The Afghan Army—The Amir Shere Ali’s Efforts to raise Disciplined
Troops—The founding of Guns—Surferaz’s Failure—A Cabuli Gunsmith
sent to Peshawur Arsenal—A Foundry established in Cabul—The
Manufacture of Rifled Guns and Small Arms—Cabuli Gunpowder and
Cartridges—Percussion Caps—Army Clothing Department—The Number of
Guns and Small Arms in Afghanistan—Cost of Shere Ali’s Army—Weakness
of the Organization—Regulars versus Tribesmen—Their Behaviour in
various Actions—The Failure of the Regular Army—Suggestion for the
Creation of a Militia—The Ghazi Element among Irregulars—How a Ghazi
is Made—His Mode of Fighting.
SHERPUR, _28th January, 1880_.
Afghanistan is a nation of soldiers, every adult being (apart from any
military training he may receive) a ready swordsman and a fair shot. In
our old wars we found but little organization existing among the
followers of the Dost and his son, Mahomed Akhbar, and the discipline of
our troops told in the long run against the masses they had to face.
Afghanistan then produced, as a writer has said, nothing but stones and
men: the stones made good _sungars_, which thousands of men were always
ready to defend. But after Shere Ali had assumed the Amirship, a change
came over the “war department” of the country: that shrewd sovereign had
his eyes opened to the necessity of having something more than an
unlimited supply of men to fight his battles, and after his visit to
India, in 1869, he began to cast about for means whereby he could arm
and equip his troops in civilized fashion. Fortunately for his project,
he was on the best of terms at that time with the Indian Government, and
among the valuable presents he carried back with him to Cabul were a
siege-train (consisting of four 18-pounders and two 8-inch howitzers), a
mountain battery of six guns, 5,000 Snider rifles, 15,000 Enfields, and
no less than 1,000,000 rounds of ball ammunition. This was the
groundwork upon which he hoped to build up a well-equipped army, with
artillery sufficient to make himself feared by all his neighbours, and
respected both by the English and Russian Governments, upon his
relations with which might ultimately depend the safety of his kingdom.
To a man of less energy than Shere Ali, the project he took in hand
would have seemed so full of difficulties, that it might have been
reasonably abandoned after a fair trial; but the then Amir was a man of
stubborn self-will; and his mind once made up, nothing could turn him
from his object. The story of his successful struggle to create an army
of all arms on the European pattern can be best told by reference to a
report drawn up on information supplied by various sirdars and artisans,
since our occupation of Cabul. Lieutenant Neville Chamberlain, Extra
Assistant Political Officer, is the compiler of this valuable report,
which gives in detail an account of Shere Ali’s steady progress in the
armament of his kingdom, until he made the fatal mistake of quarrelling
with the British. One cannot fail to be struck with astonishment at the
rapidity with which guns were made, rifles imitated, and cartridges
turned out by the 100,000 in a country which boasts of but few
resources.
Shere Ali could easily enough make regiments of infantry and cavalry,
dress them after the fashion of the men he had seen paraded in India,
and drill them in a few simple movements. If he were guilty of the
solecism of making Highlanders mount on horseback, there was no great
blunder committed; they were his mounted rifles, and were not likely to
come to grief, as every Afghan is more or less a horseman. But in the
question of artillery, the Amir had to face a problem which must have
cost him much anxious thought. The old brass cannon which had been used
for many years as wall-pieces in the different fortresses of
Afghanistan, sank into insignificance when compared with the guns Lord
Mayo had given him. The latter were few in number, and it was
all-important they should he multiplied, so that if three or four armies
took the field, each should have its due complement of guns. There were
skilled artisans in Cabul who had made brass guns; and one of these,
named Surferaz, was given funds by Shere Ali and peremptorily ordered to
turn out guns on the pattern of the siege-train and mountain battery
which had lately arrived from India. The unlucky man tried his best;
but, at the end of a few months, his work was pronounced a failure; and
as he had spent Rs. 12,000 in his experiments, he was summarily thrown
into prison, and all his property confiscated. This was his reward for
obeying the orders of a tyrant. But Shere Ali was not to be foiled, and
rightly attributing the failure to want of technical knowledge, he sent
the uncle of Surferaz, Dost Mahomed, a skilled gunsmith, to Peshawur, to
be instructed in the mysteries of rifled guns. Dost Mahomed may be
allowed to tell his own story, as it is full of interest. He says:—
“I am a Cabuli by birth and a gunsmith. My father was a gunsmith before
me. After Shere Ali’s return from India, I was sent to Peshawur with a
letter to Colonel Pollock, the Commissioner there, in which he was asked
to allow me to visit the Arsenal, and see how the rifled guns were made.
I remained in Peshawur for three months, until the permission of
Government arrived. I then visited the Arsenal daily, and saw exactly
how everything was done; and on my departure I was given models of guns
in wood, with complete drawings of the details. I returned to Cabul, and
with these models and some complete models of rifled breech-loading
Armstrongs, which had been given to the Amir during his visit to India,
I began work. I had three principal assistants: my nephew, Surferaz (who
had then been liberated), Mahomed Ali, and a man named Rashed. Any
number of workmen were at my disposal, as I had only to state the number
I required, and they were impressed from among the city smiths. Before
commencing a gun, a sum of money was given to me, which I was not to
exceed. The following were the prices in Cabuli rupees:—
Rs.
Field gun 1,500
Royal Horse Artillery gun 1,000
Mountain gun 300
” ” (laminated steel) 600
“I never either lost or gained much by my contract. The iron for the
guns came principally from India—some through Shikarpur, some from
Peshawur. A small quantity was procured from Bajour and Zurmut. The core
of the gun was first welded by hand on an iron bar, the required length
and diameter. Long strips of iron having been placed all round the core,
they were well hammered together, and bands of iron placed over all to
keep everything in its place. The gun was then bored out by the
machinery at the water-mills of Deh-i-Afghan. The machinery for these
mills was set up by a Hindustani, named Muah Khan. He learned his trade
from a negro, named Belal, who was taught by one Ibrahim, a native of
Ispahan, who came years ago from Persia to the service of Sultan Jan,
late Governor of Herat. The gun was then rifled by hand, the
breech-block and details completed, polished by machinery, and handed
over to the Arsenal. The strength of the guns was never proved by heavy
charges being fired out of them, and they were at once taken into use.
Out of all the guns I have made only one has burst. I could turn out
four or five guns a month if necessary. My pay was Rs. 70 a month, and I
occasionally received presents.”
This was not a bad example of what perseverance can accomplish, for the
guns manufactured are said by our gunners to be very well made, lacking
only finish. The Armstrong breech-loaders would be creditable to an
English founder, and we are now testing many of them to see if they
cannot be used for the defences of Sherpur. A great number of small
brass guns for mountain batteries were also made. The old ordnance was
broken up, and new guns were cast in the Bala Hissar Arsenal, the boring
and polishing being done at the Deh-i-Afghan water-mills. The alloy in
these brass guns contains a larger percentage of copper than we
generally use. The water-mills to which reference has been made can
still be seen—a huge wheel with a long wooden shaft in which the
boring-tool was fixed. With such simple means it seems almost impossible
that heavy guns could be bored, but still the work was done, slowly it
is true, but effectually.
The manufacture of small-arms was not such a success. Kootub-ud-din, a
Cabul gunsmith, was placed in charge of the Bala Hissar Arsenal, and
workmen under his direction made 2,000 Sniders and 8,000 Enfields. The
Afghans placed but little faith in their imitation of our rifles; they
found that the breech-action of the Snider would not act, the extractor
often failing to throw out the cartridge-case after firing, while the
grooving of the Enfields was so imperfect, that the barrel quickly got
“leaded,” _i.e._ the grooves were filled with lead stripped from the
bullet as it was driven out by the charge. It is worth remarking that in
the Amir’s palace were found several rifles of different patterns (the
French Chassepot among them), and each had its Cabuli imitation. No
doubt various experiments were made before the Snider was finally
adopted.
There was never any lack of gunpowder in Cabul, as the Amir employed six
contractors to turn out the quantities he needed. Each mill could make
two maunds a day, and the total daily out-turn on an emergency would be
nearly 1,000 lbs. These contractors were also ready to start other
smaller mills during war-time, so that doubtless a ton of powder could
have been supplied every day as long as funds were forthcoming. The
composition of the powder was seventy-five parts of saltpetre, ten of
sulphur, and fifteen of charcoal. Bamian supplied the sulphur, with
occasional small quantities from Hazara and the Derajat. Saltpetre
abounds near Cabul, and excellent charcoal is made from the thousands of
small willow-trees which line every watercourse in Chardeh and the near
valleys. The coarse-grain powder for muzzle-loading guns was paid for at
the rate of Rs. 2 per lb., while that used for breech-loading field-guns
and for rifles was Rs. 3 per lb. The powder, as a rule, is far inferior
to that of European make, as the Afghans do not understand the final
process of glazing, which adds so much to the strength of the
composition. Shot and shell were strictly copied from the patterns
brought from India, but time-fuses were not understood. A bursting
charge—the secret of which was held by a Herati—was used, and not until
just before the war of 1879 were fuses made in the Bala Hissar. They are
not a success, the delicate nature of the fuse not being properly
appreciated. In the matter of small-arm cartridges, the Afghan smiths
deserve much credit. Sixty of them were constantly engaged in the Bala
Hissar Arsenal making up cartridges, and their Snider ammunition is
excellent. The cases are made by hand, and are technically known as
“solid cold-drawn brass.” The bases are very strong, and the cases can
be refilled many times. In a country where there is no machinery for
turning out millions of cartridges in a few days this is a great
advantage. Two clever Cabulis, Safi Abdul Latif and Safi Abdul Hak,
invented a machine for making percussion caps, equal to turning out
5,000 a day. The detonating composition is fairly good, but spoils if
the caps are kept for two or three years. Considering there were
millions of caps still in the unopened boxes sent from Dum-Dum Arsenal
to Shere Ali, native-made caps were not much needed. Gun carriages and
limbers were made on the English pattern, the guns captured in the
disastrous business of 1841-42 serving as models in addition to the
siege-train given by Lord Mayo.
Among Shere Ali’s other improvements in his “War Department” was the
establishment of a Clothing Department, which had for its object the
equipment of his soldiers in proper uniforms. The tunics, trousers,
kilts, gaiters, helmets, &c., are all neatly made; and as each soldier
received a new uniform every two years, the regular regiments ought to
have been smart and well set-up. That they were not so was chiefly due
to the laxity of discipline and the incompetence of their officers.
Pouch-belts and bayonet frogs on the English pattern were served out,
and the cavalry were all furnished with new swords, slightly curved like
those used by our own sowars. The steel is generally very soft, but the
blade is well-tempered, and takes an edge so keen, that even a slight
blow leaves a deep gash. Shere Ali’s ambition, while thus perfecting his
armament, was to build a fortress of huge dimensions, and Sherpur was
accordingly begun. The subsidy paid yearly by the Indian Government gave
him money to lavish in this direction, and the cantonments our troops
are now occupying were laid out on a scale that even to European ideas
seems enormous. The fortress was to have been in the shape of a huge
square with walls 3,000 yards long; and on the Bemaru Heights, in the
middle, a strong citadel was to have risen—“the New Bala Hissar.” At the
foot of the southern slope, below the citadel, a splendid palace was
mapped out, the strong foundations of which even now show how imposing
the building would have been. Shere Ali’s quarrel with the British put
an end to his ambitious schemes, and Sherpur remains to this day
incomplete; while away in the Hazara Darukht defile, thousands of logs
are lying, ready squared, which the Gajis had got ready for the barracks
which will now never be built.
Lieutenant Chamberlain, in summarizing the result of his interesting
inquiries into Afghan armaments, makes out the following tabular
statement:—
NUMBER OF GUNS PREVIOUS TO WAR OF 1878-79.
English Siege Train (Elephant) 6
Cabuli ” ” ” 10
” ” ” (Bullock) 18
Horsed Guns ⎛ (Breech-loaders, 89) ⎞⎟ 145
⎝ (Brass Guns, 56) ⎠
Mountain Guns ⎛ (Breech-loaders, 6) ⎞
⎜ (Muzzle-loaders, 48) ⎟ 150
⎝ (Brass, 96) ⎠
Various small guns of Position 50
——
Total 379
Deduct Guns captured, 1879-80 256
——
Guns remaining in Country 123
——
These are believed to be chiefly in Herat and Turkistan.
The number of rifles entered in the Government books as having been
issued to the troops are—
English Sniders 5,000
” Enfields 15,000
” Rifled Carbines 1,200
” Brunswick Rifles 1,400
” Tower muskets 1,000
” Cavalry Pistols 1,045
Cabuli Sniders 2,189
” Enfields 8,212
” Rifled Carbines 589
Kandahari Enfields 453
Herati Enfields 516
Various kinds for Cavalry (double-barrelled, &c.) 1,553
Smooth-bores (probably many Tower Muskets) 1,418
Flint Muskets 1,300
————
Total 49,875
————
Of these 742 English Enfields, 560 English Sniders, and 5,427 muskets,
Cabuli Sniders and Enfields, flint muskets, &c., have been given up,
leaving 43,146 small-arms in the country.
It is worth noticing that no information could be got as to whence the
English rifled carbines, Brunswick rifles, Tower muskets, and cavalry
pistols were obtained. The “Brown Besses” were, perhaps, part of those
taken in 1841-42. This estimate of arms, it should be remembered, takes
no account of the many thousands of _jhezails_, native pistols, &c., in
the hands of the tribesmen. The totals are sufficiently great to prove
that the late Shere Ali had placed Afghanistan on such a military
footing, that he may well have believed he could, with the mountain
barriers between Cabul and India, defy any force the British could spare
to send against him. He was grievously mistaken; his weakness lying in
the want of discipline among his troops, and the incapacity of their
leaders.
The cost of the army which he had raised and equipped was a serious item
in his exchequer accounts, if he ever kept any. Lieutenant Chamberlain
computes it at 19,21,195 Cabuli rupees, of which Rs. 17,81,238 went for
pay to the army, Rs. 1,20,235 for Arsenal expenses (not including Herat
and Turkistan), and Rs. 19,727 for uniform. Considering that Major
Hastings, Chief Political Officer here, has calculated the whole revenue
of Afghanistan at only Rs. 79,82,390, it will thus appear that nearly
one-fourth of the revenue was lavished in military (expenditure. The
Amir ought reasonably to have expected his army to have made a better
defence of his kingdom against invasion than the weak struggle at Ali
Musjid and the Peiwar Kotal. After the present campaign, Afghanistan can
never hope to rise to the position it occupied under Shere Ali. The easy
capture of Cabul and 214 guns is a blow that even a Dost Mahomed would
find it hard to recover from. Having dealt with the armaments of
Afghanistan, there remains the regular army to be considered. We used to
hear a good deal, at first, of the regular army of Afghanistan, which
Shere Ali had called into being and drilled according to his idea of
European tactics. So many “regiments” with a proportionate number of
guns were said to be encamped about Cabul, while others were hurrying in
from outlying provinces to swell the assembly. Now there had undoubtedly
been a determined effort on Shere Ali’s part to make every male in the
population subject to the conscription, and the carefully prepared lists
we afterwards found proved that the enrolments had been on a large
scale. But there was one fault in the organization which told against
all the Amir’s efforts,—and that was the want of competent officers to
train the thousands of men who were available for the army. Such
officers as were equal to their work were chiefly pensioners of the
Indian native army, but these could only teach the sowars and infantry
their drill, and could scarcely be expected to manœuvre even a
brigade in the field. An intelligent _malik_ once said to a British
officer:—“We can never hope to fight you with success until we are
educated.” “Well, why not have schools and colleges, such as the Sircar
builds in India for the people?” The answer was one given with a
half-contemptuous indignation:—“Not that kind of education; I mean until
our army is educated, and our officers can do their work as well as
yours.” It was military education the petty chief was craving for, and
he was unquestionably right in his aspirations. Shere Ali might be able
to distribute Enfield and Snider rifles among his sepoys, fit out
batteries with every kind of shot and shell, and teach his men such
rudimentary discipline as would enable them to march in fairly good
order; but he could never get beyond this. Instead of sending his young
nobles to Europe to learn the mysteries of military science, he
distributed commands among such favourites as were ready to take them
with their emoluments; and occasionally he made a good selection from
among men of the stamp of Daoud Shah, soldiers of fortune, whose courage
was above suspicion, and who could generally keep an army in order. Then
there was the childish desire ever uppermost in the Amir’s mind, of
clothing his troops in English uniforms, and his “Army Clothing
Department” turned out imitation Highland and Rifle costumes, or old
Pandy uniforms by the hundred. The plan might have succeeded if less
attention had been paid to dress and more to discipline and musketry.
The Afghan does not lack native courage, and in hill warfare he is
unrivalled so long as it takes the shape of guerilla fighting; but once
he is asked to sink his identity and to become merely a unit in a
battalion he loses all self-confidence, and is apt to think more of
getting away than of stubbornly holding his ground as he would have done
with his own friends, led by his own _malik_ or chief. In fact, the late
Afghan campaign proved beyond doubt that the Afghan “regulars” had
reached that most precarious stage where the men are in a transition
state: not yet trained soldiers, but a mob led by strange officers whom
they scarcely know, and whom they generally dislike because they are the
direct means of imposing the irksomeness of discipline upon them. A
tribesman who has never been enrolled is always comforted in action by
the thought that if the battle ends disastrously he can make good his
escape and probably reach his village in safety, there to play the part
of a peaceful peasant proprietor if his civilized enemy visits him
afterwards. But the Afghan sepoy is in a very different position: if he
is true to his salt he must remain with his regiment and retire in some
kind of order, which means to his mind that the pursuing cavalry will
have a much better chance of overtaking him. The result of this has been
that on nearly every occasion the most obstinate resistance has been
offered by tribesmen acting as independent bodies, with no organization,
but with a cool courage which made them at times foemen worthy of our
steel. To deal more particularly with the merits and weaknesses of the
regular troops, and to contrast their work with that of ghazi-led
tribesmen, may be of some interest.
Upon Sir Frederick Roberts’s arrival at Charasia, the Herat and other
regiments which had been in the neighbourhood of Cabul at the time of
the Massacre were induced by Nek Mahomed and other sirdars to oppose the
advance of the British force, and a strong position was taken up to
prevent the Sang-i-Nawishta defile being forced. Guns were placed in
position, commands distributed, and an effort made to fight a battle
with some approach to European methods. At the same time regiments were
strengthened by a number of the city people and by tribesmen from the
Chardeh Valley and Koh-Daman. For all practical purposes, however, the
action was fought on the Afghan side by regular troops, and the poor
show they made against General Baker’s 2,000 men, gave evidence of the
weakness before suspected. Our enemy was well armed with Enfield and
Snider rifles, had plenty of ammunition, and was in a position which
well-trained troops could have held against great odds; and yet on their
left Major White, with 100 Highlanders, drove them from their most
advanced position, while on their right the 72nd and 5th Ghoorkas, with
a few companies of the 5th P.I. and the 23rd Pioneers (supported only by
four mountain guns), turned their flank and drove them in confusion back
upon Indikee. Their rifle-fire was well sustained and very rapid, but
badly directed and not under control, and our men passed safely upwards
with the storm of bullets rushing far above their heads. There was no
counter-attack made, although we had practically no supports to fall
back upon, and any rush would have involved the brigade in a very
awkward position. On the road leading to the Sang-i-Nawishta _tangi_ the
enemy had twenty-six or thirty guns opposed to our single battery (G-3),
and yet our artillery held its own with ease, and succeeded in
dismounting some of their Armstrong breech-loaders. Their leaders had
shown great patience and skill in placing their guns on commanding
points, but the gunners were firing almost at random, as their training
was of a superficial kind. Had the ranges been marked out, as at Ali
Musjid, they would have done better; but our rapid advance destroyed
what little confidence they might have felt in their own weapons.
Again, on October 8th, they were bold enough to engage in an artillery
duel, and from Asmai answered our guns on the Sherderwaza, shot for
shot. But not a man was wounded by their fire, although round-shot,
shrapnel and common shell were all tried by their leaders. From this
moment the Afghan army ceased to exist as a real body, yet in the
actions which afterwards took place we had always fiercer fighting and
much greater determination shown on the part of the adversary. The
sepoys and sowars dispersed to their homes, carrying their arms and
ammunition with them, but sinking their drill and discipline and looking
upon themselves as once more tribesmen, but better armed than in the
days when they had only matchlocks and _jhezails_ as firearms. The
rising in December was not a reorganization of the army, but a gathering
of all the fighting-men from Ghazni to Charikar in answer to the appeal
of the _moollahs_ to their fanaticism. The short-lived success which
followed was due chiefly to the leading of the ghazis, who knew no more
of generalship or discipline than our own dhoolie-bearers. Occasionally
we saw some sort of marshalling going on in the leading lines, in which
the best-armed men were placed, but this was due more to the desire on
the part of the leaders to make the most of their strength than to any
idea of forming the mob into battalions. Mahomed Jan and Mushk-i-Alam
trusted to numbers and to fanaticism, not to discipline, to win their
battles, and their trust was fully justified. The losses they suffered
were proportionately small. Our artillery could never be concentrated on
a particular regiment or squadron, but had to be directed upon men in
small scattered groups, or on a line extending for many miles across the
country. Again, when the unsuccessful attack upon Sherpur was made, the
retreat or rather dispersion of the 50,000 men was so rapid, owing to no
regular army being with them, that we were powerless to overtake the
fugitives; they had spread themselves broadcast over the country, hidden
their arms, and had once more begun to play the part of an innocent
peasantry.
The reason for the signal failure of Shere Ali’s system is to be found,
as I have said, chiefly in the want of skilled leaders, more
particularly of regiments; but there is a further explanation, and one
which makes intelligible the comparatively slight losses we suffered
when our troops were greatly outnumbered. In our own army, even with all
the trouble and care devoted to instructing the men in the principles of
musketry, the rifle-fire is deplorably bad; thousands of rounds are
expended with very poor results, and company officers grow despondent
when volley after volley is fired and no impression is made upon the
enemy. If this be the case with our well-disciplined troops, it may be
readily believed that Afghan sepoys are far worse. I learned from one of
them in Cabul that although Enfields and Sniders were served out, each
man only received three rounds of ammunition per year with which to gain
a knowledge of his weapon, and that consequently they knew practically
nothing of the capabilities of their rifles. They felt that at close
quarters they might possibly hit their man, but at longer ranges they
could not hope to shoot well. Their natural steadiness of hand and
perfect eyesight, of course, served them in good stead; but position
drill, the manipulation and sighting of the rifle, were generally a
mystery to them. This was the cause of defeat when opposed to our
regiments, though holding positions, such as the Peiwar and Charasia
hills, which were capable of grand defence. For a time they fired
rapidly and resolutely, but seeing no effect produced, and our
skirmishing line always moving forward, they lost heart and abandoned
position after position, until they had at last to make a hasty retreat.
Again, with the artillery: to each gun issued from the Bala Hissar
Arsenal one cartridge was served out, and when this had been fired and
the gun had stood the test, no further practice was allowed. Could the
gunners hope to attain proficiency under such conditions? This economy
of ammunition was doubtless due to the difficulties of manufacture and
the necessity of husbanding cartridges; but it was a short-sighted
policy, and one which an Amir at all versed in the art of warfare would
never have adopted.
If the time should ever arrive when Afghanistan becomes a protected
State under the guidance of the Indian Government, and the people should
recognize the advantages to be gained by an alliance with the British,
the best plan would be, not to create a regular army, but to turn the
population into a huge militia. The peasantry would not object to annual
trainings, and if the principle were adopted of _issuing breech-loaders
only_, instructing the men in their use and allowing them a fairly large
number of rounds to be fired under the eye of their officers, and not to
be retained under any circumstances, a splendid contingent could be
formed. The men might retain their rifles, but the reserve ammunition
should be stored in such a way that they could not gain access to it. In
time of war they would assemble with rifles in their hands, but with
empty ammunition pouches; and upon the discretion of our officers would
depend the number of rounds to be served out to them. The mercenary army
we have raised in India owes its strength to the system of class
regiments, and Afghanistan could be similarly dealt with. No combination
between Pathans and Hazaras would ever take place, and with the latter
kept fully armed and equipped doing garrison duty, the militia could be
called out as a _Landwehr_ when occasion arose. These ideas may of
course seem to some Quixotic, but perhaps before another generation has
passed away they may be realized. If the French can reconcile Arabs to
serve in the Algerian army, there should be but little difficulty in
creating, hereafter, an Afghan militia—always provided that our
influence is supreme in the country, and the kingdom enjoying the
benefits of our administration.
When the irregular levies come to be considered, we are bound to admit
at once that the fanaticism which animates many of their number often
makes them formidable enemies. Their ghazis make splendid leaders in an
attack. The word “ghazi” has come to mean in Western eyes something very
different from its legitimate signification. It originally meant a
conqueror, or great hero, and in this sense it is used in modern Turkey.
Osman Pasha was dubbed “Ghazi” when his splendid resistance to the
Russians saved for a time the fate of his country; and the title is one
held in the highest respect by Mahomedans. From “conqueror” the meaning
has passed into lower grades, one of the commonest being “a gallant
soldier” (especially combating infidels); and at last, in the common
course of events, it has been appropriated in the all-comprehensive
vocabulary of the English language with a distinct and localized
meaning. To us, now, a ghazi is simply a man upon whom fanaticism has
had so powerful an effect that all physical fear of death is swamped in
his desire to take the life of a Kafir, and, with his soul purified by
the blood of the unbeliever, to be translated at once to Paradise. A
true ghazi counts no odds too great to face, no danger too menacing to
be braved: the certainty of death only adds to his exaltation; and, as
in the case of other madmen, desperation and insensibility to
consequences add enormously to his muscular powers and endurance. To
kill such a man is sometimes so difficult a task at close quarters, that
our men have learned to respect their peculiar mode of fighting, and a
rifle-bullet at a fair distance checks the ghazi’s course before he can
close upon his assailants with the terribly sharp knife he knows so well
how to use. If every Afghan were a ghazi, as I once said during the
siege of Sherpur, our defences would have been carried, and enormous
slaughter would have followed on both sides; but ghazis are few and far
between, though a spurious imitation is not uncommon. This imitation is
often taken for the real article, whereas _bhang_ or some other
stimulant is the motive power, and not desperate fanaticism. The misuse
of the word “ghazi” is strikingly seen in the accounts of the last war
forty years ago. We are told of bands of ghazis, many thousands strong,
harassing the retreating army and cutting off stragglers; and these
ghazis are always spoken of as being quite out of the control of Akhbar
Khan. If they had been true ghazis they would have made short work of
our little army long before it reached the Khurd Cabul. Their fanaticism
would have carried them into the midst of the soldiers; for what
resistance can be made to madmen who desire death, and have thrown all
thoughts of retreat to the winds? Only a few weeks after the dispersion
of Mahomed Jan’s army from before Sherpur, absurd alarmist telegrams
were circulated in India and England of a gathering of 20,000 ghazis on
the Ghazni Road, only fifty miles from Cabul, and another disaster was
foretold by every croaker, who found as much comfort in the awful word
“ghazi” as did the old woman in many-syllabled Mesopotamia. If that
number of ghazis had been within fifty miles of us, we might, indeed,
have had our work cut out for us; but not in the whole of Afghanistan
could so many be found. It is not given to every man to rise to such a
pitch of religious exaltation, and fortunate for an “infidel” army it is
not. To see how thousands of ghazis are always being spoken of, one
would imagine they were a powerful clan, similar to the Ghilzais,
Kohistanis, or Afridis. Just as the shining light of a missionary
meeting at home described “_zenana_ missions” as being missions sent to
“_Zenana_, a district of Northern India, fruitful and densely-populated,
but with its wretched inhabitants steeped in heathen ignorance,” so do
sensation-mongers dress out these ghazis as a distinct section of
Pathans, who gather together in their thousands whenever there is an
appeal to arms. To them it would seem as easy to collect ghazis as to
gather grapes—and certainly the two products are noteworthy enough in
this sterile country—but practical acquaintance with the form fanaticism
assumes about Cabul shows only too clearly that out of a crowd of 50,000
armed fanatics, such as lately held Cabul, not one in a hundred rises to
the supreme rank of a ghazi. They are not born and bred to the vocation:
chance makes them what they are, and our men know that a stray spark of
enthusiasm may kindle their fanaticism and send them into our midst. The
ghazi in Afghanistan, his true abode, answers to the assassin in Western
countries, where enthusiasm in religious or political matters arouses
him to shoot a priest at the altar, or stab a king in his palace. How
the ghazi, the “conqueror of death,” as he deserves to be called, rises
into being may be told with sufficient local colouring to make the story
more than commonplace.
An infidel army is in occupation of the country, and under the outward
cloak of sudden submission is hidden deep hatred of the intruders on
account of race and religion. In every village and hamlet the men listen
eagerly to the preaching of the _moollahs_, who stir up their passions
by lying stories of the coming time when their religion will be insulted
and their _zenanas_ violated by the Kafirs. The appeal is made first to
the two objects most precious in the eyes of an Afghan or of any other
Mahomedan—his faith and his women. When passions have been deeply enough
stirred, the _moollah_ warms to his work. A Koran, wrapped and rewrapped
in silks, and carefully protected from defiling influences, is drawn
from the priest’s breast, and every passage imposing upon true
Mahomedans the duty of destroying all unbelievers is quoted with
vehement eloquence. The _moollah_ is to these ignorant peasants the link
between this world and the next; in him they place all trust; and as
they listen to his fierce harangues, they are ready to do all that he
requires of them. He is vested with mysterious attributes, rising
occasionally to miracle-working; and with quiet assurance he promises
that, if they attack the infidels “in the proper spirit and in full
faith,” bullets shall turn harmlessly aside, bayonets shall not pierce
them, and their poshteens thrown over the cannon’s mouth shall check
shot and shell. The priesthood in all ages have traded upon the
credulity of the people, and have abused their power without qualms of
conscience to obtain their ends. Is it any more wonderful that an Afghan
tribesman, shut out from the wonders of the outer world, should believe
the clap-trap of his priest, than that highly-cultured scholars in the
full glare of civilization should accept the dogmas of Papal
Infallibility, or a crowd of devotees watch with awe-stricken faces the
liquefaction, periodically, of the blood of a saint dead and gone ages
ago? Yet such things have been in modern Europe, and the world has
forgotten to smile. The _moollah_ is merely a clever trickster in his
own sphere, though, like many other priests, he comes often to believe
in his own supernatural powers, and then sinks to the level of his
followers. And the ghazi is the creature of the _moollah_. The latter’s
eloquence is listened to by some more than usually susceptible villager,
whose enthusiasm is aroused to fever heat by a glowing story of a ghazi,
who went into the infidel camp, cut down two or three Kafirs, and died
the death of a martyr, his soul going straight to the laps of the
_houris_, and his name living for ever among his kindred. Shall he not
emulate such a glorious example, so that his children and his children’s
children may hand down his name to all generations as a Ghazi
Allah-din—a “Champion of the Faith?” The _moollah’s_ preaching has had
its effect, and a ghazi has been called into being. If a great _jehad_
is being preached, that man will always be in the forefront of the
battle, and will probably carry the standard of his clan, blessed by the
_moollah_ who has aroused the tribesmen. The fiery cross, which was sped
from end to end of the Scottish Highlands in the old days, when the call
to arms was made, was no more powerful than is the Koran now, carried
from village to village by the _moollah_ of Afghanistan. But a few weeks
ago the arch-_moollah_, Mushk-i-Alam, sent out his message from Charkh,
and how well it was responded to we are living witnesses. With ghazis in
their midst to lead the timorous, and _moollahs_ always at hand to fan
their fanaticism, Mahomed Jan’s rabble did wonders. How the ghazis
acquitted themselves our men well know—many poor fellows to their cost.
In the action in the Chardeh Valley the standard-bearers rushed on even
when our cavalry charged, and no more reckless rush was ever made. Many
went down, but about them were others equal in desperation. A trooper of
the 9th transfixed a man with his lance: the ghazi wriggled up like an
eel, grasped the lance with his left hand, and, with one stroke of the
knife, cut through the lancer’s hand and the tough shaft as it had been
of tinder. This is not romancing: the trooper is still living, but minus
the fingers of his right hand. On the 13th December, when the 92nd
Highlanders stormed the Takht-i-Shah Peak, isolated bands of ghazis
stood to their posts when their comrades were in full retreat, and were
shot and bayoneted in desperate hand-to-hand encounters. On the 14th the
ghazis were so prominent that Mahomed Jan owed all his success to their
daring leadership up the Asmai Heights, although many a white-clothed
figure went down before that success was gained. In the early part of
the day the last _sungar_ on the Asmai Heights was held by a score of
these fanatics when all else had fled. The banners were planted on the
rude stone walls; and when Colonel Brownlow and the Highlanders made the
final rush, the scene was an exciting one. What could be finer than the
desperate leap out of the _sungar_ by the ghazi who attacked
Lance-Corporal Seller, our first man forward? Nothing but fanatical
madness could have drawn a man from the temporary shelter of the
_sungar_ while there was still a chance of escape down the hill; the
ghazi fulfilled his _kismut_; so let us hope all is well with him. Then,
when the enemy streamed out from Indikee into the Chardeh Valley, and
came straight upon the hills held by our troops, their standard-bearers,
chiefly ghazis, were well in front, and the rush upwards was led by
these men, who at times were 100 yards in front of the main body. When
our men were forced back from the conical hill, the ghazis were the
first to crown the rocks; and the splendid way in which they planted
their standards on the Asmai Heights as the Highlanders and Guides were
withdrawn was worthy of all respect. The steady volleys of Colonel
Brownlow’s men kept back the main body; but yard by yard, as our
soldiers fell back, flags were pushed up from behind protecting rocks,
their bearers being at times within fifty paces of our rifles. With such
leaders, even cowards must have rushed on, and it must have been a proud
moment for the ghazis when they held the crest of the hill, and watched
our troops slowly filing off into Sherpur.
They played the same prominent part during the siege, but they were
ill-supported, and though a few succeeded once in placing a flag within
250 yards of the corner bastion looking towards Deh-i-Afghan, not a man
remained, when night fell, to remove their cherished trophy: our
Martinis had proved too fatal at so short a range. In the final assault
on December 23rd the fanatical leaders were again in the van; and if
they had been followed by the thousands who hung back so irresolutely,
then there might have been a hand-to-hand fight in our trenches. In
isolated instances, a ghazi would be seen within a few score yards of
our defences, only to go down riddled through and through, though one
more desperate than his companions reached the _abattis_, and had begun
to pull away the intercepting branches, when he also was shot. To quote
more instances of the audacity of the ghazi would be useless. I have
said enough to prove his recklessness, and to show that, with an army of
such men against us, even our splendid arms and steady discipline might
avail nothing. But the true ghazi is a phenomenon—he at least deserves
the scientific and sonorous title—and even Afghan fanaticism cannot
bring forth many, however great may be the eloquence of the _moollahs_.
Of the more despicable ghazi—the man who runs amuck in an infidel camp
or waylays a Kafir in the streets of a city—I have nothing to say. Cabul
has been free from such pests, and we do not wish to hear the cry of
“ghazi!” raised. The fanatic generally takes so much killing that our
revolver ammunition would run short were he to put in an appearance
periodically.
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