning, Sunday, 28th March,
the wind freshened a good deal, and I found it difficult to get through
my dressing, and considered it advisable not to attempt to come down to
Breakfast, but to satisfy myself with a frugal meal of toast and iced
water on deck. We have just been into the little Port of Verawul where
we dropped our mails and some passengers (natives), and are now on our
way to another small place (Porebunder) where we shall be in an hour or
so. The sea is calmer again, I am glad to say, so I have been able to
manage to write. We hear that the heat in Sind, and until one gets into
the highlands near Quetta, is very great, or, at least, was so by the
latest accounts, but as it is still rather early for very great heat
even in those parts, I hope it may have cooled down a bit before we
arrive. I am a little bit nervous for fear I should be stopped at Sibi
to superintend the forward movement of troops from that place. General
Burrows is now there, and has been there for the last six weeks, and
he may have arranged to move forward on my arrival, leaving me there
till all the troops are passed (about a fortnight later). I hope this
will not be the case, but I shall not be surprised if it is, as he
has had his share of the work there, especially as Sibi (pronounced
See-bee) is, I am told, the most awful place for heat, flies, dust and
wretchedness in the whole country.
MARCH 29th.--Tolerably smooth sea, but very warm; called in at a small
Port called Mandavie where we dropped a number of native passengers,
and took in several more. As the place is most uninteresting, and the
sun was very hot, we did not attempt to land.
MARCH 30th.--A very rough time last night and this morning, consequent
on a strong head wind and confused sea, and I was very glad when we
steamed into Kurrachee Harbour about 12 o'clock noon. A telegram just
received says I am to go straight on to Kandahar.
KURRACHEE, MARCH 30th, 1880.--On arriving at Kurrachee the first object
was to get the horses on shore, which was very successfully managed,
and we had the satisfaction of seeing the whole lot safely landed
without any ill results from the Journey, or the 18 hours of heavy
weather which they had gone through before reaching Kurrachee. Knowing
that William French was busy packing for a start with us the following
evening, I was anxious, if possible, to avoid giving him the trouble
of putting me up, so went to the two hotels to try and get a room for
the night, but, failing to get into either, I had to drive to William
French's and ask shelter from him, and found him in great confusion,
but he was able to give me an empty room in which I set up my camp bed,
table, and chair, and made myself very comfortable. What I cared much
more for than a room for myself (viz., loose boxes for my horses), he
was able to give me, and this allowed of the poor beasts getting a
good roll and a rest after their 72 hours of standing on board ship,
and preparatory to 36 very uncomfortable hours in the railway the next
day. The Royal Artillery Mess was close at hand, so I had everything
necessary in the eating and drinking way without trouble. Kurrachee was
less hot than I expected to find it, and the night was actually cold.
[Sidenote: Leave Kurrachee.]
WEDNESDAY, 31st MARCH.--The journey from Bombay to Kurrachee by sea may
be looked on as the first stage on the way to Kandahar, the second
being the railway journey from Kurrachee to Sibi, a distance of about
530 miles. Till quite lately only a portion of this distance could be
done by rail, which last October only went to Sukkur, leaving 131 miles
of desolate desert, for the most part, to be traversed on horseback. In
October last it was decided to begin the railway to Kandahar, and the
work was put in the hands of Sir Richard Temple (assisted of course by
skilled engineers), who was told that no money or exertions were to be
spared to complete the line as far as Sibi, so as to avoid the awful
journey of nearly 100 miles across a sandy desert, without water and
without shade. Owing to the extraordinary energy displayed a feat was
accomplished which, I believe, has never been approached; as a train
drawn by an engine entered Sibi, 131 miles from the junction with the
old line, in 101 days from the date on which the first sod was turned,
being at the rate of 1⅓ miles of line each day. No one who has not
had to cross the great Cutchi Desert, which lies between Jacobabad and
Sibi, can, I believe, imagine what a terrible journey it was, but the
number of men and animals who have died of thirst and heat in trying to
cross it, proves very clearly the horrors of the journey. Now one goes
through it in a comfortable first-class carriage during the night, and
the discomfort and danger is a thing of the past. The train for Sibi
leaves Kurrachee at 6 p.m., at which hour our party of the "Umballa,"
reinforced by William French and his horse, left for the second stage
of our journey. The evening and night was fairly cool, and we all slept
very well all night, having passed by Hyderabad about midnight, and not
waking until we were 200 miles on our way.
[Sidenote: By rail to Sibi.]
APRIL 1st.--We had a very fair breakfast at one of the
refreshment-rooms, and were fortunate enough to have a moderately cool
day. The railway strikes the River Indus at Kotree, opposite Hyderabad,
and runs parallel with the river to Sukkur, about 10 miles short of
which places, at a station called Ruk, we turned off on to the branch
line for Sibi, which, passing through Shikarpore, reaches Jacobabad
in about 36 miles from the junction. The whole of Sind, for want of
water, is a desolate, dusty waste, with but few trees, but the whole
country covered with a low underwood which would possibly be green
were it not for the heavy coat of dust which is always on it. There
is little or no cultivation, except where water is obtainable from
canals or wells, and consequently there are but few houses or villages,
and one may go for miles without seeing a living creature. Even birds
seem to think Sind too dreadful a place to live in. Shikarpore, which
is a very large village, is a remarkable place, as poor and squalid
as it looks it is inhabited by some of the richest men in India,
native bankers, who trade with all parts of the world, having their
correspondents in every great city in Europe, Asia, and America; and
in this dirty village, in the middle of the jungles of Sind, an order
for £1,000 could be obtained on London, Paris, St. Petersburg, or New
York without the slightest difficulty. Shikarpore used in past days to
be the great mart to which all the merchandise of Central Asia came,
and from there was passed on, on the backs of camels, to Calcutta and
Bombay, and from there to Europe and America. A railway to Kandahar
will, of course, ruin Shikarpore, and even now it has begun to lose
its importance. 26 miles beyond Shikarpore we came to Jacobabad (or
the town of Jacob), so named after General Jacob, an officer of the
Bombay Army, who, some 40 years ago, established a military station at
the place which was then known as Khanpur, since which time 3 Native
Cavalry Regiments and 1 Native Infantry Regiment has always been kept
at Jacobabad, as a frontier station, to keep the wild tribes which
live in the surrounding hills in order. At Jacobabad we were met by
the officer commanding who had prepared dinner for us, which, with a
bottle of champagne, we found very refreshing, after 24 hours of dust
and heat in the train. At half-past eight o'clock, p.m., we started
again, and nine miles from Jacobabad entered on the Kutchi Desert which
proved on this occasion to be singularly cool and pleasant, and we all
slept with much satisfaction until half-past four, a.m., on the 2nd
April (Friday) when we were woke up by the cry of "Sibi," "Sibi," to
which we added "change here for Quetta and Kandahar." It was quite
cold when we arrived, and we kept under our rugs and blankets until it
began to get light, when we turned out to collect our things, and get
the horses disembarked. The line goes on to about 8 miles from Sibi to
a place called the Nari Gorge (you will see the Nari River on the map),
but as this would take us several miles to the right of the direct road
to Quetta, and into very wild and dangerous country, travellers are
required to get out at Sibi and follow the more circuitous route by the
Bolan Pass to Quetta. The
[Sidenote: Sibi described.]
first view of Sibi is not exhilarating. Sandhills everywhere, not a
blade of grass, not a tree, and not a drop of water. A few tents here
and there, huge piles of bags full of grain, a string of camels, or a
procession of creaking carts, drawn by two bullocks each, make up a
scene which, curious by itself, is made still more odd by the sight of
railway engines moving about, and all the ordinary work of a railway
station going on, as it were, in the midst of a desert. A little
further on, at the back of one of the sandhills, we came to the tent
of my friend General Burrows, who is commanding here, and hospitably
arranged to put up William French and me, and feed us while we are
here. I suppose it is hardly necessary to say that putting up in this
part of the world does not mean a nicely furnished bed-room and a
comfortable sitting-room, and all the luxuries of the season, but,
even so, it means a good deal. First of all a tub of water and lots
of soap, a cup of tea, and a right to put your camp bed either in the
tent, or outside of it, according as the night proves hot or cold. At
present the heat at Sibi during the day in tents is unbearable, and
so all the Europeans in the place congregate in a small three-roomed
shed, which has been built for the purpose, and in which a rough kind
of mess is kept for all comers. I am writing in this place now (as
tents won't be possible till five o'clock in the evening), and writing
under the circumstances is not very easy, which must be my excuse for
any shortcomings in to-day's portion of my journal. On arrival here
we heard that an officer had been set on by a tribe, supposed up to
this time to have been friendly, and had been killed. This officer is
Captain Howe Showers, who was A.D.C. to his father, General Showers,
when I was A.A.G. at Calcutta, in 1865-66. It appears that he was
passing through a part of the country to the right of the road from
Sibi to Quetta, and thinking it quite safe had reduced his escort from
50 Native Cavalry (of an irregular levy he had just raised) to 12 or 15
men. At a spot in the hills called Chappur the party were fired on by
a large party of men, who had up to that moment been concealed in the
rocks. At the first volley Showers fell dead, as did also two of his
men, and the remainder immediately retired, which could not be wondered
at, seeing they were really no better men (probably worse) than the
much stronger party who were safely posted in the rocky gorge of the
mountain. We hear by telegraph from Quetta that one of the _friendly_
native chiefs succeeded in securing poor Showers' body and those of his
two men, and is bringing them into Quetta. An avenging force is to-day
being concentrated at Chappur to punish this treacherous attack, and, I
hope, will prove successful. The operations along this country are in
General Burrows' hands, and he is proceeding there to-morrow, and as he
is receiving good reinforcements from India, I have no doubt he will
quickly mete out the proper punishment to all concerned; though for my
own part, had I been commanding here, I think I should not have allowed
any attack to be made until I had some artillery at my disposal, and
then only under my own command, or that of some selected officer. I
think the state of the tribes along these Marri Hills is such as to
cause some anxiety, as though not powerful for real harm, they are
sufficiently strong to be very mischievous, and by constant raids and
attacks may succeed in frightening away the workmen on the line of
railway now being pushed on from Nari Gorge through Hurnai to Gwal.
These places will be seen on the map, as also a place called Thal, or
Tull, which is one of the positions which we hold in some strength. I
may as well mention that a very strong difference of opinion exists
among people who are in a position to judge as to the proper line for
the railway to take from Sibi to Quetta--one side, led by Sir Richard
Temple, have advocated the line by Nari (I see these places are not
marked on my map, but a place called Baghao is in much the same line),
Harnai, and Gwal, in preference to the one through the Bolan Pass. The
former is shorter and easier in an engineering point of view, but it
is through a country which, if not actually hostile, which many say
it is, is certainly unfriendly. The latter, on the contrary, has many
engineering difficulties, but is through a comparatively safe country.
The advocates of the former route have carried the day, and I fear
poor Showers' death goes some way to prove that those who thought the
other route would be the best in the end were not very far wrong. I
am now sorry that I am not to take General Burrows' place here, as I
think there will be a good deal to interest one in these parts for some
time. We have settled to march very early to-morrow morning, and hope
to get away from this so as to be on our new ground and tents pitched
before the sun can make itself felt. The first four days after leaving
Sibi will be hot, but after that we shall get into a more reasonable
temperature. Our route from here lies through Kirta, Beebee-Nani, and
Sir-i-Bolan, all of which are shown on the map I sent two mails ago.
(The figures on that map, under the names of places, show their heights
above the sea level in feet).
[Sidenote: Sibi--End of the railway.]
FRIDAY, 2nd APRIL.--At Sibi there are enormous depots of all sorts
of commissariat stores, provisions, and clothing, both for Native
and English troops, all of which have had to be transported great
distances, especially the grain and the clothing, as most of the former
comes from Bengal, and nearly all the latter from England, or at
nearest from Bombay. Thousands of pounds of grain is daily used to feed
the transport animals who are in thousands--camels, horses, bullocks
(both for carts and packs), ponies and donkeys. Besides these there
are some 2,500 to 3,000 cavalry and artillery horses, and about 1,000
horses, the property of officers, to be fed every day, and as there is
little or no cultivation in Afghanistan, some idea may be formed of the
arrangements, the labor, and the expense which are required to keep
this one matter of the forage supply in working order. Armies fighting
in Europe can expect to draw a good proportion of their supplies from
the country in which they are operating, but the fact that almost
nothing required by European troops, and very few of the articles
required by native soldiers are to be got in Afghanistan, renders a war
such as that we are now engaged in, a fearfully difficult and expensive
matter. We dined at the rough camp mess at Sibi at which 15 officers
were present, and went to bed (in the open air) at 9 p.m., as we had
to be up at 1 o'clock to pack our camels for a start at 2 a.m., as we
proposed to march 14 miles to Muskaff.
[Sidenote: Preparations for marching.]
SATURDAY, 3rd APRIL.--I was woke at 1 o'clock, and after dressing
almost in the dark began to have the camels loaded, but everything
was against us. First of all, for the 6 camels sent for mine and
Wm. French's baggage, only one camel driver appeared, and he seemed
perfectly ignorant of everything connected with camels, and more
especially with that most delicate of arrangements, the loading of
a camel; and to make matters worse he proved to be a wild villager
from the neighbouring hills, whose language we could not understand,
nor could he understand us. Then nearly all the ropes and harness
required for the pack saddles were wanting, and the saddles themselves
were of the most antiquated patterns. After many delays these minor
difficulties were partially overcome, and after at least an hour spent
in vain attempts to load the 6 camels, we had the proud satisfaction
of seeing two of the lot ready for a start, when a demon entered into
the two loaded animals, who rose from the ground (camels sit down to be
loaded) and kicked the whole of their loads off. In the first instance
this was rather ludicrous, and we laughed at it, and began again; but
when 4 o'clock came, and daylight (which meant intense heat) began
to appear, and yet not one camel could be induced to let the loads
remain on their backs, things looked serious, and we despaired of
getting off at all. However, we determined to make one final effort,
and this time were so far successful that we made a start at 5 a.m.,
meeting the rest of our party about a mile out of Sibi, and heard to
our distinct satisfaction that they had been equally unfortunate, and
had only succeeded in getting off after many failures. The only wonder
was that we got off at all, as it turned out that the camels had only
been purchased two or three days, and were perfectly untrained. Our
satisfaction at effecting a move was but of short duration, as we had
not gone a mile before half the loads were on the ground, and had to be
repacked again and again. The sun was by this time too high to allow
us to think of our completing the distance originally intended, so at
8 o'clock we halted for the day on the banks of the Nari River, where
there is a depot of transport animals to supply changes of bullocks for
the cart train which passes daily each way between Sibi and Quetta. To
carry this out there are reliefs of bullocks every 6 or 7 miles, and
the arrangement works with wonderful regularity. We could not afford
time to march only 6 or 7 miles a day, so could not avail ourselves of
the cart train, but are condemned to the daily trial of loading camels,
than which nothing is more trying to the temper, I am bound to say.
The transport officer at the halting place was good enough to allow
us to share his hut, and so saved us going into tents in which the
thermometer during the day stood at 120 degrees, and even in our kind
friend's hut was over 100 degrees, a heat which is required to be felt
to be understood, as the entire absence of air, except now and then a
hot blast, as if out of a furnace, made it most oppressive. Towards 6
o'clock it grew wonderfully
[Sidenote: First halt on the march.]
cooler, and at 6.30, when we sat down to dinner at a table placed in
the open, it was quite delightful. This was the first of our mess,
and, considering we were in the wilds, we did very well, having some
preserved soup, a leg of mutton, and curry of sardines--I don't,
however, recommend the latter to anyone who is not very hungry and
hopeless of getting anything else--whiskey and water--very little
of the former, and a very bad quality of the latter--completed the
sumptuous repast. Just as dinner was over a noise was heard from the
line of horses to which we all rushed to find that Mr. "Selim" (who
is a pugnacious sort of gentleman) had drawn his picket pegs and was
doing his best to completely destroy poor "Rufus," who being picketed
was powerless to retaliate. For about ten minutes we were afraid we
should lose "Selim" altogether, as the night was dark, and if he had
rushed away into the open plain we should never have seen him again.
Fortunately he was too anxious to return to finish his fight with
Rufus, and we managed at last to catch him, neither horse being,
wonderful to say, anything the worse. The fact is the horses are all
quite wild after their long confinement and want of work, and this is a
thing three or four heavy marches will all too quickly cure. To pay him
out for his games, I decided to give "Selim" the pleasure of carrying
me the first ten miles the following morning, "Akhbar" bringing me in
the last five miles, and so giving "Rufus" an off day to allow him to
recover the effects of his bites. We turned into bed at 8.30, sleeping,
as usual in these parts, in the open air.
APRIL 4th.--After several false starts, and many difficulties in
loading the camels, we started at 3.15 a.m. for a 15 miles march,
and as I wanted to inspect the transport and commissariat depots at
Muskaff, I rode on in front with a couple of the men of my escort
(I have a native officer and 20 men of one of our native cavalry
regiments, the Poona Horse, as an escort to Kandahar), and having
a second horse for a change half way had a very pleasant canter on
"Selim" (the first time I had ridden him), whom I like very much
indeed. The two colonels followed at a quieter pace, leaving Captain
Collis and Mr. Fox to bring up the rear. It was a lovely morning, and
the road was very nice for cantering, and I enjoyed the ride and the
attending circumstances very much. After inspecting at Muskaff, I got
on my arab ("Akhbar") and had a good opportunity of trying his paces,
which will be very good, but at present he is quite raw and untrained,
and gives one plenty to do to watch his antics, which, however, are
all of the purest kind of play, as, like all well-bred arabs, he is as
gentle as possible. The latter part of the march into Pir-Chokey was
very dusty and extremely uninteresting, and uncommonly hot. I picked up
the colonels (who had passed while I was looking at the transport and
commissariat depots at Muskaff),
[Sidenote: March into Pir-Chokey.]
about two miles from the end of the march, which we completed
at a quarter to 8 o'clock, but it was past 10 when the baggage came up,
the loads having frequently been thrown by the camels during the march,
so our two young friends who were in charge arrived thoroughly tired
and done up. A little tea and a rest, however, soon put them right; and
when at 6 o'clock in the evening, when the sun was setting, we all got
a plunge into the Bolan River, which is a clear and extremely rapid
running stream, we found ourselves as fit as possible, notwithstanding
that the day had been even hotter than the previous ones. Pir-Chokey
is a station established by us exactly at the mouth of the Bolan
(N.B.--1st syllable _short_; 2nd long) Pass as a resting and feeding
place for the transport animals and troops proceeding up and down. The
Bolan Pass is the only really practicable passage through the range of
mountains which separates India from Beloochistan and Central Asia, and
has been used for ages by the caravans coming to India from all parts
of Asia. Until we went up by it to Kandahar in 1839, '40, '41, the road
was a mere track through the bed of the river, and on that occasion we
did very little to improve it, and never dreamt that 40 years later we
should have to make a road practicable for wheeled carriage through it;
but this is what we have done, and carts now run from Sibi to Quetta
and still further on the road to Kandahar. It must not be, however,
supposed that the road is of the appearance or quality that people
at home would call a road, as all that has been aimed at is to make a
track clear from stones or serious inequalities along which carts can
go. At Pir-Chokey are stored thousands of pounds of grain of all sorts,
flour, rice, sugar, tea, potatoes, &c., &c., indeed everything required
to ration both man and beast, and many extras also, as we were able to
obtain from the Government stores there, on payment, such things as
Ropf's concentrated soups, French preserved vegetables, &c., &c. There
is a shed for the use of officers and a couple for the men, as there is
at nearly all the stages in the Pass, which is a very good arrangement,
as it saves us pitching tents, and the huts are much cooler than tents
during the day; and as dew or damp are unknown here everyone sleeps in
the open at night. We were in bed at half-past 8, and I was so dead
tired that I never woke through all the row of the packing, but had the
satisfaction when I woke to find the camels gone and everything packed.
Captain Collis, my Brigade Major, is very good in this way, and does
a great deal for me, which my orderly officer would have to do if I
had one, and as I might have had, had General Warre been agreeable and
allowed me to take the officer I wanted.
[Sidenote: March out of Pir-Chokey.]
APRIL 5th.--As we had a very long march (between 19 and 21 miles) we
had to move off very early, the more especially as I had two sets of
depots to inspect on the way; we had let the baggage have three hours
start of us, having sent the native officer and 16 men with it, keeping
only 4 men for ourselves, as we considered our five selves good for
any number of the cowardly marauders who hang about the Pass, but who
never seem to venture to attack armed parties, but always to swoop down
on one or two unarmed natives if they get the chance. 500 yards out of
Pir-Chokey we had to ford the Bolan River, and the winding course it
takes may be imagined from the fact that in the first 10 miles of the
march we forded it 18 times. It is, however, never more than a couple
of feet deep, and from ten to fifty yards wide. The whole of the road
from Pir-Chokey to Dirwaza (78 miles) is called the Bolan Pass, and
most of the way is properly so called, though there is a great plain
of 20 miles across, which, though surrounded in the distance by hills,
has none of the appearance of what one understands as a Pass. For the
first 12 miles the road is indeed a pass or gorge in the mountains,
as in places the cliffs are not more than 60 to 100 yards apart, and
rarely open out to more than 150 to 200 yards apart. Passing along
this in the early morning with the moon just setting is very striking
and dismal, as the hills, which are very peculiarly shaped, are very
high and abrupt, and are absolutely bare of vegetation of any kind,
except that the banks of the river are here and there fringed with
Pampas grass and Oleanders, the latter just now in full blow, and very
sweet. It is quite the most desolate, forsaken scene I have ever
witnessed, and the least enlivening. It is fortunate that the tribes in
the vicinity of the Bolan Pass are fonder of rupees than of fighting,
as they could easily prevent anyone passing up if they so desired it,
but for a consideration (a very heavy subsidy, I fancy) they agree
not only not to resist our advance, but to act as the police of the
Pass, and so enable us to dispense with any great strength of soldiers
here.--I must digress for one moment to describe the circumstances
under which I write, so that allowances may be made for bad writing and
stupidity. First of all, I am in a large tent, permanently pitched, as
there is no rest hut here (Beebee-Nani, April 6th), the thermometer
is at 96°, a gale of wind is howling outside, and shaking the tent
so violently that I watch the poles with apprehension; everything is
gritty with the clouds of dust that are flying about; the flies, which
are in millions, I should say, are gifted with a pertinacity which is
quite marvellous, and insist on settling on your nose, or in your eyes
or ears; my four companions are stretched on the ground fast asleep
(I never sleep myself in the day time), and by some curious fatality
have, one and all, established themselves on their backs, and are
snoring most awfully; and last, but not least, the heat is making the
ink quite thick and preventing it running freely, and with it my ideas
also I fear. I think it will be acknowledged that any one or two of
these drawbacks would be fair excuses for not doing much writing,
so I hope the lot together will bear me harmless from criticism now
and hereafter.--To return to my story now: As the sun began to rise
the whole scene changed, and what had seemed weird and desolate now
got a color that made the scene one that I would not have missed for
any consideration; the effect altogether, of course, of the beautiful
coloring which sunrise always bring with it in the East, but which
rapidly fades as the sun gets higher. At nine miles from Pir-Chokey
I came to one of the transport stages, which I found in charge of a
sergeant of the 66th Foot, with a guard of 12 native soldiers; not
another European within ten miles of him on either side. He said it
was, of course, lonely, but he had lots to do, and that all his spare
time was given to fishing in the Bolan River, which swarms with fish of
the most confiding nature, as they greedily seize any sort of bait, and
can even be caught in the hand at night by the use of a light--a way
of catching fish not quite unknown in our own part of the world. Five
miles further on I inspected another depot, which is situated at the
end of the first part of the enclosed portion of the
[Sidenote: March into Kirta.]
Pass, after which we descended into the plain or valley of Kirta, an
extensive plain more than 20 miles across, and almost circular in
shape, the mountains rising to a considerable height all round it.
About six miles further ride brought us to the rest house of Kirta,
where we were to put up for the day, and where, on arriving, I received
the agreeable information that the camel carrying my two small trunks,
which contain every stitch of uniform, clothing, linen, towels, sheets,
socks, warm clothing, &c.,&c., in fact, everything I possess, except
what was on my back, had fallen down in one of the fords, and that
the two portmanteaus had been well under water for five minutes at
least. The first and only thing to do was to open the boxes and dry the
things (for which purpose there was no lack of sun, at any rate), and
ascertain the amount of the damage done. Every single thing was more
or less wet, but fortunately, except my cloth uniform, my few books,
and my stock of writing paper, there was little to spoil seriously; my
patrol jacket had got off wonderfully, having been well in the centre
of one box, and was only damp, and my other cloth things had not much
suffered, and the rest of the things (except my paper, books, and
papers, which are ruined) will, I daresay, be all right after they have
been washed and done up. On the whole, I got off wonderfully well,
but it was a great business unpacking everything, drying them, and
then repacking all again, which, however, I managed to do in a fairly
satisfactory way. At Kirta is another large depot for the transport and
commissariat departments, and also a rather superior kind of hut for
the accommodation of passers by. The plain of Kirta itself is one vast
scene of desolation, not a tree, or a blade of grass, and nothing but
fine sand, thickly strewn with round stones of all sizes and forms.
[Sidenote: Dust storm at Kirta.]
MONDAY, 5th APRIL, continued--At the Kirta rest-house we found a very
scientific party of engineers (Mr. Molesworth, Col. Lindsay, and
Major Peters), who had been prospecting the railway line to Kandahar,
and were returning by no means impressed with the delights, use, or
value of Afghanistan. I don't wish to form too hasty a judgment, but
I must say as far as I have gone I have seen no reason to modify the
opinions formed eighteen months ago, namely, that a more useless and
unnecessary thing than an expedition into this country could not be
imagined. Committed to it as we now are, a sudden withdrawal would be
madness, and in any case, it would be a wise man who could form an
idea as to the final results, or what and when the end will be. Up to
the present, though the days have been intensely hot, the nights have
been very pleasant, and the mornings charming, but at Kirta just as we
were looking for the change from the heat of the day to come (half-past
five o'clock), the wind suddenly chopped right round and blew a
hurricane, like a red-hot blast of a furnace, bringing with it thick
clouds of dust, which made breathing, or keeping one's eyes open almost
an impossibility. Of course I have been in many dust storms in all
parts of India, but it has never been my fortune to spend so entirely
miserable a time as we had to undergo between 5.30 on Tuesday evening,
and 8 o'clock the next morning. The rest-house has no glass in the
windows, and even had it been possible to close the wooden shutters,
they were so roughly made that they would have been useless to keep out
either the burning wind or the dust; but even the wind and dust were
preferable to the suffocation of no air at all, and so, through a very
long dark night, we could do nothing but toss about on our beds and
long for morning.
[Sidenote: March into Beebee-Nani.]