WITH ROBERTS AND THE SEAFORTHS TO AFGHANISTAN
(1878-1880)
Kabul town’s by Kabul river—
Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
There I lef’ my mate for ever,
Wet an’ drippin’ by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o’ Kabul river,
Ford o’ Kabul river in the dark!
There’s the river up and brimmin’, an’ there’s ‘arf a squadron
swimmin’
‘Cross the ford o’ Kabul river in the dark.
KIPLING.
It would be quite beyond the scope of this book to deal with the causes
that led up to the conflict in Afghanistan, but it would be expedient to
glance at the most prominent features of the Afghan trouble. Afghanistan
lies at the north of India, and forms the boundary state between the
possessions of Russia and of England. For this reason it was compelled
to trust neither Russia nor England, and to play a lone hand for its own
independence. In 1878 the ruler of Afghanistan was named Shere Ali, a
very cunning and unscrupulous man, inspired by the desire to sustain his
own independence while siding with the strongest of his neighbours—a
policy as old as the world itself.
It was suggested that a British officer should take up his residence at
Kabul, and at that Shere Ali for a moment dropped the mask. He opposed
the suggestion very strongly, for excellent reasons, since he was in
touch with Russia. It instantly became imperative that the Government
should act, so they proposed forthwith to send a Mission to confer with
Shere Ali. “The Amir must choose,” said Lord Lytton, “which of his
powerful neighbours he will rely upon, and he must learn that if he does
not promptly prove himself our loyal friend we shall be obliged to
regard him as our enemy and treat him accordingly. A tool in the hands
of Russia I will never allow him to become. Such a tool it would be my
duty to break before it could be used.” They were courageous words, but
uttered rather late.
With Eastern caution Shere Ali did not refuse point-blank to receive the
Mission, but was obviously satisfied—as Lord Lytton wrote to Lord
Salisbury—that there was nothing more to be got out of the British. For
several months the matter was allowed to drop, as England was fully
occupied with the threatening of war with Russia over the old question
of Turkey. During these rumours of hostilities the Amir, who followed
the European Press very carefully, was more and more inclined to throw
in his lot with Russia, and with this end in view pushed on the
fortifications and the manufacture of guns and ammunition at Kabul.
Presently news was received by the Government that a Russian envoy had
been welcomed by Shere Ali with demonstrations of the greatest
friendliness. One feature of the situation became self-evident. Should
war break out Russia would make her attack on India through Afghanistan.
The signing of the Berlin Treaty staved off the war between Russia and
England, but the reception given to the Russian envoy by the Amir could
not so easily be ignored. Accordingly Lord Lytton decided that a Mission
must be received by Shere Ali to prevent the situation appearing as a
slight upon the British arms. When Stolieloff, the Russian envoy, was
shown the letter he merely remarked to the agitated Amir, “Two swords
cannot go into one scabbard.” Those words nerved Shere Ali to oppose the
passing of the English Mission through the Khyber Pass. It was a
humiliating situation, and as Sir Neville Chamberlain wrote in his
letter to the Viceroy, “Nothing could have been more distinct, nothing
more humiliating to the British Crown and nation.” Through their
vacillation the Government had now convinced the Amir—as they were later
on to delude the Boers—that they would never take action, and as one
native Prince remarked with engaging frankness to Chamberlain, “The
people say, and we think, that you will still do nothing.”
That, quite briefly, was the situation when the Government decided to
send a force to Afghanistan. It was composed of two columns—one
advancing towards Kandahar, the other by the Kuram Valley. In command of
this latter column was Major-General Sir Frederick Roberts, while under
him were included the 72nd (the 1st Battalion Seaforth Highlanders), who
had already seen service in Central India, and who, together with the
92nd (Gordon Highlanders), will principally occupy our attention during
this campaign.
Frederick Roberts was born in India in 1832, being the son of a
distinguished soldier, Sir Abraham Roberts, called the ‘patriarch of
Indian Generals,’ while two of his uncles had been in the Navy. He was
at the relief of Lucknow and the fall of Delhi. During his long life he
saw much service, never meeting with a serious reverse. His last years
were employed in a vain appeal for National Service, and his death in
1914 was where he would best have wished it—within sound of the guns.
The advance towards Kabul was naturally somewhat prolonged, owing to the
extremely difficult character of the country. It was necessary to carry
a great quantity of baggage and commissariat. Everything went smoothly
until the Peiwar Kotal was sighted, where the Afghans were at last seen
to be in force. It was six in the morning, and very dark, when the
sentinels of the enemy were first discovered. There followed a charge by
the Highlanders and the Gurkhas, but the main force of the Afghans
awaited the attack upon the strongly defended heights of the Peiwar
Kotal, which guarded the only approach to Kabul, and which was a kind of
crow’s nest. “Across the summit or saddle of the steep ascent the enemy
had thrown up a battery of field works, the fire of which could rake the
whole pass. On either side of the Kotal, on two steep hills, were guns
in battery, which could throw a deadly cross-fire upon an ascending
force. The troops of the Amir occupied the entire line of the upper
hills for a distance of four miles, and at either extremity were guns in
position to meet any flank attack that could be made, and lofty and more
inaccessible hills covered their line of retreat.”
Roberts, determined that he should lose no time in attacking the Afghan
position, planned that the Highlanders, the Gurkhas, and the Punjab
infantry, with some artillery, should make a flank attack. The remainder
of the force held the attention of the enemy in the front. In silence
and secrecy the little party set off and attacked at dawn. The type of
country through which they were passing was not unlike the Highlands of
Scotland when the snow is on the ground. The sides of the hills were
thick with boulders and broken foliage, and during the whole of the
advance shots were fired from the Afghans concealed behind trees and
rocks upon the hill-side.
As soon as the attack had developed the guns came into action, and when
the Afghans saw their beasts stampeding and their tents on fire, panic
set in. Realising that an assault was threatening their rear, and
dreading that they would be surrounded, they speedily evacuated their
position. It was a great success, and a Seaforth triumph. For the first
time the Afghans had learned that respect for the British soldier that
Mr. Kipling has emphasised in the lines:
An’ when the war began, we chased the bold Afghan,
An’ we made the bloomin’ Ghazi for to flee, boys, O,
An’ we marched into Kabul, an’ we tuk the Bolan ‘Issar,
An’ we taught ’em to respec’ the British soldier.
In a despatch Roberts wrote: “I cannot praise them too highly, the 72nd
is a splendid regiment.”
That night, after twenty hours of continual marching upon very little
food, the troops bivouacked on the saddle of the hill along which the
enemy had retreated shortly before. On the following morning it was
realised what a very great advantage had been gained in taking this
position, an achievement that could only have been won by a high degree
of discipline and endurance. Roberts advanced to within four miles of
Kabul, and decided that as his force was insufficient he must turn back
to Fort Kurum.
He determined to leave a portion of his force to hold the position of
Peiwar Kotal during the winter. On Christmas Eve news came that the Amir
had been deserted by his army and had set out for St. Petersburg,
proposing to place himself in the hands of the Czar. Fate willed it
otherwise. He was shortly overcome by illness, dying at Turkestan, and
in the confused condition of the country he had deserted it was
impossible to know what was hidden in the future.
Shere Ali had been succeeded by his son, Yakub Khan, who was as cunning
as his father. He accepted with engaging celerity all the conditions
that the British Government laid down, but Roberts strongly suspected
that the time was not yet due when peace could be made. The Afghans had
not been beaten, and despite public opinion, which, in its accustomed
ignorance of the real situation, implored the Government to end the war,
he advised most urgently that the campaign to Kabul should continue in
the spring.
Soon after this Major Cavagnari was permitted by the new Amir to proceed
to Kabul as the British agent. Roberts accompanied him a part of the
way, and when they said farewell he turned back and shook hands with him
once more. It was in both their minds that in all probability they would
never meet again. And so time went on, and not very long after rumours
came drifting southwards that there was trouble in Kabul. It was
afterwards related that Cavagnari was warned by a native that he should
flee. “Never fear,” was his answer, “dogs that bark don’t bite.” “This
dog does bite,” said the other. As representative of the British
Government it was unthinkable that he should consider his own life.
“They can only kill three or four of us here,” he replied, “and our
death will be avenged.”
Already his doom was sealed. On September 2nd the Viceroy received a
telegram, ‘All well.’ On September 5 Roberts heard that the Residency in
Kabul had been attacked by three regiments, and that Cavagnari and his
brother officers were defending themselves as best they could. Roberts
was ordered to advance to Kabul, accompanied by the troops that were
stationed at Kurum. Things moved quickly after that. One telegram
followed upon another, each bearing worse news, and at last came the
tragic tidings that the members of the Embassy had been murdered. With
Sir Louis Cavagnari, the Resident, were a handful of Englishmen and a
detachment of the famous Indian regiment, the Guides. It was of that
memorable scene that Sir Henry Newbolt has written:
Sons of the Island race, wherever ye dwell,
Who speak of your fathers’ battles with lips that burn,
The deed of an alien legion hear me tell,
And think not shame from the hearts ye tamed to learn,
When succour shall fail, and the tide for a season turn,
To fight with a joyful courage, a passionate pride,
To die at the last as the Guides at Cabul died.
Within twenty-four hours Roberts had left Simla with 5000 men and orders
to reach Kabul, while the Amir was warned that the British troops were
on their way to avenge the outrage.
The expedition, which included the Seaforths and Gordons, reached
Charasiah before the enemy were in force. This place lies some twelve
miles from Kabul, but with ridge after ridge of precipitous hill
between. Upon this summit the Afghans had placed their guns, while their
riflemen had taken cover behind the innumerable boulders to await the
advance of the British force. Before Roberts lay the Afghan army thus
heavily entrenched, guarding Kabul. He must storm the heights or
retreat, and unless he made his attack at once he must permit the enemy
to redouble their numbers.
Frequently in the Indian Mutiny the Sepoys, taking for granted that an
attack would be made upon one flank or another, stationed their guns
accordingly. On this occasion the Afghans, believing that Roberts would
concentrate his assault upon their left, laid themselves liable to a
surprise.
At the same time it would be difficult to name an enemy more brave, more
athletic, and more resourceful than the Afghan, and the task before the
British was no enviable one.
Major White of the Gordon Highlanders—afterwards famous as the defender
of Ladysmith—went to the attack, covered by the British guns, while
General Baker set out to carry the enemy’s right. The Gordons started up
the steep hill-side, to be suddenly faced by a great number of the
enemy—at least twenty to one. They were already exhausted by the severe
toil up the hill, and noting their hesitation, White snatched a rifle
from one of the men’s hands, shot down the leader of the enemy, and as
the Afghans wavered the Gordons charged and took the position. It was
for this cool action at a critical moment that Major White received the
Victoria Cross. Meanwhile, the Seaforths, together with the Gurkhas, had
borne the brunt of the attack in another quarter. They struggled onward
from ridge to ridge, till at last the Afghans threw up the fight and
bolted. The battle of Charasiah was won, but it had taken twelve hours’
hard fighting to win it. Daybreak found Roberts on the march, and the
Amir, who had had the effrontery to send a message of congratulation to
the British commander in the vain hope that it would make things more
agreeable when they met, was ready to receive him when Kabul was
reached. But the trouble was not over.
The Afghans had taken up another strong position outside Kabul, but in
the darkness of the succeeding night, upon the threat of an attack from
General Baker, they decided to disperse, and, like all hillmen, vanished
into the mist before the dawn. The triumphal entry of Roberts into Kabul
was a splendid if melancholy spectacle. He told the people that the
British Government had decided not to take revenge for the murder of
Cavagnari and his colleagues, but that certain measures would be
enforced to ensure peace.
On the next day the Amir walked into Roberts’s tent and stated that he
wished to resign. As Kabul could not be left without a Governor,
Roberts, on behalf of England, proclaimed that Afghanistan would be
taken over by the British, and that the future of the people would be
decided after a conference.
As might be expected, the Afghans were by no means satisfied with this
ultimatum. A guerilla warfare was directed against our troops, and Kabul
was besieged by such numbers that it became daily more evident that the
position would be soon untenable. It was during these raids and
counter-raids that Lieutenant Dick-Cunyngham of the Gordon Highlanders
won his Victoria Cross, and Corporal Sellar of the Seaforths was also
awarded the coveted honour.
Roberts now found himself in an exceedingly difficult position, being
ignorant of the number of the enemy and unable to obtain much
information of their movements. As inactivity is often more dangerous
than defeat he resolved to lead an attack from two different points,
trusting that he could surround the Afghans and win a decisive victory.
Had the two columns managed to work in unison the British would have
been rewarded with a success. Unfortunately, there was one false move,
and, by a blunder, the British force was outflanked and attacked by some
10,000 of the enemy. Compelled to retire in frantic haste, the guns
became jammed in the narrow road, and the cavalry were unable to assist
them. In the midst of this dangerous situation Roberts arrived to find
that his strategy was like enough to turn into a disaster. It was
imperative, were the situation to be retrieved, to obtain infantry
without delay. A messenger was despatched to Kabul to call up the
Seaforth Highlanders. Would they arrive in time before the British
troops were annihilated? For there were now less than 300 men and 4 guns
confronting 10,000! To win time the English cavalry employed the
desperate resort of charging.
“Into a cloud of dust the Lancers disappeared as they headed for the
masses of the enemy, and nothing could be seen for a few moments of the
fight. Then riderless horses came galloping back, followed by scattered
bodies of troopers. They had been received with a terrific fire which
had killed many horses and men, and on trying to force their way through
the enemy, had been surrounded and beaten back by sheer force of
numbers. Even among Roberts and his staff the bullets fell thickly,
killing three or four horses and wounding others.”
Just in the nick of time appeared the Seaforth Highlanders, amidst the
cheers of the Lancers. “It was,” says an eye-witness, “literally touch
and go as to who could reach the village first, the Highlanders or the
Afghans, but our men swept in and swarmed to the tops of the houses,
able to check the rush of the enemy, who streamed down on the village
like ants on a hill.”
In the meantime the other columns that had hoped to join with that of
General Baker heard with alarm the mutter of distant artillery, General
Macpherson, who was in command, realising that this probably spelt
disaster, pushed on with all speed and managed to come to where the
Highlanders were fighting at Dehmazung. The British force was thus
snatched from a catastrophe that would have raised every Afghan in the
country.
After this unsatisfactory engagement Roberts decided that he would take
up position in Sherpur, evacuating Kabul since the people there were not
to be depended on, and it would be a difficult place to hold. The
numbers of the enemy had increased so largely that although many points
of vantage had been taken it was decided that concentration within the
limits of Sherpur was inevitable. Though Roberts had ample funds of
ammunition he could not reassure the Government that for the present any
decisive advance could be made. Trenches were hastily thrown up and wire
entanglements implanted, and shortly afterwards the attack upon Sherpur
commenced. Before dawn the noise, “as if hosts of devils had been let
loose,” came rolling out of the night, and through the darkness could be
dimly seen dense masses of the Afghans rushing upon the British
entrenchments, shouting again and again their frenzied battle-cry of
“Allah-il-Allah!”
The Gordon Highlanders were one of the first regiments to open fire upon
the immense force that threatened them. For three hours, despite the
terrible slaughter amongst their ranks, the Afghans rushed again and
again to the attack. At last it was evident that a counter-move would be
necessary to break the enemy’s determination to take Sherpur at all
costs. Moving out the cavalry with four guns, Roberts began to shell the
outlying villages. Distracted by this manœuvre, the Afghans’ assault
exhausted itself, and the moment for a counter-attack arrived. Suddenly
the cavalry swept down on their crowded masses, and in a moment the
enemy were in confused retreat. The end was come. Once in disorder they
scattered far and wide, pursued by every available man and horse. By
evening all the neighbouring country was perfectly silent, just as
though no battle had ever raged. The Afghans had vanished like smoke.
Kabul had been wrecked and plundered by the enemy, but the next day
Roberts re-entered the city, made General Hills Governor, and, as he
himself said, “the present outlook was fairly satisfactory.” But
although the natives in the immediate vicinity of the capital were
crushed, the tribes at Kandahar were in revolt. General Burrows was
forced to retreat to Kushk-i-Nakud, while against him were marching
12,000 men. The result of this engagement was the loss of the guns at
Maiwand. It was essential that this disaster should be wiped out, and
shortly afterwards Roberts, accompanied by the Seaforths and the Gordon
Highlanders, set out on the famous march to Kandahar. The news from
Kandahar could not have been worse. The Afghans had completely defeated
General Burrows’s brigade, and were now besieging the English force
under General Primrose in Kandahar. It was imperative that Roberts
should relieve Primrose at once, and on the 8th the memorable march
commenced. The English force numbered some 10,000 men, selected from
regiments of stamina and proved courage.
Only a military genius could have undertaken a march without
communication lines, without heavy baggage, and with a hostile army at
the end of it. The prospect was not favourable. They were faced by three
hundred miles of the enemy’s country, the inhabitants of which would be
only too ready to fall upon them should an opportunity present itself,
and disaster would almost surely turn to annihilation. It would take too
long to deal with that eventful march, and there was little of actual
conflict throughout. On the 26th of August there was a sharp engagement,
the Afghans being thrown back; on the 31st the British came in sight of
Kandahar, where the Afghan leader was strongly posted. They had arrived
just in time. To the beleaguered garrison they were like an army dropped
from heaven.
On September 1 the action began, and the Seaforths and Gordons were sent
forward to expel the enemy from the village in which they were
entrenched. A fierce hand-to-hand engagement ensued, and facing the
thousands of the enemy Major White shouted to the 92nd: “Highlanders,
will you follow me?” “Joyfully and with alacrity the Highlanders
responded to the call of their favourite leader, and without pausing to
recover breath, drove the enemy from their entrenchments at the point of
the bayonet.” This was the heaviest piece of hard fighting, and shortly
after the enemy wavered and finally broke, being quickly dispersed by
the cavalry. An undisciplined army can seldom retire in good order; once
broken it is instantly confused, and in a few minutes the Afghan troops
were streaming away towards the hills. Roberts, worn out by fever and
the anxieties and fatigues of the last few weeks, did not spare himself
during that critical day, and when it was over he thanked each regiment
personally for their services. Right well had the Highlanders supported
him. He had left India for a country seething with revolution, and had
carried the Peiwar Kotal. There had followed the murder of Cavagnari,
the quick descent upon Kabul, those anxious days when the British forces
were besieged outside the city, victory only to be followed by the
memorable march to Kandahar, and, last of all, after the frightful
fatigues and endurance, this decisive action.
Roberts, in addressing the troops, reminded them of the glory they had
won. “You beat them at Kabul,” he said, “and you have beaten them at
Kandahar, and now as you are about to leave the country you may be
assured that the very last troops the Afghans ever want to meet in the
field are Scottish Highlanders and Goorkhas.”
[Illustration: THE SEAFORTHS AT CANDAHAR]
“Never,” he wrote afterwards, “had commander been better served, and I
shall never forget the feeling of sadness with which I said good-bye to
my men who had done so much for me. I looked upon them all, native as
well as British, as my valued friends. Riding through the Bolan Pass, I
overtook men of the regiments of the Kabul-Kandahar Field Force,
marching towards Sibi, thence to disperse to their respective
destinations. As I parted with each corps in turn, its band played ‘Auld
Lang Syne,’ and I have never since heard the memory-stirring air without
its bringing before my eye the last view I had of the Kabul-Kandahar
Field Force. I fancy myself crossing, and recrossing, the river which
winds through the Pass, I hear the martial beat of the drums, and the
plaintive music of the pipes; and I see Riflemen and Goorkhas,
Highlanders and Sikhs, guns and horses, camels and mules, with all the
endless following of an Indian army, winding through the narrow gorges
or over the interminable boulders.”
It was this vivid picture that came back to the author upon that bleak
November day of 1914, when the Indian soldiers, under the grey English
heaven, went winding through the rain-driven streets of London. From far
away sounded the deep salutation of the guns, the tolling of a bell, the
wailing of the pipes. Thirty-four years had passed, and once again
“Riflemen and Goorkhas, Highlanders and Sikhs, guns and horses” passed
like the ghosts of long ago, or a dream of past achievement and work
well done before the falling of the night.
BATTLE HONOURS OF THE SEAFORTH HIGHLANDERS (ROSS-SHIRE BUFFS, THE DUKE
OF ALBANY’S).
Carnatic, Mysore, Hindoostan; Cape of Good Hope, 1806; Maida, Java;
South Africa, 1835; Sevastopol, Persia, Koosh-ab, Lucknow, Central
India, Peiwar Kotal, Charasiah; Kabul, 1879; Kandahar, 1880;
Afghanistan, 1878-1880; Egypt, 1882; Tel-el-Kebir, Chitral, Atbara,
Khartoum; South Africa, 1899-1902; Paardeberg.