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The Story of the Malakand Field Force: An Episode of Frontier War

by Winston Churchill · English · Gutenberg #9404 · 536,138 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Story of the Malakand Field Force: An Episode of Frontier War

Author: Winston Churchill


        
Release date: December 1, 2005 [eBook #9404]
                Most recently updated: August 13, 2012

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND FIELD FORCE: AN EPISODE OF FRONTIER WAR ***


Text File produced by Ronald J. Goodden in memory of Royal G. Goodden




THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND FIELD FORCE

AN EPISODE OF FRONTIER WAR


By Sir Winston S. Churchill




 "They (Frontier Wars) are but the surf that marks the edge
    and the advance of the wave of civilisation."

                         LORD SALISBURY, Guildhall, 1892







CONTENTS

     Preface
     Chapter I:     The Theatre of War
     Chapter II:    The Malakand Camps
     Chapter III:   The Outbreak
     Chapter IV:    The Attack on the Malakand
     Chapter V:     The Relief of Chakdara
     Chapter VI:    The Defence of Chakdara
     Chapter VII:   The Gate of Swat
     Chapter VIII:  The Advance Against the Mohmands
     Chapter IX:    Reconnaissance
     Chapter X:     The March to Nawagai
     Chapter XI:    The Action of the Mamund Valley, 16th September
     Chapter XII:   At Inayat Kila
     Chapter XIII:  Nawagai
     Chapter XIV:   Back to the Mamund Valley
     Chapter XV:    The Work of the Cavalry
     Chapter XVI:   Submission
     Chapter XVII:  Military Observations
     Chapter XVIII: The Riddle of the Frontier
     Appendix



                   THIS BOOK
                IS INSCRIBED TO
     MAJOR-GENERAL SIR BINDON BLOOD, K.C.B.
   UNDER WHOSE COMMAND THE OPERATIONS THEREIN
   RECORDED WERE CARRIED OUT; BY WHOSE GENERALSHIP
   THEY WERE BROUGHT TO A SUCCESSFUL CONCLUSION;
   AND TO WHOSE KINDNESS THE AUTHOR IS INDEBTED
   FOR THE MOST VALUABLE AND FASCINATING EXPERIENCE
                  OF HIS LIFE.






PREFACE


   "According to the fair play of the world,
    Let me have an audience."

                   "King John," Act v., Sc. 2.



On general grounds I deprecate prefaces. I have always thought that if
an author cannot make friends with the reader, and explain his objects,
in two or three hundred pages, he is not likely to do so in fifty lines.
And yet the temptation of speaking a few words behind the scenes, as it
were, is so strong that few writers are able to resist it. I shall not
try.

While I was attached to the Malakand Field Force I wrote a series of
letters for the London Daily Telegraph. The favourable manner in which
these letters were received, encouraged me to attempt a more substantial
work. This volume is the result.

The original letters have been broken up, and I have freely availed
myself of all passages, phrases, and facts, that seemed appropriate. The
views they contained have not been altered, though several opinions and
expressions, which seemed mild in the invigorating atmosphere of a camp,
have been modified, to suit the more temperate climate of peace.

I have to thank many gallant officers for the assistance they have given
me in the collection of material. They have all asked me not to mention
their names, but to accede to this request would be to rob the story of
the Malakand Field Force of all its bravest deeds and finest characters.

The book does not pretend to deal with the complications of the frontier
question, nor to present a complete summary of its phases and features.
In the opening chapter I have tried to describe the general character
of the numerous and powerful tribes of the Indian Frontier. In the last
chapter I have attempted to apply the intelligence of a plain man to the
vast mass of expert evidence, which on this subject is so great that it
baffles memory and exhausts patience. The rest is narrative, and in it I
have only desired to show the reader what it looked like.

As I have not been able to describe in the text all the instances of
conduct and courage which occurred, I have included in an appendix the
official despatches.

The impartial critic will at least admit that I have not insulted the
British public by writing a party pamphlet on a great Imperial question.
I have recorded the facts as they occurred, and the impressions as
they arose, without attempting to make a case against any person or any
policy. Indeed, I fear that assailing none, I may have offended all.
Neutrality may degenerate into an ignominious isolation. An honest and
unprejudiced attempt to discern the truth is my sole defence, as the
good opinion of the reader has been throughout my chief aspiration, and
can be in the end my only support.


                                  Winston S. Churchill

          Cavalry Barracks,
    Bangalore, 30th December, 1897






CHAPTER I: THE THEATRE OF WAR


    The Ghilzaie chief wrote answer: "Our paths are narrow and
      steep.
    The sun burns fierce in the valleys, and the snow-fed streams run
      deep;
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

    So a stranger needs safe escort, and the oath of a valiant friend."

                                   "The Amir's Message," SIR A. LYALL.



All along the north and north-west frontiers of India lie the Himalayas,
the greatest disturbance of the earth's surface that the convulsions of
chaotic periods have produced. Nearly four hundred miles in breadth and
more than sixteen hundred in length, this mountainous region divides
the great plains of the south from those of Central Asia, and parts as
a channel separates opposing shores, the Eastern Empire of Great Britain
from that of Russia. The western end of this tumult of ground is formed
by the peaks of the Hindu Kush, to the south of which is the scene of
the story these pages contain. The Himalayas are not a line, but a great
country of mountains. By one who stands on some lofty pass or commanding
point in Dir, Swat or Bajaur, range after range is seen as the long
surges of an Atlantic swell, and in the distance some glittering
snow peak suggests a white-crested roller, higher than the rest. The
drenching rains which fall each year have washed the soil from the sides
of the hills until they have become strangely grooved by numberless
water-courses, and the black primeval rock is everywhere exposed. The
silt and sediment have filled the valleys which lie between, and made
their surface sandy, level and broad. Again the rain has cut wide,
deep and constantly-changing channels through this soft deposit; great
gutters, which are sometimes seventy feet deep and two or three hundred
yards across. These are the nullahs. Usually the smaller ones are dry,
and the larger occupied only by streams; but in the season of the rains,
abundant water pours down all, and in a few hours the brook has become
an impassable torrent, and the river swelled into a rolling flood which
caves the banks round which it swirls, and cuts the channel deeper year
by year.

From the level plain of the valleys the hills rise abruptly. Their steep
and rugged slopes are thickly strewn with great rocks, and covered with
coarse, rank grass. Scattered pines grow on the higher ridges. In the
water-courses the chenar, the beautiful eastern variety of the plane
tree of the London squares and Paris boulevards, is occasionally found,
and when found, is, for its pleasant shade, regarded with grateful
respect. Reaching far up the sides of the hills are tiers of narrow
terraces, chiefly the work of long-forgotten peoples, which catch the
soil that the rain brings down, and support crops of barley and maize.
The rice fields along both banks of the stream display a broad, winding
strip of vivid green, which gives the eye its only relief from the
sombre colours of the mountains.

In the spring, indeed, the valleys are brightened by many flowers--wild
tulips, peonies, crocuses and several kinds of polyanthus; and among the
fruits the water melon, some small grapes and mulberries are excellent,
although in their production, nature is unaided by culture. But during
the campaign, which these pages describe, the hot sun of the summer had
burnt up all the flowers, and only a few splendid butterflies, whose
wings of blue and green change colour in the light, like shot silk,
contrasted with the sternness of the landscape.

The valleys are nevertheless by no means barren. The soil is fertile,
the rains plentiful, and a considerable proportion of ground is occupied
by cultivation, and amply supplies the wants of the inhabitants.

The streams are full of fish, both trout and mahseer. By the banks teal,
widgeon and wild duck, and in some places, snipe, are plentiful. Chikor,
a variety of partridge, and several sorts of pheasants, are to be
obtained on the hills.

Among the wild animals of the region the hunter may pursue the black
or brown mountain bear, an occasional leopard, markhor, and several
varieties of wild goat, sheep and antelope. The smaller quadrupeds
include hares and red foxes, not unlike the British breed, only with
much brighter coats, and several kinds of rats, some of which are very
curious and rare. Destitute of beauty but not without use, the scaly
ant-eater is frequently seen; but the most common of all the beasts
is an odious species of large lizard, nearly three feet long, which
resembles a flabby-skinned crocodile and feeds on carrion. Domestic
fowls, goats, sheep and oxen, with the inevitable vulture, and an
occasional eagle, complete the fauna.

Over all is a bright blue sky and powerful sun. Such is the scenery of
the theatre of war.

The inhabitants of these wild but wealthy valleys are of many tribes,
but of similar character and condition. The abundant crops which a warm
sun and copious rains raise from a fertile soil, support a numerous
population in a state of warlike leisure. Except at the times of sowing
and of harvest, a continual state of feud and strife prevails throughout
the land. Tribe wars with tribe. The people of one valley fight with
those of the next. To the quarrels of communities are added the combats
of individuals. Khan assails khan, each supported by his retainers.
Every tribesman has a blood feud with his neighbor. Every man's hand is
against the other, and all against the stranger.

Nor are these struggles conducted with the weapons which usually belong
to the races of such development. To the ferocity of the Zulu are added
the craft of the Redskin and the marksmanship of the Boer. The world
is presented with that grim spectacle, "the strength of civilisation
without its mercy." At a thousand yards the traveller falls wounded
by the well-aimed bullet of a breech-loading rifle. His assailant,
approaching, hacks him to death with the ferocity of a South-Sea
Islander. The weapons of the nineteenth century are in the hands of the
savages of the Stone Age.

Every influence, every motive, that provokes the spirit of murder among
men, impels these mountaineers to deeds of treachery and violence. The
strong aboriginal propensity to kill, inherit in all human beings, has
in these valleys been preserved in unexampled strength and vigour.
That religion, which above all others was founded and propagated by the
sword--the tenets and principles of which are instinct with incentives
to slaughter and which in three continents has produced fighting breeds
of men--stimulates a wild and merciless fanaticism. The love of plunder,
always a characteristic of hill tribes, is fostered by the spectacle of
opulence and luxury which, to their eyes, the cities and plains of the
south display. A code of honour not less punctilious than that of old
Spain, is supported by vendettas as implacable as those of Corsica.

In such a state of society, all property is held directly by main force.
Every man is a soldier. Either he is the retainer of some khan--the
man-at-arms of some feudal baron as it were--or he is a unit in the
armed force of his village--the burgher of mediaeval history. In such
surroundings we may without difficulty trace the rise and fall of
an ambitious Pathan. At first he toils with zeal and thrift as an
agriculturist on that plot of ground which his family have held since
they expelled some former owner. He accumulates in secret a sum of
money. With this he buys a rifle from some daring thief, who has risked
his life to snatch it from a frontier guard-house. He becomes a man to
be feared. Then he builds a tower to his house and overawes those around
him in the village. Gradually they submit to his authority. He might now
rule the village; but he aspires still higher. He persuades or compels
his neighbors to join him in an attack on the castle of a local khan.
The attack succeeds. The khan flies or is killed; the castle captured.
The retainers make terms with the conqueror. The land tenure is feudal.
In return for their acres they follow their new chief to war. Were he to
treat them worse than the other khans treated their servants, they would
sell their strong arms elsewhere. He treats them well. Others resort to
him. He buys more rifles. He conquers two or three neighboring khans. He
has now become a power.

Many, perhaps all, states have been founded in a similar way, and it is
by such steps that civilisation painfully stumbles through her earlier
stages. But in these valleys the warlike nature of the people and their
hatred of control, arrest the further progress of development. We
have watched a man, able, thrifty, brave, fighting his way to power,
absorbing, amalgamating, laying the foundations of a more complex
and interdependent state of society. He has so far succeeded. But
his success is now his ruin. A combination is formed against him. The
surrounding chiefs and their adherents are assisted by the village
populations. The ambitious Pathan, oppressed by numbers, is destroyed.
The victors quarrel over the spoil, and the story closes, as it began,
in bloodshed and strife.

The conditions of existence, that have been thus indicated, have
naturally led to the dwelling-places of these tribes being fortified. If
they are in the valley, they are protected by towers and walls loopholed
for musketry. If in the hollows of the hills, they are strong by their
natural position. In either case they are guarded by a hardy and martial
people, well armed, brave, and trained by constant war.

This state of continual tumult has produced a habit of mind which recks
little of injuries, holds life cheap and embarks on war with careless
levity, and the tribesmen of the Afghan border afford the spectacle of a
people, who fight without passion, and kill one another without loss of
temper. Such a disposition, combined with an absolute lack of reverence
for all forms of law and authority, and a complete assurance of
equality, is the cause of their frequent quarrels with the British
power. A trifle rouses their animosity. They make a sudden attack on
some frontier post. They are repulsed. From their point of view the
incident is closed. There has been a fair fight in which they have had
the worst fortune. What puzzles them is that "the Sirkar" should regard
so small an affair in a serious light. Thus the Mohmands cross the
frontier and the action of Shabkadr is fought. They are surprised and
aggrieved that the Government are not content with the victory, but must
needs invade their territories, and impose punishment. Or again, the
Mamunds, because a village has been burnt, assail the camp of the Second
Brigade by night. It is a drawn game. They are astounded that the troops
do not take it in good part.

They, when they fight among themselves, bear little malice, and the
combatants not infrequently make friends over the corpses of their
comrades or suspend operations for a festival or a horse race. At the
end of the contest cordial relations are at once re-established. And yet
so full of contradictions is their character, that all this is without
prejudice to what has been written of their family vendettas and
private blood feuds. Their system of ethics, which regards treachery and
violence as virtues rather than vices, has produced a code of honour so
strange and inconsistent, that it is incomprehensible to a logical mind.
I have been told that if a white man could grasp it fully, and were to
understand their mental impulses--if he knew, when it was their honour
to stand by him, and when it was their honour to betray him; when they
were bound to protect and when to kill him--he might, by judging his
times and opportunities, pass safely from one end of the mountains to
the other. But a civilised European is as little able to accomplish
this, as to appreciate the feelings of those strange creatures, which,
when a drop of water is examined under a microscope, are revealed
amiably gobbling each other up, and being themselves complacently
devoured.

I remark with pleasure, as an agreeable trait in the character of the
Pathans, the immunity, dictated by a rude spirit of chivalry, which in
their ceaseless brawling, their women enjoy. Many forts are built at
some distance from any pool or spring. When these are besieged, the
women are allowed by the assailants to carry water to the foot of the
walls by night. In the morning the defenders come out and fetch it--of
course under fire--and are enabled to continue their resistance. But
passing from the military to the social aspect of their lives, the
picture assumes an even darker shade, and is unrelieved by any redeeming
virtue. We see them in their squalid, loopholed hovels, amid dirt and
ignorance, as degraded a race as any on the fringe of humanity: fierce
as the tiger, but less cleanly; as dangerous, not so graceful. Those
simple family virtues, which idealists usually ascribe to primitive
peoples, are conspicuously absent. Their wives and their womenkind
generally, have no position but that of animals. They are freely bought
and sold, and are not infrequently bartered for rifles. Truth is unknown
among them. A single typical incident displays the standpoint from
which they regard an oath. In any dispute about a field boundary, it is
customary for both claimants to walk round the boundary he claims, with
a Koran in his hand, swearing that all the time he is walking on his own
land. To meet the difficulty of a false oath, while he is walking over
his neighbor's land, he puts a little dust from his own field into his
shoes. As both sides are acquainted with the trick, the dismal farce of
swearing is usually soon abandoned, in favor of an appeal to force.

All are held in the grip of miserable superstition. The power of the
ziarat, or sacred tomb, is wonderful. Sick children are carried on the
backs of buffaloes, sometimes sixty or seventy miles, to be deposited
in front of such a shrine, after which they are carried back--if they
survive the journey--in the same way. It is painful even to think of
what the wretched child suffers in being thus jolted over the cattle
tracks. But the tribesmen consider the treatment much more efficacious
than any infidel prescription. To go to a ziarat and put a stick in
the ground is sufficient to ensure the fulfillment of a wish. To sit
swinging a stone or coloured glass ball, suspended by a string from a
tree, and tied there by some fakir, is a sure method of securing a fine
male heir. To make a cow give good milk, a little should be plastered
on some favorite stone near the tomb of a holy man. These are but a few
instances; but they may suffice to reveal a state of mental development
at which civilisation hardly knows whether to laugh or weep.

Their superstition exposes them to the rapacity and tyranny of
a numerous priesthood--"Mullahs," "Sahibzadas," "Akhundzadas,"
"Fakirs,"--and a host of wandering Talib-ul-ilms, who correspond with
the theological students in Turkey, and live free at the expense of the
people. More than this, they enjoy a sort of "droit du seigneur," and no
man's wife or daughter is safe from them. Of some of their manners and
morals it is impossible to write. As Macaulay has said of Wycherley's
plays, "they are protected against the critics as a skunk is protected
against the hunters." They are "safe, because they are too filthy to
handle, and too noisome even to approach."

Yet the life even of these barbarous people is not without moments
when the lover of the picturesque might sympathise with their hopes
and fears. In the cool of the evening, when the sun has sunk behind the
mountains of Afghanistan, and the valleys are filled with a delicious
twilight, the elders of the village lead the way to the chenar trees by
the water's side, and there, while the men are cleaning their rifles,
or smoking their hookas, and the women are making rude ornaments from
beads, and cloves, and nuts, the Mullah drones the evening prayer. Few
white men have seen, and returned to tell the tale. But we may imagine
the conversation passing from the prices of arms and cattle, the
prospects of the harvest, or the village gossip, to the great Power,
that lies to the southward, and comes nearer year by year. Perhaps some
former Sepoy, of Beluchis or Pathans, will recount his adventures in the
bazaars of Peshawar, or tell of the white officers he has followed and
fought for in the past. He will speak of their careless bravery and
their strange sports; of the far-reaching power of the Government, that
never forgets to send his pension regularly as the months pass by; and
he may even predict to the listening circle the day when their valleys
will be involved in the comprehensive grasp of that great machine, and
judges, collectors and commissioners shall ride to sessions at Ambeyla,
or value the land tax on the soil of Nawagai. Then the Mullah will raise
his voice and remind them of other days when the sons of the prophet
drove the infidel from the plains of India, and ruled at Delhi, as
wide an Empire as the Kafir holds to-day: when the true religion strode
proudly through the earth and scorned to lie hidden and neglected among
the hills: when mighty princes ruled in Bagdad, and all men knew that
there was one God, and Mahomet was His prophet. And the young men
hearing these things will grip their Martinis, and pray to Allah, that
one day He will bring some Sahib--best prize of all--across their line
of sight at seven hundred yards so that, at least, they may strike a
blow for insulted and threatened Islam.

The general aspect of the country and character of its inhabitants
have thus been briefly described. At this stage it is not necessary or
desirable to descend to detail. As the account proceeds the reader may
derive a more lively impression of the sombre mountains, and of the
peoples who dwell beneath their shadow.

The tale that I have to tell is one of frontier war. Neither the
importance of the issues, nor the numbers of the combatants, are on an
European scale. The fate of empires does not hang on the result. Yet the
narrative may not be without interest, or material for reflection. In
the quarrels of civilised nations, great armies, many thousands strong,
collide. Brigades and battalions are hurried forward, and come perhaps
within some fire zone, swept by concentrated batteries, or massed
musketry. Hundreds or thousands fall killed and wounded. The survivors
struggle on blindly, dazed and dumfoundered, to the nearest cover. Fresh
troops are continuously poured on from behind. At length one side or
the other gives way. In all this tumult, this wholesale slaughter, the
individual and his feelings are utterly lost. Only the army has a tale
to tell. With events on such a scale, the hopes and fears, the strength
and weakness, of man are alike indistinguishable. Amid the din and dust
little but destruction can be discerned. But on the frontier, in the
clear light of morning, when the mountain side is dotted with smoke
puffs, and every ridge sparkles with bright sword blades, the spectator
may observe and accurately appreciate all grades of human courage--the
wild fanaticism of the Ghazi, the composed fatalism of the Sikh, the
stubbornness of the British soldier, and the jaunty daring of his
officers. He may remark occasions of devotion and self-sacrifice, of
cool cynicism and stern resolve. He may participate in moments of wild
enthusiasm, or of savage anger and dismay. The skill of the general, the
quality of the troops, the eternal principles of the art of war, will
be as clearly displayed as on historic fields. Only the scale of the
statistics is reduced.

A single glass of champagne imparts a feeling of exhilaration. The
nerves are braced, the imagination is agreeably stirred, the wits
become more nimble. A bottle produces a contrary effect. Excess causes
a comatose insensibility. So it is with war, and the quality of both is
best discovered by sipping.

I propose to chronicle the military operations of the Malakand Field
Force, to trace their political results, and to give, if possible, some
picture of the scenery and people of the Indian Highlands. These pages
may serve to record the actions of brave and skilful men. They may throw
a sidelight on the great drama of frontier war. They may describe an
episode in that ceaseless struggle for Empire which seems to be the
perpetual inheritance of our race. They may amuse an idle hour. But the
ambition I shall associate with them is, that in some measure, however
small, they may stimulate that growing interest which the Imperial
Democracy of England is beginning to take, in their great estates that
lie beyond the seas.





CHAPTER II: THE MALAKAND CAMPS


    Ibam forte via sacra.--HORACE.



The town and cantonment of Nowshera was the base from which all the
operations of the Malakand Field Force were conducted. It is situated
on the India side of the Cabul River and is six hours by rail from Rawal
Pindi. In times of peace its garrison consists of one native cavalry
regiment, one British, and one native infantry battalion. During the
war these troops were employed at the front. The barracks became great
hospitals. The whole place was crowded with transport and military
stores; and only a slender force remained under the orders of Colonel
Schalch, the Base Commandant.

The road from Nowshera to the Malakand Pass and camps is forty-seven
miles long, and divided into four stages. Usually there is an excellent
tonga service, and the distance is covered in about six hours; but
while the Field Force was mobilised so much traffic and so many officers
passed up and down the line, that the tonga ponies were soon reduced to
a terrible condition of sores and emaciation, and could hardly drag the
journey out in nine, ten, or even twelve hours. After leaving Nowshera,
and crossing the Cabul River, a stage of fifteen miles brings the
traveller to Mardan. This place--pronounced "Merdane"--is the permanent
station of the Corps of Guides. It is shady and agreeable, though
terribly hot in the summer months. It boasts an excellent polo ground
and a comfortable rest-house. The passer-by should pause to see the
Guides' cemetery, perhaps the only regimental cemetery in the world. To
this last resting-place under the palm trees, close to the fields where
they have played, and the barracks in which they lived, have been borne
the bodies of successive generations of these wardens of the marches,
killed in action across the frontier line. It is a green and pleasant
spot. Nor is there any place in the world where a soldier might lie in
braver company.

After Mardan the road becomes more dusty, and the surrounding country
barren and arid. [This description applies to the autumn season. In the
winter and spring the country for a time is green and the air cold.]
The mountains are approached, and as the tonga advances their shapes and
colours are more distinctly seen. A few knolls and ridges rising
from the level plain, mark the outposts of that great array of hills.
Crossing a shallow stream--a tributary of the Cabul River, Jalala, the
second stage is reached. In peace time a small mud fort is the
only indication, but this is expanded by the proximity of war to a
considerable camp, with an entrenchment around it. Stopping only to
change ponies, for it is a forsaken spot, the journey is resumed. The
avenue of trees on either side has ceased. The road is seen simply as
a white streak stretching towards the mountains. It is traversed in a
sweltering heat and choking dust. All around the country is red, sterile
and burnt up. In front the great wall of hills rises dark and ominous.
At length Dargai at the foot of the pass is reached. It is another
mud fort, swelled during the operations into an entrenched camp, and
surrounded by a network of barbed wire entanglement. The Malakand Pass
can now be seen--a great cleft in the line of mountains--and far up the
gorge, the outline of the fort that guards it, is distinguishable.

The graded road winds up, with many a turn, the long ascent from Dargai
to the top of the pass. The driver flogs the wretched, sore-backed
ponies tirelessly. At length the summit is neared. The view is one worth
stopping to look at. Behind and below, under the haze of the heat, is
the wide expanse of open country--smooth, level, stretching away to the
dim horizon. The tonga turns the corner and enters a new world. A
cooler breeze is blowing. A single step has led from peace to war; from
civilisation to savagery; from India to the mountains. On all sides the
landscape is wild and rugged. Ridge succeeds ridge. Valley opens into
valley. As far as the eye can reach in every direction are ragged peaks
and spurs. The country of the plains is left, and we have entered a
strange land, as tangled as the maze at Hampton Court, with mountains
instead of hedges. So broken and so confused is the ground, that I
despair of conveying a clear impression of it.

The Malakand is like a great cup, of which the rim is broken into
numerous clefts and jagged points. At the bottom of this cup is the
"crater" camp. The deepest cleft is the Malakand Pass. The highest of
the jagged points is Guides Hill, on a spur of which the fort stands.
It needs no technical knowledge to see, that to defend such a place, the
rim of the cup must be held. But in the Malakand, the bottom of the cup
is too small to contain the necessary garrison. The whole position is
therefore, from the military point of view, bad and indefensible. In the
revised and improved scheme of defence, arrangements have been made,
to command the available approaches, and to block such as cannot be
commanded with barbed wire entanglements and other obstructions; and by
a judicious system of works much of the rim is now held. But even now
I am told by competent judges that the place is a bad one for defence;
that the pass could be held by the fort alone, and that the brigade
stationed there would be safer and equally useful, if withdrawn to
Dargai. At the time this story opens the Malakand South Camp was an
impossible place to put troops in. It was easy of access. It was cramped
and commanded by neighbouring heights. [Under the arrangements which
have been made since the war, the Malakand position and the works at
Chakdara and Dargai will be held by two battalions and some details.
These will be supported by a flying column, the exact location and
composition of which are as yet undetermined.]

The small area of the camp on the Kotal necessitated the formation of a
second encampment in the plain of Khar. This was close under the
north outer edge of the cup. It was called for political reasons North
Malakand. As a military position it, also, was radically bad. It was
everywhere commanded, and surrounded by ravines and nullahs, which made
it easy for an enemy to get in, and difficult for troops to get out.
It was, of course, of no strategic value, and was merely used as a
habitation for the troops intended to hold Malakand, for whom there was
no room in the crater and fort. The north camp has now been definitely
abandoned.

Nobody, however--least of all those who selected the site--would seem
to have contemplated the possibility of an attack. Indeed the whole
situation was regarded as purely temporary. The vacillation, caused
by the change of parties and policies in England, led to the Malakand
garrison remaining for two years in a position which could not be well
defended either on paper or in reality. At first, after the Chitral
campaign of 1895, it was thought that the retention of the brigade in
this advanced post, was only a matter of a few weeks. But as the months
passed by the camp began, in spite of the uncertainty, to assume an
appearance of permanency. The officers built themselves huts and mess
rooms. A good polo ground was discovered near Khar, and under careful
management rapidly improved. A race-course was projected. Many officers
who were married brought their wives and families to the camp among
the mountains, and the whole place was rapidly becoming a regular
cantonment. No cases of Ghazi outrage broke the tranquillity. The
revolvers, which all persons leaving camp were by regulations obliged
to take, were either unloaded or carried by a native groom. Shooting
parties were organised to the hills. A well-contested polo tournament
was held in Christmas week. Distinguished travellers--even a member of
Parliament--visited this outpost of empire, and observed with interest
the swiftness and ease with which the Anglo-Saxon adapts every situation
to his sports and habits.

At the same time the station of the Malakand Brigade was far from being
a comfortable one. For two years they lived under canvas or in rude
huts. They were exposed to extremes of climate. They were without
punkahs or ice in the hot weather. They were nearly fifty miles from
the railway, and in respect of companionship and amusements were thrown
entirely on their own resources. When the British cavalry officer
succeeds, in spite of official opposition, expense and discouragement,
in getting on service across the frontier, he is apt to look with
envious eyes at the officers of the Frontier Force, who are taken as a
matter of course and compelled to do by command, what he would solicit
as a favour. But he must remember that this is their compensation for
long months of discomfort and monotony in lonely and out-of-the-way
stations, and for undergoing hardships which, though honourable and
welcome in the face of the enemy, become obnoxious in times of peace.

After crossing the Malakand Pass the first turning to the right leads
to the Swat Valley. The traveller is now within the mountains. In every
direction the view is restricted or terminated by walls of rock. The
valley itself is broad, level and fertile. The river flows swiftly
through the middle. On either side of it, is a broad strip of rice
fields. Other crops occupy the drier ground. Numerous villages, some of
which contain large populations, are scattered about. It is a beautiful
scene. The cool breezes of the mountains temper the heat of the sun. The
abundant rains preserve the verdure of the earth.

In ancient times this region was the seat of a Buddhistic kingdom,
and was known as Woo-Chang or "Udyana," which means "the Park," and
proclaims the appreciation which its former possessors had of their
pleasant valley. "The people," says the Chinese pilgrim Fa-hien, who
visited the country in the fifth century, "all use the language of
Central India, 'Central India' being what we should call the 'Middle
Kingdom.' The food and clothes of the common people are the same as
in that Central Kingdom. The law of Buddha is very flourishing in
Woo-Chang." "The Park," which includes all the country on both banks of
the Swat River--then called the Subhavastu--but which perhaps applies
more particularly to the upper end of the valley, was famous for its
forests, flowers and fruit. But though the valley retains much of its
beauty, its forests have been destroyed by the improvidence, and its
flowers and fruit have declined through the ignorance, of the fierce
conquerors into whose hands it fell.

The reputation which its present inhabitants enjoy is evil. Their
treacherous character has distinguished them even among peoples
notoriously faithless and cruel. Among Pathans it is a common saying:
"Swat is heaven, but the Swatis are hell-fiends." For many years they
had lain under the stigma of cowardice, and were despised as well as
distrusted by the tribes of the border; but their conduct in the recent
fighting has cleared them at least from this imputation.

Several minor chieftains now divide authority in the Swat Valley, but
till 1870 it was governed by a single ruler. The Ahkund of Swat was by
origin a cowherd, an office considered most honourable in India. The
cow is a sacred beast. His service is acceptable to the Gods and men.
Princes glory in the name--though they do not usually carry their
enthusiasm further. "Guicowar" translated literally means "cowherd."
From such employment the future Ahkund received his inspiration. He sat
for many years by the banks of the Indus, and meditated. Thus he became
a saint. The longer his riparian reflections were continued, the greater
his sanctity became. The fame of his holiness spread throughout all the
region. The Swatis besought him to come and live in their valley. After
dignified and diplomatic reluctance, he consented to exchange the banks
of the Indus for those of the Swat. For some years, he lived in the
green valley, and enjoyed the reverence of its people. At the time of
the great mutiny, Said Akbar, the King of Swat, died, and the saint
succeeded to the temporal as well as the spiritual authority. In 1863
he preached the Jehad against the British, and headed the Swatis
and Bunerwals in the Ambeyla campaign. The power which the Sirkar so
extravagantly displayed to bring the war to an end, evidently impressed
the old man, for at its close he made friends with the Government and
received from them many tokens of respect.

Before he died in 1870, he summoned his people around him and declared
to them that one day their valley would be the scene of a struggle
between the Russians and the British. When that came to pass he charged
them to fight on our side. The saying is firmly fixed in the hearts of
the tribesmen, and is associated with the memory of their famous priest,
known to English minds chiefly through the medium of the "Bab Ballads."

His two sons are dead, but his two grandsons, [the Mianguls of Swat]
both quite young, live on in the valley, and are the owners of the
Ahkund's freeholds, which are in every section of the Swat country. They
have very little political influence; but their persons and property
are respected by the people and by the British for the sake of their
grandfather, who sleeps in an odour of sanctity at Saidu, near Mingaora.

From the Malakand the signal tower of Chakdara can be seen eight miles
away to the eastward. Thither the broad graded road runs like a ribbon
across the plain. Seven miles from the Kotal Camp, it crosses the
Amandara Pass, a gap in a considerable underfeature, which juts from the
southern mountains. After this it turns more to the north and leads to
the fortified bridge across the river. I invite the reader to remark
this road, for it is historic. It is not only the route by which the
Malakand Field Force was able to advance, but it is the very reason of
their existence. Without this road there would have been no Malakand
Camps, no fighting, no Malakand Field Force, no story. It is the road to
Chitral.

Here then, at once, the whole vast question of frontier policy is
raised. We hold the Malakand Pass to keep the Chitral road open. We
keep the Chitral road open because we have retained Chitral. We retain
Chitral in accordance with the "Forward Policy." I am thus confronted at
the very outset of this book, which was intended to be devoted chiefly
to the narration of military events and small incidents, with that wide
political question, on which the keenest intellects in England are in
doubt, and the most valuable expert evidence in India is divided.
The reader must not think me pusillanimous or weak if I postpone the
discussion of so great and controversial a matter till a later chapter,
when I may perhaps enjoy a larger measure of his sympathy and agreement.
After the story has been told, it may not be inappropriate to point the
moral.

Prudence encourages procrastination. But while the consideration of the
advisability of the retention of Chitral may be deferred, a description
of the means is convenient, if not necessary, to the present chapter.

Nowshera is the railway base of the road. Thence we have followed it
to Mardan and across the frontier. Here the new and disputed portion
begins. Passing at first through the Lower Ranizai country, it climbs
the Malakand Pass, descends into the valley beyond and runs thence
through Upper Ranizai territory and Lower Swat to Chakdara. Here it
crosses the Swat River by the fine suspension bridge which the fort
guards. The three spans of this bridge are together nearly 1500 feet
long. It was constructed in 1895, during the operations, in about six
weeks, and is a very remarkable piece of military engineering. Beyond
the Swat the road runs through the territories of the Khan of Dir, north
and east to Sadu, an obscure village thirty-five miles from Malakand.
This marks the end of the first section, and further than this wheeled
traffic cannot go. The road, now become a camel track, winds along the
left bank of the Panjkora River to within five miles of Dir, where
it crosses to the right bank by another suspension bridge. Thence it
continues to the junction of the Dir stream, along which it finds its
way to Dir itself, some fifty miles from Sadu. Beyond Dir camels cannot
proceed, and here begins the third section--a path practicable only for
mules, and about sixty miles long. From Dir the road is a triumph of
engineering. In many places it is carried on wooden galleries perched on
the faces of steep and tremendous cliffs, and at others it works round
spurs by astounding zig-zags, or is scarped from the mountain side. At
the end of the road is Fort Chitral with a garrison of two battalions,
one company of sappers, and two mountain guns.

The road is maintained and protected by the tribes through whose
territories it passes; but the two principal points where it might be
closed are held by Imperial garrisons. The Malakand Fort guards the
passage of the mountains. Chakdara holds the bridge across the river.
The rest is left to the tribal levies. The Ranizai tribe receive an
annual subsidy from the Indian Government of 30,000 rupees, out of which
they maintain 200 irregulars armed with Sniders, and irreverently
called by the British officers, "Catch-'em-alive-Os." These drive away
marauders and discourage outrage and murder. The Khan of Dir, through
whose territory the road runs for seventy-three miles, also receives a
subsidy from Government of 60,000 rupees, in consideration of which he
provides 400 irregulars for its service.

Until the great rising these arrangements worked admirably. The
tribesmen interested in the maintenance of the route, were most
reluctant to engage in hostilities against the Government. The Lower
Ranizais, south of Malakand, abstained altogether. The elders of the
tribe collected all the arms of their hot-headed youths, and forbade
them to attack the troops. The Upper Ranizais were nearer the scene of
the disturbance, and were induced by superstition and fear to join
the Mullah; but very half-heartedly. The Swatis were carried away
by fanaticism. The Khan of Dir throughout behaved loyally, as he is
entirely dependent on British support, and his people realise the
advantages of the subsidy.

If the road is interesting its story is more so, and a summary of the
events and causes which have led to its construction, may also throw
some light on the political history and methods of the border tribes.

The uncertainty and insecurity of their power, has always led petty
chiefs to seek the support of some powerful suzerain. In 1876 the Mehtar
of Chitral, Aman-ul-Mulk, was encouraged to seek the protection, and
become the vassal of our vassal, the Maharaja of Cashmere. In accordance
with the general scheme of advance, then already adopted by the Indian
Government, a British agency was at once established at Gilgit on the
Chitral-Cashmere frontier. Aman-ul-Mulk was presented with a certain
supply of arms and ammunition, and an annual subsidy of 6000 rupees,
afterwards raised to 12,000 rupees. The British thus obtained an
interest in Chitral, and a point of observation on its borders. In 1881
the agency was withdrawn, but the influence remained, and in 1889 it was
re-established with a much larger garrison. Meanwhile Aman-ul-Mulk ruled
in Chitral, showing great respect to the wishes of the Government, and
in the enjoyment of his subsidy and comparative peace. But in 1892
he died, leaving many sons, all equally ferocious, ambitious and
unscrupulous. One of these, Afzal by name, though not the eldest or
acknowledged heir, had the good fortune to be on the spot. He seized the
reins of power, and having murdered as many if his brothers as he could
catch, proclaimed himself Mehtar, and invited the recognition of the
Indian Government. He was acknowledged chief, as he seemed to be "a
man of courage and determination," and his rule afforded a prospect of
settled government. Surviving brothers fled to neighbouring states.

Nizam, the eldest, came to Gilgit and appealed to the British. He got
no help. The blessing had already been bestowed. But in November, 1892,
Sher Afzul, a brother of the late Aman, returned by stealth to Chitral,
whence fraternal affection had driven him, and killed the new Mehtar and
another brother, both of whom were his nephews. The "wicked uncle" then
ascended the throne, or its equivalent. He was, however, opposed. The
Indian Government refused to recognise him. Nizam, at Gilgit, urged his
claims, and was finally allowed to go and try to regain his inheritance.
The moral support of 250 Cashmere rifles brought him many adherents. He
was joined by the people. It was the landing of William of Orange on a
reduced scale, and with Cashmere troops instead of Dutch Guards. Twelve
hundred men sent by Sher Afzul to oppose him, deserted to his side. The
avuncular usurper, realising that it might be dangerous to wait longer,
fled to Afghanistan, as James II had fled to France, was received by the
ruler with hospitality, and carefully preserved as an element of future
disorder.

Nizam now became Mehtar according to his desire. But he did not greatly
enjoy his power, and may have evolved some trite reflections on the
vanity of earthly ambition. From the first he was poor and unpopular.
With the support of the Government of India, however, he managed to
maintain a weak, squalid rule for a space. To give him countenance,
and in accordance with the Policy, Captain Younghusband was sent to the
country with a hundred bayonets. The Gilgit garrison was increased by
a battalion, and several posts were established between that place and
Mastuj.

Thus the Imperial forces had entered Chitral. Their position was soon to
become one of danger. They were separated from Gilgit by many miles of
bad road, and warlike tribesmen. To move troops from Gilgit would always
be slow and difficult. Another route was however possible, the route I
have described--a route northwards from Peshawar through Dir--shorter
and easier, starting from British territory and the railway. Towards
this line of communication the Indian Government now looked. If British
troops or agents were to be retained in Chitral, if in other words their
recognised policy was to be continued, this route must be opened up.
They sounded the Home Government. Lord Kimberley replied, deprecating
increase of responsibilities, of territory and expenditure, and
declining to pledge himself to support such a scheme. At the same time
he sanctioned the temporary retention of the troops, and the agent, in
the hopes of strengthening Nizam. [Despatch from Secretary of State,
No.34, 1st Sept., 1893.]

At this point Umra Khan must enter the story. The Gilgit agency report,
dated 28th April, 1890, speaks of this chief, who was the Khan of
Jandul, but whose influence pervaded the whole of Bajaur as "the most
important man between Chitral and Pashawar." To this powerful ruler,
another of the sons of Aman, named Amir, had fled from the family
massacre which followed his father's death. Umra Khan protected him
and determined to turn him to his own advantage. In May, 1894, this
youth--he was about twenty years of age--returned to Chitral, professing
to have escaped from the hands of Umra Khan. He was kindly received by
Nizam, who seems to have been much hampered throughout his career by his
virtue. On 1st January, 1895, Amir availed himself of his welcome, to
murder his brother, and the principal members of the Chitral Cabinet.
He proclaimed himself Mentar and asked for recognition. The Imperial
officers, though used to frontier politics, refused to commit themselves
to any arrangement with such a villain, until the matter had been
considered in India.

Umra Khan now advanced with a large force to the head of the Chitral
Valley, nominally to assist his dear friend and ally, Amir, to
consolidate his rule, really in the hopes of extending his own
territories. But Amir, knowing Umra well, and having won his kingdom,
did not desire to share it. Fighting ensued. The Chitrals were beaten.
As he could not make any use of Amir, Umra Khan invited the wicked uncle
to return. Sher Afzul accepted. A bargain was struck. Sher Afzul claimed
to be made Mehtar, Umra supported his claims. Both threatened force in
the event of opposition.

But the Imperial Government rose in wrath, refused to have anything
to do with the new claimant, informed him that his language was
impertinent, and warned Umra Khan to leave Chitral territory forthwith
or take the consequences. The answer was war. The scanty garrisons and
scattered parties of British troops were attacked. A company of the
14th Sikhs was cut to pieces. Lieutenants Fowler and Edwards were taken
prisoners. Fort Chitral, into which the rest of the Chitral mission and
their escort had thrown themselves, was closely and fiercely besieged.
To rescue them was imperative. The 1st Division of the Field Army was
mobilised. A force of nearly 16,000 men crossed the frontier on the 1st
April, from Mardan, to advance to the relief by the shortest route--the
route through Swat and Dir--the line of the present Chitral road. The
command of the expedition was confided to Sir Robert Low. Sir Bindon
Blood was Chief of the Staff.

So far the tale has been of the steady increase of British influence, in
accordance with an avowed and consistent policy--primarily in Chitral,
and ultimately throughout the border tribes. One movement has been
followed by another. All have been aimed at a common end. Now suddenly
we are confronted with an act by which the Government of India with open
eyes placed an obstacle in the path, which they had so long pursued, to
follow which they had made so many efforts themselves and demanded
so many sacrifices from their subjects. Perhaps from compunction, but
probably to soothe the Liberal Government, by appearing to localise the
disturbances, and disclaiming any further acquisition of territory,
they issued a proclamation to "all the people of Swat and the people
of Bajaur, who do not side with Umra Khan," in which they declared that
they had "no intention of permanently occupying any territory through
which Umra Khan's misconduct" might "force them to pass, or of
interfering with the independence of the tribes." [Proclamation, 14th
March, 1895.]

If this proclamation was intended for political purposes in England,
it, from one point of view, succeeded most admirably, for there has been
nearly as much written about it as about all the soldiers who have
been killed and wounded in the war. It had, however, no effect upon the
tribesmen, who were infuriated by the sight if the troops and paid no
attention to the protestations of the Government. Had they watched
with care the long, steady, deliberate advance, which I have so briefly
summarised; had they read the avowed and recorded determination of the
Indian Administration "to extend and, by degrees, to consolidate their
influence" [Letter from Government of India, No.407, 28th February,
1879.] in the whole drainage system of the Indus, they might have
even doubted their sincerity. Instead, and being unable to make fine
distinctions, they saw only invasion in the military movements.

They gathered accordingly, to oppose the advance of the troops. To the
number of 12,000 they occupied the Malakand Pass--a tremendous position.
From this they were driven with great slaughter on the 3rd of April, by
the two leading brigades of Sir Robert Low's force. Further operations
resulted in the passage of the Swat and Panjkora Rivers being effected.
The road to Chitral was open. The besiegers of the fort fled, and a
small relieving force was able to push through from Gilgit under Colonel
Kelly. Umra Khan fled to Afghanistan, and the question of future policy
came before the Government of India.

Two alternatives presented themselves: either they must "abandon the
attempt to keep up any effective control" over Chitral, or they must put
a sufficient garrison there. In pursuance of their recognised policy,
the Council decided unanimously that to maintain British influence in
Chitral was "a matter of first importance." In a despatch [Despatch of
Government of India, No.240, 8th May, 1895.] to the Home Government they
set forth all their reasons, and at the same time declared that it
was impossible to garrison Chitral without keeping up the road from
Peshawar, by which the Relief force had advanced.

On the 13th of June Lord Rosebery's Cabinet replied decisively, with
courage if not with wisdom, that "no military force or European agent
should be kept at Chitral, that Chitral should not be fortified, and
that no road should be made between Peshawar and Chitral." By this they
definitely and finally repudiated the policy which had been consistently
followed since 1876. They left Chitral to stew in its own juice. They
over-ruled the Government of India. It was a bold and desperate attempt
to return to the old frontier line. The Indian Government replied: "We
deeply regret but loyally accept decision," and began to gather up the
severed strings of their policy and weave another web.

But in the nick of time the Liberal Administration fell, and Lord
Salisbury's Cabinet reversed their decision. It is interesting, in
reading the Blue Books on Indian questions, to watch the emotions
of party principles, stirring beneath the uniform mask of official
responsibility--which the most reckless of men are compelled to wear as
soon as they become ministers. The language, the style, the tone of the
correspondence is the same. It is always a great people addressing and
instructing their pro-consuls and administrators. But the influence
inclines backwards and forwards as the pendulum of politics swings. And
as the swing in 1895 was a very great one, a proportionate impulse was
given to the policy of advance. "It seemed" to the new ministry "that
the policy... continuously pursued by successive Governments ought
not to be lightly abandoned unless its maintenance had become clearly
impossible." [Despatch, Secretary of State, No.30, 16th Aug., 1895.]
Thus the retention of Chitral was sanctioned, and the road which that
retention necessitated was completed.

I approach with nervousness so great a matter as the "Breach of Faith"
question. In a book devoted chiefly to the deeds of soldiers it seems
almost presumptuous to discuss an affair which involves the political
honour of statesmen. In their unnecessary and gratuitous proclamation
the Government of India declared, that they had no intention of
interfering with the tribes, or of permanently occupying any territory,
the troops might march through; whereas now they do interfere with
the tribesmen, and have established garrisons at Dargai, Malakand and
Chakdara, all of which are in the territory through which the troops
passed. But it takes two to make a bargain or a breach of faith. The
tribes took no notice of the proclamation. They did not understand it.
They did not believe it. Where there is no faith there can be no
breach of faith. The border peoples resisted the advance. That position
annulled the proclamation, and proved that it was not credited by the
tribesmen. They do not think they have been tricked. They do not regard
the road as a "breach of faith." What they do regard it as, is a menace
to their independence, and a prelude to annexation. Nor are they wrong.
Looking at the road, as I have seen it, and have tried to describe it,
running broad and white across the valley; at the soldiers moving
along it; at the political officers extending their influence in all
directions; at the bridge and fort of Chakdara; and at the growing
cantonment on the Malakand Pass, it needs no education to appreciate its
significance. Nor can any sophistry obscure it.





CHAPTER III: THE OUTBREAK


    Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum.

                                 LUCRETIUS.



The historian of great events is always oppressed by the difficulty of
tracing the silent, subtle influences, which in all communities precede
and prepare the way for violent outbursts and uprisings. He may discover
many causes and record them duly, but he will always be sensible that
others have escaped him. The changing tides of public opinion, the
undercurrents of interest, partisanship and caprice, the whirlpools of
illogical sentiment or ignorant prejudice, exert forces so complex and
numerous, that to observe and appreciate them all, and to estimate the
effect of each in raising the storm, is a task beyond the intellect and
industry of man. The chronicler of small things lies under even greater
disabilities. He has fewer facts to guide his judgment, nor is it as
easy to read small print as capital letters.

In an attempt to state the causes of the great tribal upheaval of 1897,
these difficulties are increased by the fact that no European can gauge
the motives or assume the points of view of Asiatics. It is, however,
impossible to pass the question by, and ignoring the detail, I shall
endeavour to indicate some at least of the most important and apparent
forces, which have led to the formidable combination with which the
British power in India has been confronted.

The most marked incident in the "Forward Policy" has been the retention
of Chitral. The garrisons, the road, the tribal levies have made the
tribesmen realise the proximity and the advance of civilisation. It is
possible--even probable--that with all their love of independence, the
majority of the inhabitants of the mountains would have been willing,
until their liberties were actually curtailed, to remain in passive
submission, soothed by the increase of material prosperity. During
the two years that the British flag had floated over Chakdara and the
Malakand the trade of the Swat Valley had nearly doubled. As the sun
of civilisation rose above the hills, the fair flowers of commerce
unfolded, and the streams of supply and demand, hitherto congealed by
the frost of barbarism, were thawed. Most of the native population were
content to bask in the genial warmth and enjoy the new-found riches and
comforts. For two years reliefs had gone to and from Chitral without
a shot being fired. Not a post-bag had been stolen, not a messenger
murdered. The political officers riding about freely among the fierce
hill men were invited to settle many disputes, which would formerly have
been left to armed force.

But a single class had viewed with quick intelligence and intense
hostility the approach of the British power. The priesthood of the
Afghan border instantly recognised the full meaning of the Chitral
road. The cause of their antagonism is not hard to discern. Contact with
civilisation assails the ignorance, and credulity, on which the wealth
and influence of the Mullah depend. A general combination of the
religious forces of India against that civilising, educating rule, which
unconsciously saps the strength of superstition, is one of the dangers
of the future. Here Mahommedanism was threatened and resisted. A vast,
but silent agitation was begun. Messengers passed to and fro among the
tribes. Whispers of war, a holy war, were breathed to a race intensely
passionate and fanatical. Vast and mysterious agencies, the force of
which is incomprehensible to rational minds, were employed. More
astute brains than the wild valleys of the North produce conducted
the preparations. Secret encouragement came from the South--from India
itself. Actual support and assistance was given from Cabul.

In that strange half light of ignorance and superstition, assailed by
supernatural terrors and doubts, and lured by hopes of celestial glory,
the tribes were taught to expect prodigious events. Something was
coming. A great day for their race and faith was at hand. Presently the
moment would arrive. They must watch and be ready. The mountains became
as full of explosives as a magazine. Yet the spark was lacking.

At length the time came. A strange combination of circumstances operated
to improve the opportunity. The victory of the Turks over the Greeks;
the circulation of the Amir's book on "Jehad"; his assumption of the
position of a Caliph of Islam, and much indiscreet writing in the
Anglo-Indian press, [Articles in Anglo-Indian papers on such subjects as
"The Recrudescence if Mahommedanism" produce more effect on the educated
native mind than the most seditious frothings of the vernacular press.]
united to produce a "boom" in Mahommedanism.

The moment was propitious; nor was the man wanting. What Peter the
Hermit was to the regular bishops and cardinals of the Church, the
Mad Mullah was to the ordinary priesthood of the Afghan border. A wild
enthusiast, convinced alike of his Divine mission and miraculous powers,
preached a crusade, or Jehad, against the infidel. The mine was fired.
The flame ran along the ground. The explosions burst forth in all
directions. The reverberations have not yet died away.

Great and widespread as the preparations were, they were not visible
to the watchful diplomatic agents who maintained the relations of the
Government with the tribesmen. So extraordinary is the inversion of
ideas and motives among those people that it may be said that those who
know them best, know them least, and the more logical the mind of the
student the less he is able to understand of the subject. In any case
among these able men who diligently collected information and observed
the state of feeling, there were none who realised the latent forces
that were being accumulated on all sides. The strange treachery at
Maizar in June was a flash in the pan. Still no one saw the danger. It
was not until the early days of July that it was noticed that there
was a fanatical movement in Upper Swat. Even then its significance was
disregarded and its importance underrated. That a Mad Fakir had arrived
was known. His power was still a secret. It did not long remain so.

It is, thank heaven, difficult if not impossible for the modern European
to fully appreciate the force which fanaticism exercises among an
ignorant, warlike and Oriental population. Several generations have
elapsed since the nations of the West have drawn the sword in religious
controversy, and the evil memories of the gloomy past have soon faded in
the strong, clear light of Rationalism and human sympathy. Indeed it is
evident that Christianity, however degraded and distorted by cruelty and
intolerance, must always exert a modifying influence on men's passions,
and protect them from the more violent forms of fanatical fever, as we
are protected from smallpox by vaccination. But the Mahommedan religion
increases, instead of lessening, the fury of intolerance. It was
originally propagated by the sword, and ever since, its votaries have
been subject, above the people of all other creeds, to this form of
madness. In a moment the fruits of patient toil, the prospects of
material prosperity, the fear of death itself, are flung aside. The more
emotional Pathans are powerless to resist. All rational considerations
are forgotten. Seizing their weapons, they become Ghazis--as dangerous
and as sensible as mad dogs: fit only to be treated as such. While the
more generous spirits among the tribesmen become convulsed in an ecstasy
of religious bloodthirstiness, poorer and more material souls derive
additional impulses from the influence of others, the hopes of plunder
and the joy of fighting. Thus whole nations are roused to arms. Thus
the Turks repel their enemies, the Arabs of the Soudan break the British
squares, and the rising on the Indian frontier spreads far and wide. In
each case civilisation is confronted with militant Mahommedanism. The
forces of progress clash with those of reaction. The religion of blood
and war is face to face with that of peace. Luckily the religion of
peace is usually the better armed.

The extraordinary credulity of the people is hardly conceivable. Had the
Mad Mullah called on them to follow him to attack Malakand and Chakdara
they would have refused. Instead he worked miracles. He sat at his
house, and all who came to visit him, brought him a small offering of
food or money, in return for which he gave them a little rice. As
his stores were continually replenished, he might claim to have fed
thousands. He asserted that he was invisible at night. Looking into
his room, they saw no one. At these things they marvelled. Finally he
declared he would destroy the infidel. He wanted no help. No one should
share the honours. The heavens would open and an army would descend. The
more he protested he did not want them, the more exceedingly they came.
Incidentally he mentioned that they would be invulnerable; other agents
added arguments. I was shown a captured scroll, upon which the tomb of
the Ghazi--he who has killed an infidel--is depicted in heaven, no fewer
than seven degrees above the Caaba itself. Even after the fighting--when
the tribesmen reeled back from the terrible army they had assailed,
leaving a quarter of their number on the field--the faith of the
survivors was unshaken. Only those who had doubted had perished, said
the Mullah, and displayed a bruise which was, he informed them, the sole
effect of a twelve-pound shrapnel shell on his sacred person.

I pass with relief from the tossing sea of Cause and Theory to the firm
ground of Result and Fact. The rumours and reports which reached the
Malakand of the agitation in Upper Swat and among the surrounding tribes
were fully appreciated by the Pathan Sepoys of the garrison. As July
advanced, several commanding officers were warned by their men, that
great events were impending. Major Deane, the political agent, watched
with great anxiety the daily progress of the fanatical movement. No one
desires to be thought an alarmist, least of all on the frontier where
there is always danger. At length, however, he felt compelled to
officially report the disquieting signs. Warnings were then issued
to the officers in charge of the various posts, and the troops were
practised in taking up alarm stations. By the 23rd of July all had been
informed that the aspect of affairs was threatening, and ordered to
observe every precaution. But to the last everybody doubted that there
would be a rising, nor did any one imagine that even should one occur,
it would lead to more than a skirmish. The natives were friendly and
respectful. The valley smiled in fertile prosperity. It was not strange,
that none could foresee the changes a week would bring, or guess that in
a few days they would be fighting for their lives; that they would carry
fire and sword through the peaceful landscape; that the polo ground
would be the scene of a cavalry charge, or that the cheery barbarians
among whom they had lived quietly for so many months would become
maddened and ferocious savages. Never was transformation of scene more
complete, or more rapid.

And all the while the rumours of coming war grew stronger and stronger.
The bazaars of India, like the London coffee-houses of the last century,
are always full of marvellous tales--the invention of fertile brains. A
single unimportant fact is exaggerated, and distorted, till it becomes
unrecognisable. From it, a thousand wild, illogical, and fantastic
conclusions are drawn. These again are circulated as facts. So the game
goes on. But amid all this falsehood, and idle report, there often lies
important information. The bazaar stories not only indicate the state
of native opinion, but not infrequently contain the germ of truth.
In Eastern lands, news travels by strange channels, and often with
unaccountable rapidity. As July advanced the bazaar at Malakand became
full of tales of the Mad Fakir. His miracles passed from mouth to mouth,
with suitable additions.

A great day for Islam was at hand. A mighty man had arisen to lead them.
The English would be swept away. By the time of the new moon, not one
would remain. The Great Fakir had mighty armies concealed among the
mountains. When the moment came these would sally forth--horse, foot and
artillery--and destroy the infidel. It was even stated that the Mullah
had ordered that no one should go near a certain hill, lest the heavenly
hosts should be prematurely revealed. So ran the talk. But among all
these frothy fabrications there lay a solemn warning.

Though the British military and political officers were compelled to
take official notice of the reports received with reference to the
tribal gathering, and to make arrangements for the safety of their
posts, they privately scouted the idea that any serious events were
impending.

On the afternoon of the 26th July the subalterns and younger officers of
the Malakand garrison proceeded to Khar to play polo. Thither also came
Lieutenant Rattray, riding over from Chakdara fort. The game was a good
one, and the tribesmen of the neighbouring village watched it as usual
in little groups, with a keen interest. Nothing in their demeanour
betrayed their thoughts or intentions. The young soldiers saw nothing,
knew nothing, and had they known would have cared less. There would be
no rising. If there was, so much the better. They were ready for it. The
game ended and the officers cantered back to their camps and posts.

It was then that a strange incident occurred--an incident eminently
characteristic of the frontier tribes. As the syces were putting the
rugs and clothing on the polo ponies, and loitering about the ground
after the game, the watching natives drew near and advised them to be
off home at once, for that there was going to be a fight. They knew,
these Pathans, what was coming. The wave of fanaticism was sweeping down
the valley. It would carry them away. They were powerless to resist.
Like one who feels a fit coming on, they waited. Nor did they care
very much. When the Mad Fakir arrived, they would fight and kill the
infidels. In the meantime there was no necessity to deprive them of
their ponies. And so with motives, partly callous, partly sportsmanlike,
and not without some faint suspicion of chivalry, they warned the native
grooms, and these taking the hint reached the camp in safety.

Late on this same afternoon Major Deane reported to Brigadier-General
Meiklejohn, who commanded the Malakand garrison, that matters had
assumed a very grave aspect; that a great armed gathering had collected
around the Mad Mullah's standard, and that an attack was probable. He
advised that the Guides should be called up to reinforce the brigade.
A telegram was immediately despatched to Mardan ordering them to march
without delay. At 8.30 Lieutenant P. Eliott-Lockhart, who was the senior
officer then with the regiment, received the order. At 1.30 A.M. they
began their now famous march.

After sending for the Guides, the brigadier, at about seven o'clock,
interviewed his different commanding officers, and instructed them to
be prepared to turn out at any moment. Major Deane now reported that
the Mad Mullah and his gathering were advancing down the valley, and
recommended that the Amandara Pass, four miles away, should be held.
General Meiklejohn accordingly issued orders for a movable column, to be
formed as follows:--

     45th Sikhs.
     2 Cos. 31st Punjaub Infantry.
     2 Guns No. 8 Mountain Battery.
     1 Squadron 11th Bengal Lancers.

This force, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel McRae, 45th Sikhs, was
to start at midnight and would be supported by the rest of the troops
under command of the brigadier at 3 A.M.

All preparations were swiftly made. At 9.45 a telegram from
Chakdara--which got through just before the wire was cut--reported that
large forces of Pathans were rapidly moving towards the camps. A quarter
of an hour later a Jemadar of the Levies galloped in with the news
that, to quote the official despatch: "The Fakir had passed Khar and was
advancing on Malakand, that neither Levies nor people would act against
him, and that the hills to the east of the camp were covered with
Pathans."

As soon as the officers had returned from polo, they found plenty of
work waiting for them. Bandsmen and boys incapable of carrying arms had
to be hurried up to the fort. Indents had to be made out for transport,
rations and ammunition. There was much to do, and little time to do it
in. At length all was finished, and the troops were in readiness for
their early morning start. At 9.30 the officers sat down to dinner,
still in their polo kit, which there had been no time to change. At 10
o'clock they were discussing the prospects of the approaching march, and
eagerly weighing the chances of a skirmish. The more sanguine asserted
that there would be a fight--a small one, it was true--but still
a skirmish. Many of those who had never been in action before
congratulated themselves on the unlooked-for opportunity. The older and
more experienced regarded the matter in the light of a riot. They might
have to fire on the tribesmen, but Swatis were such cowards that they
would never stand up to the troops. Still it was a chance.

Suddenly in the stillness of the night a bugle-call sounded on the
parade ground of the "crater" camp. Everyone sprang up. It was the
"Assembly." For a moment there was silence while the officers seized
their swords and belts and hurriedly fastened them on. Several, thinking
that it was merely the warning for the movable column to fall in, waited
to light their cigarettes. Then from many quarters the loud explosion of
musketry burst forth, a sound which for six days and nights was to know
no intermission.

The attack on the Malakand and the great frontier war had begun.

The noise of firing echoed among the hills. Its echoes are ringing
still. One valley caught the waves of sound and passed them to the next,
till the whole wide mountain region rocked with the confusion of the
tumult. Slender wires and long-drawn cables carried the vibrations to
the far-off countries of the West. Distant populations on the Continent
of Europe thought that in them they detected the dull, discordant
tones of decline and fall. Families in English homes feared that the
detonations marked the death of those they loved--sons, brothers or
husbands. Diplomatists looked wise, economists anxious, stupid people
mysterious and knowledgeable. All turned to have the noise stopped. But
that was a task which could not be accomplished until thousands of lives
had been sacrificed and millions of money spent.





CHAPTER IV: THE ATTACK ON THE MALAKAND


    Cry "Havoc" and let slip the dogs of war.

                         "JULIUS CAESAR," Act iii., Sc.i.



It has long been recognised by soldiers of every nation that, to resist
a vigorous onslaught by night, is almost the hardest task that troops
can be called upon to perform. Panics, against which few brave men are
proof, arise in a moment from such situations. Many a gallant soldier
has lost his head. Many an experienced officer has been borne
down unheeded by a crowd of fugitives. Regiments that have marched
unflinchingly to almost certain death on the battlefield, become in an
instant terrified and useless.

In the attack on the Malakand camp, all the elements of danger and
disorder were displayed. The surprise, the darkness, the confused and
broken nature of the ground; the unknown numbers of the enemy; their
merciless ferocity; every appalling circumstance was present. But there
were men who were equal to the occasion. As soon as the alarm sounded
Lieutenant-Colonel McRae of the 45th Sikhs, a holder of the Gold Medal
of the Royal Humane Society and of long experience in Afghanistan and on
the Indian frontier, ran to the Quarter Guard, and collecting seven
or eight men, sent them under command of Major Taylor, of the same
regiment, down the Buddhist road to try and check the enemy's advance.
Hurriedly assembling another dozen men, and leaving the Adjutant,
Lieutenant Barff, with directions to bring on more, he ran with his
little party after Taylor in the direction of the entrance gorge of the
Kotal camp. Two roads give access to the Malakand camp, from the plain
of Khar. At one point the Buddhist road, the higher of the two, passes
through a narrow defile then turns a sharp corner. Here, if anywhere,
the enemy might be held or at least delayed until the troops got under
arms. Overtaking Major Taylor, Colonel McRae led the party, which then
amounted to perhaps twenty men, swiftly down the road, It was a race
on which the lives of hundreds depended. If the enemy could turn the
corner, nothing could check their rush, and the few men who tried to
oppose them would be cut to pieces. The Sikhs arrived first, but by a
very little. As they turned the corner they met the mass of the enemy,
nearly a thousand strong, armed chiefly with swords and knives, creeping
silently and stealthily up the gorge, in the hope and assurance of
rushing the camp and massacring every soul in it. The whole road was
crowded with the wild figures. McRae opened fire at once. Volley after
volley was poured into the dense mass, at deadly range. At length the
Sikhs fired independently. This checked the enemy, who shouted and
yelled in fury at being thus stopped. The small party of soldiers then
fell back, pace by pace, firing incessantly, and took up a position in a
cutting about fifty yards behind the corner. Their flanks were protected
on the left by high rocks, and on the right by boulders and rough
ground, over which in the darkness it was impossible to move. The road
was about five yards wide. As fast as the tribesmen turned the corner
they were shot down. It was a strong position.

          In that strait path a thousand
          Might well be stopped by three

Being thus effectively checked in their direct advance, the tribesmen
began climbing up the hill to the left and throwing down rocks and
stones on those who barred their path. They also fired their rifles
round the corner, but as they were unable to see the soldiers without
exposing themselves, most of their bullets went to the right.

The band of Sikhs were closely packed in the cutting, the front rank
kneeling to fire. Nearly all were struck by stones and rocks. Major
Taylor, displaying great gallantry, was mortally wounded. Several of the
Sepoys were killed. Colonel McRae himself was accidentally stabbed in
the neck by a bayonet and became covered with blood. But he called upon
the men to maintain the good name of "Rattray's Sikhs," and to hold
their position till death or till the regiment came up. And the soldiers
replied by loudly shouting the Sikh warcry, and defying the enemy to
advance.

After twenty minutes of desperate fighting, Lieutenant Barff arrived
with thirty more men. He was only just in time. The enemy had already
worked round Colonel McRae's right, and the destruction of the few
soldiers left alive could not long have been delayed. The reinforcement,
climbing up the hillside, drove the enemy back and protected the flank.
But the remainder of the regiment was now at hand. Colonel McRae then
fell back to a more extended position along a ridge about fifty yards
further up the road, and reinforcing Lieutenant Barff's party, repulsed
all attacks during the night. About 2 A.M. the tribesmen, finding they
could make no progress, drew off, leaving many dead.

The presence of mind, tactical knowledge and bravery displayed in
this affair are thus noticed in the official despatches by General
Meiklejohn:--

"There is no doubt that the gallant resistance made by this small body
in the gorge, against vastly superior numbers, till the arrival of the
rest of the regiment, saved the camp from being rushed on that side, and
I cannot speak too highly of the behaviour of Lieutenant-Colonel McRae
and Major Taylor on this occasion."

While these things were passing on the right, the other attacks of the
enemy had met with more success. The camp was assaulted simultaneously
on the three sides. The glow of the star shells showed that the north
camp was also engaged. The enemy had been checked on the Buddhist road,
by Colonel McRae and the 45th Sikhs, but another great mass of men
forced their way along the Graded road in the centre of the position.
On the first sound of firing the inlying picket of the 24th Punjaub
Infantry doubled out to reinforce the pickets on the road, and in the
water-gorge. They only arrived in time to find these being driven in by
overpowering numbers of the enemy. Hundreds of fierce swordsmen swarmed
unto the bazaar and into the serai, a small enclosure which adjoined.
Sharpshooters scrambled up the surrounding hills, and particularly from
one ragged, rock-strewn peak called Gibraltar, kept up a tremendous
fire.

The defence of the left and centre or the camp was confided to the 24th
Punjaub Infantry. One company of this regiment under Lieutenant Climo,
charging across the football ground, cleared the bazaar at the point of
the bayonet. The scene at this moment was vivid and terrible. The bazaar
was crowded with tribesmen. The soldiers rushing forward amid loud
cheers, plunged their bayonets into their furious adversaries. The sound
of the hacking of swords, the screams of the unfortunate shopkeepers,
the yells of the Ghazis were plainly heard above the ceaseless roll of
musketry. The enemy now tried to force their way back into the bazaar,
but the entrance was guarded by the troops and held against all assaults
till about 10.45. The left flank of the company was then turned, and the
pressure became so severe that they were withdrawn to a more interior
line of defence, and took up a position along the edge of the "Sappers'
and Miners' enclosure." Another company held the approaches from the
north camp. The remainder of the regiment and No.5 company Sappers and
Miners, were kept in readiness to reinforce any part of the line.

It is necessary to record the actual movements of the troops in detail,
but I am anxious above all things to give the reader a general idea. The
enemy had attacked in tremendous strength along the two roads that gave
access on the eastern side to the great cup of the Malakand. On the
right road, they were checked by the brilliant movement of Colonel McRae
and the courage of his regiment. Pouring in overwhelming force along
the left road, they had burst into the camp itself, bearing down all
opposition. The defenders, unable to hold the extended line of the rim,
had been driven to take up a central position in the bottom of the cup.
This central position comprised the "Sappers' and Miners' enclosure,"
the commissariat lines and the Field Engineer Park. It was commanded
on every side by the fire from the rim. But the defenders stood at bay,
determined at all costs to hold their ground, bad though it was.

Meanwhile the enemy rushed to the attack with wild courage and reckless
fury. Careless of life, they charged the slender line of defence. Twice
they broke through and penetrated the enclosure. They were met by men as
bold as they. The fighting became desperate. The general himself hurried
from point to point, animating the soldiers and joining in the
defence with sword and revolver. As soon as the enemy broke into the
commissariat lines they rushed into the huts and sheds eager for plunder
and victims.

Lieutenant Manley, the Brigade Commissariat Officer, stuck stubbornly
to his post, and with Sergeant Harrington endeavoured to hold the hut in
which he lived. The savage tribesmen burst in the door and crowded into
the room. What followed reads like a romance.

The officer opened fire at once with his revolver. He was instantly cut
down and hacked to pieces. In the struggle the lamp was smashed. The
room became pitch dark. The sergeant, knocking down his assailants, got
free for a moment and stood against the wall motionless. Having killed
Manley, the tribesmen now began to search for the sergeant, feeling with
their hands along the wall and groping in the darkness. At last, finding
no one, they concluded he had escaped, and hurried out to look for
others. Sergeant Harrington remained in the hut till it was retaken some
hours later, and so saved his life.

Another vigorous attack was made upon the Quarter Guard. Lieutenant
Watling, who met it with his company of sappers, transfixed a Ghazi with
his sword, but such was the fury of the fanatic that as he fell dead
he cut at the officer and wounded him severely. The company were driven
back. The Quarter Guard was captured, and with it the reserve ammunition
of the sappers. Lieutenant Watling was carried in by his men, and,
as soon as he reached the dressing station, reported the loss of this
important post.

Brigadier-General Meiklejohn at once ordered a party of the 24th to
retake it from the enemy. Few men could be spared from the line of
defence. At length a small but devoted band collected. It consisted
of Captain Holland, Lieutenant Climo, Lieutenant Manley, R.E., the
general's orderly, a Sepoy of the 45th Sikhs, two or three sappers and
three men of the 24th; in all about a dozen.

The general placed himself at their head. The officers drew their
revolvers. The men were instructed to use the bayonet only. Then
they advanced. The ground is by nature broken and confused to an
extraordinary degree. Great rocks, undulations and trees rendered all
movements difficult. Frequent tents, sheds and other buildings increased
the intricacies. Amidst such surroundings were the enemy, numerous and
well armed. The twelve men charged. The tribesmen advanced to meet them.
The officers shot down man after man with their pistols. The soldiers
bayoneted others. The enemy drew off discomfited, but half the party
were killed or wounded. The orderly was shot dead. A sapper and a
havildar of the 24th were severely wounded. The general himself
was struck by a sword on the neck. Luckily the weapon turned in his
assailant's hand, and only caused a bruise. Captain Holland was shot
through the back at close quarters by a man concealed in a tent. The
bullet, which caused four wounds, grazed his spine. The party were now
too few to effect anything. The survivors halted. Lieutenant Climo took
the wounded officer back, and collecting a dozen more men of the 24th,
returned to the attack. The second attempt to regain the Quarter Guard
was also unsuccessful, and the soldiers recoiled with further loss; but
with that undaunted spirit which refuses to admit defeat they continued
their efforts, and at the third charge dashed across the open space,
bowling over and crushing back the enemy, and the post was recovered.
All the ammunition had, however, been carried off by the enemy, and
as the expenditure of that night had already been enormous, it was
a serious loss. The commissariat lines were at length cleared of the
tribesmen, and such of the garrison as could be spared were employed in
putting up a hasty defence across the south entrance of the enclosure,
and clearing away the cook-houses and other shelters, which might be
seized by the enemy.

The next morning no fewer than twenty-nine corpses of tribesmen were
found round the cookhouse, and in the open space over which the three
charges had taken place. This, when it is remembered that perhaps twice
as many had been wounded and had crawled away, enables an estimate to be
formed of the desperate nature of the fight for the Quarter Guard.

All this time the fire from rim into the cup had been causing severe and
continual losses. The enemy surrounding the enclosure on three sides,
brought a cross fire to bear on its defenders, and made frequent charges
right up to the breastwork. Bullets were flying in all directions, and
there was no question of shelter. Major Herbert, D.A.A.G., was hit early
in the night. Later on Lieutenant-Colonel Lamb received the dangerous
wound in his thigh which caused his death a few days afterwards. Many
Sepoys were also killed and wounded. The command of the 24th Punjaub
Infantry devolved upon a subaltern officer, Lieutenant Climo. The
regiment, however, will never be in better hands.

At about one o'clock, during a lull in the firing, the company which
was lining the east face of the enclosure heard feeble cries of help. A
wounded havildar of the 24th was lying near the bazaar. He had fallen in
the first attack, shot in the shoulder. The tribesmen, giving him two
or three deep sword cuts to finish him, had left him for dead. He now
appealed for help. The football ground on which he lay was swept by the
fire of the troops, and overrun by the enemy's swordsmen, yet the cry
for help did not pass unheeded. Taking two Sepoys with him, Lieutenant
E.W. Costello, 24th Punjaub Infantry, ran out into the deadly space,
and, in spite of the heavy fire, brought the wounded soldier in safety.
For this heroic action he has since received the Victoria Cross.

As the night wore on, the attack of the enemy became so vigorous, that
the brigadier decided to call for a reinforcement of a hundred men
from the garrison of the fort. This work stood high on a hill, and was
impregnable to an enemy unprovided with field guns. Lieutenant Rawlins
volunteered to try and reach it with the order. Accompanied by three
orderlies, he started. He had to make his way through much broken ground
infested by the enemy. One man sprang at him and struck him on the wrist
with a sword, but the subaltern, firing his revolver, shot him
dead, reached the fort in safety, and brought back the sorely-needed
reinforcement.

It was thought that the enemy would make a final effort to capture
the enclosure before dawn, that being the hour which Afghan tribesmen
usually select. But they had lost heavily, and at about 3.30 A.M. began
to carry away their dead and wounded. The firing did not, however,
lessen until 4.15 A.M., when the sharpshooters withdrew to the heights,
and the fusillade dwindled to "sniping" at long range.

The first night of the defence of the Malakand camp was over. The enemy,
with all the advantages of surprise, position and great numbers, had
failed to overcome the slender garrison. Everywhere they had been
repulsed with slaughter. But the British losses had been severe.

                         BRITISH OFFICERS.
     Killed--Hon. Lieutenant L. Manley, Commissariat Department.
     Wounded dangerously--Major W.W. Taylor, 45th Sikhs.
     Wounded severely--Lieut.-Colonel J. Lamb, 24th P.I.
        "       "       Major L. Herbert, D.A.A.G.
        "       "       Captain H.F. Holland, 24th P.I.
        "       "       Lieutenant F.W. Watling, Q.O. Sappers and
                        Miners.

  Of these Lieut.-Colonel Lamb and Major Taylor died of their wounds.

                         NATIVE RANKS.
     Killed......  21
     Wounded.....   31


As soon as the first light of morning began to grow in the valley, two
companies of the 24th advanced and cleared the bazaar of such of the
enemy as had remained behind to plunder. The whole place had been
thoroughly ransacked, and everything of value destroyed or carried off.
The native manager had had a strange experience, and one which few men
would envy. He had remained hidden in the back of a tent during the
whole night in equal danger and terror of the bullets of the soldiers
and the swords of the enemy. Hearing the friendly voices, he emerged
uninjured from his retreat.

Desultory firing was maintained by the tribesmen all day.

While the close and desperate fighting, which has been described,
was raging in the south camp, the north camp had not been seriously
involved, and had spent a quiet, though anxious night. On the sound of
the firing on the Kotal being heard, four guns of No.8 Mountain Battery
were moved over to the south-east side of the camp, and several star
shells were fired. No large body of the enemy was however discovered.
Twice during the night the camp was approached by the tribesmen, but a
few rounds of shrapnel were sufficient to drive these away.

When General Meiklejohn found that the garrison of the north camp had
not been severely engaged, he ordered a force consisting of two guns and
the 31st Punjaub Infantry, under Major Gibbs, covered by forty sowars
of the 11th Bengal Lancers, and supported by a wing of the 24th, to move
out, reconnoitre the valley and clear it, as much as possible, of the
enemy. The column advanced in pursuit as far as Bedford Hill. Here they
came upon a large gathering of tribesmen, and as it was now evident that
a great tribal rising had broken out, Major Gibbs was ordered to return
and to bring his stores and troops into the Kotal camp without delay.
The infantry and guns thereupon retired and fell back on the camp,
covered by the 24th Punjaub Infantry.

As this regiment was being withdrawn, a sudden attack was made from the
high ground above the Buddhist road, and directed against the left flank
of the troops. A front was immediately shown, and the 24th advanced
to meet their assailants. Lieutenant Climo, who commanded, detached
a company to the right, and by this turning movement drove them off,
inflicting some loss and capturing a standard. This officer's skill
and conduct in this retirement was again the subject of commendation
in despatches. The troops reached their respective camps at about 11
o'clock. Meanwhile the cavalry had been ordered to push on, if possible,
to Chakdara and reinforce the garrison at that post. The task was one of
considerable danger, but by crossing and recrossing the Swat River, the
squadron managed to cut their way through the tribesmen and reached
the fort with slight loss. This brilliant ride will receive a fuller
description in a later chapter.

The evacuation of the north camp proceeded very slowly. The troops
packed up their kits with great deliberation, and applications were
made for transport. None was, however, available. All the camels were
at Dargai, on the Indian side of the mountains. Repeated orders to hurry
were sent from the Kotal. All hated leaving their belongings behind,
having no confidence in the liberality of a paternal Government. As the
afternoon passed, the aspect of the enemy became very threatening and
formidable. Great numbers drew near to the camp, and the guns were
compelled to fire a good many rounds. At length, at 4 o'clock,
imperative orders were sent that the north camp was to be at once
abandoned, that the force there was to march to the Kotal, and that all
baggage and stores, not yet removed, were to be left where they were.

All the tents were struck, but nothing else could be done, and to the
deep disgust of all--officers and men--their property was left to the
mercies of the enemy. During the night it was all looted and burnt. Many
of the officers thus lost every stitch of clothing they possessed. The
flames rising from the scene of destruction were visible far and wide,
and the tribesmen in the most distant valleys were encouraged to hurry
to complete the slaughter of the accursed infidels.

It cannot be doubted, however, that the concentration of the troops was
a wise and judicious step. The garrison of the Kotal and south camp was
insufficient, and, whatever happened, it was better for the troops
to stand or fall together. The situation was also aggravated by the
appearance of large numbers of tribesmen from the Utman Khel country,
who crowded the hills to the west of the camp, and thus compelled the
defenders to hold a greatly extended line. The abandonment of the north
camp was carried out none too soon, for the enemy pressed the withdrawal
of the troops, and they reached the south camp under cover of the fire
of the 24th Punjaub Infantry, and the Guides Cavalry. These latter had
arrived in camp at 8.30 that morning after marching all night. They
found plenty of employment.

The telegraph had carried the news of the events of the night to all
parts of the world. In England those returning from Goodwood Races read
the first details of the fighting on the posters of the evening papers.
At Simla, the Government of India awoke to find themselves confronted
with another heavy task. Other messages recalled all officers to their
regiments, and summoned reinforcements to the scene by road and rail. In
the small hours of the 27th, the officers of the 11th Bengal Lancers at
Nowshera were aroused by a frantic telegraph operator, who was astounded
by the news his machine was clicking out. This man in his shirt sleeves,
with a wild eye, and holding an unloaded revolver by the muzzle, ran
round waking everyone. The whole country was up. The Malakand garrison
was being overwhelmed by thousands of tribesmen. All the troops were to
march at once. He brandished copies of the wires he had received. In a
few moments official instructions arrived. The 11th Bengal Lancers, the
38th Dogras and the 35th Sikhs started at dawn. No.1 and No.7 British
Mountain Batteries were also ordered up. The Guides Cavalry had already
arrived. Their infantry under Lieutenant Lockhart reached the Kotal at
7.30 P.M. on the 27th, having, in spite of the intense heat and choking
dust, covered thirty-two miles in seventeen and a half hours. This
wonderful feat was accomplished without impairing the efficiency of the
soldiers, who were sent into the picket line, and became engaged as soon
as they arrived. An officer who commanded the Dargai post told me,
that, as they passed the guard there, they shouldered arms with parade
precision, as if to show that twenty-six miles under the hottest sun in
the world would not take the polish off the Corps of Guides. Then they
breasted the long ascent to the top of the pass, encouraged by the sound
of the firing, which grew louder at every step.

Help in plenty was thus approaching as fast as eager men could march,
but meanwhile the garrison had to face the danger as best they could
alone. As the 31st Punjaub Infantry, who had been the last to leave the
north camp, were arriving at the Kotal, about 1000 tribesmen descended
in broad daylight and with the greatest boldness, and threatened their
left flank. They drove in two pickets of the 24th, and pressed forward
vigorously. Lieutenant Climo with two companies advanced up the hill to
meet them, supported by the fire of two guns of the Mountain Battery. A
bayonet charge was completely successful. The officers were close enough
to make effective use of their revolvers. Nine bodies of the enemy were
left on the ground, and a standard was captured. The tribesmen then drew
off, and the garrison prepared for the attack, which they knew would
come with the dark.

As the evening drew on the enemy were observed assembling in
ever-increasing numbers. Great crowds of them could be seen streaming
along the Chakdara road, and thickly dotting the hills with spots of
white. They all wore white as yet. The news had not reached Buner, and
the sombre-clad warriors of Ambeyla were still absent. The glare of
the flames from the north camp was soon to summon them to the attack of
their ancient enemies. The spectacle as night fell was strange, ominous,
but not unpicturesque. Gay banners of every colour, shape and device,
waved from the surrounding hills. The sunset caught the flashing of
swordblades behind the spurs and ridges. The numerous figures of the
enemy moved busily about preparing for the attack. A dropping fire from
the sharpshooters added an appropriate accompaniment. In the middle, at
the bottom of the cup, was the "crater" camp and the main enclosure with
the smoke of the evening meal rising in the air. The troops moved to
their stations, and, as the shadows grew, the firing swelled into a
loud, incessant roar.

The disposition of the troops on the night of the 27th was as follows:--

1. On the right Colonel McRae, with 45th Sikhs and two guns supported
by 100 men of the Guides Infantry, held almost the same position astride
the Buddhist road as before.

2. In the centre the enclosure and Graded road were defended by--

     31st Punjaub Infantry.
     No.5 Company Q.O. Sappers and Miners.
     The Guides.
     Two Guns.

3. On the left the 24th Punjaub Infantry, with the two remaining guns
under Lieutenant Climo, held the approaches from the abandoned north
camp and the fort.

Most of this extended line, which occupied a great part of the rim, was
formed by a chain of pickets, detached from one another, and fortified
by stone breastworks, with supports in rear. But in the centre the old
line of the "Sappers' and Miners' enclosure" was adhered to. The bazaar
was left to the enemy, but the serai, about a hundred yards in front of
the main entrenchment, was held by a picket of twenty-four men of the
31st Punjaub Infantry, under Subadar Syed Ahmed Shah. Here it was that
the tragedy of the night occurred.

At eight o'clock, the tribesmen attacked in tremendous force all
along the line. The firing at once became intense and continuous.
The expenditure of ammunition by the troops was very great, and many
thousands of rounds were discharged. On the right Colonel McRae and his
Sikhs were repeatedly charged by the swordsmen, many of whom succeeded
in forcing their way into the pickets and perished by the bayonet.
Others reached the two guns and were cut down while attacking the
gunners. All assaults were however beaten off. The tribesmen suffered
terrible losses. The casualties among the Sikhs were also severe. In the
morning Colonel McRae advanced from his defences, and, covered by the
fire of his two guns, cleared the ground in his front of the enemy.

The centre was again the scene of severe fighting. The tribesmen poured
into the bazaar and attacked the serai on all sides. This post was a
mud-walled enclosure about fifty yards square. It was loopholed for
musketry, but had no flank defences. The enemy made determined efforts
to capture the place for several hours. Meanwhile, so tremendous was the
fire of the troops in the main enclosure, that the attack upon the serai
was hardly noticed. For six hours the picket there held out against all
assaults, but the absence of flank defences enabled the enemy to come
close up to the walls. They then began to make holes through them, and
to burrow underneath. The little garrison rushed from place to place
repelling these attacks. But it was like caulking a sieve. At length the
tribesmen burst in from several quarters, and the sheds inside caught
fire. When all the defenders except four were killed or wounded, the
Subadar, himself struck by a bullet, ordered the place to be evacuated,
and the survivors escaped by a ladder over the back wall, carrying their
wounded with them. The bodies of the killed were found next morning,
extraordinarily mutilated.

The defence of this post to the bitter end must be regarded as a fine
feat of arms. Subadar Syed Ahmed Shah was originally promoted to a
commission for an act of conspicuous bravery, and his gallant conduct on
this occasion is the subject of a special paragraph in despatches.
[The Subadar and the surviving Sepoys have since received the "Order of
Merit."]

On the left, the 24th Punjaub Infantry were also hotly engaged, and
Lieutenant Costello received his first severe wound from a bullet, which
passed through his back and arm. Towards morning the enemy began to
press severely. Whereupon Lieutenant Climo, always inclined to bold and
vigorous action, advanced from the breastworks to meet them with two
companies. The tribesmen held their ground and maintained a continual
fire from Martini-Henry rifles. They also rolled down great stones upon
the companies. The 24th continued to advance, and drove the enemy from
point to point, and position to position, pursuing them for a distance
of two miles. "Gallows Tree" hill, against which the first charge of the
counter attack was delivered, was held by nearly 1000 tribesmen. On such
crowded masses, the fire of the troops was deadly. The enemy left forty
dead in the path of Lieutenant Climo's counter attack, and were observed
carrying off many wounded. As they retreated, many took refuge in the
village of Jalalkot. The guns were hurried up, and ten shells were
thrown into their midst, causing great slaughter. The result of
this bold stroke was, that the enemy during the rest of the fighting
invariably evacuated the hills before daylight enabled the troops to
assume the offensive.

Thus the onslaught of the tribesmen had again been successfully repelled
by the Malakand garrison. Many had been killed and wounded, but all the
tribes for a hundred miles around were hurrying to the attack, and their
number momentarily increased. The following casualties occurred on the
night of the 27th:--

              BRITISH OFFICER.
      Wounded--Lieutenant E.W. Costello.

              NATIVE RANKS.
      Killed......  12
      Wounded.....  29


During the day the enemy retired to the plain of Khar to refresh
themselves. Great numbers of Bunerwals now joined the gathering. The
garrison were able to distinguish these new-comers from the Swatis,
Utman Khels, Mamunds, Salarzais and others, by the black or dark-blue
clothes they wore. The troops were employed in strengthening the
defences, and improving the shelters. The tribesmen kept up a harassing
and annoying long-range fire, killing several horses of the Guides
Cavalry. Towards evening they advanced to renew the attack, carrying
hundreds of standards.

As darkness fell, heavy firing recommenced along the whole front. The
enemy had apparently plenty of ammunition, and replied with effect to
the heavy fire of the troops. The arrangement of the regiments was the
same as on the previous night. On the right, Colonel McRae once more
held his own against all attacks. In the centre, severe fighting ensued.
The enemy charged again and again up to the breastwork of the enclosure.
They did not succeed in penetrating. Three officers and several men were
however wounded by the fire. Lieutenant Maclean, of the Guides Cavalry,
who was attached temporarily to the 31st Punjaub Infantry, had a
wonderful escape. A bullet entered his mouth and passed through his
cheek without injuring the bone in any way. He continued on duty, and
these pages will record his tragic but glorious death a few weeks later
at Landakai.

Lieutenant Ford was dangerously wounded in the shoulder. The bullet cut
the artery, and he was bleeding to death when Surgeon-Lieutenant J.H.
Hugo came to his aid. The fire was too hot to allow of lights being
used. There was no cover of any sort. It was at the bottom of the cup.
Nevertheless the surgeon struck a match at the peril of his life and
examined the wound. The match went out amid a splutter of bullets, which
kicked up the dust all around, but by its uncertain light he saw the
nature of the injury. The officer had already fainted from the loss
of blood. The doctor seized the artery, and, as no other ligature was
forthcoming, he remained under fire for three hours holding a man's
life, between his finger and thumb. When at length it seemed that
the enemy had broken into the camp he picked up the still unconscious
officer in his arms, and, without relaxing his hold, bore him to a place
of safety. His arm was for many hours paralysed with cramp from the
effects of the exertion of compressing the artery.

I think there are few, whatever may be their views or interests, who
will not applaud this splendid act of devotion. The profession of
medicine, and surgery, must always rank as the most noble that men can
adopt. The spectacle of a doctor in action among soldiers, in equal
danger and with equal courage, saving life where all others are taking
it, allaying pain where all others are causing it, is one which must
always seem glorious, whether to God or man. It is impossible to imagine
any situation from which a human being might better leave this world,
and embark on the hazards of the Unknown.

All through the night, the enemy continued their attacks. They often
succeeded in reaching the breastworks--only to die on the bayonets of
the defenders. The guns fired case shot, with terrible effect, and when
morning dawned the position was still held by the Imperial Forces. The
casualties of the night were as follows:--

                     BRITISH OFFICERS.
      Wounded severely--Lieutenant H.B. Ford, 31st Punjaub Infantry.
                             "      H.L.S. Maclean, the Guides.
      Wounded slightly--Lieutenant G. Swinley, 31st Punjaub Infantry.

                     NATIVE RANKS.
      Killed.......  2
      Wounded......   13


On the morning of the 29th signalling communication with Chakdara was
for a few moments re-established. The garrison of that post announced
their safety, and that all attacks had been repulsed with heavy loss,
but they reported that ammunition and food were both running short.
During the day the enemy again retired to the plain to rest, and prepare
for the great attack, which they intended making that night. The hour
would be propitious. It was Jumarat, on which day the prophet watches
with especial care over the interests of those who die for the faith.
Besides, the moon was full, and had not the Great Fakir declared that
this should be the moment of victory? The Mullah exhorted them all
to the greatest efforts, and declared that he would himself lead the
assault. To-night the infidels would be utterly destroyed.

Meanwhile the troops were busily employed, in spite of their terrible
fatigues, in strengthening the defences. The bazaar and the serai were
levelled. Trees were blown up, and a clear field of fire was obtained in
front of the central enclosure. Great bonfires were also prepared on the
approaches, to enable the soldiers to take good aim at their assailants,
while they were silhouetted against the light. In such occupations the
day passed.

The tribesmen continued to fire at long range and shot several horses
and mules. These sharpshooters enjoyed themselves immensely. After
the relief of Chakdara, it was found that many of them had made
most comfortable and effective shelters among the rocks. One man, in
particular, had ensconced himself behind an enormous boulder, and had
built a little wall of stone, conveniently loopholed, to protect himself
when firing. The overhanging rock sheltered him from the heat of the
sun. By his side were his food and a large box of cartridges. Here for
the whole week he had lived, steadily dropping bullets unto the camp and
firing at what an officer described as all "objects of interest." What
could be more attractive?

At four o'clock in the afternoon Major Stuart Beatsen, commanding the
11th Bengal Lancers, arrived with his leading squadron. He brought a
small supply of ammunition, which the garrison was in sore need of, the
expenditure each night being tremendous, some regiments firing as much
as 30,000 rounds. The 35th Sikhs and 38th Dogras under Colonel Reid
arrived at Dargai, at the foot of the pass, in the evening. They had
marched all day in the most intense heat. How terrible that march
must have been, may be judged from the fact, that in the 35th Sikhs
twenty-one men actually died on the road of heat apoplexy. The fact
that these men marched till they dropped dead, is another proof of
the soldierly eagerness displayed by all ranks to get to the front.
Brigadier-General Meiklejohn, feeling confidence in his ability to hold
his own with the troops he had, ordered them to remain halted at Dargai,
and rest the next day.

The attack came with the night, but the defences in the centre had
been much improved, and the tribesmen were utterly unable to cross the
cleared glacis, which now stretched in front of the enclosure. They,
however, assailed both flanks with determination, and the firing
everywhere became heavy. At 2 A.M. the great attack was delivered. Along
the whole front and from every side enormous numbers swarmed to the
assault. On the right and left, hand-to-hand fighting took place.
Colonel McRae again held his position, but many of the tribesmen died
under the very muzzles of the rifles. The 24th Punjaub Infantry on the
left were the most severely engaged. The enemy succeeded in breaking
into the breastworks, and close fighting ensued, in which Lieutenant
Costello was again severely wounded. But the fire of the troops was too
hot for anything to live in their front. At 2.30 the Mad Mullah being
wounded, another Mullah killed and several hundreds of tribesmen slain,
the whole attack collapsed. Nor was it renewed again with vigor. The
enemy recognised that their chance of taking the Malakand had passed.

The casualties were as follows on the night of the 29th:--

                        BRITISH OFFICERS.
      Wounded severely--Lieutenant E.W. Costello, 24th P.I., who had
                            already been severely wounded, but continued
                            to do duty.
         "       "       Lieutenant F.A. Wynter, R.A.

                        NATIVE RANKS.
      Killed......  1
      Wounded.....   17


All the next day the enemy could be seen dragging the dead away, and
carrying the wounded over the hills to their villages. Reinforcements,
however, joined them, and they renewed their attack, but without much
spirit, at 9.30 P.M. They were again repulsed with loss. Once, during
a thunderstorm that broke over the camp, they charged the 45th Sikhs'
position, and were driven off with the bayonet. Only two men were
wounded during the night.

In the morning the 38th Dogras and 35th Sikhs marched into the camp. The
enemy continued firing into the entrenchments at long range, but without
effect. They had evidently realised that the Malakand was too strong to
be taken. The troops had a quiet night, and the weary, worn-out men
got a little needed sleep. Thus the long and persistent attack on
the British frontier station of Malakand languished and ceased. The
tribesmen, sick of the slaughter at this point, concentrated their
energies on Chakdara, which they believed must fall into their hands.
To relieve this hard-pressed post now became the duty of the garrison of
Malakand.

The chapter, which may now appropriately end, has described in detail,
and, necessarily, at length, the defence of an outpost of our Empire. A
surprise, followed by a sustained attack, has been resisted. The enemy,
repulsed at every point, have abandoned the attempt, but surround and
closely watch the defences. The troops will now assume the offensive,
and the hour of reprisals will commence.

The casualties sustained by the Malakand garrison between 26th July and
1st August were as follows:--

        BRITISH OFFICERS KILLED AND DIED OF WOUNDS--3.
      Lieutenant-Colonel J. Lamb, 24th Punjaub Infantry.
      Major W.W. Taylor, 45th Sikhs.
      Lieutenant L. Manley, Commissariat.

                   WOUNDED--10.
      Major L. Herbert, D.A.A.G.
      Captain G. Baldwin, D.S.O., Guides Cavalry.
      Captain H.F. Holland, 24th Punjaub Infantry.
      Lieutenant F.A. Wynter, R.A.
          "      F.W. Watling, R.E.
          "      E.W. Costello, 24th Punjaub Infantry.
          "      H.B. Ford, 31st Punjaub Infantry.
          "      H.L.S. Maclean, Guides Cavalry.
      2nd Lieutenant G. Swinley, 31st Punjaub Infantry.
            "       C.V. Keyes, Guides Cavalry.

             NATIVE OFFICERS WOUNDED--7.

       TOTAL OFFICERS KILLED AND WOUNDED--20.

       BRITISH NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICER KILLED.
      Sergeant F. Byrne, R.E.

     NATIVE NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS AND PRIVATES.
                                           Killed.   Wounded.
  No.8 Bengal Mountain Battery . .     0          5
  11th Bengal Lancers     . . .     0          3
  No.5 Company Q.O. Sappers and Miners.     3         18
  24th Punjaub Infantry   . . .     3         14
  31st    "       "  . . . .    12         32
  38th Dogras   . . . . .     0          1
  45th Sikhs    . . . . .     4         28
  Q.O. Corps of Guides. . . .     3         27

  TOTAL NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS AND MEN KILLED AND WOUNDED--153.





CHAPTER V: THE RELIEF OF CHAKDARA



While the events described in the last chapter had been watched with
interest and attention in all parts of the world, they were the subject
of anxious consultation in the Council of the Governor-General. It was
only natural that the Viceroy, himself, should view with abhorrence the
prospect of military operations on a large scale, which must inevitably
lead to closer and more involved relations with the tribes of the
Afghan border. He belonged to that party in the State which has clung
passionately, vainly, and often unwisely to a policy of peace and
retrenchment. He was supported in his reluctance to embark on warlike
enterprises by the whole force of the economic situation. No moment
could have been less fitting: no man more disinclined. That Lord Elgin's
Viceroyalty and the Famine year should have been marked by the greatest
Frontier War in the history of the British Empire in India, vividly
displays how little an individual, however earnest his motives, however
great his authority, can really control the course of public affairs.

The Council were called upon to decide on matters, which at once raised
the widest and most intricate questions of frontier policy; which might
involve great expense; which might well influence the development and
progress of the great populations committed to their charge. It would
be desirable to consider such matters from the most lofty and commanding
standpoints; to reduce detail to its just proportions; to examine the
past, and to peer into the future. And yet, those who sought to look
thus on the whole situation, were immediately confronted with the
picture of the rock of Chakdara, fringed and dotted with the white smoke
of musketry, encircled by thousands of fierce assailants, its garrison
fighting for their lives, but confident they would not be deserted. It
was impossible to see further than this. All Governments, all Rulers,
meet the same difficulties. Wide considerations of principle, of policy,
of consequences or of economics are brushed aside by an impetuous
emergency. They have to decide off-hand. The statesman has to deal with
events. The historian, who has merely to record them, may amuse his
leisure by constructing policies, to explain instances of successful
opportunism.

On the 30th of July the following order was officially published: "The
Governor-General in Council sanctions the despatch of a force, to
be styled the Malakand Field Force, for the purpose of holding
the Malakand, and the adjacent posts, and of operating against the
neighbouring tribes as may be required."

The force was composed as follows:--

                              1st Brigade.
   Commanding--Colonel W.H. Meiklejohn, C.B., C.M.G., with the local
     rank of Brigadier-General.
          1st Battalion Royal West Kent Regiment.
          24th Punjaub Infantry.
          31st Punjaub Infantry.
          45th (Rattray's) Sikhs.
          Sections A and B of No.1 British Field Hospital.
          No.38 Native Field Hospital.
          Sections A and B of No.50 Native Field Hospital.

                              2nd Brigade.
   Commanding--Brigadier-General P.D. Jeffreys, C.B.
          1st Battalion East Kent Regiment (the Buffs).
          35th Sikhs.
          38th Dogras.
          Guides Infantry.
          Sections C and D of No.1 British Field Hospital.
          No.37 Native Field Hospital.
          Sections C and D of No.50 Native Field Hospital.

                              Divisional Troops.
          4 Squadrons 11th Bengal Lancers.
          1     "     10th   "       "
          2     "     Guides Cavalry.
          22nd Punjaub Infantry.
          2 Companies 21st Punjaub Infantry.
          10th Field Battery.
          6 Guns No.1 British Mountain Battery.
          6  "   No.7    "       "        "
          6  "   No.8 Bengal     "        "
          No.5 Company Madras Sappers and Miners.
          No.3    "    Bombay    "     "     "
          Section B of No.13 British Field Hospital.
          Sections A and B of No.35 Native Field Hospital.

                              Line of Communications.
          No.34 Native Field Hospital.
          Section B of No.1 Native Field Hospital.


[This complete division amounted to a total available field strength of
6800 bayonets, 700 lances or sabres, with 24 guns.]

The command of this powerful force was entrusted to Brigadier-General
Sir Bindon Blood, K.C.B., who was granted the local rank of
Major-General.

As this officer is the principal character in the tale I have to tell,
a digression is necessary to introduce him to the reader. Born of an old
Irish family, a clan that has been settled in the west of Ireland
for 300 years, and of which he is now the head, Sir Bindon Blood was
educated privately, and at the Indian Military College at Addiscombe,
and obtained a commission in the Royal Engineers in December, 1860. For
the first eleven years he was stationed in England, and it was not until
1871 that he proceeded to India, where he first saw active service in
the Jawaki Afridi Expedition (medal with clasp). In 1878 he returned
home, but the next year was ordered to the Zulu War. On the conclusion
of hostilities, for which he received a second medal and clasp, he again
sailed for India and served throughout the Afghan war of 1880, being for
some time with the troops at Cabul. In 1882 he accompanied the Army to
Egypt, and was with the Highland Brigade, which was the most severely
engaged at Tel-el-Kebir. He received the medal and clasp, Khedive's star
and the 3rd class of the Medjidie. After the campaign he went home for
two years, and in 1885 made another voyage to the East, over which the
Russian war-cloud was then hanging. Since then the general has served in
India, at first with the Sappers and Miners, with whose reorganisation
he was closely associated, and latterly in command of the Agra District.
In 1895 he was appointed Chief of the Staff to Sir Robert Low in the
Chitral Expedition, and was present at all the actions, including the
storming of the Malakand Pass. For his services he received a degree of
knighthood of the Military Order of the Bath and the Chitral medal and
clasp. He was now marked as a man for high command on the frontier at
the first opportunity. That opportunity the great rising of 1897 has
presented.

Thirty-seven years of soldering, of war in many lands, of sport of every
kind, have steeled alike muscle and nerve. Sir Bindon Blood, himself,
till warned by the march of time, a keen polo player, is one of those
few officers of high rank in the army, who recognise the advantages to
soldiers of that splendid game. He has pursued all kinds of wild animals
in varied jungles, has killed many pig with the spear and shot every
species of Indian game, including thirty tigers to his own rifle.

It would not be fitting for me, a subaltern of horse, to offer any
criticism, though eulogistic, on the commander under whom I have had the
honour to serve in the field. I shall content myself with saying, that
the general is one of that type of soldiers and administrators, which
the responsibilities and dangers of an Empire produce, a type, which has
not been, perhaps, possessed by any nation except the British, since the
days when the Senate and the Roman people sent their proconsuls to all
parts of the world.

Sir Bindon Blood was at Agra, when, on the evening of the 28th of July,
he received the telegram from the Adjutant-General in India, appointing
him to the command of the Malakand Field Force, and instructing him to
proceed at once to assume it. He started immediately, and on the
31st formally took command at Nowshera. At Mardan he halted to make
arrangements for the onward march of the troops. Here, at 3 A.M. on the
1st of August, he received a telegram from Army Headquarters informing
him, that Chakdara Fort was hard pressed, and directing him to hurry on
to Malakand, and attempt its relief at all costs. The great numbers of
the enemy, and the shortness of ammunition and supplies from which the
garrison were suffering, made the task difficult and the urgency great.
Indeed I have been told, that at Simla on the 1st of August it was
feared, that Chakdara was doomed, and that sufficient troops to fight
their way to its relief could not be concentrated in time. The greatest
anxiety prevailed. Sir Bindon Blood replied telegraphically that
"knowing the ground" as he did, he "felt serenely confident." He hurried
on at once, and, in spite of the disturbed state of the country, reached
the Malakand about noon on the 1st of August.

The desperate position of the garrison of Chaldara was fully appreciated
by their comrades at the Malakand. As the night of the 31st had been
comparatively quiet, Brigadier-General Meiklejohn determined to attempt
to force his way to their relief the next day. He accordingly formed a
column as follows:--

     45th Sikhs.
     24th Punjaub Infantry.
     No.5 Company Sappers and Miners.
     4 Guns of No.8 Mountain Battery.

At 11 A.M. he sent the cavalry, under Lieutenant-Colonel Adams of the
Guides, to make a dash for the Amandara Pass, and if it were unoccupied
to seize it. The three squadrons started by the short road to the north
camp. As soon as the enemy saw what was going on, they assembled in
great numbers to oppose the advance. The ground was most unsuitable
for cavalry. Great boulders strewed the surface. Frequent nullahs
intersected the plain, and cramped the action of the horsemen. The
squadrons soon became hotly engaged. The Guides made several charges.
The broken nature of the ground favoured the enemy. Many of them were,
however, speared or cut down. In one of these charges Lieutenant Keyes
was wounded. While he was attacking one tribesman, another came up from
behind, and struck him a heavy blow on the shoulder with a sword. Though
these Swatis keep their swords at razor edge, and though the blow was
sufficiently severe to render the officer's arm useless for some days,
it raised only a thin weal, as if from a cut of a whip. It was a strange
and almost an inexplicable escape.

The enemy in increasing numbers pressed upon the cavalry, who began to
get seriously involved. The tribesmen displayed the greatest boldness
and determination. At length Lieut.-Colonel Adams had to order a
retirement. It was none too soon. The tribesmen were already working
round the left flank and thus threatening the only line of retreat. The
squadrons fell back, covering each other by dismounted fire. The 24th
Punjaub Infantry protected their flank as they reached the camp. The
cavalry losses were as follows:--

                      BRITISH OFFICERS.
   Wounded severely--Captain G.M. Baldwin, the Guides.
      "    slightly--Lieutenant C.V. Keyes, the Guides.

                       NATIVE RANKS.
                                     Killed  Wounded
     11th Bengal Lancers....    0      3
     Horses........     1       4
     Guides Cavalry......   1      10
     Horses........     3      18

       Total casualties--16 men and 26 horses.

The vigorous resistance which the cavalry had encountered, and the great
numbers and confidence that the enemy had displayed, effectually put an
end to any idea of relieving Chakdara that day. The tribesmen were much
elated by their temporary success, and the garrison, worn and wearied
by the incessant strain, both mental and physical, were proportionately
cast down. Every one anticipated tremendous fighting on the next day.
Make the attempt, they must at all hazards. But there were not wanting
those who spoke of "forlorn hopes" and "last chances." Want of sleep and
rest had told on all ranks. For a week they had grappled with a savage
foe. They were the victors, but they were out of breath.

It was at this moment, that Sir Bindon Blood arrived and assumed the
command. He found General Meiklejohn busily engaged in organising a
force of all arms, which was to move to the relief of Chakdara on the
following day. As it was dangerous to denude the Malakand position of
troops, this force could not exceed 1000 rifles, the available cavalry
and four guns. Of these arrangements Sir Bindon Blood approved. He
relieved Brigadier-General Meiklejohn of the charge of the Malakand
position, and gave him the command of the relieving column. Colonel Reid
was then placed in command of Malakand, and instructed to strengthen the
pickets at Castle Rock, as far as possible, and to be ready with a force
taken from them, to clear the high ground on the right of the Graded
road. The relieving column was composed as follows:--

     400 Rifles 24th Punjaub Infantry.
     400   "    45th Sikhs.
     200   "    Guides Infantry.
     2 Squadrons 11th Bengal Lancers (under Lieut.-Col. R.B. Adams.)
     2     "     Guides Cavalry           "       "      "
     4 Guns No.8 Mountain Battery.
     50 Sappers of No.5 Company.
     Hospital details.

Sir Bindon Blood ordered General Meiklejohn to assemble this force
before dark near the centre of the camp at a grove of trees called
"Gretna Green," to bivouac there for the night, and to be ready to
start with the first light of morning. During the afternoon the enemy,
encouraged by their success with the cavalry in the morning, advanced
boldly to the pickets and the firing was continuous. So heavy indeed did
it become between eleven and twelve o'clock at night, that the force
at "Gretna Green" got under arms. But towards morning the tribesmen
retired.

The reader may, perhaps, have in his mind the description of the
Malakand as a great cup with jagged clefts in the rim. Much of this rim
was still held by the enemy. It was necessary for any force trying to
get out of the cup, to fight their way along the narrow roads through
the clefts, which were commanded by the heights on either side. For
a considerable distance it was impossible to deploy. Therein lay the
difficulty of the operation, which the General had now to perform. The
relieving column was exposed to the danger of being stopped, just as
Colonel McRae had stopped the first attack of the tribesmen along
the Buddhist road. On the 1st of August the cavalry had avoided these
difficulties by going down the road to the North camp, and making a
considerable detour. But they thus became involved in bad ground and had
to retire. The "Graded" road, if any, was the road by which Chakdara was
to be relieved. Looking at the tangled, rugged nature of the country,
it seems extraordinary to an untrained eye, that among so many peaks and
points, one should be of more importance than another. Yet it is so.
On the high ground, in front of the position that Colonel McRae and
the 45th Sikhs had held so well, was a prominent spur. This was the key
which would unlock the gate and set free the troops, who were cramped up
within. Every one realised afterwards how obvious this was and wondered
they had not thought of it before. Sir Bindon Blood selected the point
as the object of his first attack, and it was against this that he
directed Colonel Goldney with a force of about 300 men to move, as soon
as he should give the signal to advance.

At half-past four in the morning of the 2nd of August he proceeded to
"Gretna Green" and found the relieving column fallen in, and ready to
march at daybreak. All expected a severe action. Oppressed with
fatigue and sleeplessness, there were many who doubted that it would
be successful. But though tired, they were determined, and braced
themselves for a desperate struggle. The General-in-chief was, as he
had said, confident and serene. He summoned the different commanding
officers, explained his plans, and shook hands all round. It was a
moment of stern and high resolve. Slowly the first faint light of dawn
grew in the eastern sky. The brightness of the stars began to pale.
Behind the mountains was the promise of the sun. Then the word was given
to advance. Immediately the relieving column set off, four deep, down
the "Graded" road. Colonel Goldney simultaneously advanced to the attack
of the spur, which now bears his name, with 250 men of the 35th Sikhs
and 50 of the 38th Dogras. He moved silently towards the stone shelters,
that the tribesmen had erected on the crest. He got to within a hundred
yards unperceived. The enemy, surprised, opened an irregular and
ineffective fire. The Sikhs shouted and dashed forward. The ridge was
captured without loss of any kind. The enemy fled in disorder, leaving
seven dead and one prisoner on the ground.

Then the full significance of the movement was apparent alike to friend
and foe. The point now gained, commanded the whole of the "Graded"
road, right down to its junction with the road to the North camp. The
relieving column, moving down the road, were enabled to deploy without
loss or delay. The door was open. The enemy, utterly surprised and
dumfoundered by this manoeuvre, were seen running to and fro in the
greatest confusion: in the graphic words of Sir Bindon Blood's despatch,
"like ants in a disturbed ant-hill." At length they seemed to realise
the situation, and, descending from the high ground, took up a position
near Bedford Hill in General Meiklejohn's front, and opened a heavy fire
at close range. But the troops were now deployed and able to bring their
numbers to bear. Without wasting time in firing, they advanced with the
bayonet. The leading company of the Guides stormed the hill in their
front with a loss of two killed and six wounded. The rest of the troops
charged with even less loss. The enemy, thoroughly panic-stricken, began
to fly, literally by thousands, along the heights to the right. They
left seventy dead behind them. The troops, maddened by the remembrance
of their fatigues and sufferings, and inspired by the impulse of
victory, pursued them with a merciless vigour.

Sir Bindon Blood had with his staff ascended the Castle Rock, to
superintend the operations generally. From this position the whole field
was visible. On every side, and from every rock, the white figures of
the enemy could be seen in full flight. The way was open. The passage
was forced. Chakdara was saved. A great and brilliant success had been
obtained. A thrill of exultation convulsed every one. In that moment
the general, who watched the triumphant issue of his plans, must have
experienced as fine an emotion as is given to man on earth. In that
moment, we may imagine that the weary years of routine, the long ascent
of the lower grades of the service, the frequent subordination to
incompetence, the fatigues and dangers of five campaigns, received their
compensation. Perhaps, such is the contrariness of circumstances, there
was no time for the enjoyment of these reflections. The victory had been
gained. It remained to profit by it. The enemy would be compelled to
retire across the plain. There at last was the chance of the cavalry.
The four squadrons were hurried to the scene.

The 11th Bengal Lancers, forming line across the plain, began a
merciless pursuit up the valley. The Guides pushed on to seize the
Amandara Pass and relieve Chakdara. All among the rice fields and the
rocks, the strong horsemen hunted the flying enemy. No quarter was asked
or given, and every tribesman caught, was speared or cut down at once.
Their bodies lay thickly strewn about the fields, spotting with black
and green patches, the bright green of the rice crop. It was a terrible
lesson, and one which the inhabitants of Swat and Bajaur will never
forget. Since then their terror of Lancers has been extraordinary. A
few sowars have frequently been sufficient to drive a hundred of these
valiant savages in disorder to the hills, or prevent them descending
into the plain for hours.

Meanwhile the infantry had been advancing swiftly. The 45th Sikhs
stormed the fortified village of Batkhela near the Amandara Pass, which
the enemy held desperately. Lieut.-Colonel McRae, who had been relieved
from the command of the regiment by the arrival of Colonel Sawyer, was
the first man to enter the village. Eighty of the enemy were bayoneted
in Batkheka alone. It was a terrible reckoning.

I am anxious to finish with this scene of carnage. The spectator, who
may gaze unmoved on the bloodshed of the battle, must avert his eyes
from the horrors of the pursuit, unless, indeed, joining in it himself,
he flings all scruples to the winds, and, carried away by the impetus
of the moment, indulges to the full those deep-seated instincts of
savagery, over which civilisation has but cast a veil of doubtful
thickness.

The casualties in the relief of Chakdara were as follows:--

   11th Bengal Lancers--killed and died from wounds, 3; wounded,3.
                                         Killed. Wounded.
     Guides Infantry.......  2       7
     35th Sikhs......... 2       3
     45th Sikhs......... 0       7
     24th Punjaub Infantry..... 0       5
     No.8 Bengal Mountain Battery...  0       1
               Total Casualties--33

The news of the relief of Chakdara was received with feelings of
profound thankfulness throughout India. And in England, in the House of
Commons, when the Secretary of State read out the telegram, there were
few among the members who did not join in the cheers. Nor need we pay
much attention to those few.





CHAPTER VI: THE DEFENCE OF CHAKDARA


 ... That tower of strength
    Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.

                                              TENNYSON.



The episode with which this chapter is concerned is one that has often
occurred on the out-post line of civilisation, and which is peculiarly
frequent in the history of a people whose widespread Empire is fringed
with savage tribes. A small band of soldiers or settlers, armed with the
resources of science, and strengthened by the cohesion of mutual
trust, are assailed in some isolated post, by thousands of warlike and
merciless enemies. Usually the courage and equipment of the garrison
enable them to hold out until a relieving force arrives, as at Rorke's
Drift, Fort Chitral, Chakdara or Gulistan. But sometimes the defenders
are overwhelmed, and, as at Saraghari or Khartoum, none are left to tell
the tale. There is something strangely terrible in the spectacle of men,
who fight--not for political or patriotic reasons, not for the sake of
duty or glory--but for dear life itself; not because they want to, but
because they have to. They hold the dykes of social progress against a
rising deluge of barbarism, which threatens every moment to overflow the
banks and drown them all. The situation is one which will make a coward
valorous, and affords to brave men opportunities for the most sublime
forms of heroism and devotion.

Chakdara holds the passage of the Swat River--a rapid, broad, and at
most seasons of the year an unfordable torrent. It is built on a rocky
knoll that rises abruptly from the plain about a hundred yards from
the mountains. Sketches and photographs usually show only the knoll
and buildings on it, and any one looking at them will be struck by the
picturesque and impregnable aspect of the little fort, without observing
that its proportions are dwarfed, and its defences commanded, by
the frowning cliffs, under which it stands. In its construction the
principles of defilade have been completely ignored. Standing on the
mountain ridge, occupied by the signal tower, it is possible to look or
fire right into the fort. Every open space is commanded. Every parapet
is exposed. Against an enemy unprovided with artillery, however,
it could be held indefinitely; but the fact that all interior
communications are open to fire, makes its defence painful to the
garrison, and might, by gradually weakening their numbers, lead to its
capture.

The narrow, swinging, wire bridge across the Swat is nearly 500 yards
long. At the southern end it is closed by a massive iron door, loopholed
for musketry, and flanked by two stone towers, in one of which a Maxim
gun is mounted. On the further side is the fort itself, which consists
of the fortified knoll, a strong stone horn-work, an enclosure for
horses, protected by a loopholed wall and much tangled barbed wire, and
the signal tower, a detached post 200 yards up the cliff.

The garrison of the place consisted at the time of the outbreak of
twenty sowars of the 11th Bengal Lancers and two strong companies of the
45th Sikhs, in all about 200 men, under the command of Lieutenant H.B.
Rattray. [The actual strength was as follows: 11th Bengal Lancers, 20
sabres; 45th Sikhs, 180 rifles; 2 British telegraphists; 1 Hospital
Havildar; 1 Provost Naick (24th Punjaub Infantry); 1 Jemadar (Dir
Levies). British officers--45th Sikhs, Lieutenants Rattray and Wheatley;
Surgeon-Captain V. Hugo; Political Agent, Lieutenant Minchin.] As the
rumours of an impending rising grew stronger and stronger, and the end
of July approached, this officer practised his men in taking stations
in the event of an alarm, and made such preparations as he thought
necessary for eventualities. On the 23rd he received an official warning
from the D.A.A.G. [Deputy-Assistant-Adjutant-General. Surely
this astounding title, with that of the
Deputy-Assistant-Quarter-Master-General, might be replaced with
advantage by the more sensible and appropriate terms "Brigade Adjutant"
and "Brigade Quartermaster"!], Major Herbert, that a tribal rising was
"possible but not probable." Every precaution was henceforth taken in
the fort. On the 26th, a Sepoy, who was out sketching, hurried in with
the news that a large body of tribesmen were advancing down the valley,
and that he himself had been robbed of his compass, his field-glasses
and some money.

But, in spite of the disturbed and threatening situation, the British
officers of the Malakand garrison, though they took all military
precautions for the defence of their posts, did not abandon their
practice of riding freely about the valley, armed only with revolvers.
Nor did they cease from their amusements. On the evening of the 26th,
Lieutenant Rattray went over to Khar as usual to play polo. Just as the
game was ended, he received a letter, brought in haste by two sowars,
from Lieutenant Wheatley, the other subaltern at Chakdara, warning him
that a great number of Pathans with flags were advancing on the fort.
He at once galloped back at full speed, passing close to one large
gathering of tribesmen, who for some reason of their own took no notice
of him, and so reached the fort in safety, and just in time. Formidable
masses of men were then closing in on it. He telegraphed to the staff
officer at the Malakand reporting the impending attack. Immediately
afterwards the wire was cut by the enemy and the little garrison got
under arms.

A havildar of the Khan of Dir's Levies had promised the political
agent to give warning of any actual assault, by lighting a fire on the
opposite hills. At 10.15 a solitary flame shot up. It was the signal.
The alarm was sounded. The garrison went to their posts. For a space
there was silence, and then out of the darkness began a fusillade, which
did not stop until the 2nd of August. Immediately the figures of the
tribesmen, as they advanced to the attack on the western face of the
fort, became visible. The defenders opened fire with effect. The
enemy pressed on vigorously. Their losses were severe. At length they
retreated repulsed.

A second attack was immediately delivered against the north-east corner
and again beaten off by the garrison. At 4 A.M. a third assault was made
upon the cavalry enclosure. The tribesmen, carrying scaling ladders,
advanced with great determination. They were received with a deadly
fire. They then drew off, and the first night of the siege was
terminated by desultory firing. The garrison remained at their posts all
night, and when it became day the enemy were seen to have retired, to
the hills to the north-west, whence they maintained a ceaseless fire.
Although the defenders were protected by their stone walls, many had
strange escapes from the bullets, which fell incessantly into the
interior.

Meanwhile, in spite of the vigorous attack that was being made on the
Malakand, it had been decided to send some assistance to the little band
at Chakdara. Captain Wright and forty sowars of the 11th Bengal Lancers
with Captain Baker of the 2nd Bombay Grenadiers and transport officer
at the Malakand, started at dawn on the 27th, by the road from the north
camp. Before they had gone very far they came under the fire of the
enemy on the hills. These did not dare to venture into the plain, but
availed themselves of the broken nature of the country. As the squadron
reached the road leading to the polo ground, Captain Wright received
information that the enemy were collected on the plain and immediately
the pace was quickened in the hopes of a charge being possible. But the
tribesmen ran to the hills at the sight of the Lancers, and maintained
a constant, though luckily, an ill-aimed fire. At length the village
of Batkhela was reached, and beyond it the Amandara Pass came in sight.
This is a gap in a long spur, which runs from the southern side of the
valley to the rapid river in the middle. As the river was then in full
flood and unfordable, the only road to Chakdara lay over or through the
spur. But the pass was held by the enemy.

Captain Wright had by this time realised, what probably no one at the
Malakand then knew, that the enemy's numbers were enormous. The whole
way from Malakand to Amandara--every ridge and hill was crowned with
their banners. Wherever the ground protected them from the horsemen
they gathered thickly. Cemeteries [Cemeteries are frequent and prominent
features of Frontier landscapes. Some of them are of great extent: all
of remarkable sanctity.], nullahs and villages swarmed with men. Their
figures could be seen in all directions. Far beyond the Amandara Pass
bands of tribesmen, of varying strengths, could be observed hurrying
with their standards to the attack. But these formidable signs, far from
deterring the cavalry soldier, only added, by displaying how great was
the need of Chakdara, to his determination to force his way through at
all costs.

Under a dropping fire from the cemetery on the right of the road, a
brief consultation was held. The Amandara defile was occupied on both
sides by the enemy. With the loss of perhaps a dozen men the squadron
might gallop through. But this meant leaving all who fell, to perish
miserably, by torture and mutilation. To attempt to pick up the wounded,
would lead to the annihilation of the squadron. Any alternative was
preferable, though if there were no other way, the dash would have to be
made, and the wounded left. A Sowar now said there was a path round the
rock by the bank of the river. Captain Wright determined to take it.

The path was bad. After about half the spur had been passed, it ended
abruptly in a steep white rock. It was, in fact, a path leading to a
point where the natives were in the habit of floating across the river
upon "mussucks" (inflated skins). To go back now was to fail. Without
hesitation, the horsemen turned to the right up the hill and among the
rocks, trusting to get through somehow. After passing over ground which
would be difficult to move across on foot, they saw a gorge to their
left which appeared as if it would lead to the open plain, on the other
side of the ridge. Down this gorge forty horses huddled together, with
no room to pick their way, were scrambling and jumping from rock to
rock, apparently as conscious as their riders that their lives depended
on their cleverness--when, suddenly, the enemy appeared.

As soon as the tribesmen, who were holding the pass, saw the squadron
trot off to their right towards the river, they realised that they
intended to make a desperate effort to get through to Chakdara. They
knew what the ground was like, and confident they would kill them all,
if they could get there soon enough, ran swiftly along the spur. It was
a race. The leading tribesmen arrived in time to fire on the cavalry,
while they were in the gorge. So close were they, that the officers
used their revolvers. But the Pathans were out of breath and shot badly.
Several horses were hit, including Captain Wright's, but though the
large thigh bone was penetrated, the gallant beast held on, and carried
his rider to Chakdara safely.

By the extraordinary activity of the horses the rocks were cleared
before the enemy could collect in any strength. But, to the dismay of
all, the gorge was found to lead, not to the plain, but to a branch of
the river. A broad, swift channel of water of unknown depth confronted
the cavalry. To go back was now, however, out of the question. They
plunged in. The 11th Bengal Lancers are perhaps better mounted than any
native cavalry regiment in India. Their strong horses just held their
own against the current. Several were nearly swept away. Captain
Wright was the last to cross. All this time the enemy were firing and
approaching. At length the passage was made and the squadron collected
on an island of flooded rice fields, in which the horses sank up to
their hocks. Beyond this ran another arm of the river about fifty yards
wide, and apparently almost as deep as the first. The bullets of the
enemy made "watery flashes" on all sides. After passing this second
torrent the squadron found themselves again on the same bank of
the river as the enemy. They were in swampy ground. Captain Wright
dismounted his men and returned the fire. Then he turned back himself,
and riding into the stream again, rescued the hospital assistant, whose
pony, smaller than the other horses, was being carried off its legs by
the force of the water. After this the march was resumed. The squadron
kept in the heavy ground, struggling along painfully. The enemy, running
along the edge of the rice fields, maintained a continual fire, kneeling
down to take good aim. A sowar threw up his hands and fell, shot through
the back. Several more horses were hit. Then another man reeled in his
saddle and collapsed on the ground. A halt was made. Dismounted fire was
opened upon the enemy. The wounded were picked up, and by slow degrees
Chakdara was approached, when the Bridgehead Maxim gun compelled the
tribesmen to draw off. [For the particulars of this affair I am indebted
to Captain Baker, 2nd Bombay Grenadiers, who shared its perils.]

Thus the garrison of the fort received a needed reinforcement. I have
given a somewhat long description of this gallant ride, because it shows
that there are few obstacles that can stop brave men and good horses.
Captain Wright now assumed command of Chakdara, but the direction of
the defense he still confided to Lieutenant Rattray, as fighting behind
walls is a phase of warfare with which the cavalry soldier is little
acquainted.

At 11.30, in the heat of the day the tribesmen attacked again. They
surrounded the north and east sides of the fort, and made strenuous
efforts to get in. They suffered heavy losses from the musketry of the
defence, and their dead lay scattered thickly on the approaches. Nor
were they removed till nightfall. Many Ghazis, mad with fanaticism,
pressed on carrying standards, heedless of the fire, until they fell
riddled with bullets under the very walls.

To communicate with the Malakand was now almost impossible. To
heliograph, it was necessary that the operator should be exposed to a
terrible fire. In the evening the signal tower was surrounded by men
in stone sungars, who kept up an incessant fusillade, and made all
exposure, even for an instant, perilous.

At midday, after the repulse of the main attack, the guard of the signal
tower was reinforced by six men, and food and water were also sent up.
This difficult operation was protected by the fire of both the Maxims,
and of all the garrison who could be spared from other points. Until the
1st of August, water was sent up daily to the signal tower in this
way. The distance was long and the road steep. The enemy's fire was
persistent. Looking at the ground it seems wonderful that supplies could
have been got through at all.

As night approached, the defenders prepared to meet a fresh attack.
Lieutenant Wheatley, observing the points behind which the enemy usually
assembled, trained the fort Maxim and the 9-pounder gun on them, while
daylight lasted. At 11 P.M. the tribesmen advanced with shouts, yells
and the beating of drums. The gun and the Maxims were fired, and it is
said that no fewer than seventy men perished by the single discharge.
At any rate the assault was delayed for an hour and a half. All day long
the garrison had remained at their posts. It was hoped they would
now get a little rest. But at 1 o'clock the attack was renewed on
the north-east corner. Again the enemy brought up scaling ladders and
charged with desperate ferocity. They were shot down.

Meanwhile every spare moment was devoted to improving the cover of the
garrison. Captain Baker applied himself to this task, and used every
expedient. Logs, sand bags, stones, boxes filled with earth were piled
upon the walls. It is due to these precautions that the loss of life was
no larger.

Continuous firing occupied the 28th, and at 5.30 P.M. the enemy again
assaulted. As in previous attacks, they at first advanced by twos and
threes, making little dashes over the open ground, for bits of natural
cover, and for the stone sungars they had built all round the fort under
cover of darkness. Some of these were within 200 yards of the wall. As
they advanced the fire became intense. Then the main rush was delivered.
In a great semi-circle round the face of the fort held by the
cavalry, and displaying nearly 200 standards whose gay colours were
representative of every tribe on the border, they charged right up to
the walls. Some of them actually got across the tangled barbed wire and
were destroyed in the enclosure. But all efforts were defeated by the
garrison, and towards morning the attack melted away, and only the usual
sharpshooters remained. Some of these displayed a singular recklessness.
One man climbed up into the barbed wire and fired three shots at the
defenders at close quarters before he was killed.

Thursday morning dawned on similar scenes. The garrison employed such
intervals as occurred in strengthening their defences and improving
their cover, particularly in the approaches to the Maxim and field
gun platforms. At 3 P.M. the enemy came out of Chakdara village, and,
carrying ladders to scale the walls, and bundles of grass to throw on
the barbed wire, made a formidable effort. They directed the attack
mainly against the signal station. This building is a strong, square,
stone tower. Its entrance is above six feet from the ground. All around
the top runs a machiconlis gallery, a kind of narrow balcony, with holes
in the floor to fire through. It is well provided with loopholes. At
4 o'clock it was closely assailed. The garrison of the fort aided the
tower guard by their fire. So bold were the enemy in their efforts, that
they rushed in under the musketry of the defence, and lighted a great
heap of grass about three yards from the doorway. The flames sprang
up. A howl of ferocious delight arose. But the tribesmen relapsed into
silence, when they saw that no real harm was done. At sunset the
fore sight of the fort Maxim was shot away, and the defenders were
temporarily deprived of the service of that powerful weapon. They soon
managed, however, to rig up a makeshift, which answered all practical
purposes. At 8 P.M. the enemy wearied of the struggle, and the firing
died away to desultory skirmishing. They toiled all night carrying away
their dead, but next morning over fifty bodies were still lying around
the signal tower. Their losses had been enormous.

The morning of the 30th brought no cessation of the fighting, but the
enemy, disheartened by their losses of the previous night, did not
attack until 7 P.M. At that hour they advanced and made a fresh effort.
They were again repulsed. Perhaps the reader is tired of the long
recital of the monotonous succession of assaults and repulses. What
must the garrison have been by the reality? Until this day--when they
snatched a few hours' sleep--they had been continually fighting and
watching for ninety-six hours. Like men in a leaking ship, who toil at
the pumps ceaselessly and find their fatigues increasing and the ship
sinking hour by hour, they cast anxious, weary eyes in the direction
whence help might be expected. But none came. And there are worse deaths
than by drowning.

Men fell asleep at the loopholes and at the service of the field gun.
Even during the progress of the attacks, insulted nature asserted
itself, and the soldiers drifted away from the roar of the musketry,
and the savage figures of the enemy, to the peaceful unconsciousness
of utter exhaustion. The officers, haggard but tireless, aroused them
frequently.

At other times the brave Sepoys would despair. The fort was ringed with
the enemy. The Malakand, too, was assailed. Perhaps it was the same
elsewhere. The whole British Raj seemed passing away in a single
cataclysm. The officers encouraged them. The Government of the
Queen-Empress would never desert them. If they could hold out, they
would be relieved. If not, they would be avenged. Trust in the young
white men who led them, and perhaps some dim half-idolatrous faith in a
mysterious Sovereign across the seas, whose soldiers they were, and
who would surely protect them, restored their fainting strength. The
fighting continued.

During the whole time of the siege the difficulty of maintaining
signalling communication with the Malakand was extreme. But for the
heroism of the signallers, it would have been insuperable. One man in
particular, Sepoy Prem Singh, used every day at the risk of his life to
come out through a porthole of the tower, establish his heliograph, and,
under a terrible fire from short range, flash urgent messages to
the main force. The extreme danger, the delicacy of the operation of
obtaining connection with a helio, the time consumed, the composure
required, these things combined to make the action as brave as any which
these or other pages record. [A proposal has recently been made, to give
the Victoria Cross to native soldiers who shall deserve it. It would
seem that the value of such a decoration must be enhanced by making it
open to all British subjects. The keener the competition, the greater
the honor of success. In sport, in courage, and in the sight of heaven,
all men meet on equal terms.] Early on Saturday morning a supply of
water was sent to the guard of the signal tower. It was the last they
got until 4.30 on Monday afternoon.

When the attack on the fort began, the enemy numbered perhaps 1500 men.
Since then they had been increasing every day, until on the 1st and
2nd, they are estimated to have been between 12,000 and 14,000 strong.
Matters now began to assume a still graver aspect. At 5 o'clock on the
evening of the 31st a renewed attack was made in tremendous force on
the east side of the fort. But it was beaten back with great loss by
the Maxims and the field gun. All night long the firing continued, and
Sunday morning displayed the enemy in far larger numbers than hitherto.
They now captured the Civil Hospital, a detached building, the walls
of which they loopholed, and from which they maintained a galling fire.
They also occupied the ridge, leading to the signal tower, thus cutting
off all communication with its guard. No water reached those unfortunate
men that day. The weather was intensely hot. The fire from the ridge
made all interior communication difficult and dangerous. The enemy
appeared armed to a great extent with Martini-Henry rifles and Sniders,
and their musketry was most harassing. The party in the tower kept
sending by signal pressing requests for water, which could not be
supplied. The situation became critical. I quote the simple words of
Lieutenant Rattray's official report:--

"Matters now looked so serious that we decided to send an urgent appeal
for help, but owing to the difficulty and danger of signalling we
could not send a long message, and made it as short as possible, merely
sending the two words, 'Help us.'"

Still the garrison displayed a determined aspect, and though the
tribesmen occupied the ridge, the Civil Hospital and an adjoining
nullah, none set foot within the defences.

At length the last day of the struggle came. At daybreak the enemy in
tremendous numbers came on to the assault, as if resolute to take the
place at any cost. They carried scaling ladders and bundles of grass.
The firing became intense. In spite of the cover of the garrison several
men were killed and wounded by the hail of bullets which was directed
against the fort, and which splashed and scarred the walls in every
direction.

Then suddenly, as matters were approaching a crisis, the cavalry of the
relieving column appeared over the Amandara ridge. The strong horsemen
mercilessly pursued and cut down all who opposed them. When they reached
the Bridgehead on the side of the river remote from the fort, the
enemy began to turn and run. The garrison had held out stubbornly
and desperately throughout the siege. Now that relief was at hand,
Lieutenant Rattray flung open the gate, and followed by half a dozen
men charged the Civil Hospital. Captain Baker and Lieutenant Wheatley
followed with a few more. The hospital was recaptured. The enemy
occupying it, some thirty in number, were bayoneted. It was a finish in
style. Returning, the sallying party found the cavalry--the 11th Bengal
Lancers--checked by a sungar full of tribesmen. This they charged in
flank, killing most of its occupants, and driving the rest after
their comrades in rout and ruin. The last man to leave the sungar shot
Lieutenant Rattray in the neck, but that officer, as distinguished for
physical prowess as for military conduct, cut him down. This ended the
fighting. It is not possible to think of a more fitting conclusion.

The casualties in the siege were as follows:--

                     Killed  Wounded
     11th B.L......   1       1
     45th Sikhs.....   4      10
     Dir Levies.....    1       0
     Followers.....    1       2
            Total, all ranks--20


This was the loss; but every man in the fort had held death at arm's
length, for seven nights, and seven days.

It is a significant fact, that, though the cavalry horses were exposed
to the enemy's fire the whole time, hardly any were killed or wounded.
The tribesmen, feeling sure that the place was theirs, and hoping that
these fine beasts would fall unto their hands alive, had abstained from
shooting them.

As far as could be ascertained by careful official inquiries the enemy
lost over 2000 men in the attack upon Chakdara.

[The following statistics as to the expenditure of ammunition may be of
interest:--

                               Rounds.
     28th July.  Maxim......  843
        "        Martini-Henry... 7170
     29th July.  Maxim......  667
        "        Martini-Henry... 4020
     30th July.  Maxim...... 1200
        "        Martini-Henry... 5530
     31st July.  Maxim......  180
        "        Martini-Henry... 2700

This is approximately twenty rounds per man per diem. The fire control
must have been excellent.]





CHAPTER VII: THE GATE OF SWAT



The Malakand Pass gives access to the valley of the Swat, a long and
wide trough running east and west, among the mountains. Six miles
further to the east, at Chakdara, the valley bifurcates. One branch runs
northward towards Uch, and, turning again to the west, ultimately leads
to the Panjkora River and beyond to the great valley of Nawagai. For
some distance along this branch lies the road to Chitral, and along it
the Malakand Field Force will presently advance against the Mohmands.
The other branch prolongs the valley to the eastward. A few miles beyond
Chakdara a long spur, jutting from the southern mountains, blocks the
valley. Round its base the river has cut a channel. The road passes
along a narrow stone causeway between the river and the spur. Here is
the Landakai position, or as the tribesmen have for centuries called
it, the "Gate of Swat." Beyond this gate is Upper Swat, the ancient,
beautiful and mysterious "Udyana." This chapter will describe the
forcing of the gate and the expedition to the head of the valley.

The severe fighting at the Malakand and Chakdara had shown how
formidable was the combination, which had been raised against the
British among the hill tribes. The most distant and solitary valleys,
the most remote villages, had sent their armed men to join in the
destruction of the infidels. All the Banjaur tribes had been well
represented in the enemy's ranks. The Bunerwals and the Utman Khels had
risen to a man. All Swat had been involved. Instead of the two or three
thousand men that had been estimated as the extreme number, who would
follow the Mad Fakir, it was now known that over 12,000 were in arms.
In consequence of the serious aspect which the military and political
situation had assumed, it was decided to mobilise a 3rd and Reserve
Brigade composed as follows:--

                         3rd Brigade.
   Commanding--Brigadier-General J.H. Wodehouse, C.B., C.M.G.
     2nd Battalion Highland Light Infantry.
     1st    "      Gordon Highlanders.
     21st Punjaub Infantry.
     2nd  Battalion 1st Gurkhas.
     No. 3 Company Bombay Sappers and Miners.
      " 14 British Field Hospital.
      " 45 Native    "     "
      " 1 Field Medical Depot.

The fighting of the preceding fortnight had left significant and
terrible marks on the once smiling landscape. The rice crops were
trampled down in all directions. The ruins of the villages which had
been burned looked from a distance like blots of ink. The fearful losses
which the enemy had sustained, had made an appreciable diminution,
not of an army, but of a population. In the attacks upon the Malakand
position, about 700 tribesmen had perished. In the siege of Chakdara,
where the open ground had afforded opportunity to the modern weapons
and Maxim guns, over 2000 had been killed and wounded. Many others had
fallen in the relief of Chakdara and in the cavalry pursuit. For days
their bodies lay scattered about the country. In the standing crops, in
the ruins of villages, and among the rocks, festering bodies lay in the
blazing sun, filling the valley with a dreadful smell. To devour these
great numbers of vultures quickly assembled and disputed the abundant
prey with the odious lizards, which I have mentioned in an earlier
chapter, and which emerged from holes and corners to attack the corpses.
Although every consideration of decency and health stimulated the energy
of the victors in interring the bodies of their enemies, it was
some days before this task could be accomplished, and even then, in
out-of-the-way places, there remained a good many that had escaped the
burying parties.

Meanwhile the punishment that the tribesmen of the Swat Valley had
received, and their heavy losses, had broken the spirit of many, and
several deputations came to make their submission. The Lower Swatis
surrendered unconditionally, and were allowed to return to their
villages. Of this permission they at once availed themselves, and their
figures could be seen moving about their ruined homes and endeavouring
to repair the damage. Others sat by the roadside and watched in sullen
despair the steady accumulation of troops in their valley, which had
been the only result of their appeal to arms.

It is no exaggeration to say, that perhaps half the tribesmen who
attacked the Malakand, had thought that the soldiers there, were the
only troops that the Sirkar [The Government] possessed. "Kill these,"
they said, "and all is done." What did they know of the distant
regiments which the telegraph wires were drawing, from far down in the
south of India? Little did they realise they had set the world humming;
that military officers were hurrying 7000 miles by sea and land from
England, to the camps among the mountains; that long trains were
carrying ammunition, material and supplies from distant depots to the
front; that astute financiers were considering in what degree their
action had affected the ratio between silver and gold, or that sharp
politicians were wondering how the outbreak in Swat might be made to
influence the impending bye-elections. These ignorant tribesmen had no
conception of the sensitiveness of modern civilisation, which thrills
and quivers in every part of its vast and complex system at the
slightest touch.

They only saw the forts and camps on the Malakand Pass and the swinging
bridge across the river.

While the people of Lower Swat, deserted by the Mad Mullah, and
confronted with the two brigades, were completely humbled and subdued,
the Upper Swatis, encouraged by their priests, and, as they believed,
safe behind their "gate," assumed a much more independent air. They sent
to inquire what terms the Government would offer, and said they would
consider the matter. Their contumacious attitude, induced the political
officers to recommend the movement of troops through their country, to
impress them with the determination and power of the Sirkar.

The expedition into the Upper Swat Valley was accordingly sanctioned,
and Sir Bindon Blood began making the necessary preparations for the
advance. The prospects of further fighting were eagerly welcomed by the
troops, and especially by those who had arrived too late for the relief
of Chakdara, and had had thus far, only long and dusty marches to
perform. There was much speculation and excitement as to what units
would be selected, every one asserting that his regiment was sure to go;
that it was their turn; and that if they were not taken it would be a
great shame.

Sir Bindon Blood had however already decided. He had concentrated a
considerable force at Amandara in view of a possible advance, and as
soon as the movement was sanctioned organised the column as follows:--

                      1st Brigade.
     Commanding--Brigadier-General Meiklejohn.
       Royal West Kent Regiment.
       24th Punjaub Infantry.
       31st    "       "
       45th Sikhs

     With the following divisional troops:--
       10th Field Battery.
       No.7 British Mountain Battery.
       "  8 Bengal     "       "
       "  5 Company Madras Sappers and Miners.
       2 Squadrons Guides Cavalry.
       4    "      11th Bengal Lancers.

This force amounted to an available fighting strength of 3500 rifles and
sabres, with eighteen guns. Supplies for twelve days were carried, and
the troops proceeded on "the 80 lb. scale" of baggage, which means, that
they did not take tents, and a few other comforts and conveniences.

Before the force started, a sad event occurred. On the 12th of August,
Lieut.-Colonel J. Lamb, who had been wounded on the night of the 26th of
July, died. An early amputation might have saved his life; but this
was postponed in the expectation that the Rontgen Rays would enable the
bullet to be extracted. The Rays arrived from India after some delay.
When they reached Malakand, the experiment was at once made. It was
found, however, that the apparatus had been damaged in coming up, and no
result was obtained. Meanwhile mortification had set in, and the gallant
soldier died on the Sunday, from the effects of an amputation which he
was then too weak to stand. His thigh bone had been completely shattered
by the bullet. He had seen service in Afghanistan and the Zhob Valley
and had been twice mentioned in despatches.

On the 14th Sir Bindon Blood joined the special force, and moved it on
the 16th to Thana, a few miles further up the valley. At the same time
he ordered Brigadier-General Wodehouse to detach a small column in the
direction of the southern passes of Buner. The Highland Light Infantry,
No.3 Company Bombay Sappers and Miners, and one squadron of the 10th
Bengal Lancers accordingly marched from Mardan, where the 3rd Brigade
then was, to Rustum. By this move they threatened the Bunerwals and
distracted their attention from the Upper Swat Valley. Having thus
weakened the enemy, Sir Bindon Blood proceeded to force the "Gate of
Swat."

On the evening of the 16th, a reconnaissance by the 11th Bengal Lancers,
under Major Beatson, revealed the fact, that the Landakai position was
strongly held by the enemy. Many standards were displayed, and on
the approach of the cavalry, shots were fired all along the line. The
squadron retired at once, and reported the state of affairs. The general
decided to attack at day-break.

At 6.30 A.M. on the 17th, the cavalry moved off, and soon came in
contact with the tribesmen in some Buddhist ruins near a village, called
Jalala. A skirmish ensued. Meanwhile the infantry were approaching. The
main position of the enemy was displayed. All along the crest of the
spur of Landakai could be seen a fringe of standards, dark against
the sky. Beneath them the sword blades of the tribesmen glinted in the
sunlight. A long line of stone sungars crowned the ridge, and behind the
enemy clustered thickly. It is estimated that over 5000 were present.

It is not difficult to realise what a strong position this was. On the
left of the troops was an unfordable river. On their right the mountains
rose steeply. In front was the long ridge held by the enemy. The only
road up the valley was along the causeway, between the ridge and the
river. To advance further, it was necessary to dislodge the enemy from
the ridge. Sir Bindon Blood rode forward, reconnoitered the ground, and
made his dispositions.

To capture the position by a frontal attack would involve heavy loss.
The enemy were strongly posted, and the troops would be exposed to a
heavy fire in advancing. On the other hand, if the ridge could once be
captured, the destruction of the tribesmen was assured. Their position
was good, only as long as they held it. The moment of defeat would be
the moment of ruin. The reason was this. The ground behind the ridge
was occupied by swampy rice fields, and the enemy could only retire very
slowly over it. Their safe line of retreat lay up the spur, and on to
the main line of hills. They were thus formed with their line of retreat
in prolongation of their front. This is, of course, tactically one of
the worst situations that people can get into.

Sir Bindon Blood, who knew what the ground behind the ridge was like,
perceived at once how matters stood, and made his plans accordingly. He
determined to strike at the enemy's left, thus not only turning their
flank, but cutting off their proper line of retreat. If once his troops
held the point, where the long ridge ran into the main hills, all the
tribesmen who had remained on the ridge would be caught. He accordingly
issued orders as follows:--

The Royal West Kent were to mask the front and occupy the attention
of the enemy. The rest of the infantry, viz., 24th and 31st Punjaub
Infantry and the 45th Sikhs, were to ascend the hills to the right, and
deliver a flank attack on the head of the ridge. The cavalry were to be
held in readiness to dash forward along the causeway--to repair which a
company of sappers was posted--as soon as the enemy were driven off the
ridge which commanded it, and pursue them across the rice fields into
the open country beyond. The whole of the powerful artillery was to come
into action at once.

The troops then advanced. The Royal West Kent Regiment began the fight,
by driving some of the enemy from the Buddhist ruins on a small spur in
advance of the main position. The 10th Field Battery had been left
in rear in case the guns might stick in the narrow roads near Thana
village. It had, however, arrived safely, and now trotted up, and at
8.50 A.M. opened fire on the enemy's position and at a stone fort, which
they occupied strongly. A few minutes later No.7 Mountain Battery came
into action from the spur, which the Royal West Kent had taken. A heavy
artillery fire thus prepared the way for the attack. The great shells
of the Field Artillery astounded the tribesmen, who had never before
witnessed the explosion of a twelve-pound projectile. The two mountain
batteries added to their discomfiture. Many fled during the first
quarter of an hour of the bombardment. All the rest took cover on the
reverse slope and behind their sungars.

Meanwhile the flank attack was developing. General Meiklejohn and
his infantry were climbing up the steep hillside, and moving steadily
towards the junction of the ridge with the main hill. At length the
tribesmen on the spur perceived the danger that was threatening them.
They felt the grip on their line of retreat. They had imagined that the
white troops would try and force their path along the causeway, and had
massed considerable reserves at the lower end of the ridge. All these
now realised that they were in great danger of being cut off. They
were on a peninsula, as it were, while the soldiers were securing the
isthmus. They accordingly began streaming along the ridge towards the
left, at first with an idea of meeting the flank attack, but afterwards,
as the shell fire grew hotter, and the musketry increased, only in the
hope of retreat. Owing to the great speed with which the mountaineers
move about the hills, most of them were able to escape before the flank
attack could cut them off. Many however, were shot down as they fled,
or were killed by the artillery fire. A few brave men charged the 31st
Punjaub Infantry, but were all destroyed.

Seeing the enemy in full flight, Sir Bindon Blood ordered the Royal West
Kent to advance against the front of the now almost deserted ridge. The
British infantry hurrying forward climbed the steep hill and captured
the stone sungars. From this position they established touch with the
flank attack, and the whole force pursued the flying tribesmen with
long-range fire.

The "Gate of Swat" had been forced. It was now possible for troops to
advance along the causeway. This had, however, been broken in various
places by the enemy. The sappers and miners hastened forward to
repair it. While this was being done, the cavalry had to wait in mad
impatience, knowing that their chance lay in the plains beyond. As soon
as the road was sufficiently repaired to allow them to pass in single
file, they began struggling along it, and emerged at the other end of
the causeway in twos and threes.

An incident now ensued, which, though it afforded an opportunity for a
splendid act of courage, yet involved an unnecessary loss of life,
and must be called disastrous. As the cavalry got clear of the broken
ground, the leading horsemen saw the tribesmen swiftly running towards
the hills, about a mile distant. Carried away by the excitement of
the pursuit, and despising the enemy for their slight resistance, they
dashed impetuously forward in the hope of catching them before they
could reach the hills.

Lieutenant-Colonel Adams, on entering the plain, saw at once that if he
could seize a small clump of trees near a cemetery, he would be able to
bring effective dismounted fire to bear on the retreating tribesmen.
He therefore collected as many men as possible, and with Lieutenant
Maclean, and Lord Fincastle, the Times correspondent, rode in the
direction of these points. Meanwhile Captain Palmer, who commanded the
leading squadron, and Lieutenant Greaves of the Lancashire Fusiliers,
who was acting war correspondent of the Times of India, galloped across
the rice fields after the enemy. The squadron, unable to keep up,
straggled out in a long string, in the swampy ground.

At the foot of the hills the ground was firmer, and reaching this, the
two officers recklessly dashed in among the enemy. It is the spirit that
loses the Empire many lives, but has gained it many battles. But the
tribesmen, who had been outmanoeuvred rather than outfought, turned
savagely on their pursuers. The whole scene was witnessed by the troops
on the ridge. Captain Palmer cut down a standard-bearer. Another man
attacked him. Raising his arm for a fresh stroke, his wrist was smashed
by a bullet. Another killed his horse. Lieutenant Greaves, shot through
the body, fell at the same moment to the ground. The enemy closed around
and began hacking him, as he lay, with their swords. Captain Palmer
tried to draw his revolver. At this moment two sowars got clear of
the swampy rice fields, and at once galloped, shouting, to the rescue,
cutting and slashing at the tribesmen. All would have been cut to pieces
or shot down. The hillside was covered with the enemy. The wounded
officers lay at the foot. They were surrounded. Seeing this
Lieutenant-Colonel Adams and Lord Fincastle, with Lieutenant Maclean
and two or three sowars, dashed to their assistance. At their charge
the tribesmen fell back a little way and opened a heavy fire. Lord
Fincastle's horse was immediately shot and he fell to the ground.
Rising, he endeavoured to lift the wounded Greaves on to Colonel Adams'
saddle, but at this instant a second bullet struck that unfortunate
officer, killing him instantly. Colonel Adams was slightly, and
Lieutenant Maclean mortally, wounded while giving assistance, and all
the horses but two were shot. In spite of the terrible fire, the body of
Lieutenant Greaves and the other two wounded officers were rescued and
carried to the little clump of trees.

For this gallant feat of arms both the surviving officers, Colonel Adams
and Lord Fincastle, were recommended for, and have since received,
the Victoria Cross. It was also officially announced, that Lieutenant
Maclean would have received it, had he not been killed. There are many,
especially on the frontier, where he was known as a fine soldier and
a good sportsman, who think that the accident of death should not have
been allowed to interfere with the reward of valour.

The extremes of fortune, which befell Lord Fincastle and Lieutenant
Greaves, may well claim a moment's consideration. Neither officer was
employed officially with the force. Both had travelled up at their own
expense, evading and overcoming all obstacles in an endeavour to see
something of war. Knights of the sword and pen, they had nothing to
offer but their lives, no troops to lead, no duties to perform, no
watchful commanding officer to report their conduct. They played for
high stakes, and Fortune never so capricious as on the field of battle,
dealt to the one the greatest honour that a soldier can hope for, as
some think, the greatest in the gift of the Crown, and to the other
Death.

The flight of the enemy terminated the action of Landakai. Thus in a few
hours and with hardly any loss, the "Gate of Swat," which the tribesmen
had regarded as impregnable, had been forced. One squadron of the
Guides cavalry, under Captain Brasier Creagh, pursuing the enemy had
a successful skirmish near the village of Abueh, and returned to camp
about 6.30 in the evening. [This officer was mentioned in despatches
for his skill and judgment in this affair; but he is better known on the
frontier for his brilliant reconnaissance towards Mamani, a month later,
in which in spite of heavy loss he succeeded in carrying out General
Hammond's orders and obtained most valuable information.] During the
fight about 1000 tribesmen had threatened the baggage column, but these
were but poor-spirited fellows, for they retired after a short skirmish
with two squadrons of the 11th Bengal Lancers, with a loss of twenty
killed and wounded. The total casualties of the day were as follows:--

                          BRITISH OFFICERS.
     Killed--Lieutenant R.T. Greaves, Lancs. Fusiliers.
       "          "     H.L.S. Maclean, Guides.
     Wounded severely--Captain M.E. Palmer, Guides.
     Wounded slightly--Lieutenant-Colonel R.B. Adams, Guides.
                      NATIVE RANKS--Wounded--5.
                       FOLLOWERS--Wounded--2.
                       Total Casualties--11.


It must be remembered, that but for the incident which resulted in the
deaths of the officers, and which Sir Bindon Blood described in his
official despatch as an "unfortunate contretemps," the total casualties
would have only been seven wounded. That so strong a position should
have been captured with so little loss, is due, firstly, to the
dispositions of the general; and secondly, to the power of the artillery
which he had concentrated. The account of the first attempt to storm
the Dargai position on the 20th of October, before it had been shaken
by artillery fire, when the Dorsetshire Regiment suffered severe loss,
roused many reflections among those who had witnessed the action of
Landakai.

The next morning, the 18th, the force continued their march up the
valley of the Upper Swat. The natives, thoroughly cowed, offered no
further opposition and sued for peace. Their losses at Landakai were
ascertained to have exceeded 500, and they realised that they had no
chance against the regular troops, when these were enabled to use their
powerful weapons.

As the troops advanced up the fertile and beautiful valley, all were
struck by the numerous ruins of the ancient Buddhists. Here in former
times were thriving cities, and civilised men. Here, we learn from
Fa-hien, [Record Of Buddhistic Kingdoms. Translated by James Legge,
M.A., LL.D.] were "in all 500 Sangharamas," or monasteries. At these
monasteries the law of hospitality was thus carried out: "When stranger
bhikshus (begging monks) arrive at one of them, their wants are supplied
for three days, after which they are told to find a resting-place for
themselves." All this is changed by time. The cities are but ruins.
Savages have replaced the civilised, bland-looking Buddhists, and the
traveller who should apply for hospitality, would be speedily shown
"a resting-place," which would relieve his hosts from further trouble
concerning him.

"There is a tradition," continues the intrepid monk, who travelled
through some of the wildest countries of the earth in the darkest ages
of its history, "that when Buddha came to North India, he came to this
country, and that he left a print of his foot, which is long or short
according to the ideas of the beholder." Although the learned Fa-hien
asserts that "it exists, and the same thing is true about it at the
present day," the various cavalry reconnaissances failed to discover it,
and we must regretfully conclude that it has also been obliterated by
the tides of time. Here too, says this Buddhistic Baedeker, is still to
be seen the rock on which "He dried his clothes; and the place where He
converted the wicked dragon (Naga)." "The rock is fourteen cubits high
and more than twenty broad, with one side of it smooth." This may well
be believed; but there are so many rocks of all dimensions that the
soldiers were unable to make certain which was the scene of the dragon's
repentance, and Buddha's desiccation.

His companions went on ahead towards Jellalabad, or some city in that
locality, but Fa-hien, charmed with the green and fertile beauties
of "the park," remained in the pleasant valley and "kept the summer
retreat." Then he descended into the land of So-hoo-to, which is perhaps
Buner.

Even in these busy, practical, matter-of-fact, modern times, where
nothing is desirable unless economically sound, it is not unprofitable
for a moment to raise the veil of the past, and take a glimpse of the
world as it was in other days. The fifth century of the Christian era
was one of the most gloomy and dismal periods in the history of mankind.
The Great Roman Empire was collapsing before the strokes of such as
Alaric the Goth, Attila the Hun, and Genseric the Vandal. The art and
valour of a classical age had sunk in that deluge of barbarism which
submerged Europe. The Church was convulsed by the Arian controversy.
That pure religion, which it should have guarded, was defiled with the
blood of persecution and degraded by the fears of superstition. Yet,
while all these things afflicted the nations of the West, and seemed
to foreshadow the decline or destruction of the human species, the wild
mountains of Northern India, now overrun by savages more fierce than
those who sacked Rome, were occupied by a placid people, thriving,
industrious, and intelligent; devoting their lives to the attainment
of that serene annihilation which the word nirvana expresses. When we
reflect on the revolutions which time effects, and observe how the home
of learning and progress changes as the years pass by, it is impossible
to avoid the conclusion, perhaps a mournful one, that the sun of
civilisation can never shine all over the world at once.

On the 19th, the force reached Mingaora, and here for five days they
waited in an agreeable camp, to enable Major Deane to receive the
submission of the tribes. These appeared much humbled by their defeats,
and sought to propitiate the troops by bringing in supplies of grain and
forage. Over 800 arms of different descriptions were surrendered during
the halt. A few shots were fired into the camp on the night of the
arrival at Mingaora, but the villagers, fearing lest they should suffer,
turned out and drove the "snipers" away. On the 21st a reconnaissance
as far as the Kotke Pass afforded much valuable information as to the
nature of the country. All were struck with the beauty of the scenery,
and when on the 24th the force marched back to Barikot, they carried
away with them the memory of a beautiful valley, where the green of the
rice fields was separated from the blue of the sky by the glittering
snow peaks of the Himalayas.

While the troops rested at Barikot, Sir Bindon Blood personally
reconnoitred the Karakar Pass, which leads from the Swat Valley into the
country of the Bunerwals. The Bunerwals belong to the Yusaf section, of
the Yusafzai tribe. They are a warlike and turbulent people. To their
valley, after the suppression of the Indian Mutiny, many of the Sepoys
and native officers who had been in revolt fled for refuge. Here, partly
by force and partly by persuasion, they established themselves.
They married women of the country and made a settlement. In 1863 the
Bunerwals came into collision with the British Government and much
severe fighting ensued, known to history as the Ambeyla Campaign. The
refugees from India renewed their quarrel with the white troops with
eagerness, and by their extraordinary courage and ferocity gained the
name of the "Hindustani Fanatics." At the cost of thirty-six officers
and eight hundred men Buner was subdued. The "Crag Picket" was taken
for the last time by the 101st Fusiliers, and held till the end of the
operations. Elephants, brought at great expense from India, trampled the
crops. Most of the "Hindustani Fanatics" perished in the fighting. The
Bunerwals accepted the Government terms, and the troops retired. Since
then, in 1868, in 1877 and again in 1884 they raided border villages,
but on the threat of an expedition paid a fine and made good the damage.
The reputation they have enjoyed since their stout resistance in 1863,
has enabled them to take a leading position among the frontier tribes;
and they have availed themselves of this to foment and aggravate several
outbreaks against the British. Their black and dark-blue clothes had
distinguished them from the other assailants of Malakand and Chakdara.
They had now withdrawn to their valley and thence defied the Government
and refused all terms.

As Sir Bindon Blood and his escort approached the top of the pass, a few
shots were fired by the watchers there, but there was no opposition. All
the Bunerwals had hurried over to defend the southern entrances to
their country, which they conceived were in danger of attack from
Brigadier-General Wodehouse's force at Rustum. The general reached the
Kotal, and saw the whole valley beneath him. Great villages dotted the
plains and the aspect was fertile and prosperous.

The unguarded Karakar Pass was practicable for troops, and if the
Government would give their consent, Buner might be reduced in a
fortnight without difficulty, almost without fighting.

Telegrams were despatched to India on the subject, and after much delay
and hesitation the Viceroy decided against the recommendation of
his victorious general. Though the desirability of settling with the
Bunerwals was fully admitted, the Government shrank from the risk. The
Malakand Field Force thus remained idle for nearly a fortnight. The
news, that the Sirkar had feared to attack Buner, spread like wildfire
along the frontier, and revived the spirits of the tribes. They fancied
they detected a sign of weakness. Nor were they altogether wrong. But
the weakness was moral rather than physical.

It is now asserted, that the punishment of Buner is only postponed,
and that a few months may see its consummation. [Written in 1897.] The
opportunity of entering the country without having to force the passes
may not, however, recur.

On the 26th of August the force returned to Thana, and the expedition
into Upper Swat terminated.

[The following is the most trustworthy estimate obtainable of loss of
life among the tribesmen in the fighting in the Swat Valley from 26th
July to 17th August. The figures include wounded, who have since died,
and are more than double those killed outright in the actions:--

  1. Lower Swat Pathans...  700 Buried in the graveyards.
  2. Upper  "      "   ...  600   "     "  "      "
  3. Buner proper . ...  500   "     "  "      "
  4. Utman Khel   . ...   80
  5. Yusafzai. . ...   50
  6. Other tribes . ...  150
               Total--2080.

 1, 2 and 3 are the result of recent inquiry on the spot.
 4, 5 and 6 are estimates based on native information.

The proportion of killed and died of wounds to wounded would be very
high, as the tribes have little surgical or medical knowledge and
refused all offers of aid. Assuming that only an equal number were
wounded and recovered, the total loss would be approximately 4000. A
check is obtained by comparing these figures with the separate estimates
for each action:--

  Malakand....     700
  Siege of Chakdara..   2000
  Relief "    "   ..     500
  Action of Landakai..     500
               Total--3700.





CHAPTER VIII: THE ADVANCE AGAINST THE MOHMANDS



The beginning of this chapter must mark a change in the standpoint from
which the story is told. Hitherto the course of events has been recorded
in the impersonal style of history. But henceforward I am able to rely
on my own memory as well as on other people's evidence. [I do not
desire to bore the reader or depreciate the story by the introduction
of personal matters. It will be sufficient if, in the interests of
coherency, I explain my connection with the Malakand Field Force. Having
realised, that if a British cavalry officer waits till he is ordered on
active service, he is likely to wait a considerable time, I obtained six
weeks' leave of absence from my regiment, and on the 2nd of September
arrived at Malakand as press correspondent of the PIONEER and DAILY
TELEGRAPH, and in the hope of being sooner or later attached to the
force in a military capacity.] It may be doubtful whether an historical
record gains or loses value when described by an eye-witness. From the
personal point of view, all things appear in a gradual perspective,
according to the degree in which they affect the individual; and we are
so prone to exaggerate the relative importance of incidents, which we
see, over those we hear about, that what the narrative gains in accuracy
of detail, it may lose in justness of proportion. In so nice a question
I shall not pronounce. I remember that the original object with which
this book was undertaken, was to present a picture of the war on the
North-West Frontier to the Englishmen at home; a picture which should
not only exist, but be looked at; and I am inclined to think, that this
end will be more easily attained by the adoption of a style of personal
narrative. Many facts, too local, too specialised, too insignificant,
for an historical record, and yet which may help the reader to form a
true impression of the scene and situation, are thus brought within
the compass of these pages. The account becomes more graphic if less
imposing, more vivid if less judicial. As long as each step down from
the "dignity of history" is accompanied by a corresponding increase
in interest, we may pursue without compunction that pleasant, if
descending, path.

The ninth chapter also introduces a new phase of the operations of the
force. The Mohmands now become the enemy and the scene is changed from
Swat to Bajaur. Before marching into their country, it will be desirable
to consider briefly those causes and events which induced the Government
of India to despatch an expedition against this powerful and warlike
tribe.


The tidal wave of fanaticism, which had swept the frontier, had
influenced the Mohmands, as all other border peoples. Their situation
was, however, in several important respects, different from that of the
natives of the Swat Valley. These Mohmands had neither been irritated
nor interfered with in any way. No military road ran through their
territory. No fortified posts stirred their animosity or threatened
their independence. Had they respected in others the isolation which
they themselves have so long enjoyed, they might have remained for an
indefinite period in that state of degraded barbarism which seems to
appeal so strongly to certain people in England. They became, however,
the aggressors.

In the heart of the wild and dismal mountain region, in which these
fierce tribesmen dwell, are the temple and village of Jarobi: the one
a consecrated hovel, the other a fortified slum. This obscure and
undisturbed retreat was the residence of a priest of great age and
of peculiar holiness, known to fame as the Hadda Mullah. His name is
Najb-ud-din, but as respect has prevented it being mentioned by the
tribesmen for nearly fifty years, it is only preserved in infidel
memories and records. The Government of India have, however, had this
man'

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