POLITICAL COMPLICATIONS—END OF THE WAR

The preceding remarks will be sufficient to give a general idea of the difficulties, both military and political, which had ensued on our crossing the border. The situation was undoubtedly grave. Major James, the commissioner, wrote, that it was a truly formidable and dangerous combination, and that immediate action was necessary to save the Government from a war involving us not only with all the tribes on the border, but also in all probability with Afghanistan. The Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, Sir Robert Montgomery, had doubtless long and anxiously considered the untoward aspect of affairs; and at length, when the telegrams arrived announcing the severe actions just described, he looked upon the matter as so serious, that he was actually prepared to order an immediate withdrawal of the whole force to the plains; and in this view he was supported by some members of the Viceroy's Council; in fact an order to that effect was sent to the Commander-in-Chief. What Sir Hugh Rose thought of the proposition is plain enough. In the first place he remonstrated against the withdrawal, pointing out the danger of such a policy and the loss of prestige which would result. In the next he ordered large reinforcements to proceed by forced marches to the frontier, so that the great northern road from Lahore to Peshawur was crowded with cavalry, artillery, and infantry, all hurrying upwards. At the beginning of December there were five-and-twenty thousand men north of the Jhelum.

Soon after my arrival at Lahore in November, I had written to my old friend Sir William Denison at Madras, giving him a short description of the state of affairs.[61] On November 20 Lord Elgin died, and Sir William, as the senior governor present in India, was summoned by telegraph to Calcutta, and assumed temporarily the functions of Viceroy. His reply to my letter is dated Calcutta, December 7, and is interesting as giving his views on the situation.

It is as follows:—

'My dear Adye,—Thanks for your letter. I got the whole of the papers relating to the business in the North-west on my way up the river, and spent my time in reading them and making notes. It is hardly worth while to say anything about the commencement of the affair beyond this, that if any move was to have been made at all, the plan proposed by Sir H. Rose was clearly that which should have been adopted. With reference, however, to the future, I trust I have been in time to check further evil.... I found an order had been sent to the Commander-in-Chief, telling him that their wish was that the force should be withdrawn, thrusting upon the Commander-in-Chief the responsibility of deciding not only the mode of doing this, and the time, but also that of determining whether such a move would peril our reputation. The first step I took was to press for a modification of the order. I pointed out that it was unfair to the Commander-in-Chief; and that, as we had a sufficient force, it would be decidedly impolitic to withdraw, until we had accomplished the design for which we had made our inroad into the country. After a good deal of talk, I carried with me the majority of the council, and it was decided to bring the Bonairs to terms before withdrawing the troops. To leave without doing this would almost insure another campaign in the spring, and this would be expensive and useless. I trust that our orders may arrive in time to prevent any hasty move to the rear.'[62]

attock

GOING TO THE WAR. CROSSING THE INDUS AT ATTOCK, NOVEMBER 1863

Many days, however, before I received Sir William's letter, circumstances had occurred at Lahore which led to my making a long and rapid journey of several hundred miles northwards, and joining the force in the mountains during the remainder of the war.

On November 19 Sir Hugh spoke to me of his difficulties and of the suggested retreat, which seemed both impolitic and unnecessary. The letters and telegrams received from the front were, however, necessarily somewhat short and hasty, and did not give full details of the position; and I offered my services as a staff officer, to pay a rapid visit to Chamberlain, hear his views, take a personal survey of the country, and then return. The Commander-in-Chief accepted my offer, and also selected Major Roberts,[63] who knew the people and the language, to accompany me. He was a delightful companion. On the evening of the 20th we left Lahore on the mail cart, placing the driver behind, and ourselves driving each stage alternately. We galloped up the trunk road all night, and all the next day, crossing the Ravee, the Chenab, and the Jhelum, and were nearly done up from want of sleep, when we fortunately drove into the camp of a battery of Horse Artillery and obtained a few hours' rest. Before daylight we were off again, passed through Rawul-Pindee, and in the afternoon crossed the Indus by a bridge of boats close under the old Mogul fortress of Attock; and at sunset on the second day our long drive of nearly 300 miles came to an end at Nowshera, on the Cabul river, where the officers of a battery under Captain Nairne, R.A.,[64] hospitably received us. Until our arrival at Nowshera, we had not heard of the latest fight at the Crag Picket, and that Chamberlain and Hope were severely wounded. In the meantime horses had been laid out for our use across the plains of Eusofzye; and, crossing the Cabul river, we galloped about thirty miles, passing numerous detachments of Seiks and Pathans, with elephants and camels, and on the evening of November 23 reached the camp of Major Probyn,[65] in command of a native cavalry regiment at the foot of the mountains. The weather was fine but cold, and altogether the long journey was very enjoyable.

Sir Neville Chamberlain's force was about ten miles distant on the heights of the Mahabun, whose ridges run up to 8,000 feet. Our instructions were urgent, and we were very anxious to be off. Probyn, however, whose troops were patrolling the frontier, pointed out that the communications were uncertain, and that the road, such as it was, was only opened occasionally by armed convoys taking up food and munitions to the front. However, as delay was unadvisable, after considering the matter, he said: 'You can, if you like, go up with the "catch-em-alive-ohs."' I inquired who these interesting people were, and his reply was that they were Afghans—in fact, the same people we were fighting against; but he added that these were friendly and in our pay, and would take care of us. He had them paraded for our inspection. These 'catch-em-alive-ohs' were a rough, handsome, picturesque lot of fellows, armed with old matchlocks, shields, and short knives, and seemed very good-natured and friendly; so, in default of better, we determined on accepting their escort, and away we went, accompanied by the Reverend Mr. Cowie, afterwards Bishop of New Zealand. The mountain was steep and rugged, and the route a mere goat path, so that our progress was slow. After climbing for some miles, we suddenly observed a large number of people on a high, distant ridge, but whether friends or enemies was not so certain. The body of a native just killed was lying in the path. At that moment a messenger ran up bringing me a small note in pencil, and reading it hastily I made it out to be 'the road is now safe, push on as fast as you can.' This was satisfactory, but on looking more carefully we found the message really was, 'the road is not safe, push on,' &c. This rather altered the conditions; but fortunately the men we had observed on the heights were a party of Goorkas, and the note was from the officer in command, who was looking out for us, so that our journey soon came to an end, and we arrived safely in camp.

The next morning I paid a visit to Chamberlain. We had been cadets together many years before at Woolwich, but he left the Academy before obtaining a commission, joining the Bengal army, and we had never met since those early days. His wound, however, was severe and his condition serious, so that I was unable to discuss the position of affairs with him, as had been intended, and in a few days he was carried down to the plains. I found a strong and unanimous feeling amongst the officers against any withdrawal. Although the tribes were in great force in the valley, with their standards flying, it was evident that we only required reinforcements; and that a movement in advance would soon scatter the brave but badly armed, undisciplined hosts of our mountain foes. I lost no time in sending day by day, detailed reports, sketches, and plans of the position to Sir Hugh Rose, urging also the necessity for an early forward movement, and in reply received an order by telegraph, to remain with the force until the termination of the war.

The scenery all round us from our elevated camp was very varied, and had many elements of grandeur. Looking back to the south through the dark defiles of the pass, we could see the fertile plain of Eusofzye stretching away to the Indus and Cabul rivers, whilst in front the sheltered Chumla valley and the village of Umbeylah were lying beneath us; and away in the distance to the north, high ranges of mountains, capped by the snowy peaks of the Hindoo Koosh, closed in the horizon. Owing to the success which had been achieved on several occasions by the tribes in capturing our outlying breastworks—due, perhaps, in some cases, to want of vigilance on our part—strict instructions had been given that our pickets were to hold their ground at all hazards; and on one occasion a soldier coming on duty was heard to say to his comrade, 'Well, Jim, what's the orders at this post?' and Jim replied, 'Why, the orders is, you're never to leave it till you're killed, and if you see any other man leaving it, you're to kill him.'

Our life was a very open-air kind of existence, a sort of prolonged picnic, and we lived partly in small tents and partly in caves, always sleeping in our clothes; our dinners such as they were, being cooked and laid out on the rocks. The Afghans perched themselves about, and now and then made long shots at us with their matchlocks. One old fellow took up his position every day on an elevated spot, on the other side of the pass, at a distance, and watched the proceedings. Our men frequently fired at him, but apparently without effect; so at last they gave it up, and nicknamed him 'Oh! Willie, we have missed you.' There was another peculiarity amongst the tribes which is, perhaps, unusual in warfare. Some of our native troops, when on isolated pickets at night, used to pass away the dreary hours by singing some of their national airs; and the enemy, apparently not wishing to be left out, would cheerily join in the chorus.

peak

AFGHAN FRONTIER CAMPAIGN. STORMING THE CONICAL PEAK, DECEMBER 1863

At the end of November General Garvock[66] arrived, taking command of the expedition; and during the next few days considerable reinforcements marched up from the plains, including amongst others the 7th Fusiliers, the 93rd Highlanders, and Probyn's Horse, 400 strong. Our total force was over 8,000 men, with 16 light guns, some carried on elephants and the rest on mules. The men of the tribes, no doubt, were quite aware of these accessions to our strength; and although Guzzhan Khan, from the distant province of Dher, had joined them with 6,000 followers, they hesitated to attack our position, which was now strongly entrenched and vigilantly guarded. Early in December a small deputation of Bonair chiefs came into camp to confer with Major James, the commissioner, with a view to peace; and after a parley withdrew to consult the other tribes as to the terms we offered; which were the destruction of Mulka, and that the fanatics should no longer be harboured and protected by the Afghans. We could hardly demand less. It was understood that there were considerable dissensions amongst the native chiefs, and on the afternoon of December 14 a solitary messenger returned, stating that our proposals were rejected. It was also known that an attack by the combined tribes was imminent on the morrow.

The moment of action had at length arrived. General Garvock, forestalling the intentions of the enemy, assembled a force of 5,000 men, including the 7th and 101st Fusiliers, at daylight near the Crag picket, leaving the remainder to guard the camp, and at 8 A.M. led off his troops along the ridges to the attack. About two miles beyond the Crag stood the small village of Laloo, and a few hundred yards in front of it, one of the great spurs running up from the Chumla valley, terminated in a lofty peak dominating the whole ridge. On this natural stronghold the men of the tribes had established themselves in great force, flying their standards, and prepared to abide the last issues of war. The ordinary difficulties of the ascent had been increased by numerous 'sungas' (breastworks), so that it was a formidable position to take by assault. Our skirmishers, who had easily driven in the outlying mountaineers, then halted about 600 yards in front of and looking up at the conical peak, and, supported by the mountain guns, waited for the arrival of the main body.

These mountain batteries rendered great service during the war. Their light ordnance, carriages, and ammunition being all carried on mule back, they are thus independent of roads, can accompany infantry over any ground, and come into action on the most restricted space. As the several regiments came up they sought a momentary shelter in the broken ground, and when all was ready, General Garvock sounded the 'advance.' At that signal 5,000 men rose from their cover, and with loud cheers and volleys of musketry, rushed to the assault; the regiments of Pathans, Seiks, and Goorkas vieing with the English soldiers as to who should first reach the enemy. From behind every rock and shrub at the foot of the peak small parties of mountaineers jumped up, and fled as the advancing columns approached. It took but a few minutes to cross the open ground, and then the steep ascent began, our men having to climb from rock to rock, and their formation necessarily becoming much broken. Foremost among the many could be distinguished the scarlet uniforms of the 101st Fusiliers, who, led by Colonel Salisbury, steadily swarmed up the mountain and captured the defences in succession at the point of the bayonet, the enemy's standards dropping as their outworks fell; whilst here and there the prostrate figures of our men scattered about the rocks, proved that the hill-men were striking hard to the last. Nothing, however, could withstand the impetuosity of the assault, and ere many minutes had elapsed the conical peak from foot to summit was in the possession of British soldiers. I had the misfortune during the assault to fall over a large rock, seriously injuring my right knee and tearing the ligaments, becoming for the moment incapable of climbing; but by the help of a mule, lent from one of the batteries, managed to reach the crest of the mountain. Our panting troops still pushed on, captured the village of Laloo, and the mountaineers were then driven headlong in thousands, down the steep glades, through the pine forests to the Chumla valley, many hundred feet below.

This was the first general defeat the enemy had experienced, and they were not left long to recover from its effects. At daylight the next morning our troops were again in movement; one brigade marching down direct on Umbeylah, accompanied by Probyn's cavalry, who, however, had to lead their horses down the precipitous slopes until they reached the valley. In the meantime the other brigade descended from Laloo and deployed at the foot. The tribes, although at first they seemed inclined to make a stand, gradually fell back. The brigade from Laloo followed them up, passed the village of Umbeylah, and approached the hills leading to Bonair. The enemy, who had been lying concealed in the ravines and broken ground, suddenly rushed out, sword in hand, wildly attacked one of our Seik regiments, and for the moment even penetrated its ranks. The Seiks, however, were rallied by their officers, and supported by the 7th Fusiliers, and the enemy in a few minutes were driven back with great loss. In the meantime three field guns, under Captain Griffin, R.A., which had been brought down on elephants, got into action and shelled the crowded heights, the tribes withdrawing out of range. Our losses during the two days were: one officer killed,[67] four wounded, and there were 172 casualties amongst the men. As all tents and baggage had been left on the mountain, we bivouacked for the night outside Umbeylah, which was set on fire. The weather unfortunately was wet and cold, so that lying in the open wrapped up in a blanket was not luxurious; and, to add to my discomfort, all at once I felt what seemed to be a snake crawling about my legs. Having with difficulty obtained a lighted match, I suddenly threw aside the blanket, when a huge black rat darted out, but, as I found the next morning, had eaten large holes in my only pair of trousers, so that I presented altogether a somewhat damp and dilapidated appearance. These, however, were but minor incidents in a very interesting campaign.

The effect of our vigorous movements on the 15th and 16th was immediate and decisive. The men of Bajour and Dher, who had come so far and were so eager for war, now fled to their native fastnesses. The Akoond and his followers were no more to be seen; and the chiefs of Bonair, relieved from the presence of overbearing allies, came into camp the next day to discuss terms of peace. Under ordinary circumstances a force of sufficient strength would no doubt have been sent forward to drive away the original offenders, and to destroy their chief village—Mulka. But the Punjab Government were anxious to limit the scope of the expedition, and to withdraw from the mountains. Consequently a somewhat hazardous compromise ensued; Colonel Reynell Taylor, the commissioner, proceeding with one native regiment, about 400 strong, accompanied by an escort of the Bonairs, to burn the distant village. Roberts and myself, being anxious to visit a part of the country hitherto unexplored, joined the party. The first day's march, on December 20, was along the Chumla Valley to Kooria. We saw little of our new friends the Bonairs, but the inhabitants were civil and met our requirements as to food; the next morning we commenced our long and toilsome march up the mountain to Mulka; which proved to be a large, new, well-built village of wood, where we remained for the night. The inhabitants had all fled. The following morning the whole place was set on fire; the hill tribes of the Mahabun, armed and in large numbers, however, watching us at a distance. The native officers of our regiment represented that the tribes were greatly exasperated, and might at any moment fire off their matchlocks and make a rush at us. However, we kept well together, and as soon as the village had been destroyed, steadily marched back to the valley, and rejoined the main force under General Garvock. On Christmas day the British troops left the mountains and once more stood on the plains of Eusofzye, the Bonairs destroying the entrenchments and breaking up the roads as we marched away.

Thus ended the frontier war of 1863. Intended at the outset as a mere excursion against fanatical robbers, who had long infested the border, it speedily grew into a considerable war, the Mohammedan tribes, under the impression that their independence was in danger, combining against us. The campaign was interesting in its military aspect, in giving experience of the extreme difficulty and expense of carrying out offensive operations in a country composed of mountain ranges, devoid of communications, and inhabited by races of men whom we may consider half civilised, but who, at all events, possess the virtues of courage, independence, and love of their country, and physically are as active and handsome a people as exists anywhere. From a political point of view the north-west frontier of India is also full of interest. After a century of conquest, with dominions now extending 1,600 miles from Calcutta to Peshawur, we have at length arrived at a region which seems marked out by nature as the boundary of our Empire. The conditions of the north-west frontier no doubt involve difficult considerations, but it seems to me clear that, whilst guarding against incursions, our policy towards our somewhat turbulent neighbours should be one of forbearance and conciliation, combined in some cases with subsidies.

As Sir Charles Wood, the Secretary of State for India, wrote in 1864: 'Our true course ought to be, not to interfere in their internal concerns, but to cultivate friendly relations with them, and to endeavour to convince them, by our forbearance and kindly conduct, that their wisest plan is to be on good terms with us, in order that they may derive those advantages from intercourse with us which are sure to follow from the interchange of commodities and mutual benefits.' It is a policy necessarily requiring patience and somewhat slow in its effect, but will in due time bring its reward, and indeed it has already done so of late years. Our trans-Indus districts, which were formerly harried by the neighbouring tribes, are now comparatively safe and prosperous; and many Afghans who have served in our ranks have returned to their native villages with pensions, and with a kindly feeling and remembrance of those under whom they have served. Before leaving this subject, it may be well to point out that there is another and a far larger question beyond that of the immediate frontier which must be kept steadily in view by the British Government, and that is our relations with the ruler of Afghanistan in connection with the advance of Russia in Central Asia. I propose, however, to defer the consideration of those important questions until a later period, when the Afghan war of 1878-9 brought matters to a crisis.