KHWASH AND MORE BLUFF
Jiand's surrender--A political lecture--Jiand's oath--Bluff
for Khwash--The army moves forward--Khwash and its
fort--Mahommed-Hassan comes in--Beetles as scavengers--Halil Khan
comes in--Rifle prices, a comparison--Idu's warning--News of
Izzat--Order of march--Bluff for Bampur--The meteor hole.
At five o'clock Jiand arrived riding a camel, and followed by a few
attendants.
I went forward to meet him, and treated him with all the courtesy due
to his position.
He dismounted and offered his salaams. He was a fine but
pathetic-looking figure--a tall, spare man--but the weight of years,
and the strain of recent events, were beginning to bow his shoulders.
His thick beard was quite grey, but his eyes could still flash with
passion and anger, though, at present, they were dulled with grief
and humiliation.
I immediately offered him my condolences on the death of his son,
and told him I had heard that he believed that I personally was
responsible for his death. I assured him that this was not so, and
that I greatly regretted that so valiant a father should suffer the
loss of a valiant son. I then invited him to sit down on a small rise
of ground where a few sparse bushes offered some shade from the sun,
and as we had no seats we sat down on the ground round him.
I pointed out to Jiand his folly in having proved false to the
traditional friendship which had existed between him, his tribes
and the British Raj. I also told him that I knew perfectly well he
had been misled by German lies as to the breaking of British power,
coupled with advice to harry the British lines of communication, and
to help himself to all supplies upon which he could lay his hands
before the German forces advanced into India, for, when they did,
nothing much would be left to take. But, I asked him, how could a man
of his intelligence have ever allowed himself to be gulled in such a
manner? Had he thought, he must have known that British might was far
too firmly established to be overthrown by anything so despicable as
the German race, and he must have known too that, in deserting his
old friends the British, and in fighting against them, he was only
courting disaster.
I further asked him if he had ever, with his own eyes, seen one
of the German airships which they had been boasting were flying
everywhere, destroying enemy's lands, towns and herds. Jiand admitted
that he had not.
[Illustration: JIAND'S MEN COMING IN TO PARLEY]
I asked him how it came about that, if he had really believed
so much in the strength and power of the Germans, not one of them
was to be found in the district to come to his help in his present
difficulties? Either they were cowards and had run away, or they had
lied to him and there had never been any German forces sweeping on
victoriously to wipe out the British Raj.
Jiand admitted the force of all my arguments, and replied that he,
and all the Sarhadis, had been grossly deceived, but pleaded that he
himself had done his best to restrain his men from interfering with
the British lines of communication, warning them that it was neither
safe nor wise. However, he could not seriously have expected that I
would swallow this excuse, as he was known to be held in such awe by
his followers that not one of them would have dared to dispute his
authority.
I demanded the return of all government camels and stores and of
my kit, captured between Nushki and Robat, and he assured me that
everything should be sent back in full.
While we were talking I noticed his eyes kept wandering round, and,
at last, he could restrain his curiosity no longer, and asked me
point blank where the vast mass of troops was which had conquered his
own.
I replied, "It was not necessary to bring all my men to Kamalabad. I
only came here with my advance guard to make you my prisoner. We have
yet to capture Khwash."
The rest was left to his imagination.
His parole was then demanded, which he promptly gave, and solemnly
swore, on the Koran, that neither he nor any of his tribe, would
raise a hand again against the British Raj.
Neither he nor the handful of men he had brought with him, were
disarmed. We had to continue our game of bluff and had to show that
we were not in the least afraid of him.
After I had dismissed him, telling him he would accompany me wherever
I went under open arrest, Landon, the Sarhad-dar, Idu and myself took
counsel together as to the best way to obtain the surrender of Khwash
with its fort, the main stronghold of the Yarmahommedzais.
We decided to send a couple of Landon's scouts direct to
Khwash--about nineteen miles distant--with a message to
Mahommed-Hassan, telling him that Jiand was a prisoner in my hands,
and that he himself admitted a loss of seven hundred men killed in
open fight with my forces, but that the figure was an under-estimate.
Shah Sawar was also a prisoner in my hands. I called on him,
therefore, to surrender the fort of Khwash to me before twelve, noon,
on the following day, or warned him I should blow the whole place to
the skies. Nor should I hold myself responsible for the future action
of my troops.
Idu's eyes twinkled. "Just suppose, General Sahib, that
Mahommed-Hassan refuses; may I ask how you propose to blow Khwash to
the skies--or anywhere?"
I replied with becoming dignity that I should of course blow it to
the skies with my artillery.
Idu roared with laughter. He said he had seen my pop-guns firing and
he was afraid that, unless our bluff could do the trick, I should be
unpleasantly surprised at the strength of the walls of Khwash.
The next morning our entire force of two mountain guns, two machine
guns, seventeen cavalrymen, nine trained and sixty-five untrained
infantry and a handful of Chagai Levies, moved forward to the
assault of the Raiders' stronghold. By eleven o'clock, and while we
were still about three miles distant, we came into full view of the
fort. Even from that distance I could see that Idu's boast as to its
strength was no idle one, and that if Mahommed-Hassan elected to put
up a fight we could not possibly expect to be able to take it by
assault.
Our anxieties were now further increased by rumours that Halil Khan,
with all his Gamshadzais, was on the way to reinforce Jiand, of whose
personal surrender he had not yet heard.
Our objective, Khwash, lay on a plateau about six miles wide,
bordered on either side by two ranges of hills. These hills have
an altitude of some six thousand feet and run parallel to each
other on the North-East and South-West sides of the fort. The fort
itself is somewhere about four thousand five hundred feet above
sea-level. This plateau was at one time well populated, well wooded
and cultivated with some seventy-three karezes running along it, all
tapping the great underground stream which flows from the Southern
slopes of the Koh-i-taftan.
We were hot and played out after our sixteen-mile march, so halted to
rest, and to speculate as to whether Mahommed-Hassan would surrender
on, or before, the time-limit given him.
We had not long to wait, however, for hardly had we halted when we
saw a messenger, on foot and carrying a white flag, coming towards us.
He salaamed as he reached us and said he bore a message from
Mahommed-Hassan, imploring me not to blow Khwash into the skies,
as he had heard all about the defeat of the Yarmahommedzais under
Jiand, and that, under the circumstances, he recognised the folly of
attempting to oppose my advance. Moreover, he was now on his way to
surrender himself and the fort.
So bluff still held the day!
And sure enough, a few minutes later, Mahommed-Hassan, a
miserable-looking creature, arrived and tendered his formal surrender.
[Illustration: KHWASH FORT.]
As we marched forward in style to enter the fort the Yarmahommedzai
garrison marched out and joined the local population of "Khwashis,"
who have lived in and around the fort for many generations. These
latter are peaceful cultivators of the soil, and are allowed to
exist because they are useful servants to Jiand and his fighting men.
They and their womenfolk are graciously allowed to keep a certain
proportion of the crops they grow, the bulk of which goes to Jiand.
These Khwashis are a much lower type of humanity than the Raiders,
and only ask to be allowed to exist in peace.
The fort, on closer inspection, proved to be some seventy yards
square, with two gates, one to the South-East and one to the
North-West. The outer walls rise to about thirty feet with towers at
the four corners, three of which are about thirty-five feet high,
while the fourth is probably fully fifty feet. This latter tower was
the one occupied by the garrison.
Of the seventy-three fine karezes originally existing in and around
the fort we could only find two. But one of these was a particularly
good one whose waters came to the surface and flowed outside the
South-East walls in an extraordinarily clear and limpid stream, in
refreshing contrast to so many of the tepid, brackish streams found
throughout the Sarhad.
But the one feature of the neighbourhood which struck me most
forcibly was the quantity of beetles to be found everywhere. Never
in my life have I seen so many. They were of the variety commonly
known as dung-beetles. This kind is larger than the ordinary
house beetle, round and flat, jet black, and can fly, which adds
to its unpleasantness. Directly occasion offers it flies from
every direction and is soon rapidly and effectively at work. As a
scavenger, unpleasant as it is, it undoubtedly represents a provision
of nature to keep the place--where sanitation is unknown--clean and
healthy.
A few trees are scattered round Khwash, and a welcome sight these
were after unending vistas of sandy waste and bare hillside.
The country in the close vicinity of Khwash was well cultivated,
whilst I noted with satisfaction that some of the hill slopes were
covered with a tall grass. This would prove invaluable as fodder for
the horses.
That same day another piece of good news reached us, to the effect
that Halil Khan, the great leader of the Gamshadzais, had just heard
of the surrender of Jiand, also the full details of his great defeat,
and loss of seven hundred men. But beyond this the news ran that he
was coming himself to surrender, and to tell me that he had seen the
folly of his past actions.
Upon receipt of this news Landon and I looked at each other and
then roared with laughter. We began to realise that the Battle of
Koh-i-taftan had indeed been a decisive victory!
That same evening Halil Khan, and about fifty of his chosen men,
arrived, and, formally salaaming, surrendered themselves. I was
immensely impressed by the appearance of this Raider Chief. He was
not very tall, but was magnificently proportioned and developed,
with an intelligent, handsome head, and a peculiarly alert look. He
certainly looked what he was well known to be, namely, one of the
best fighting leaders in the Sarhad.
He and all his men were armed with Mauser rifles and an abundance of
ammunition. Halil Khan seemed wedded to his, and when he was informed
that the General Sahib was going to extend to him the same terms as
to Jiand and allow him to keep his rifle, his joy was very apparent.
These German rifles had either been provided by the Germans, and sent
direct across Persia, or were the outcome of the gun-running in the
Persian Gulf prior to the War.
The price of a Mauser in the Sarhad, at that time, was about one
thousand one hundred rupees, though I was glad to learn that the
British Lee-Enfield was valued at one thousand two hundred rupees.
The real cost of manufacturing these rifles is, I believe, from six
to ten pounds or sixty to one hundred rupees, so that it will be seen
what sort of a price the Raiders are prepared to pay for their arms.
Halil Khan was particularly anxious to learn how we had managed
to defeat Jiand, and was of course curious to know where the vast
British forces were. But he gathered no more information than Jiand
had done.
My own private opinion is that Halil Khan was disgusted with Jiand
for surrendering, and that he himself would have dearly loved a
fight, for--as I was afterwards to learn to my cost--he was not only
a magnificent fighter, but did not know the meaning of fear.
The only way in which I can account for his own surrender--for only a
day or so previously he had been fully prepared to fight us--is that
he had just become aware of the fact that Jiand was a prisoner in our
hands. He was afraid, therefore, that if he attacked us the proud
old Chief might suffer, and that, on the whole, it would be wiser to
appear submissive--for the moment.
But Idu warned me at the time, and again and again in the immediate
future, "Jiand and Halil Khan will never rest until they have fought
you again. Unless you can get a much larger force, at the very first
opportunity, and almost certainly when they learn that you have at
present practically no troops, they will turn and attack you. Place
no reliance on their word or their oath, even though it be given on
the Koran."
That same evening I learnt of a great raid that had recently been
made into Persia by a section of the Yarmahommedzais, under a leader
called Izzat. As an outcome of this raid hundreds of Persian ladies
and children had been dragged from their homes and brought by Izzat
into the Sarhad, there to be bartered as slaves. Their sufferings,
both from the indignity and shame of their present state, and the
hardships they must inevitably have undergone amongst their nomad
captors, after the comparative luxury of their own homes, can well be
imagined.
The Sarhad-dar, a well-educated and sensitive man, as well as a brave
fighter, was so overcome by the picture drawn of the sufferings of
these wretched women and children that he burst into tears, and
sobbing like a child, pleaded with me to ignore everything else and
to at once set about returning these Persians to their homes.
Strongly as my own wishes coincided with his, I knew such a course to
be impossible. I had still more important things to do. Moreover, our
own situation might become desperate at any moment. Although Jiand
and Halil Khan, with a handful of their followers, were prisoners in
my hands, their tribes were at large, and at the first suspicion of
the trick that had been played on them would be on us like a swarm
of bees. It must be remembered too, that Juma Khan of the Ismailzais
was still at liberty, in a position to learn that we really had no
troops, and might bring his men against us at any moment.
It was obvious, therefore, that I had to deal with him before I dared
attempt the rescue of any Persian women, though the thought of them
and their plight, and the determination to endeavour to rescue and
return them to their homes at the first possible moment never left
me.
The following day I decided to hold a Durbar, so gave orders that all
the Sarhadi Chiefs were to be present, and that they could bring as
many of their followers as they chose.
The Durbar was held on the banks of the stream, just outside the
fort, and under the shade of one of the trees. We all sat on the
ground, and I opened the Durbar as I thought a commissioner might
do in India, though, truth to tell, I knew very little indeed about
Durbars!
I explained to the Sarhadi Chiefs, Jiand, Halil Khan, Shah Sawar,
and Mahommed-Hassan, that the Sirkar (literally, ruling power) was
not represented in force by what they saw at Khwash. They might be
interested to know, however, that some four millions of the very
finest troops in the world were then fighting under the British flag
in various theatres of war all over the world, and that, as surely as
night follows day, Germany would be defeated, because right and might
were on our side.
I explained to them collectively, as I had explained to Jiand
individually, that they had been misled by German lies and propaganda
into believing that Germany was winning, and also that the Germans
had turned Mussulmans. I told them that it was quite the other way
about, for, in point of fact, their own fellow-Mahommedans, the
Turks, had really become Germans, taking their orders from their new
masters, and had taken to drinking wine and to doing other acts
absolutely contrary to the teachings of the Koran.
I told them that Christians never became Mahommedans, though it was
easy for them to say so to secure their own ends. I also told them
that I would give them a lakh of rupees for every German they could
produce who had really become a follower of the Prophet. I advised
them that on such matters they should look for decision to the Sherif
of Mecca as their spiritual head, and that he was entirely on the
British side.
They were then recommended no longer to make fools of themselves, for
I had originally come to the Sarhad as their friend, and that, though
they had fought against me, I was willing to let bygones be bygones
and to be friends with them in the future. I also pointed out that
all their interest lay in retaining the friendship of the Sirkar, for
they would surely lose their country for ever if they persisted in
the mad course of opposing us.
I asked them why their new friends had not helped them to oppose me,
with advice if with nothing else? And, if these friends had really
been sweeping victoriously on to overcome the British Raj, why they
were not there with them?
Jiand, Halil Khan, Shah Sawar and Mahommed-Hassan all expressed their
keen regret at what had occurred, promised that they would return to
their old allegiance, and that, instead of fighting me any more, they
would help me to restore order in the Sarhad. They also promised to
bring Juma Khan and his Ismailzais to book.
I then explained my plans for the immediate future. I told them of my
intention to retain Khwash as a pledge for their good behaviour, and
until such time as a benign Indian Government might see fit to return
it to them. But I promised that I would send in a faithful report of
their repentance for their past misdeeds, and of their promise to
assist us in the future, and told them they might rest assured that
the Government would do all that was right and fair.
The following day we marched out once more with the object of
attacking Juma Khan at Galugan, leaving the head of the Reki clan
(I think his name was Mirza Khan) in command of Khwash, with a few
of his own tribe, and five of my nine infantrymen who could handle
a rifle. Not, it will be considered, a very formidable garrison to
leave in charge, but it was impossible to spare any more men.
We marched in the following order: Shah Sawar and his men were in
front as advance guards, Halil Khan and the Gamshadzais on the left
flank, and Jiand and his Yarmahommedzais on the right flank. Our
infantry went with the baggage, and the guns and ammunition brought
up the rear. The cavalry and a few infantrymen formed my personal
escort.
I hoped by this arrangement to keep the various Sarhadi Chiefs well
apart so that they might be unable to compare notes. My own small
force was kept in the rear, and well together.
I was asked by the Raiders why I was making all these careful
arrangements to protect my camels.
I replied that in war one had to be prepared to meet any emergency,
and that I was not at all satisfied with what I had heard concerning
the conduct of the Khan of Bampur, for there had been rumours that he
might be foolish enough to try conclusions with me.
Bampur is situated in Persian Baluchistan, fully six marches away to
the South of Khwash, and is overlooked by the Koh-i-Bazman. Bampur,
it will be remembered, was the old capital of Baluchistan, but to-day
it is only a squalid collection of mud-built huts and deserted
gardens, clustered round a semi-ruined fort standing in an unhealthy,
malarial district.
It was held at this date by a Baluchi Chief, apparently as cowardly
as he was arrogant. The fear I expressed of his intention was to
lull any possible suspicion of the Sarhadi Chiefs--nominally my
prisoners--as to the formation of my battle array; but there remained
a modicum of truth behind the reason given.
When we halted that night Landon, the Sarhad-dar, Idu and myself,
as usual, took counsel as to the next day's movements, and finally
decided to send two of Landon's spies to Bampur. Arrived there they
were to tell the Khan that they had run away from us to warn him,
because my mighty army, now on the march, might possibly take Bampur
in its stride. In addition they were to tell him that, whilst it was
true that the General commanding had given out that he was only going
to march along the borders of the Bampur district in order to reach
Galugan, where he intended to crush Juma Khan, they fully believed
this to be only a blind, and that Bampur was to be first destroyed.
Khwash itself had recently been threatened, and had only escaped
destruction by surrender. It was now left in charge of five hundred
of the British General's best troops, with ample supplies for a month.
It was only later on that I learned the success of this mission. The
two spies arrived on a certain night at about one a.m. and did their
part so well that, by two a.m., the terrified Khan had mounted his
camel, and set forth for Makran.
Makran is an arid region lying along the shores of the Persian Gulf,
and stretching inland for a distance of about sixty miles. It is
filled with bare, dry mountains, and hills with curiously serrated
edges. From the more fertile parts large quantities of dates are
grown and exported.
Arrived at the headquarters of the British political officer, Colonel
Dew, the Khan flung himself on his mercy, and implored him (so I have
been told) not to allow General Dyer to attack him, though I have
never seen Colonel Dew since to obtain an authentic account of the
interview.
But this was another potential enemy cleared from our path, at any
rate for the moment, and this was all that mattered to us.
On, or about, the 15th of April we continued our march towards
Galugan, and on the second day came in view of the Koh-i-Bazman, an
extinct volcano. This is an imposing mountain of between ten and
eleven thousand feet, covered with snow and rising, a sheer, solitary
peak, out of the plain.
At one point on the march Idu asked me whether I would like to see a
curious hole in the ground lying only a little way off our line of
route.
We turned aside for a few hundred yards, and, on a plain as flat as a
billiard-table, with a surface coated with hardened clay--obviously,
at one time, the bed of a lake--we came upon it. The perfectly level,
smooth lips of the hole offered no suggestion that it had been
excavated by human agency. On the contrary, it gave the appearance of
having been punched in the ground by some tremendous force. The hole
was about one hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred and twenty
feet wide, and about fifty feet deep, with absolutely perpendicular
sides.
Idu asked whether I could suggest any explanation of this formation,
and, after examination, I admitted I had none to offer, asking him in
turn whether any tradition was attached to it.
He replied that the hole had once been only half its present size,
but twice as deep, and that his grandfather remembered how and when
the hole was made.
The old man had told him that, one night when he was a youth,
something had exploded in the sky and fallen to the earth, punching
a hole one hundred feet deep in the plain. Owing to weather and
climatic conditions, the sides of this hole had gradually fallen in,
hence its present width and shallowness.
There can, therefore, be little doubt that an enormous meteorite
fell here, and that it lies buried at the bottom of this hole. Its
locality is about seven hundred yards from a hill called Gwarko, and
could easily be found by anyone interested in such phenomena.
This is not the only natural feature which would repay a visit from
those interested in natural science, for, though I am no geologist
or scientist myself, I was greatly interested in the numerous gorges
in the vicinity of Kacha, a post in the hills near Robat, where, at
certain seasons of the year, violent spates occur, and the rushing
water has so burnished the sides of the rocks that they glisten
in the sun like polished, variegated marble. The sections so made
show a close mass of fossils, which, apparently, were once oysters,
centipedes, crabs, etc.