After considering such maps and information as to the nature of the
country as were available, Sir Bindon Blood decided to enter the
territories of the Mohmands by two routes. (1) The 3rd Brigade through
the pass of Nawagai. (2) The 2nd Brigade over the Rambat Pass. This
would sweep the country more thoroughly, and afford increased facilities
for drawing supplies. As the 3rd Brigade had a greater distance to
cover, it passed in front of the 2nd, and on the 12th of September, by
a march of twelve miles, reached Shumshuk. The 2nd Brigade, which had
hitherto been leading, moved by an easy stage of seven miles to Jar, and
there camped within supporting distance.
The Headquarters staff was now transferred to the 3rd Brigade and
marched with them. The road lay for the first five or six miles over the
ground, which the cavalry had reconnoitered the day before. Again all
were struck by the great array of castles on the Utman Khel side of the
valley. Many eager spirits would have liked to stop and blow up some of
these fine places. But the Government terms had been complied with and
the columns moved slowly by, eyeing the forts, which were covered with
the white and blue clad figures of their defenders, with a sour disdain.
After riding for a couple of hours, the staff halted for breakfast under
a shady tree by the banks of a clear and rapid stream.
Two hundred yards away we observed a large flight of teal sitting tamely
on the water. Every one became interested. Rifles there were in plenty;
but where could a gun be found? Rigorous and hasty search was made. The
political officer of the force, Mr. Davis, being consulted, eventually
produced a friendly khan, who was the owner of a shot gun. After further
delay this weapon was brought. The teal still floated unconcernedly on
the water. A gun awakened no sense of danger. Shots in plenty they
had heard in the valley, but they were not usually fired at birds. The
exciting moment now arrived. Who should shoot? The responsibility was
great. Many refused. At length Veterinary-Captain Mann, who was wounded
a few days later at Nawagai, volunteered. He took the gun and began a
painful stalk. He crawled along cautiously. We watched with suppressed
emotion. Suddenly two shots rang out. They were to be the first of many.
The men in the marching column 200 yards away became wide awake. The
teal rose hurriedly and flew away, but four remained behind, killed or
wounded. These birds we picked up with a satisfaction which was fully
justified by their excellence that night at dinner.
Another mile or so brought us to the Watelai River, a stream about
thirty yards broad, which flows into the Jandul, and thence into the
Panjkora. Crossing this and climbing the opposite bank, the troops
debouched on to the wide level plateau of Khar, perhaps ten miles across
and sixteen in length. Standing on the high ground, the great dimensions
of the valley were displayed. Looking westward it was possible to see
the hills behind the Panjkora, the sites of the former camps, and
the entrance of the subsidiary valley of the Jandul. In front, at
the further end, an opening in the mountain range showed the pass of
Nawagai. Towering on the left was the great mass of the Koh-i-mohr, or
"Mountain of Peacocks"--a splendid peak, some 8000 feet high, the top of
which is visible from both Peshawar and Malakand. Its name is possibly
a corruption. Arrian calls it Mount Meros. At its base the city of Nysa
stood in former times, and among many others fell before the arms of
Alexander. Its inhabitants, in begging for peace, boasted that they
conducted their government "with constitutional order," and that "ivy,
which did not grow in the rest of India, grew among them." City, ivy,
and constitutional order have alike disappeared. The mountain alone
remains. A little to the northward the Ramlat Pass was distinguishable.
On the right the smooth plain appeared to flow into the hill country,
and a wide bay in the mountains, roughly circular in shape and nearly
twelve miles across, opened out of the valley. The prominent spurs which
ran from the hills formed many dark ravines and deep hollows, as it were
gulfs and inlets of the sea. The entrance was perhaps a mile broad. I
remember that, when I first looked into the valley, the black clouds
of a passing storm hung gloomily over all, and filled it with a hazy
half-light that contrasted with the brilliant sunshine outside. It was
the Watelai, or as we got to call it later--the Mamund Valley.
The Khan of Khar met the general on the farther bank of the river. He
was a tall, fine-looking man with bright eyes, bushy black whiskers and
white teeth, which his frequent smiles displayed. He was richly dressed,
attended by a dozen horsemen and mounted on a handsome, though vicious
dun horse. He saluted Sir Bindon Blood with great respect and ceremony.
Some conversation took place, conducted, as the khan only spoke Pushtu,
through the political officer. The khan asserted his loyalty and that
of his neighbour the Khan of Jar. He would, he said, do his utmost to
secure the peaceful passage of the troops. Such supplies as they might
need, he would provide, as far as his resources would go. He looked with
some alarm at the long lines of marching men and animals. The general
reassured him. If the forces were not interfered with or opposed, if the
camps were not fired into at night, if stragglers were not cut off and
cut up by his people, payment in cash would be made for all the grain
and wood it was necessary to requisition.
The khan accepted this promise with gratitude and relief, and henceforth
during the operations which took place at Nawagai and in the Mamund
Valley, he preserved a loyal and honourable behaviour. To the best of
his power he restrained his young bloods. As much as he was able, he
used his influence to discourage the other tribes from joining the
revolt. Every night his pickets watched our camps, and much good sleep
was obtained by weary men in consequence. At the end of the fighting he
was the intermediary between the Government and the Mamund tribesmen.
And on one occasion he rendered a signal service, though one which
should hardly have been entrusted to him, by escorting with his own
retainers an ammunition convoy to the 2nd Brigade, when troops and
cartridges were alike few and sorely needed. Had he proved treacherous
in this instance the consequences might have been most grave.
Throughout, however, he kept his word with the general, and that in the
face of opposition from his own people, and threats of vengeance from
his neighbours.
He on his part will not complain of British good faith. Although the
fighting was continued in the district for nearly a month, not one of
his villages was burnt, while all damage done to his crops was liberally
compensated. He was guaranteed against reprisals, and at the end of the
operations the gift of a considerable sum of money proved to him that
the Sirkar could reward its friends, as well as punish its enemies.
The camel transport of the 3rd Brigade lagged on the road, and the
troops, tired after their long march, had to wait in the blazing sun for
a couple of hours without shelter until the baggage came up. At length
it arrived, and we proceeded to camp as far as is possible without
tents. Shelters were improvised from blankets, from waterproof sheets
supported on sticks, or from the green boughs of some adjacent trees.
Beneath these scanty coverings the soldiers lay, and waited for the
evening.
Every one has read of the sufferings of the British troops in having to
campaign in the hot weather during the Indian Mutiny. September in these
valleys is as hot as it is easy to imagine or elegant to describe, and
the exposure to the sun tells severely on the British battalions, as
the hospital returns show. Of course, since Mutiny days, many salutary
changes have been made in the dress and equipment of the soldier. The
small cap with its insufficient puggaree is replaced by the pith helmet,
the shade of which is increased by a long quilted covering. The high
stock and thick, tight uniforms are gone, and a cool and comfortable
khaki kit has been substituted. A spine protector covers the back, and
in other ways rational improvements have been effected. But the sun
remains unchanged, and all precautions only minimise, without preventing
the evils.
Slowly the hours pass away. The heat is intense. The air glitters over
the scorched plain, as over the funnel of an engine. The wind blows with
a fierce warmth, and instead of bringing relief, raises only whirling
dust devils, which scatter the shelters and half-choke their occupants.
The water is tepid, and fails to quench the thirst. At last the shadows
begin to lengthen, as the sun sinks towards the western mountains.
Every one revives. Even the animals seem to share the general feeling of
relief. The camp turns out to see the sunset and enjoy the twilight. The
feelings of savage hatred against the orb of day fade from our minds,
and we strive to forget that he will be ready at five o'clock next
morning to begin the torment over again.
As there were still several days to spare before the Malakand Field
Force was due to enter the Mohmand country, Sir Bindon Blood ordered
both brigades to remain halted on the 13th: the 3rd Brigade at Shumshuk;
the 2nd at Jar. Meanwhile two reconnaissances were to be sent, one to
the summit of the Rambat Pass, and the other up the Watelai Valley.
The night of the 12th was the first occasion of "sniping," since the
advance against the Mohmands had begun. About half a dozen shots were
fired into camp, without other result than to disturb light sleepers.
Still it marked a beginning.
The reconnaissances started next morning. The general accompanied the
one to the Rambat pass, to satisfy himself as to the nature of the
unexplored country on the other side. Two companies of infantry were
ordered to clear the way, and two others remained in support half-way
up the pass. Sir Bindon Blood started at six o'clock accompanied by
his escort, whose gay pennons combined, with the Union Jack of the
Headquarters staff, to add a dash of colour to the scene. After riding
for a couple of miles we caught up the infantry and had to halt, to let
them get on ahead and work through the broken ground and scrub. A mile
further it was necessary to dismount and proceed on foot. No opposition
was encountered, though the attitude and demeanour of the natives was
most unfriendly. The younger ones retired to the hills. The elder
stayed to scowl at, and even curse us. The village cemetery was full
of property of all kinds, beds, pitchers, and bags of grain, which
the inhabitants had deposited there under the double delusion, that we
wanted to plunder, and that in so sacred a spot it would be safe--were
such our intention. In spite of their black looks, they were eventually
all made to stand up and salute respectfully.
The climb was a stiff one and took at least an hour. But the track was
everywhere passable, or capable of easily being made passable for mules.
The general, trained and hardened by years of shooting of all kinds in
the jungles, arrived at the top first, followed by Brigadier-General
Wodehouse, and a panting staff. A fine view of the Ambasar Valley was
displayed. It was of arid aspect. Villages in plenty could be seen,
but no sign of water. This was serious, as information as to wells was
unreliable, and it was desirable to see some tanks and streams, before
allowing a column to plunge into the unknown dangers of the valley.
After some consideration Sir Bindon Blood decided to modify the original
plan and send only two battalions of the 2nd Brigade with one squadron
over the pass, while the rest were to march to join him at Nawagai. We
then returned, reaching camp in time for luncheon.
Meanwhile the reconnaissance up the Watelai or Mamund Valley had been
of a more interesting nature. Two squadrons of the 11th Bengal Lancers,
under Major Beatson, and with Mr. Davis, the political officer, were
sent to put some pressure on the Mamunds, to make them carry out the
terms agreed upon. They had promised to surrender fifty rifles. This
they now showed no intention of doing. They had realised, that the
brigades were only marching through the country, and that they had no
time to stop, and they were determined to keep their arms as long as
possible.
As the cavalry approached the first village, about 300 men gathered
and, displaying standards, called on the Lancers to stop. An altercation
ensued. They were given half an hour to remove their women and children.
Then the squadrons advanced. The tribesmen, still menacing, retired
slowly towards the hills. Then a small party came up and informed Major
Beatson, that in the next village was a troop-horse, which had been
captured in the fighting in the Swat Valley. This admission, that
the Mamunds had been implicated in the attack on the Malakand, was
sufficiently naive. The cavalry rode on to the village. The horse was
not to be found, but the officious informers from the first village
eagerly pointed out where it had been stabled. In consequence of this
information, and to stimulate the tribesmen to carry out the original
terms, Mr. Davis decided to make an example and authorised Major Beatson
to destroy the house of the owner of the stolen property. This was
accordingly done. As soon as the smoke began to rise, the tribesmen, who
had waited, half a mile away, opened a dropping fire from Martini-Henry
rifles on the cavalry. These, not wishing to engage, retired at a trot.
They were followed up, but though the fire was well directed, the range
was too great for accurate shooting and the bullets whizzed harmlessly
overhead.
As the Lancers left the valley, an incident occurred which illustrates
what has been said in an earlier chapter, and is characteristic of the
daily life of the natives. The people of the first village had directed
the attention of the cavalry to the second. Part of the second had been
in consequence burnt. The inhabitants of both turned out to discuss the
matter with rifles and, when last seen that night, were engaged in
a lively skirmish. Apparently, however, they soon forgot their
differences.
The rumour that the cavalry had been fired on preceded them to camp,
and the prospects of some opposition were everywhere hailed with
satisfaction. Many had begun to think that the Mohmand expedition was
going to be a mere parade, and that the tribesmen were overawed by the
powerful forces employed. They were soon to be undeceived. I watched the
squadrons return. Behind them the Mamund Valley was already dark with
the shadows of the evening and the heavy clouds that had hung over it
all day. They were vastly pleased with themselves. Nothing in life is
so exhilarating as to be shot at without result. The sowars sat their
horses with conscious pride. Some of the younger officers still showed
the flush of excitement on their cheeks. But they pretended excellently
well to have forgotten all about the matter. They believed a few fellows
had "sniped" at them; that was all.
But it was by no means all. Whatever is the Afhgan equivalent of the
"Fiery Cross" was circulated among the tribes. There was no time for
them to gather to attack that night, and the situation of the camp in
the open was unsuited to night firing. The other brigade was coming.
They would wait. They therefore contented themselves with firing
occasional shots, beginning while we were at dinner, and continuing at
intervals until daylight. No one was hurt, but we may imagine that the
tribesmen, who spent the night prowling about the nullahs, and firing
from time to time, returned to their countrymen next morning boasting
of what they had done. "Alone, while ye all slumbered and slept, in
the night, in the darkness, I, even I, have attacked the camp of the
accursed ones and have slain a Sahib. Is it not so, my brothers?"
Whereupon the brothers, hoping he would some day corroborate a lie for
them, replied, that it was undoubtedly so, and that he had deserved well
of the tribe. Such is the reward of the "sniper."
Early next morning the 3rd Brigade and three squadrons of the 11th
Bengal Lancers moved on to Nawagai and crossed the pass without
opposition. The general and Headquarters staff accompanied them, and we
found ourselves in a wide and extensive valley, on the far side of which
the Bedmanai Pass could be plainly seen. Here, at last, we got definite
information of the Mohmands' intentions. The Hadda Mullah with 1000
tribesmen had gathered to oppose the further advance. After all there
would be a fight. In the evening Sir Bindon Blood, taking a squadron
of cavalry, rode out to reconnoitre the approaches to the pass and the
general configuration of the ground. On his return he sent a despatch
to the Government of India, that he would force it on the 18th. The
soldiers, especially the British troops, who had not yet been engaged,
eagerly looked forward to the approaching action. But events were
destined to a different course.
It was already dusk when we returned from the reconnaissance. The
evening was pleasant and we dined in the open air. Still the valley was
very dark. The mountains showed a velvet black. Presently the moon rose.
I repress the inclination to try to describe the beauty of the scene,
as the valley was swiftly flooded with that mysterious light. All
the suitable words have probably been employed many times by numerous
writers and skipped by countless readers. Indeed I am inclined to think,
that these elaborate descriptions convey little to those who have not
seen, and are unnecessary to those who have. Nature will not be admired
by proxy. In times of war, however, especially of frontier war, the
importance of the moon is brought home to everybody. "What time does it
rise to-night?" is the question that recurs; for other things--attacks,
"sniping," rushes,--besides the tides are influenced by its movements.
Meanwhile, as at Nawagai, at a peaceful camp and a quiet dinner we
watched the "silvery maiden" swiftly appear over the eastern mountains.
She was gazing on a different scene eleven miles away, in the valley we
had left.
The 2nd Brigade had marched that morning from Jar to the foot of
the Rambat Pass, which it was intended to cross the next day.
Brigadier-General Jefferys, in anticipation of this movement, sent the
Buffs up to hold the Kotal, and camped at the foot with the rest of his
force. The situation of the camp, which had been adopted with a view to
the advance at daybreak, favored the approach of an enemy. The ground
was broken and intersected by numerous small and tortuous nullahs, and
strewn with rocks. Any other site would, however, have necessitated a
long march the next day, and no attack was thought likely.
At 8.15, as the officers were finishing dinner, three shots rang out in
the silence. They were a signal. Instantly brisk firing broke out from
the nullahs on the face of the square occupied by the Guides Infantry.
Bullets whistled all about the camp, ripping through the tents and
killing and wounding the animals.
The Guides returned the fire with steadiness, and, as the shelter trench
they had dug in front of their section of the line was higher than at
other parts, no officers or men were hit. At ten o'clock a bugler among
the enemy sounded the "Retire," and the fire dwindled to a few dropping
shots. All were congratulating themselves on a termination of the event,
when at 10.30 the attack was renewed with vigour on the opposite side of
the camp, occupied by the 38th Dogras. The enemy, who were largely armed
with Martini-Henry rifles, crept up to within 100 yards of the trenches.
These were only about eighteen inches high, but afforded sufficient
cover to the soldiers. The officers, with a splendid disregard of the
danger, exposed themselves freely. Walking coolly up and down in the
brilliant moonlight they were excellent targets. The brigadier proceeded
himself to the threatened side of the camp, to control the firing and
prevent the waste of ammunition. A good many thousand rounds were,
however, fired away without much result. Several star shells were also
fired by the battery. The ground was so broken that they revealed very
little, but the tribesmen were alarmed by the smell they made, thinking
it a poisonous gas. The officers were directed to take cover, but the
necessity of sending messages and regulating the fire involved a great
deal of exposure. And to all who showed above the trench the danger was
great. Captain Tomkins of the 38th Dogras was shot through the heart,
and a few minutes later the adjutant of the regiment, Lieutenant Bailey,
was also killed. In assisting to take these officers to the hospital,
where a rough shelter of boxes had been improvised, Lieutenant
Harington, an officer attached to the Dogras, received a bullet in the
back of the head, which penetrated his brain and inflicted injuries from
which he died subsequently. All tents were struck and as much cover as
could be made from grain-bags and biscuit-boxes was arranged. At 2.15
the firing ceased and the enemy drew off, taking their killed and
wounded with them. They had no mind to be surprised by daylight, away
from their hills. But they had already remained a little too long.
As soon as the light allowed, the cavalry squadron under Captain Cole
started in pursuit. After a long gallop down the valley, he caught one
party making for the mountains. Charging immediately, he succeeded in
spearing twenty-one of these before they could reach the rocks. The
squadron then dismounted and opened fire with their carbines. But the
tribesmen turned at once and made a dash in the direction of the
led horses. A sowar was wounded and a couple of horses killed. The
cavalrymen, threatened in a vital point, ran hurriedly back, and just
got into their saddles in time. In the haste of mounting four horses got
loose and galloped away, leaving six dismounted men. Captain Cole placed
one of them before him on the saddle, and the troopers followed his
example. The squadron thus encumbered, retired, and after getting out of
range, succeeded in catching their loose horses again. The enemy, seeing
the cavalry mounted once more, took refuge on the hills. But it was
evident, they were eager for fighting.
The casualties in the night attack of Markhanai were as follows:--
BRITISH OFFICERS.
Killed--Capt. W.E. Tomkins, 38th Dogras.
" Lieut. A.W. Bailey, 38th Dogras.
Died of wounds--Lieut. H.A. Harington, attd. 38th Dogras.
NATIVE OFFICER.
Wounded......... 1
NATIVE SOLDIERS.
Killed. Wounded.
No.8 Mountain Battery.... 1 1
35th Sikhs....... 1 3
38th Dogras....... 1 0
Guides Infantry...... 0 1
Followers....... 2 2
Total Casualties, 16; and 98 horses and mules.
Meanwhile, the 3rd Brigade had passed a tranquil night at Nawagai. Next
morning, however, at about six o'clock, a message was heliographed from
the Buffs on the Rambat Pass, to the effect that an attack had been made
on General Jeffreys' camp; that heavy firing had continued all night,
and that several officers were among the casualties. This news set every
one agog. While we were breakfasting, a native officer and ten sowars of
the 11th Bengal Lancers arrived at speed with full details: six hours'
fighting with the Mamunds: three officers killed or mortally wounded;
and nearly a hundred animals hit. In consequence of this information,
Sir Bindon Blood cancelled the orders for the passage of the Rambat
Pass and instructed General Jeffreys to enter the Mamund Valley and
thoroughly chastise the tribesmen.
I was allowed to go back with the native officer's escort to the 2nd
Brigade, in order to witness the operations which had been ordered.
Judiciously selecting a few things, which could be carried on the
saddle, of which the most important were a cloak, some chocolate and a
tooth-brush, I hurried after the escort, who had already started, and
overtook them just as they had got through the pass of Nawagai.
For the first six miles the road lay through a network of deep ravines,
through which the troopers picked their way very carefully. It would
have been a bad place for a small party to have been attacked in, but
fortunately, though several armed tribesmen were seen, they did not fire
at us. At one point the route lay through a deep nullah, along which
some of the assailants of the night before had retired. These were
probably from the Charmanga Valley. They had evidently suffered losses.
Several native beds on which wounded men had been carried lay scattered
about. At this place they had probably found some oxen, to which they
had transferred their bodies. At length we got clear of the difficult
ground, and entering the smooth plain of Nawagai looked out eagerly for
the brigade. Seven miles away across the valley was a long brown streak.
It was the troops marching from Markhanai to the entrance of the Mamund
Valley. The smoke of five burning villages rose in a tall column into
the air--blue against the mountains, brown against the sky. An hour's
riding brought us to the brigade. Every one was full of the events of
the night, and all looked worn from having had no sleep. "You were very
lucky to be out of it," they said. "There's plenty more coming."
The cavalry soon returned from their pursuit. The points of their lances
were covered with dark smears. A sowar displayed his weapon proudly to
some Sikhs, who grinned in appreciation. "How many?" was the question
asked on all sides. "Twenty-one," replied the officer. "But they're full
of fight."
Orders were now issued for the brigade to camp on the open ground near
Inayat Kila, which, translated, means Fort Grant, and is the name of a
considerable stone stronghold belonging to the Khan of Khar. Although
the troops were very tired from their march, and the fighting of the
preceding night, they began entrenching with alacrity. Besides making
an outer wall to the camp, about three and a half feet high, everybody
scratched a little hole for himself. In these occupations the afternoon
passed.
The Buffs came in at sunset, having marched from the top of the Rambat
Pass. They had heard the firing of the night and were disappointed at
having been absent. It was "just their luck," they said. During the
Chitral campaign of 1895, they had had the ill-fortune to miss every
engagement. It would be the same now. All tried to reassure them. As
soon as it was dark an attack was probable.
A dropping fire began after dinner from the great nullah to the north
of the camp, and all lights were put out and the tents struck. Every one
retired to the soup-plate he had scooped in the earth. But no attack
was made. The enemy had informed the political officer through the
friendlies, that they were weary and would rest that night. They sent
a few "snipers" to fire into the camp, and these kept up a desultory
fusillade until about two o'clock, when they drew off.
Those who had been deprived of their rest the night before soon dropped
off to sleep, in spite of the firing. Others, not overpowered by
weariness, found no occupation but to lie in their holes and contemplate
the stars--those impartial stars which shine as calmly on Piccadilly
Circus as on Inayat Kila.