"... And thou hast talk'd
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin."
"Henry IV.," Part I., Act ii., Sc.3.
It may at first seem that a chapter wholly devoted to military
considerations is inappropriate to a book which, if it is to enjoy any
measure of success, must be read by many unconnected with the army. But
I remember that in these days it is necessary for every one, who means
to be well informed, to have a superficial knowledge of every one else's
business. Encouraged also by what Mr. Gladstone has called "the growing
militarism of the times," I hope that, avoiding technicalities, it may
be of some general interest to glance for a moment at the frontier war
from a purely professional point of view. My observations must be taken
as applying to the theatre of the war I have described, but I do not
doubt that many of them will be applicable to the whole frontier.
The first and most important consideration is transport. Nobody who has
not seen for himself can realise what a great matter this is. I well
recall my amazement, when watching a camel convoy more than a mile and a
half long, escorted by half a battalion of infantry. I was informed
that it contained only two days' supplies for one brigade. People talk
lightly of moving columns hither and thither, as if they were mobile
groups of men, who had only to march about the country and fight
the enemy wherever found, and very few understand that an army is a
ponderous mass which drags painfully after it a long chain of advanced
depots, stages, rest camps, and communications, by which it is securely
fastened to a stationary base. In these valleys, where wheeled traffic
is impossible, the difficulties and cost of moving supplies are
enormous; and as none, or very few, are to be obtained within the
country, the consideration is paramount. Mule transport is for many
reasons superior to camel transport. The mule moves faster and can
traverse more difficult ground. He is also more hardy and keeps in
better condition. When Sir Bindon Blood began his advance against the
Mohmands he equipped his 2nd Brigade entirely with mules. It was thus
far more mobile, and was available for any rapid movement that might
become necessary. To mix the two--camels and mules--appears to combine
the disadvantages of both, and destroy the superiority of either.
I have already described the Indian service camp and the "sniping"
without which no night across the frontier could be complete. I shall
therefore only notice two points, which were previously omitted, as they
looked suspiciously technical. As the night firing is sometimes varied
by more serious attacks, and even actual assaults and sword rushes, it
is thought advisable to have the ditch of the entrenchment towards the
enemy. Modern weapons notwithstanding, the ultimate appeal is to
the bayonet, and the advantage of being on the higher ground is then
considerable.
When a battery forms part of the line round a camp, infantry soldiers
should be placed between the guns. Artillery officers do not like this;
but, though they are very good fellows, there are some things in which
it is not well to give way to them. Every one is prone to over-estimate
the power of his arm.
In the Mamund Valley all the fighting occurred in capturing villages,
which lay in rocky and broken ground in the hollows of the mountains,
and were defended by a swarm of active riflemen. Against the quickly
moving figures of the enemy it proved almost useless to fire volleys.
The tribesmen would dart from rock to rock, exposing themselves only for
an instant, and before the attention of a section could be directed to
them and the rifles aimed, the chance and the target would have vanished
together. Better results were obtained by picking out good shots and
giving them permission to fire when they saw their opportunity, without
waiting for the word of command. But speaking generally, infantry should
push on to the attack with the bayonet without wasting much time in
firing, which can only result in their being delayed under the fire of a
well-posted enemy.
After the capture and destruction of the village, the troops had always
to return to camp, and a retirement became necessary. The difficulty of
executing such an operation in the face of an active and numerous enemy,
armed with modern rifles, was great. I had the opportunity of witnessing
six of these retirements from the rear companies. Five were fortunate
and one was disastrous, but all were attended with loss, and as
experienced officers have informed me, with danger. As long as no one is
hit everything is successful, but as soon as a few men are wounded, the
difficulties begin. No sooner has a point been left--a knoll, a patch of
corn, some rocks, or any other incident of ground--than it is seized by
the enemy. With their excellent rifles, they kill or wound two or three
of the retiring company, whose somewhat close formation makes them a
good mark. Now, in civilised war these wounded would be left on the
ground, and matters arranged next day by parley. But on the frontier,
where no quarter is asked or given, to carry away the wounded is a
sacred duty. It is also the strenuous endeavour of every regiment
to carry away their dead. The vile and horrid mutilations which the
tribesmen inflict on all bodies that fall into their hands, and the
insults to which they expose them, add, to unphilosophic minds, another
terror to death. Now, it takes at least four men, and very often more,
to carry away a body. Observe the result. Every man hit, means five
rifles withdrawn from the firing line. Ten men hit, puts a company out
of action, as far as fighting power is concerned. The watchful enemy
press. The groups of men bearing the injured are excellent targets.
Presently the rear-guard is encumbered with wounded. Then a vigorous
charge with swords is pushed home. Thus, a disaster occurs.
Watching the progress of events, sometimes from one regiment, sometimes
from another, I observed several ways by which these difficulties could
be avoided. The Guides, long skilled in frontier war, were the most
valuable instructors. As the enemy seize every point as soon as it
is left, all retirements should be masked by leaving two or three men
behind from each company. These keep up a brisk fire, and after the
whole company have taken up a new position, or have nearly done so,
they run back and join them. Besides this, the fire of one company in
retiring should always be arranged to cover another, and at no moment in
a withdrawal should the firing ever cease. The covering company should
be actually in position before the rear company begins to move, and
should open fire at once. I was particularly struck on 18th September by
the retirement of the Guides Infantry. These principles were carried
out with such skill and thoroughness that, though the enemy pressed
severely, only one man was wounded. The way in which Major Campbell, the
commanding officer, availed himself of the advantages of retiring down
two spurs and bringing a cross fire to bear to cover the alternate
retirements, resembled some intricate chess problem, rather than a
military evolution.
The power of the new Lee-Metford rifle with the new Dum-Dum bullet--it
is now called, though not officially, the "ek-dum" [Hindustani for "at
once."] bullet--is tremendous. The soldiers who have used it have
the utmost confidence in their weapon. Up to 500 yards there is no
difficulty about judging the range, as it shoots quite straight, or,
technically speaking, has a flat trajectory. This is of the greatest
value. Of the bullet it may be said, that its stopping power is all
that could be desired. The Dum-Dum bullet, though not explosive, is
expansive. The original Lee-Metford bullet was a pellet of lead covered
by a nickel case with an opening at the base. In the improved bullet
this outer case has been drawn backward, making the hole in the base a
little smaller and leaving the lead at the tip exposed. The result is a
wonderful and from the technical point of view a beautiful machine. On
striking a bone this causes the bullet to "set up" or spread out, and it
then tears and splinters everything before it, causing wounds which
in the body must be generally mortal and in any limb necessitate
amputation. Continental critics have asked whether such a bullet is not
a violation of the Geneva or St. Petersburg Conventions; but no clause
of these international agreements forbids expansive bullets, and the
only provision on the subject is that shells less than a certain size
shall not be employed. I would observe that bullets are primarily
intended to kill, and that these bullets do their duty most effectually,
without causing any more pain to those struck by them, than the ordinary
lead variety. As the enemy obtained some Lee-Metford rifles and Dum-Dum
ammunition during the progress of the fighting, information on this
latter point is forthcoming. The sensation is described as similar to
that produced by any bullet--a violent numbing blow, followed by a sense
of injury and weakness, but little actual pain at the time. Indeed,
now-a-days, very few people are so unfortunate as to suffer much pain
from wounds, except during the period of recovery. A man is hit. In a
quarter of an hour, that is to say, before the shock has passed away and
the pain begins, he is usually at the dressing station. Here he is given
morphia injections, which reduce all sensations to a uniform dullness.
In this state he remains until he is placed under chloroform and
operated on.
The necessity for having the officers in the same dress as the men, was
apparent to all who watched the operations. The conspicuous figure which
a British officer in his helmet presented in contrast to the native
soldiers in their turbans, drew a well-aimed fire in his direction. Of
course, in British regiments, the difference is not nearly so marked.
Nevertheless, at close quarters the keen-eyed tribesmen always made an
especial mark of the officers, distinguishing them chiefly, I think, by
the fact that they do not carry rifles. The following story may show how
evident this was:--
When the Buffs were marching down to Panjkora, they passed the Royal
West Kent coming up to relieve them at Inayat Kila. A private in the
up-going regiment asked a friend in the Buffs what it was like at the
front. "Oh," replied the latter, "you'll be all right so long as you
don't go near no officers, nor no white stones." Whether the advice
was taken is not recorded, but it was certainly sound, for three days
later--on 30th September--in those companies of the Royal West Kent
regiment that were engaged in the village of Agrah, eight out of eleven
officers were hit or grazed by bullets.
The fatigues experienced by troops in mountain warfare are so great,
that every effort has to be made to lighten the soldier's load. At the
same time the more ammunition he carries on his person the better. Mules
laden with cartridge-boxes are very likely to be shot, and fall into
the hands of the enemy. In this manner over 6000 rounds were lost on the
16th of September by the two companies of Sikhs whose retirement I have
described.
The thick leather belts, pouches, and valise equipment of British
infantry are unnecessarily heavy. I have heard many officers suggest
having them made of web. The argument against this is that the web
wears out. That objection could be met by having a large supply of these
equipments at the base and issuing fresh ones as soon as the old were
unfit for use. It is cheaper to wear out belts than soldiers.
Great efforts should be made to give the soldier a piece of chocolate, a
small sausage, or something portable and nutritious to carry with him
to the field. In a war of long marches, of uncertain fortunes, of
retirements often delayed and always pressed, there have been many
occasions when regiments and companies have unexpectedly had to stop out
all night without food. It is well to remember that the stomach governs
the world.
The principle of concentrating artillery has long been admitted in
Europe. Sir Bindon Blood is the first general who has applied it to
mountain warfare in India. It had formerly been the custom to use the
guns by twos and threes. As we have seen, at the action of Landakai, the
Malakand Field Force had eighteen guns in action, of which twelve were
in one line. The fire of this artillery drove the enemy, who were in
great strength and an excellent position, from the ground. The infantry
attack was accomplished with hardly any loss, and a success was obtained
at a cost of a dozen lives which would have been cheap at a hundred.
After this, it may seem strange if I say that the artillery fire in the
Mamund Valley did very little execution. It is nevertheless a fact. The
Mamunds are a puny tribe, but they build their houses in the rocks;
and against sharpshooters in broken ground, guns can do little. Through
field-glasses it was possible to see the enemy dodging behind their
rocks, whenever the puffs of smoke from the guns told them that a shell
was on its way. Perhaps smokeless powder would have put a stop to this.
But in any case, the targets presented to the artillery were extremely
bad.
Where they really were of great service, was not so much in killing the
enemy, but in keeping them from occupying certain spurs and knolls. On
30th September, when the Royal West Kent and the 31st Punjaub Infantry
were retiring under considerable pressure, the British Mountain Battery
moved to within 700 yards of the enemy, and opened a rapid fire of
shrapnel on the high ground which commanded the line of retreat, killing
such of the tribesmen as were there, and absolutely forbidding the hill
to their companions.
In all rearguard actions among the mountains the employment of artillery
is imperative. Even two guns may materially assist the extrication of
the infantry from the peaks and crags of the hillside, and prevent by
timely shells the tribesmen from seizing each point as soon as it is
evacuated. But there is no reason why the artillery should be stinted,
and at least two batteries, if available, should accompany a brigade to
the attack.
Signalling by heliograph was throughout the operations of the greatest
value. I had always realised the advantages of a semi-permanent line
of signal stations along the communications to the telegraph, but I had
doubted the practicability of using such complicated arrangements in
action. In this torrid country, where the sun is always shining,
the heliograph is always useful. As soon as any hill was taken,
communication was established with the brigadier, and no difficulty
seemed to be met with, even while the attack was in progress, in sending
messages quickly and clearly. In a country intersected by frequent
ravines, over which a horse can move but slowly and painfully, it is the
surest, the quickest, and indeed the only means of intercommunication.
I am delighted to testify to these things, because I had formerly been a
scoffer.
I have touched on infantry and artillery, and, though a previous chapter
has been almost wholly devoted to the cavalry, I cannot resist the
desire to get back to the horses and the lances again. The question of
sword or lance as the cavalryman's weapon has long been argued, and
it may be of interest to consider what are the views of those whose
experience is the most recent. Though I have had no opportunity of
witnessing the use of the lance, I have heard the opinions of many
officers both of the Guides and the 11th Bengal Lancers. All admit or
assert that the lance is in this warfare the better weapon. It kills
with more certainty and convenience, and there is less danger of the
horseman being cut down. As to length, the general opinion seems to be
in favour of a shorter spear. This, with a counter poise at the butt,
gives as good a reach and is much more useful for close quarters. Major
Beatson, one of the most distinguished cavalry officers on the frontier,
is a strong advocate of this. Either the pennon should be knotted, or a
boss of some sort affixed about eighteen inches below the point. Unless
this be done there is a danger of the lance penetrating too far, when
it either gets broken or allows the enemy to wriggle up and strike the
lancer. This last actually happened on several occasions.
Now, in considering the question to what extent a squadron should be
armed with lances, the system adopted by the Guides may be of interest.
In this warfare it is very often necessary for the cavalryman to
dismount and use his carbine. The lance then gets in the way and has to
be tied to the saddle. This takes time, and there is usually not much
time to spare in cavalry skirmishing. The Guides compromise matters
by giving one man in every four a lance. This man, when the others
dismount, stays in the saddle and holds their horses. They also give the
outer sections of each squadron lances, and these, too, remain mounted,
as the drill-book enjoins. But I become too technical.
I pass for a moment to combined tactics. In frontier warfare Providence
is on the side of the good band-o-bust [arrangements]. There are no
scenic effects or great opportunities, and the Brigadier who leaves
the mountains with as good a reputation as he entered them has proved
himself an able, sensible man. The general who avoids all "dash," who
never starts in the morning looking for a fight and without any definite
intention, who does not attempt heroic achievements, and who keeps his
eye on his watch, will have few casualties and little glory. For the
enemy do not become formidable until a mistake has been made. The public
who do not believe in military operations without bloodshed may be
unattentive. His subordinate officers may complain that they have had no
fighting. But in the consciousness of duty skillfully performed and of
human life preserved he will find a high reward.
A general review of the frontier war will, I think, show the great
disadvantages to which regular troops are exposed in fighting an active
enterprising enemy that can move faster and shoot better, who knows the
country and who knows the ranges. The terrible losses inflicted on the
tribesmen in the Swat Valley show how easily disciplined troops can
brush away the bravest savages in the open. But on the hillside all is
changed, and the observer will be struck by the weakness rather than the
strength of modern weapons. Daring riflemen, individually superior to
the soldiers, and able to support the greatest fatigues, can always
inflict loss, although they cannot bar their path.
The military problem with which the Spaniards are confronted in Cuba
is in many points similar to that presented in the Afghan valleys; a
roadless, broken and undeveloped country; an absence of any strategic
points; a well-armed enemy with great mobility and modern rifles, who
adopts guerilla tactics. The results in either case are, that the troops
can march anywhere, and do anything, except catch the enemy; and that
all their movements must be attended with loss.
If the question of subduing the tribes be regarded from a purely
military standpoint, if time were no object, and there was no danger of
a lengthy operation being interrupted by a change of policy at home,
it would appear that the efforts of commanders should be, to induce the
tribesmen to assume the offensive. On this point I must limit my remarks
to the flat-bottomed valleys of Swat and Bajaur. To coerce a tribe like
the Mamunds, a mixed brigade might camp at the entrance to the valley,
and as at Inayat Kila, entrench itself very strongly. The squadron
of cavalry could patrol the valley daily in complete security, as the
tribesmen would not dare to leave the hills. All sowing of crops and
agricultural work would be stopped. The natives would retaliate by
firing into the camp at night. This would cause loss; but if every one
were to dig a good hole to sleep in, and if the officers were made to
have dinner before sundown, and forbidden to walk about except on duty
after dark, there is no reason why the loss should be severe. At length
the tribesmen, infuriated by the occupation of their valley, and perhaps
rendered desperate by the approach of famine and winter, would make a
tremendous attempt to storm the camp. With a strong entrenchment, a wire
trip to break a rush, and modern rifles, they would be driven off with
great slaughter, and once severely punished would probably beg for
terms. If not, the process would be continued until they did so.
Such a military policy would cost about the same in money as the
vigorous methods I have described, as though smaller numbers of troops
might be employed, they would have to remain mobilised and in the field
for a longer period. But the loss in personnel would be much less.
As good an example of the success of this method as can be found, is
provided by Sir Bindon Blood's tactics at Nawagai, when, being too weak
to attack the enemy himself, he encouraged them to attack him, and then
beat them off with great loss.
From the point which we have now reached, it is possible, and perhaps
not undesirable, to take a rapid yet sweeping glance of the larger
military problems of the day. We have for some years adopted the "short
service" system. It is a continental system. It has many disadvantages.
Troops raised under it suffer from youth, want of training and lack of
regimental associations. But on the Continent it has this one, paramount
recommendation: it provides enormous numbers. The active army is merely
a machine for manufacturing soldiers quickly, and passing them into the
reserves, to be stored until they are wanted. European nations deal with
soldiers only in masses. Great armies of men, not necessarily of a high
standard of courage and training, but armed with deadly weapons, are
directed against one another, under varying strategical conditions.
Before they can rebound, thousands are slaughtered and a great battle
has been won or lost. The average courage of the two nations may perhaps
have been decided. The essence of the continental system is its gigantic
scale.
We have adopted this system in all respects but one, and that the vital
one. We have got the poor quality, without the great quantity. We
have, by the short service system, increased our numbers a little, and
decreased our standard a good deal. The reason that this system, which
is so well adapted to continental requirements, confers no advantages
upon us is obvious. Our army is recruited by a voluntary system. Short
service and conscription are inseparable. For this reason, several stern
soldiers advocate conscription. But many words will have to be spoken,
many votes voted, and perhaps many blows struck before the British
people would submit to such an abridgment of their liberties, or such a
drag upon their commerce. It will be time to make such sacrifices when
the English Channel runs dry.
Without conscription we cannot have great numbers. It should therefore
be our endeavour to have those we possess of the best quality; and our
situation and needs enforce this view. Our soldiers are not required
to operate in great masses, but very often to fight hand to hand. Their
campaigns are not fought in temperate climates and civilised countries.
They are sent beyond the seas to Africa or the Indian frontier, and
there, under a hot sun and in a pestilential land, they are engaged in
individual combat with athletic savages. They are not old enough for the
work.
Young as they are, their superior weapons and the prestige of the
dominant race enable them to maintain their superiority over the
native troops. But in the present war several incidents have occurred,
unimportant, insignificant, it is true, but which, in the interests of
Imperial expediency, are better forgotten. The native regiments are
ten years older than the British regiments. Many of their men have seen
service and have been under fire. Some of them have several medals. All,
of course, are habituated to the natural conditions. It is evident how
many advantages they enjoy. It is also apparent how very serious the
consequences would be if they imagined they possessed any superiority.
That such an assumption should even be possible is a menace to our very
existence in India. Intrinsic merit is the only title of a dominant race
to its possessions. If we fail in this it is not because our spirit
is old and grown weak, but because our soldiers are young, and not yet
grown strong.
Boys of twenty-one and twenty-two are expected to compete on equal terms
with Sikhs and Gurkhas of thirty, fully developed and in the prime of
life. It is an unfair test. That they should have held their own is a
splendid tribute to the vigour of our race. The experiment is dangerous,
and it is also expensive. We continue to make it because the idea is
still cherished that British armies will one day again play a part
in continental war. When the people of the United Kingdom are foolish
enough to allow their little army to be ground to fragments between
continental myriads, they will deserve all the misfortunes that will
inevitably come upon them.
I am aware that these arguments are neither original nor new. I have
merely arranged them. I am also aware that there are able, brilliant men
who have spent their lives in the service of the State, who do not take
the views I have quoted. The question has been regarded from an Indian
point of view. There is probably no colonel in India, who commands a
British regiment, who would not like to see his men five years older. It
may be that the Indian opinion on the subject is based only on partial
information, and warped by local circumstances. Still I have thought it
right to submit it to the consideration of the public, at a time when
the army has been filling such a prominent position, not only in the
Jubilee procession and the frontier war, but also in the estimates
presented to the House of Commons.
Passing from the concrete to the abstract, it may not be unfitting that
these pages, which have recorded so many valiant deeds, should contain
some brief inquiry into the nature of those motives which induce men
to expose themselves to great hazards, and to remain in situations of
danger. The circumstances of war contain every element that can shake
the nerves. The whizzing of the projectiles; the shouts and yells of a
numerous and savage enemy; the piteous aspect of the wounded, covered
with blood and sometimes crying out in pain; the spurts of dust which on
all sides show where Fate is stepping--these are the sights and sounds
which assail soldiers, whose development and education enable them to
fully appreciate their significance. And yet the courage of the soldier
is the commonest of virtues. Thousands of men, drawn at random from the
population, are found to control the instinct of self-preservation. Nor
is this courage peculiar to any particular nation. Courage is not only
common, but cosmopolitan. But such are the apparent contradictions of
life, that this virtue, which so many seem to possess, all hold the
highest. There is probably no man, however miserable, who would not
writhe at being exposed a coward. Why should the common be precious?
What is the explanation?
It appears to be this. The courage of the soldier is not really contempt
for physical evils and indifference to danger. It is a more or less
successful attempt to simulate these habits of mind. Most men aspire to
be good actors in the play. There are a few who are so perfect that they
do not seem to be actors at all. This is the ideal after which the rest
are striving. It is one very rarely attained.
Three principal influences combine to assist men in their attempts:
preparation, vanity and sentiment. The first includes all the force
of discipline and training. The soldier has for years contemplated the
possibility of being under fire. He has wondered vaguely what kind of
an experience it would be. He has seen many who have gone through it and
returned safely. His curiosity is excited. Presently comes the occasion.
By road and railway he approaches daily nearer to the scene. His
mind becomes familiar with the prospect. His comrades are in the same
situation. Habit, behind which force of circumstances is concealed,
makes him conform. At length the hour arrives. He observes the darting
puffs of smoke in the distance. He listens to the sounds that are in the
air. Perhaps he hears something strike with a thud and sees a soldier
near him collapse like a shot pheasant. He realises that it may be his
turn next. Fear grips him by the throat.
Then vanity, the vice which promotes so many virtues, asserts itself.
He looks at his comrades and they at him. So far he has shown no sign of
weakness. He thinks, they are thinking him brave. The dearly longed-for
reputation glitters before his eyes. He executes the orders he receives.
But something else is needed to made a hero. Some other influence must
help him through the harder trials and more severe ordeals which may
befall him. It is sentiment which makes the difference in the end. Those
who doubt should stroll to the camp fire one night and listen to the
soldiers' songs. Every one clings to something that he thinks is high
and noble, or that raises him above the rest of the world in the hour of
need. Perhaps he remembers that he is sprung from an ancient stock,
and of a race that has always known how to die; or more probably it
is something smaller and more intimate; the regiment, whatever it is
called--"The Gordons," "The Buffs," "The Queen's,"--and so nursing the
name--only the unofficial name of an infantry battalion after all--he
accomplishes great things and maintains the honour and the Empire of the
British people.
It may be worth while, in the matter of names, to observe the advantages
to a regiment of a monosyllabic appellation. Every one will remember
Lieut.-Colonel Mathias' speech to the Gordons. Imagine for a moment that
speech addressed to some regiment saddled with a fantastic title on the
territorial system, as, for instance, Mr. Kipling's famous regiment,
"The Princess Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merthyr Tydvilshire Own
Royal Loyal Light Infantry." With the old numbers all started on equal
terms.
This has been perhaps a cold-blooded chapter. We have considered men
as targets; tribesmen, fighting for their homes and hills, have been
regarded only as the objective of an attack; killed and wounded human
beings, merely as the waste of war. We have even attempted to analyse
the high and noble virtue of courage, in the hopes of learning how it
may be manufactured.
The philosopher may observe with pity, and the philanthropist deplore
with pain, that the attention of so many minds should be directed to the
scientific destruction of the human species; but practical people in a
business-like age will remember that they live in a world of men--not
angels--and regulate their conduct accordingly.