The negotiations of the Mamunds had this time opened under more
propitious circumstances. The tribesmen were convinced by the arrival of
the large reinforcements that the Government were in earnest. The return
of "the big general," as they called Sir Bindon Blood, to distinguish
him from the brigadiers, impressed them with the fact that the
operations would be at once renewed, if they continued recalcitrant.
They had still a few villages unburned, and these they were anxious to
save. Besides, they disliked the look of the long topes, or field guns,
of whose powers they were uncertain. They therefore displayed a much
more humble spirit.
On the other hand, every one in the force had realised that there were
"more kicks than ha'pence" to be got out of the Mamund Valley. All the
villages in the plain had been destroyed. Only a few of those in the
hollows of the hills remained. To these the enemy had retired. In
Arrian's History of Alexander's Conquests we read the following passage:
"The men in Bazira [Bazira is the same as Bajaur], despairing of their
own affairs, abandoned the city... and fled to the rock, as the other
barbarians were doing. For all the inhabitants deserted the cities,
and began to fly to the rock which is in their land." Then it was that
Alexander's difficulties began. Nor need we wonder, when the historian
gravely asserts that "so stupendous is the rock in this land... that it
was found impregnable even by Heracles, the son of Zeus." Thus history
repeats itself, and the people of Bajaur their tactics. There was,
however, no doubt as to the ability of the brigades to take and burn
any village they might select. At the same time it was certain that they
would encounter relays of Afghan tribesmen, and regular soldiers from
the Amir's army, and that they would lose officers and men in the
operation. The matter had to be carried to a conclusion at whatever
cost, but the sooner the end was reached, the better.
But in spite of the auguries of peace, the foraging parties were usually
fired upon, and this furnished several opportunities for the display of
the value of the cavalry. I shall avail myself of the occasion to review
the performances of the mounted arm during the operations. As soon as
the brigades entered Bajaur, the 11th Bengal Lancers were employed
more and more in that legitimate duty of cavalry--reconnaissance. Major
Beatson made daily expeditions towards the various valleys and passes
about which information was needed. This use of cavalry is an entirely
new one on the frontier--it having been thought that it was dangerous to
employ them in this way. Though horsemen need good ground to fight on
to advantage, they can easily move over any country, however broken,
and where they are boldly used, can collect as much information as is
necessary.
Reconnaissance is by no means the only opportunity for cavalry
employment on the frontier. They are as formidable in offensive tactics
as they are useful in collecting intelligence.
The task which is usually confided to them in these mountain actions is
to protect one of the flanks. The ground hardly ever admits of charging
in any formation, and it is necessary for the men to use their carbines.
On 30th September the cavalry were so employed. On the left of the
hostile position was a wide valley full of scrubby trees, and stone
walls, and occupied by large numbers of the enemy. Had these tribesmen
been able to debouch from this valley, they would have fallen on the
flank of the brigade, and the situation would have become one of danger.
For five hours two weak squadrons of the Guides Cavalry were sufficient
to hold them in check.
The methods they employed are worth noticing. Little groups of six or
seven men were dismounted, and these with their carbines replied to the
enemy's fire. Other little groups of mounted men remained concealed in
nullahs or hollows, or behind obstacles. Whenever the enemy tried to
rush one of the dismounted parties, and to do so advanced from the bad
ground, the mounted patrols galloped forward and chased them back to
cover. The terror that these tribesmen have of cavalry contrasts with
their general character. It was a beautiful display of cavalry tactics
in this kind of warfare, and, considering the enormous numbers of the
enemy, who were thus kept from participating in the main action, it
demonstrated the power and value of the mounted arm with convincing
force.
On the 6th of October, I witnessed some very similar work, though on a
smaller scale. A squadron was engaged in covering the operations of
a foraging party. A line of patrols, moving rapidly about, presented
difficult targets to the enemy's sharpshooters. I found the remainder of
the squadron dismounted in rear of a large bank of stones. Twenty
sowars with their carbines were engaged in firing at the enemy, who had
occupied a morcha--a small stone fort--some 300 yards away. Desultory
skirmishing continued for some time, shots being fired from the hills,
half a mile away, as well as from the morcha. Bullets kept falling near
the bank, but the cover it afforded was good and no one was hurt. At
length word was brought that the foraging was finished and that the
squadron was to retire under cover of the infantry. Now came a moment of
some excitement. The officer in command knew well that the instant his
men were mounted they would be fired at from every point which the enemy
held. He ordered the first troop to mount, and the second to cover the
retirement. The men scrambled into their saddles, and spreading out into
an extended line cantered away towards a hollow about 300 yards distant.
Immediately there was an outburst of firing. The dust rose in spurts
near the horsemen, and the bullets whistled about their ears. No one was
however hit. Meanwhile, the remaining troop had been keeping up a rapid
fire on the enemy to cover their retirement. It now became their turn
to go. Firing a parting volley the men ran to their horses, mounted, and
followed the first troop at a hand-gallop, extending into a long line
as they did so. Again the enemy opened fire, and again the dusty ground
showed that the bullets were well directed. Again, however, nobody was
hurt, and the sowars reached the hollow, laughing and talking in high
glee. The morning's skirmish had, nevertheless, cost the squadron a man
and a horse, both severely wounded.
Such affairs as these were of almost daily occurrence during the time
that the 2nd Brigade occupied the camp at Inayat Kila. They were of the
greatest value in training the soldiers. The Guides Cavalry know all
there is to know of frontier war, but there are many other regiments who
would be made infinitely more powerful fighting organisations if they
were afforded the opportunity for such experience.
The great feature which the war of 1897 on the Indian Frontier has
displayed is the extraordinary value of cavalry. At Shabkadr a charge
of the 13th Bengal Lancers was more than successful. In the Swat Valley,
during the relief of Chakdara, the Guides Cavalry and 11th Bengal
Lancers inflicted the most terrible loss on the enemy. To quote the
words of Sir Bindon Blood's official report to the Adjutant-General,
these regiments, "eager for vengeance, pursued, cut up and speared
them in every direction, leaving their bodies thickly strewn over the
fields." Again, after the action of Landakai, the cavalry made a most
vigorous pursuit and killed large numbers of the enemy. While I was with
the Malakand Field Force, I was a witness of the constant employment
of the cavalry, and was several times informed by general officers that
they would gladly have a larger number at their disposal. The reader may
recall some of the numerous instances which these pages have recorded of
cavalry work. On the morning of the 15th September, it was the cavalry
who were able to catch up the enemy before they could reach the hills,
and take some revenge for the losses of the night. In the action of the
16th, the charge of Captain Cole's squadron brought the whole attack
of the enemy to a standstill, and enabled the infantry by their fire to
convert the hesitation of the tribesmen into a retreat. Indeed, in every
fight in the Mamund Valley, the cavalry were the first in, and the last
out. In the official despatches Sir Bindon Blood thus alludes to the
work of the cavalry:--"I would now wish to invite attention to the
invaluable nature of the services rendered by the cavalry. At Nawagai,
three squadrons of the 11th Bengal Lancers swept the country everywhere
that cavalry could go, carrying out reconnaissances, protecting
signalling parties and watching every movement of the enemy. In the
Mamund Valley a squadron of the same regiment, under Captain E.H. Cole,
took part in every engagement that occurred while they were there,
establishing such a reputation that the enemy, even when in greatly
superior numbers, never dared to face them in the open. Afterwards, when
Captain Cole and his men left the Mamund Valley, the Guides Cavalry,
under Lieut.-Col. Adams, being in greater strength, acted still more
effectually in the same manner, showing tactical skill of a high order,
combined with conspicuous gallantry."--Official Despatches. From Gazette
of India, 3rd December, 1897.
There has been a boom in cavalry. But one section, and that the most
important, has been deprived of its share in the good fortune. The
authorities have steadily refused to allow any British cavalry to cross
the frontier. Of course this is defended on the ground of expense.
"British cavalry costs so much," it is said, "and natives do the work
just as well." "Better," say some. But it is a poor kind of economy thus
to discourage a most expensive and important branch of the service. The
ambition that a young officer entering the army ought to set before him,
is to lead his own men in action. This ought to inspire his life, and
animate his effort. "Stables" will no longer be dull, when he realises
that on the fitness of his horses, his life and honour may one day
depend. If he thinks that his men may soon be asked to stand beside him
at a pinch, he will no longer be bored by their interests and affairs.
But when he realises that all is empty display, and that his regiment is
a sword too costly to be drawn, he naturally loses keenness and betakes
himself to polo as a consolation. It is a good one.
It was my fortune to meet many young men in frontier regiments, both
cavalry and infantry, who had already served in three, and even four,
campaigns. Daring, intelligent and capable, they are proofs of the value
of their training, and are fit to lead their men under any conditions,
and in any country. Subalterns in British cavalry regiments do
occasionally manage to see a little active service as transport
officers, signalling officers, war correspondents, or on the staff;
but to lead in the field the men they have trained in peace, is a
possibility which is never worth contemplating. To the young man who
wants to enjoy himself, to spend a few years agreeably in a military
companionship, to have an occupation--the British cavalry will be
suited. But to the youth who means to make himself a professional
soldier, an expert in war, a specialist in practical tactics, who
desires a hard life of adventure and a true comradeship in arms, I would
recommend the choice of some regiment on the frontier, like those fine
ones I have seen, the Guides and the 11th Bengal Lancers.
I am aware that those who criticise an existing state of things ought
to be prepared with some constructive legislation which would remedy the
evils they denounce. Though it is unlikely that the Government of India
will take my advice, either wholly or in good part, I hereby exhort them
to quit the folly of a "penny wise" policy, and to adhere consistently
to the principles of employing British and native troops in India in
a regular proportion. That is to say, that when two native cavalry
regiments have been sent on service across the frontier, the third
cavalry regiment so sent shall be British.
Besides this, in order to give cavalry officers as many opportunities
of seeing active service as possible, subalterns should be allowed to
volunteer for emergency employment with native cavalry. I have talked to
several officers who command native cavalry regiments, and they tell me
that such an arrangement would work excellently, and that, as they are
always short of officers, it would supply a want. I would suggest that
subalterns should, with the approval of their colonels, be attached to
the native regiment, and after passing in Hindustani and being reported
as qualified to serve with the native troops, be considered available
for employment as described. I shall be told there are financial
difficulties. I do not believe this. There are plenty of cavalry
subalterns whose eagerness to see service is so strong, that they would
submit to any arrangement that the rapacity of Government might impose.
Indeed there is no reason that an actual economy should not be effected.
The sums of money that the Indian Government offer, as rewards for
officers who can speak Hindustani, have not hitherto tempted many
cavalry officers to make a study of the language. Here is an incentive,
more powerful and costing nothing.
To be technical is, I am aware, a serious offence, and I realise that if
this book ever obtained so evil a reputation it would be shunned, as the
House of Commons is shunned on a Service night. I have strayed far
away from the Malakand Field Force into the tangled paths of military
controversy, and I must beg the reader to forgive, as he will surely
forget, what has been written.
The fighting described in the last chapter, and the continual drain of
disease, had again filled the field hospitals, and in order to preserve
the mobility of the force, it was decided to send all sick and wounded
down to the base at once. The journey--over 100 miles by road--would
take nearly a fortnight, and the jolting and heat made such an
experience a painful and weary one to injured men. But the stern
necessities of war render these things inevitable, and the desire of the
men to get nearer home soothes much of their suffering. The convoy of
sick and wounded was to be escorted as far as the Panjkora River by the
Royal West Kent, who were themselves in need of some recuperation. To
campaign in India without tents is always a trial to a British regiment;
and when it is moved to the front from some unhealthy station like
Peshawar, Delhi, or Mian Mir, and the men are saturated with fever and
weakened by the summer heats, the sick list becomes long and serious.
Typhoid from drinking surface water, and the other various kinds of
fever which follow exposure to the heats of the day or the chills of
the night, soon take a hundred men from the fighting strength, and the
general of an Indian frontier force has to watch with equal care the
movements of the enemy and the fluctuations of the hospital returns. As
soon, therefore, as Sir Bindon Blood saw that the Mamunds were desirous
of peace, and that no further operations against them were probable, he
sent one of his British regiments to their tents near the Panjkora.
About sixty wounded men from the actions of 30th September and 3rd
October, and the same number of sick, formed the bulk of the convoy. The
slight cases are carried on camels, in cradles made by cutting a native
bedstead in two, and called "Kajawas." The more serious cases are
carried in doolies or litters, protected from the sun by white curtains,
and borne by four natives. Those who are well enough ride on mules. The
infantry escort is disposed along the line with every precaution that
can be suggested, but the danger of an attack upon the long straggling
string of doolies and animals in difficult and broken ground is a very
real and terrible one.
The cheeriness and patience of the wounded men exceeds belief. Perhaps
it is due to a realisation of the proximity in which they have stood to
death; perhaps partly to that feeling of relief with which a man turns
for a spell from war to peace. In any case it is remarkable. A poor
fellow--a private in the Buffs--was hit at Zagai, and had his arm
amputated at the shoulder. I expressed my sympathy, and he replied,
philosophically: "You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs," and
after a pause added, with much satisfaction, "The regiment did well that
day." He came of a fighting stock, but I could not help speculating on
the possible future which awaited him. Discharge from the service as
medically unfit, some miserable pension insufficient to command any
pleasures but those of drink, a loafer's life, and a pauper's grave.
Perhaps the regiment--the officers, that is to say--would succeed in
getting him work, and would from their own resources supplement his
pension. But what a wretched and discreditable system is that, by which
the richest nation in the world neglects the soldiers who have served it
well, and which leaves to newspaper philanthropy, to local institutions,
and to private charity, a burden which ought to be proudly borne by the
State.
Starting at six, the column reached Jar, a march of eight miles, at
about ten o'clock. Here we were joined by a wing of the 24th Punjaub
Infantry, who were coming up to relieve the Royal West Kents. The camp
at Jar has the disadvantage of being commanded by a hill to the north,
and the Salarzais, another pestilent tribe, whose name alone is an
infliction, delight to show their valour by firing at the troops during
the night. Of course this could be prevented by moving the camp out of
range of this hill. But then, unfortunately, it would be commanded by
another hill to the south, from which the Shamozai section of the Utman
Khels--to whom my former remarks also apply--would be able to amuse
themselves. The inconvenience of the situation had therefore to be
faced.
We had not been long in camp before the eldest son of the Khan of Jar,
who had been comparatively loyal during the operations, came to inform
the colonel in command that there would be "sniping" that night. Certain
evil men, he said, had declared their intention of destroying the force,
but he, the heir-apparent to the Khanate of Jar, and the ally of the
Empress, would protect us. Four pickets of his own regular army should
watch the camp, that our slumbers might not be disturbed, and when
challenged by the sentries, they would reply, "chokidar" (watchman).
This all seemed very satisfactory, but we entrenched ourselves as usual,
not, as we explained, because we doubted our protector's powers or
inclinations, buy merely as a matter of form.
At midnight precisely, the camp was awakened by a dozen shots in rapid
succession. The khan's pickets could be heard expostulating with the
enemy, who replied by jeers and bitter remarks.
The firing continued for an hour, when the "snipers," having satisfied
their honour, relieved their feelings and expended their cartridges,
went away rejoicing. The troops throughout remained silent, and
vouchsafed no reply.
It may seem difficult to believe that fifty bullets could fall in a
camp, only 100 yards square--crowded with animals and men--without any
other result than to hit a single mule in the tail. Such was, however,
the fact. This shows of what value, a little active service is to the
soldier. The first time he is under fire, he imagines himself to be in
great danger. He thinks that every bullet is going to hit him, and that
every shot is aimed at him. Assuredly he will be killed in a moment. If
he goes through this ordeal once or twice, he begins to get some idea of
the odds in his favour. He has heard lots of bullets and they have not
hurt him. He will get home safely to his tea this evening, just as
he did the last time. He becomes a very much more effective fighting
machine.
From a military point of view, the perpetual frontier wars in one corner
or other of the Empire are of the greatest value. This fact may one day
be proved, should our soldiers ever be brought into contact with some
peace-trained, conscript army, in anything like equal numbers.
Though the firing produced very little effect on the troops--most of
whom had been through the experience several times before--it was
a severe trial to the wounded, whose nerves, shattered by pain and
weakness, were unable to bear the strain. The surgeon in charge--Major
Tyrell--told me that the poor fellows quivered at every shot as if in
anticipation of a blow. A bullet in the leg will made a brave man a
coward. A blow on the head will make a wise man a fool. Indeed I have
read that a sufficiency of absinthe can make a good man a knave. The
triumph of mind over matter does not seem to be quite complete as yet.
I saw a strange thing happen, while the firing was going on, which
may amuse those who take an interest in the habits and development of
animals. Just in front of my tent, which was open, was a clear space,
occupied by a flock of goats and sheep. The brilliant moonlight made
everything plainly visible. Every time a bullet whistled over them or
struck the ground near, they ducked and bobbed in evident terror. An
officer, who also noticed this, told me it was the first time they had
been under fire; and I have been wondering ever since, whether this
explains their fear, or makes it more inexplicable.
I have devoted a good deal in this chapter to the account of the
"sniping" at Jar on the night of the 9th of October, and, perhaps, a
critic may inquire, why so much should be written about so common an
incident. It is, however, because this night firing is so common a
feature, that I feel no picture of the war on the Indian frontier would
be complete without some account of it.
The next day we crossed the Panjkora River, and I started to ride down
the line of communications to the base at Nowshera. At each stage some
of the comforts of civilisation and peace reappeared. At Panjkora we
touched the telegraph wire; at Sarai were fresh potatoes; ice was to be
had at Chakdara; a comfortable bed at the Malakand; and at length, at
Nowshera, the railway. But how little these things matter after all.
When they are at hand, they seem indispensable, but when they cannot be
obtained, they are hardly missed. A little plain food, and a philosophic
temperament, are the only necessities of life.
I shall not take the reader farther from the scene of action. He is free
and his imagination may lead him back to the highland valleys, where he
may continue for a space among camps and men, and observe the conclusion
of the drama.