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THE  SEPOY 

EDMUND  CANDLER 


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Presented  to  the 


UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 
LIBRARY 


by  the 

ONTARIO  LEGISLATIVE 
LIBRARY 


1980 


THE   SEPOY 


BY   THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 

A  VAGABOND   IN  ASIA. 

THE  UNVEILING  OF  SHARA. 

THE   MANTLE  OF  THE   EAST, 

THE   GENERAL   PLAN. 

SIRI   RAM,  REVOLUTIONIST. 

THE  YEAR   OF  CHIVALRY. 

THE  LONG  ROAD  TO   BAGHDAD. 


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THE    SEPOY  ^jS^*^ 


BY  ^/^T-rf^^cO 

EDMUND   CANDLER  (J> 


LONDON 
JOHN    MURRAY,    ALBEMARLE    STREET,    W. 


1919  ^ 


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All  rights  reserved 


TO 

SIR   VALENTINE   CHIROL 


PREFACE 

All  these  sketches,  except  *'  The  Sikh "  and 
"  The  Drabi,"  were  written  in  Mesopotamia. 
My  aim  has  been,  without  going  too  deeply  into 
origins  and  antecedents,  to  give  as  accurate  a 
picture  as  possible  of  the  different  classes  of  sepoy. 
In  Mesopotamia  I  met  all  the  sixteen  types  in- 
cluded in  this  volume,  some  for  the  first  time. 
My  acquaintance  with  them  was  at  first  hand. 
But  neither  sympathy  nor  observation  can  initiate 
the  outsider  into  the  psychology  of  the  Indian 
soldier  ;  or  at  least  he  cannot  be  certain  of  his 
ground.  One  must  be  a  regimental  officer  to 
understand  the  sepoy,  and  then  as  a  rule  one  only 
knows  the  particular  type  one  commands. 

Therefore,  to  avoid  mistakes  and  misconcep- 
tions, everything  that  I  have  set  down  has  been 
submitted  to  authority,  and  embodies  the  opinion 
of  officers  best  qualified  to  judge — that  is  to  say,  of 
officers  who  have  passed  the  best  part  of  their 
lives  with  the  men  concerned.  Even  so  I  have 
no  doubt  that  passages  will  be  found   that   are 


viii  PREFACE 

open  to  dispute.  Authorities  disagree  ;  estimates 
must  vary,  especially  with  regard  to  the  relative 
worth  of  different  classes  ;  and  one  must  always 
bear  in  mind  that  every  company  officer  who  is 
worth  his  salt  is  persuaded  that  there  are  no 
men  like  his  own.  It  is  a  pleasing  trait  and  an 
essential  one.  For  it  is  the  sworn  confraternity 
between  the  British  and  Indian  officer,  and  the 
strong  tie  that  binds  the  sepoy  to  his  Sahib  which 
have  given  the  Indian  Army  its  traditions  and 
prestige 

All  references  and  statistics  concerning  the 
Indian  Army  will  be  found  to  relate  to  the  pre- 
war establishment  ;  and  no  class  of  sepoy  is 
included  which  has  been  enlisted  for  the  first  time 
since  19 14.  At  the  outbreak  of  war  the  strength 
of  the  Army  in  India  was  76,953  British  and 
239,561  Indian.  During  the  war  1,161,789 
Indians  were  recruited.  The  grand  total  of  all 
ranks  sent  overseas  from  India  was  1,215,338. 
The  casualties  sustained  by  the  force  were 
101,439.  Races  which  never  enlisted  before  en- 
listed freely,  and  the  Indian  Army  List  when 
published  on  the  conclusion  of  Peace  will  be 
changed  beyond  recognition. 

One  or  two  classes  I  have  omitted.  The  intro- 
duction of  the  Gujar,  Meo,  Baluchi  and  Brahui, 
for  instance,  as  separate  types,  would  be  an  error 
of  perspective  in  a  volume  this  size.     It  is  hardly 


PREFACE  ix 

necessary  to  differentiate  the  Gujar  from  the  J  at ; 
the  origin  of  the  two  races  is  much  the  same,  and 
in  appearance  they  are  not  always  distinguishable. 
The  Meo,  too,  approximates  to  the  Merat.  The 
Baluchi  proper  has  practically  ceased  to  enlist, 
and  the  sepoy  who  calls  himself  a  Baluch  is 
generally  the  descendant  of  immigrants.  There 
is  also  a  scattering  of  Brahuis  in  the  Indian  Army. 
They  and  the  Baluchis  are  of  the  same  stock, 
and  are  supposed  to  have  come  from  Aleppo 
way,  though  in  some  extraordinary  manner  which 
nobody  can  understand  the  Brahuis  have  picked 
up  a  Dravidian  accent. 

It  is  difficult,  too,  to  write  of  the  Madras! — 
Hindu,  Mussalman,  or  Christian — as  an  entity 
apart.  All  I  know  of  him  is  that  in  the  Indian 
Sappers  and  Miners  and  Pioneer  regiments,  when 
he  is  measured  with  other  classes,  his  British 
officer  speaks  of  him  as  equal  to  the  best. 

The  names  of  the  officers  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  would  make  a  long  list.  I  met  them 
in  camps,  messes,  trenches,  dugouts,  and  in  the 
open  field.  Some  are  old  friends ;  others  are 
unknown  to  me  by  name ;  many  are  unaware 
that  they  have  contributed  material  for  these 
sketches ;  and  I  can  only  thank  them  collectively 
for  their  help.  For  verification  I  have  consulted 
the  official  handbooks  of  the  Indian  Army ;  and 
for  certain  of  my  references  to  the  achievements 


X  PREFACE 

of  the  Indian  Army  in  France  I  am  indebted 
to  the  semi-official  history  ("  The  Indian  Corps 
in  France,"  by  Lieut.-Col.  J.  W.  B.  Merewether, 
C.I.E.,  and  Sir  Frederick  Smith)  published  under 
the  authority  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for  India. 
One  chapter,  "  The  Drabi,"  I  have  taken  almost 
bodily  from  my  "  Year  of  Chivalry,"  which  also 
included  the  story  of  Wariam  Singh  ;  my  thanks 
are  due  to  the  publishers,  Messrs.  Simpkin 
Marshall,  for  their  permission  to  reprint  it.  For 
the  account  of  the  Jharwas  I  am  indebted  to 
an  officer  in  a  Gurkha  regiment  who  wishes  to 
remain  anonymous.  For  illustrations  my  thanks 
are  due  to  General  Holland  Pryor,  M.V.O., 
Major  G.  W.  Thompson,  and  Lieut. -Cols.  Alban 
Wilson,  D.S.O.,  R.  C.  Wilson,  D.S.O.,  M.C, 
F.  L.  Nicholson,  D.S.O..  M.C,  H.  M.  W.  Souter, 
W.  H.  Carter,  E.  R.  P.  Berryman,  and  Mr.  T. 
W.  H.  Biddulph,  CLE 

Two  Indian  words  occur  frequently  in  these 
pages.  They  are  izzat  and  jiwan,  words  that 
are  constantly  in  the  mouths  of  officers  and 
sepoys.  "  Izzat"  is  best  rendered  by  "honour" 
or  "prestige  "  ;  "  jiwan  "  means  a  "  youngster," 
and  is  applied  to  the  rank  and  file  of  the  Indian 
Army  without  reference  to  age.  I  have  kept 
the  vernacular  forms,  as  it  is  difficult  to  find  exact 
English  equivalents,  and  much  that  is  homely 
and  familiar  in  the  words  is  lost  in  translation. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE)  I 

The  Gurkha i 

The  Sikh 26 

The  Punjabi  Mussalman 49 

The  Pathan 63 

The  Dogra 92 

The  Mahratta 104 

The  Jat 115 

The  Rajput  and  Brahman 125 

The  Garhwali 138 

The  Khattak 149 

The  Hazara 159 

The  Mer  and  Merat 170 

The  Ranghar i8i 

The  Meena 188 

The  Jharwas J92 

The  Drabi 208 

The  Santal  Labour  Corps 217 

The  Indian  Follower 227 


XI 


-T 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   fAGE 

Havildar  Chandradhoj  (Rai) 6 

Tekbahadur  Ghotam  (Khas) 6 

The  Sikh -° 

The  Punjabi  Mussalman 5° 

The  Pathan  Pipers ^4 

The  Dogra 9 

The  Konkani  Mahratta io4 

The  Dekhani  Mussalman "2 

A  Jat  Camel  Sowar ^^^ 

The  Rajput ^^° 

The  Garhwali "38 

The  Hazara ^^° 

The  Merat "7° 

The  Ranghar ^^^ 

The  Meena ^^^ 

The  Jharwa ^°° 

Bhil  Followers -3° 


XII 


THE  SEPOY 


THE    GURKHA 

So  much  has  been  written  of  the  Gurkha  and  the 
Sikh  that  officers  who  pass  their  lives  with  other 
classes  of  the  Indian  Army  are  tired  of  listening 
to  their  praises.  Their  fame  is  deserved,  but 
the  exclusiveness  of  it  was  resented  in  days  when 
one  seldom  heard  of  the  Mahratta,  Jat,  Dogra, 
and  Punjabi  Mussalman.  But  it  was  not  the 
Gurkha's  or  the  Sikh's  fault  if  the  man  in  the 
street  puts  them  on  a  pedestal  apart.  Both 
have  a  very  distinctive  appearance  ;  with  the 
Punjabi  Mussalman  they  make  up  the  bulk  of 
the  Indian  Army ;  and  their  proud  tradition  has 
been  won  in  every  fight  on  our  frontiers.  Now 
other  classes,  whose  qualities  were  hidden,  live 
in  the  public  eye.  The  war  has  proved  that  all 
men  are  brave,  that  the  humblest  follower  is 
capable  of  sacrifice  and  devotion  :  that  the  Afridi, 

B 


2  THE   GURKHA 

who  is  outwardly  the  nearest  thing  to  an  imper- 
sonation of  Mars,  yields  nothing  in  courage  to 
the  Madrasi  Christian  of  the  Sappers  and  Miners. 
These  revelations  have  meant  a  general  levelling 
in  the  Indian  Army  and  the  uplift  of  classes 
hitherto  undeservedly  obscure.  At  the  same 
time  the  reputation  of  the  great  fighting  stocks 
has  been  splendidly  maintained. 

The  hillmen  of  Nepal  have  stood  the  test  as 
well  as  the  best.  Ask  the  Devons  what  they 
think  of  the  i/9th  Gurkhas  who  fought  on  their 
flank  on  the  Hai.  Ask  Kitchener's  men  and 
the  Anzacs  how  the  5th  and  6th  bore  themselves 
at  Gallipoli,  and  read  Ian  Hamilton's  report. 
Ask  Townshend's  immortals  how  the  7th  fought 
at  Ctesiphon ;  and  the  British  regiments  who 
were  at  Mahomed  Abdul  Hassan  and  Istabulat 
what  the  ist  and  8th  did  in  these  hard-fought 
fights.  Ask  the  gallant  Hants  rowers  against 
what  odds  the  two  Gurkha  battalions  *  forced 
the  passage  of  the  Tigris  at  Shumran  on  Feb- 
ruary 23rd.  And  ask  the  commander  of  the 
Indian  Corps  what  sort  of  a  fight  the  six  Gurkha 
battalions  f  put  up  in  France. 

*  2nd  and  9th. 

t  The  i/ist,  2/2nd,  2/3rd,  i/4th,  2/8th,  and  i/9th. 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  FLANDERS   3 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  strange  to 
the  Gurkha  and  more  different  from  what  his 
training  for  frontier  warfare  had  taught  him  to 
expect  than  the  conditions  in  Flanders.  The 
first  trenches  the  Gurkhas  took  over  when  they 
were  pushed  up  to  the  front  soon  after  their 
arrival  in  France  were  flooded  and  so  deep  that 
the  little  men  could  not  stand  up  to  the  parapet. 
They  were  exposed  to  the  most  devastating  fire 
of  heavy  artillery,  trench-mortars,  bombs,  and 
machine  guns.  Parts  of  their  trench  were  broken 
up  and  obliterated  by  the  Hun  Minnewerfers  and 
became  their  graves.  They  hung  on  for  the  best 
part  of  a  day  and  a  night  in  this  inferno,  but  in 
the  end  they  were  overwhelmed  and  driven  out 
of  the  position,  as  happens  sometimes  with  the 
best  troops  in  the  world.  The  surprising  thing 
is  that  they  became  inured  to  this  kind  of  war- 
fare. Not  only  did  they  stand  their  ground,  but 
in  more  than  one  assault  they  drove  the  Huns 
from  their  positions,  and  in  September,  19 15, 
the  same  battalion  that  had  suffered  so  severely 
near  Givenchy  carried  line  after  line  of  German 
trenches  west  of  Martin  du  Pietre. 

Those  early  months  in  France,  when  our 
troops,    ill  provided   with    bombs    and    trench- 


4  THE   GURKHA 

mortars  and  inadequately  supported  by  artillery, 
were  shattered  by  a  machinery  of  destruction  to 
which  they  could  make  little  reply,  were  very 
much  like  hell.  The  soldier's  dream  of  war  had 
come,  but  in  the  form  of  a  nightmare.  After- 
wards in  Mesopotamia,  the  trench-fighting  at 
El-Hannah  and  Sannaiyat  was  not  much  more 
inspiring.  But  the  hour  was  to  come  when  our 
troops  had  more  than  a  sporting  chance  in  a 
fight,  and  war  became  once  more  for  the  man  at 
the  end  of  the  rifle  something  like  his  picture 
of  the  great  game.  The  Gurkhas  were  severely 
tried  in  the  ordeal  by  which  this  change  was 
effected,  and  they  played  a  stout  part  especially 
in  the  Tigris  crossing,  the  honour  of  which  they 
shared  with  the  Norfolks  ;  but,  like  the  British 
Tommy  in  these  trying  times,  they  were  always 
cheerful. 

It  is  not  the  nature  of  any  Sepoy  to  grouse. 
Patience  and  endurance  is  the  heritage  of  all,  but 
cheerfulness  is  most  visible  in  the  "  Gurkh."  He 
laughs  like  Atkins  when  the  shells  miss  him,  and 
he  is  never  down  on  his  luck.  When  the  Turks 
were  bombarding  us  on  the  Hai,  I  watched  three 
delighted  Gurkhas  throwing  bricks  on  the  corru- 
gated iron  roof  of  a  signaller's  dug-out.     A  lot 


HIS   VIEW   OF   WAR  5 

of  stuff  was  coming  over,  shrapnel  and  high 
explosive,  but  the  Gurkhas  were  so  taken  up  with 
their  Httle  joke  of  scaring  the  signallers  that  the 
nearer  the  burst  the  better  they  were  pleased. 
The  signallers  wisely  lay  "doggo"  until  one  of 
the  Gurkhas  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  dug- 
out and  gave  the  whole  show  away  by  a  too 
expansive  grin. 

In  France  the  element  of  shikar  was  elimi- 
nated. It  would  be  affectation  in  the  keenest 
soldier  to  pretend  that  he  enjoyed  the  long-linked 
bitterness  of  Festubert,  Givenchy,  and  Neuve 
Chapelle.  But  in  Mesopotamia,  especially  after 
the  crossing  of  the  Tigris  and  the  capture  of 
Baghdad,  there  were  many  encounters  in  which 
one  could  think  of  war  in  the  terms  of  sport. 
"  There  has  been  some  shikar,"  is  the  Gurkha's 
way  of  describing  indifferently  a  small  scrap  or 
a  big  battle.  Neuve  Chapelle  was  shikar.  And 
it  was  shikar  the  other  day  when  a  Gurkha 
patrol  by  a  simple  stratagem  surprised  some 
mounted  Turks.  The  stratagem  succeeded.  The 
Turks  rode  up  unsuspectingly  within  easy  range, 
but  the  Gurkhas  did  not  empty  a  single  saddle. 
Their  British  officer  chaffed  them  on  their  bad 
shooting ;  but  the  havildar  grinned  and  said,  *'  At 


6  THE   GURKHA 

least  a  little  shikar  has  taken  place."  That  is 
the  spirit.  War  is  a  kind  of  sublimated  shikar. 
It  is  the  mirror  of  the  chase.  The  Gurkha  is 
hunting  when  he  is  battle-mad,  and  sees  red ; 
and  he  is  hunting  when  he  glides  alone  through 
the  grass  or  mud  on  a  dark,  silent  night  to  stalk 
an  enemy  patrol.  Following  up  a  barrage  on  the 
Hai,  the  i/9th  were  on  the  Turks  like  terriers. 
"  Here,  here,  Sahib !  "  one  of  them  called,  and 
pointing  to  a  bay  where  the  enemy  still  cowered, 
pitched  his  bomb  on  a  Turk's  head  with  a  grin 
of  delight  and  looked  round  at  a  paternal  officer 
for  approval.  Another  was  so  excited  that  he 
followed  his  grenade  into  the  trench  before  it 
had  burst,  and  he  and  his  Turk  were  blown  up 
together. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Gurkhas  in  a  civilized 
battle  was  at  Beit  Aieesa,  where  the  little  men 
were  scurrying  up  and  down  the  trenches  they 
had  just  taken,  with  blood  on  their  bayonets  and 
clothes,  bringing  up  ammunition  and  carrying 
baskets  of  bombs  as  happy  and  keen  and  busy 
as  ferrets.  They  had  gone  in  and  scuppered 
the  Turk  before  the  barrage  had  lifted.  They 
had  put  up  a  block  and  were  just  going  to  bomb 
down   a  communication    trench.      I   saw  one  of 


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MODE   OF   FIGHTING  7 

them  pull  up  the  body  of  a  British  Tommy  who 
had  been  attached  to  the  regiment  as  a  signaller 
and  was  bombed  into  a  mess.  The  Gurkha 
patted  him  on  the  shoulder  and  disappeared 
behind  the  traverse  without  a  word. 

The  Gurkha  fights  as  he  hunts.  Parties  of 
them  go  into  the  jungle  to  hunt  the  boar.  They 
beat  the  beast  up  and  attack  him  with  kukris 
when  he  tries  to  break  through  their  line.  It 
is  a  desperate  game,  and  the  casualties  are  a 
good  deal  heavier  than  in  pig-sticking.  The 
Gurkha's  attitude  to  the  Turk  or  the  Hun  is  his 
attitude  to  the  boar.  There  is  no  hostility  or 
hate  in  him,  and  he  is  a  cheerful,  if  a  grim, 
fighter.  There  was  never  a  Gurkha  fanatic. 
The  Magar  or  Gurung  does  not  wish  to  wash 
his  footsteps  in  the  blood  of  the  ungodly.  To 
the  righteous  or  the  unrighteous  stranger  he  is 
alike  indifferent.  There  is  no  race  he  would 
wish  to  extirpate,  and  he  has  few  prejudices  and 
no  hereditary  foes.  When  his  honour  or  interest 
is  touched  he  is  capable  of  rapid  primitive  re- 
prisals, but  he  does  not  as  a  rule  brood  or 
intrigue.  His  outlook  is  that  of  a  healthy  boy. 
There  is  no  person  so  easy  to  get  on  with  as 
the  "  Gurkh."      The  ties  of  affection  that  bind 


8  THE   GURKHA 

him  to  his  regimental  officers  are  very  intimate 
indeed.  When  the  Sahib  goes  on  leave  trekking, 
or  shooting,  or  climbing,  he  generally  takes  three 
or  four  of  the  regiment  with  him.  I  have  often 
met  these  happy  hunting-parties  in  and  beyond 
the  Himalayas.  I  have  a  picture  in  my  mind  of 
a  scene  by  the  Woolar  Lake  in  Kashmir.  The 
Colonel  of  a  Gurkha  regiment  is  sitting  in  a  boat 
waiting  for  a  youth  whom  he  has  allowed  to  go 
to  a  villaofe  on  some  errand  of  his  own.  The 
Colonel  has  waited  two  hours.  At  last  the  youth 
appears,  all  smiles,  embracing  a  pumpkin  twice 
the  size  of  his  head.  No  rebuke  is  administered 
for  the  delay.  The  youth  squats  casually  in  the 
boat  at  his  Colonel's  feet,  and  as  he  cuts  the 
pumpkin  into  sections,  makes  certain  unquotable 
comments  on  the  village  folk  of  Kashmir.  As 
the  pair  disappear  across  the  lake  over  the  lotus 
leaves  I  hear  bursts  of  laughter. 

The  relations  between  officers  and  men  are 
as  close  as  between  boys  and  masters  on  a  jaunt 
together  out  of  school,  and  the  Gurkha  no  more 
thinks  of  taking^  advantagfe  of  this  when  he 
returns  to  the  regiment  than  the  English  school- 
boy does  when  he  returns  to  school.  It  is  part 
of  his  jolly,  boyish,  uncalculating  nature  that  he 


AND    HIS   OFFICERS  9 

is  never  on  the  make.  In  cantonments,  when 
any  fish  are  caught  or  any  game  is  shot,  the  first- 
fruits  find  their  way  to  the  mess.  No  one  knows 
how  it  comes.  The  orderly  will  simply  tell  you 
that  the  men  brought  it.  Perhaps  after  a  deal 
of  questioning  the  shikari  may  betray  himself  by 
a  fatuous,  shy,  bashful  grin. 

The  Gurkha  does  not  love  his  officer  because 
he  is  a  Sahib,  but  because  he  is  his  Sahib,  and 
the  officer  has  to  prove  that  he  is  his  Sahib  first, 
and  learn  to  speak  his  language  and  understand 
his  ways.  A  strange  officer  coming  into  a 
Gurkha  regiment  is  not  adopted  into  the  Pan- 
theon at  once.  He  has  to  qualify.  There  may 
be  a  period  of  suspicion ;  but  once  accepted,  he 
is  served  with  a  fidelity  and  devotion  that  are 
human  and  dog-like  at  the  same  time.  I  do  not 
emphasize  the  exclusive  attachment  of  the 
Gurkha  to  his  own  Sahib  as  an  exemplary 
virtue ;  it  is  a  fault,  though  it  is  the  defect  of  a 
virtue.  And  it  is  a  peculiarly  boyish  fault.  It 
is  the  old  story  of  magnifying  the  house  to  the 
neglect  of  the  school.  Infinite  prestige  comes 
of  it ;  and  this  is  to  the  good.  But  prestige  is 
often  abused.  Exclusiveness  does  not  pay  in  a 
modern  army.      In   the  organism    of    the    ideal 


10  THE   GURKHA 

fighting  machine  the  parts  are  compact  and 
interdependent ;  and  it  would  be  a  point  to  the 
good  if  every  Gurkha  were  made  to  learn  Hin- 
dustani and  encouraged  to  believe  that  there 
are  other  gods  besides  his  own. 

When  one  hears  officers  in  other  Indian 
regiments  disparage  the  Gurkha,  as  one  does 
sometimes,  one  may  be  sure  that  the  root  of  the 
prejudice  lies  in  this  exclusiveness.  I  have  heard 
it  counted  for  vanity,  indifference,  disrespect.  It 
is  even  associated,  though  very  wrongly,  with  the 
eminence,  or  niche  apart,  which  he  shares  in 
popular  estimation  with  the  Sikh.  But  the 
Gurkha  probably  knows  nothing  about  this  niche. 
He  is  a  child  of  nature.  His  clannishness  is 
very  simple  indeed.  He  frankly  does  not  under- 
stand a  strange  Sahib.  Directly  he  tumbles  to 
it  that  anything  is  needed  of  him  he  will  lend  a 
hand,  but  having  no  very  deeply-ingrained  habit 
of  reverence  for  caste  in  the  abstract  apart  from 
his  devotion  to  the  proved  individual,  he  may 
appear  sometimes  a  little  neglectful  in  ceremony. 
But  no  Sahib  with  a  grain  of  imagination  or 
understanding  in  him  will  let  the  casual  habits  of 
the  little  man  weigh  in  the  balance  against  his 
grit  and  gameness,  his  loyalty,  and  his  splendid 


HIS   CLANNISHNESS  ii 

fighting  spirit.  I  am  always  suspicious  of  the 
officer  who  depreciates  the  Gurkha.  He  is  either 
sensitively  vain,  or  dull  in  reading  character,  or 
jealous  of  the  dues  which  he  thinks  have  been 
diverted  from  some  other  class  to  which  he  is 
personally  attached. 

This  last  infirmity  one  can  understand  and 
forgive.  It  grows  out  of  an  officer's  attachment 
to  his  men.  It  is  present  sometimes  in  the 
British  officers  who  command  Gurkhas.  Indeed, 
a  man  who  after  a  year's  service  with  any  class  of 
Sepoy  is  so  detached  and  impartial  in  mind  as 
not  to  find  peculiar  and  distinctive  virtues  in  his 
own  men,  ought  not  to  be  serving  in  the  Indian 
Army  at  all.  I  remember  once  hearing  a  sub- 
altern in  a  very  obscure  regiment  discussing  his 
class  company.  The  battalion  had  not  seen 
service  for  at  least  three  generations,  and  every- 
one took  it  for  granted  that  they  would  "  rat " 
the  first  time  they  heard  a  shot  fired.  But  the 
boy  was  full  of  "  bukh." 

"  By  Jove  ! "  he  said,  "  our  fellows  are 
simply  splendid,  the  best  plucked  crowd  in  the 
Indian  Army,  and  so  game.  .  .  .  Oh  no! 
they've  never  been  in  action,  but  you  should  just 
see  how  they  lay  one  another  out  at  hockey." 


12  THE   GURKHA 

Before  the  war  one  would  have  smiled  in- 
wardly at  this  "encomium,"  if  one  could  have 
preserved  one's  outward  countenance,  but  Arma- 
geddon, the  corrective  of  exclusiveness  and  pride, 
has  taught  us  that  gallantry  resides  under  the 
most  unlikely  exteriors.  It  has  taught  us  to  look 
for  it  there.  Anyhow  che  boy  had  the  right  spirit 
even  if  his  faith  were  founded  in  illusion  ;  for  it 
is  thrdugh  these  ties  of  mutual  loyalty  that  the 
spirit  of  the  Indian  Army  is  strong. 

The  devotion  of  the  Sepoy  to  his  officer  is 
common  to  most,  perhaps  to  all,  classes  of  the 
Indian  Army.  In  some  of  the  Gurkha  battalions 
it  is  usual  for  two  of  the  men  to  mark  their  Sahib 
when  he  goes  into  action,  to  follow  him  closely, 
and  if  he  falls,  to  look  after  him  and  bring  him 
back  whether  wounded  or  dead.  This  is  a  tacitly 
understood  and  quite  unofficial  arrangement,  and 
the  officer  knows  no  more  about  his  self-appointed 
guard  than  the  hero  or  villain  of  melodrama  about 
the  detective  who  dogs  his  footsteps  in  the  street. 
In  France  a  British  officer  in  a  Gurkha  regiment 
knocked  out  by  shell-shock  opened  his  eyes  to 
find  his  orderly  kneeling  over  him  fanning  the 
flies  off  his  face.  He  lost  consciousness  again. 
When  he  came  to  the  Gurkha  was  still  fanning 


HIS   PLUCK  13 

him,  and  the  tears  were  rolling  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  Why  are  you  crying,  '  Tegh  Bahadur  ? '  "  he 
said  ;  **  I  am  not  badly  hit." 

"  I  am  crying,  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  because  my 
arm  is  gone,  and  I  am  no  more  able  to  fight." 
And  with  a  nod  he  indicated  the  wound.  The 
shell  that  had  stunned  the  Sahib  had  carried  off 
the  orderly's  forearm  at  the  elbow. 

The  Medical  Officer  will  tell  you  that  the 
Gurkha  is  the  pluckiest  little  fellow  alive.  In 
hospital  he  will  go  on  smoking  and  chatting  to 
you  when  he  is  dying,  fighting  his  battles  over 
again.  I  remember  a  Gurkha  in  an  ambulance 
at  Sinn  pointing  his  index  finger,  which  was 
hanging  by  a  tendon,  as  he  described  the  attack. 
During  a  cholera  outbreak  in  1916  among  the 
Nepalese  troops  garrisoning  the  Black  Mountains 
frontier  a  Gurkha,  who  was  evidently  in  extremis^ 
was  being  carried  by  his  Major  and  another 
officer  to  a  bit  of  rising  ground  where  there  was 
some  shade  and  a  little  breeze.  When  in  an 
interval  of  consciousness  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
saw  two  Sahibs  carrying  him,  he  tried  to  raise 
himself  to  the  salute,  but  fell  back  in  a  half  faint. 
"  You  must  pardon  me,   Sahib,"  he  said,    '*  but 


14  THE   GURKHA 

owino:  to  weakness  I  am  unable  to  salute."  The 
Major  told  him  to  lie  still.  "  We  are  taking  you 
to  a  cool  place,"  he  explained.  "  Now  you  must 
be  quick  and  get  well."  The  Gurkha  answered 
with  a  faint  smile,  "  Now  that  your  honours 
have  honoured  me  by  carrying  me,  I  shall  quickly 
ofet  well."     In  a  few  minutes  he  died. 

The  Gurkha  is  not  given  to  the  neatly  turned 
speech,  the  apt  phrase,  and  one  might  search 
one's  memory  a  long  time  before  one  recalled  a 
compliment  similar  to  this  one  spoken  in  simple 
sincerity  by  a  dying  man.  The  arts  of  concilia- 
tion are  not  practised  where  he  camps.  There 
is  a  delightful  absence  of  the  courtier  about  him, 
and  he  could  not  make  pretty  speeches  if  he 
tried.  The  "  Our  Colonel  Sahib  shot  remark- 
ably well,  but  God  was  merciful  to  the  birds " 
story  is  told  of  a  very  different  race.  If  a  colonel 
of  Gurkhas  shoots  really  badly,  his  orderly  will 
probably  be  found  doubled  up  with  mirth.  The 
few  comments  of  the  Gurkha  that  stick  in  the 
mind  are  memorable  in  most  instances  for  some 
crudeness,  or  misconception,  or  for  a  primitive, 
and  not  infrequently  a  somewhat  gruesome,  sense 
of  humour.  One  meets  many  types,  but  the 
average  "  Gurkh,"  though  observant,  is  not  as  a 


MENTAL   RANGE  15 

rule  quick  at  the  uptake.  I  heard  a  character- 
istic story  of  one,  Chandradhoj,  a  stalwart  Limbu 
of  Eastern  Nepal.  It  was  in  November  last  year, 
in  the  days  of  trench  warfare.  His  Colonel  had 
sent  him  from  the  Sannaiyat  trenches  to  Arab 
Village  to  have  his  boots  mended,  and  when  he 
was  returning  in  the  evening  the  Turks  got  it 
into  their  heads  that  a  relief  was  taking  place, 
and  put  in  a  stiff  bombardment,  paying  special 
attention  to  the  road.  Chandradhoj  got  safely 
back  through  this.  When  the  Colonel  met  him 
in  the  evening  passing  his  dug-out  he  stopped 
him  and  asked  him  how  he  had  fared. 

"  Well,  you've  got  back  all  right,"  he  said. 
'•  You  wern't  hit ! " 

"  No,   Sahib,  I  was  not  hit.     I  came  back  in 
artillery  formation." 

One  could  see  him  solemnly  stepping  aside  a 
few  paces  from  the  road,  the  prescribed  distance 
from  the  imaginary  sections  on  the  left  or  right. 
These  were  the  Sahib's  orders  at  such  times,  he 
would  argue,  and  there  must  be  salvation  in  the 
rite. 

The  Gurkha  sees  what  he  sees,  and  his  visual 
range  is  his  mental  range.  At  Kantara  he  only 
saw  the  desert,  and  the  desert  was  sand.     Other 


i6  THE   GURKHA 

conditions  beyond  the  horizon,  an  oasis  for 
instance,  were  inconceivable.  He  tried  to  get  it 
out  of  his  Sahib  how  and  where  the  Bedouin 
lived  who  came  into  Kantara  Post.  He  thought 
they  Hved  in  holes  in  the  sand,  but  what  they  ate 
he  could  not  imagine.  When  they  came  into  the 
Post  looking  wretched  and  miserable  he  gave  them 
chapattis.  "  But,  Sahib,"  he  asked,  "  what  could 
they  have  eaten  before  we  came  other  than  sand.-*" 

One  is  never  quite  sure  what  will  move  a 
Gurkha  to  laughter.  He  grins  at  things  which 
tickle  a  child's  fancy,  and  he  grins  at  things  which 
make  the  ordinary  man  feel  very  sick  inside. 
When  the  Turk  abandoned  Sinn  in  May,  191 6, 
we  occupied  the  position.  The  advance  lay  over 
the  month-old  battlefield  of  Beit  Aieesa,  and  the 
enemy's  dead  were  lying  everywhere  in  a  very 
unpleasant  stage  of  dissolution.  Suddenly  the 
grimness  of  the  scene  was  disturbed  by  explosive 
bursts  of  laughter.  It  was  the  Gurkhas.  "  Well, 
what  is  the  joke  ?  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  "  an 
officer  asked  them.  "  Look,  Sahib  !"  one  of  them 
said.  "  The  devils  are  melting."  Only  he  used  a 
much  more  impolite  word  than  "  devil,"  for  which 
we  have  no  translation. 

The  Gurkha  has  not  a  very  high  estimate  of 


NIGHT-WORK  17 

the  value  of  life.  A  few  years  ago,  when  Rugby 
football  was  introduced  in  a  certain  battalion, 
there  was  an  unfortunate  casualty  soon  after  the 
first  kick-off.  One  of  the  men,  collared  by  his 
Sahib,  broke  his  neck  on  the  hard  ground,  and 
was  killed  stone-dead.  The  incident  sealed  the 
fate  of  Association  in  the  regiment,  and  Rugby 
became  the  vogue  from  that  hour.  "  This  is 
something  like  a  game,"  they  said,  "  when  you 
kill  a  man  every  time  you  play." 

The  Gurkha  would  not  be  such  a  fine  fighter 
if  he  had  not  a  bit  of  the  primitive  in  him. 
Several  years  ago  two  companies  of  a  Gurkha 
battalion,  who  were  holding  a  post  in  a  frontier 
show,  were  bothered  by  snipers  at  night.  The 
shots  came  from  a  clump  of  bushes  on  the  edge 
of  a  blind  nullah  full  of  high  brushwood,  which 
for  some  reason  it  was  inadvisable  to  picquet. 
Here  was  an  excellent  chance  of  shikar,  and  a 
havildar  and  four  men  asked  if  they  might  go 
out  at  night  and  stalk  the  Pathans.  They  were 
allowed  to  go,  the  conditions  being  that  they  were 
to  go  bare-footed,  they  were  not  to  take  rifles, 
and  they  were  to  do  the  work  with  the  kukri. 
Also  they  were  to  stay  out  all  night,  as  they 
would  certainly  be  shot  by  the  sentries  of  other 

c 


i8  THE    GURKHA 

regiments  if  they  tried  to  come  in.  Only  one 
sniper's  bullet  whizzed  into  camp  that  night. 
The  next  morning  the  havildar  entered  the  mess 
while  the  officers  were  breakfasting.  He  came 
in  with  his  left  hand  behind  his  back  and 
saluted. 

"  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  two  of  the  snipers  have 
been  killed."  , 

'*  That's  good,  havildar,"  the  Colonel  said. 
"  But  how  do  you  know  that  you  got  them  ? 
Are  they  lying  there,  or  have  their  brothers 
taken  them  away  ?  " 

The  havildar,  grinning  broadly,  produced  a 
Pathan's  head,  and  dumped  it  on  the  breakfast 
table.  "The  other  is  outside,"  he  said.  "Shall 
I  bring  it  in  ? " 

The  Gurkha  is  good  at  this  kind  of  night- 
work;  he  has  the  nerve  of  a  Highlander  and 
the  stealth  of  a  leopard.  His  great  fault  in  a 
eeneral  attack  is  that  he  does  not  know  when 
to  stop.  Without  his  Sahib  he  would  not  survive 
many  battles.  And  that  is  why  the  casualties 
are  so  heavy  in  regiments  when  the  British 
officers  fall  early  in  the  fight.  When  the  Gurkhas 
were  advancing  at  Beit  Aiseesa,  I  heard  an 
officer  in  a  Sikh  regiment  say,  "  Little  blighters. 


PECULIARITIES  19 

They're  always  scurrying  on  ahead,  and  if  you 
don't  look  after  them  they  will  make  a  big  salient 
and  bite  off  more  than  they  can  chew."  This 
is  exactly  what  happened,  though  with  the 
Turkish  guns  as  a  bait,  guns  which  they  took 
and  lost  afterwards  by  reason  of  the  offending 
salient,  they  would  not  have  been  human  if  they 
had  held  back. 

The  Gurkha  battalions,  as  everybody  knows, 
have  permanent  cantonments  in  the  hills,  and  do 
not  move  about  like  other  regiments  from  station 
to  station.  Most  of  them  have  their  wives  and 
families  in  the  lines,  and  in  the  leave  season  they 
oret  away  for  a  time  to  their  homes  in  Nepal, 
In  peace  the  permanent  cantonment  with  its 
continuity  of  home  life  is  a  privilege ;  but  in  the 
war  the  Gurkhas,  like  every  other  class  of  sepoy, 
have  had  to  bear  with  a  weariness  of  exile  which 
it  is  difficult  for  any  one  but  their  own  officers  to 
understand.  It  is  true  of  the  Gurkha,  as  of  the 
Indian  of  the  plains,  that  he  gives  up  more  when 
he  leaves  his  home  to  fight  in  a  distant  country 
than  the  European.  The  age-worn  traditions  and 
associations  which  make  up  homeliness  for  him, 
the  peculiar  and  cherished  routine,  cannot  be 
translated  overseas.    And  it  must  be  remembered 


20  THE    GURKHA 

that  the  sepoy  has  not  the  same  stimulus  as  we 
have.  It  is  true  that  he  is  a  soldier,  and  that  it 
is  his  business  to  fight,  and  that  he  is  fighting  his 
Sahib's  enemy.  That  carries  him  a  long  way. 
But  he  does  not  see  the  Hun  as  his  Sahib  sees 
him,  as  an  intolerable,  blighting  incubus  which 
he  must  cast  off  or  die.  One  appreciates  his 
cheerfulness  in  exile  all  the  more  when  one  re- 
members this. 

On  a  transport  this  summer  in  Basra,  Asba- 
hadur,  a  young  Gurung  from  Western  Nepal 
was  pointed  out  to  me.  He  had  just  come  home 
from  leave.  He  had  six  weeks  in  India,  but 
there  was  the  depot  to  visit  first.  He  had  to 
pick  up  his  kit  and  draw  his  pay,  and  by  the 
time  he  had  got  to  his  village,  Kaski  Pokhri,  on 
the  Nepal  frontier,  sixteen  days  hard  going  from 
Gorakhpur  in  the  U.P.,  he  found  that  he  had 
only  four  days  at  home  before  he  must  start  oft" 
again  to  catch  his  steamer  at  Bombay.  But  he 
had  seen  his  family,  his  house,  his  crops,  the 
barn  that  had  to  be  repaired,  the  familiar  stretch 
of  jungle  and  stream.  He  had  dumped  his 
money  in  the  only  place  where  money  is  any 
ofood  ;  and  he  had  seen  that  all  was  well. 

He  had  learned,  too,  that  it  was  well  with 


CONSCRIPTION  21 

his  young  brother,  who  had  run  away  from  home 
to  join  the  army,  as  so  many  young  Gurkhas  did 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war, — literally  "  running  " 
for  the  best  part  of  two  nights  and  days,  only  a 
short  neck  ahead  of  his  pursuing  parents,  who 
had  now  forgiven  him. 

There  is  conscription  in  Nepal  now  and  there 
is  no  need  for  the  young  men  to  run  away. 
Asbahadur  told  me  that  he  had  met  very  few 
young  men  of  his  age  near  his  home.  In  his 
village  the  women  were  doing  the  work,  as  they 
were  in  France,  and  as  he  understood  was  the 
case  in  the  Sahib's  country.  The  garrisoning 
of  India  by  the  Nepalese  troops  had  depleted 
the  county  of  youth.  You  only  met  old  men 
and  cripples  and  boys.  Early  in  the  war  the 
Nepal  Durbar  came  forward  with  a  splendid 
offer  of  troops,  which  we  were  quick  to  accept. 
Thousands  of  her  best,  including  the  Maharaja's 
Corps  de  garde,  poured  over  the  frontier  into 
Hindustan,  and  released  many  regular  battalions 
for  service  overseas.  They  have  fought  on  the 
frontier,  and  taken  their  part  in  policing  the 
border  from  the  Black  Mountains  on  the  north 
to  as  far  south  as  the  territory  of  the  Mahsuds. 

There  are  three  main  divisions  of  Gurkhas  : 


22  THE    GURKHA 

the  Magar  and  Gurung  of  Central  and  Western 
Nepal,  indistinguishable  except  for  a  slight 
accent ;  the  Limbu  and  Rai  of  Eastern  Nepal ; 
and  the  Khattri  and  Thakur,  who  are  half  Aryan. 
The  Magars  and  Gurungs  are  the  most  Tartar- 
like, short,  with  faces  flat  as  scones.  The  Limbu 
and  Rai  physiognomy  assimilates  more  with  the 
Chinese.  In  the  Khattri  and  Thakur,  or  Khas 
Gurkhas  as  they  are  called  by  others,  though 
they  do  not  accept  the  term,  the  Hindu  strain 
is  distinguishable,  though  the  Mongol  as  a  rule 
is  predominant.  They  are  the  descendants  of 
Brahmans  or  Rajputs  and  Gurkha  women ; 
hence  the  opprobrious  "khas,"  or  "  fallen."  But 
it  is  a  blend  of  nobility — a  proud  birthright.  It 
is  only  the  implication  of  the  "  fall "  they  resent, 
— for  these  marriages  were  genuine  but  for  the 
narrow  legislation  of  orthodoxy  and  caste.  Before 
the  war  it  was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  by 
some  that  the  streak  of  plainsman  in  the  moun- 
taineer must  imply  a  softening  of  the  national 
fibre,  but  the  war  has  proved  them  as  good  as 
the  best.  In  the  crossing  of  the  Tigris  at 
Shumran,  the  miniature  Mesopotamian  Gallipoli, 
the  Khas  (9th  Gurkhas)  shared  the  honours  in 
full  with  the  Magars  and  Gurung  (2nd  Gurkhas) ; 


DIFFERENT    CLASSES  23 

but  long  before  that  any  suspicion  of  inferiority 
had  been  dissipated. 

It  is  difficult  to  differentiate  the  different 
classes,  but  the  Khas  Gurkha  is  probably  the 
most  intelligent.  In  the  Limbu  and  the  Rai 
there  are  sleeping  fires.  They  are  as  fastidious 
about  their  honour  as  the  Pathan  and  the  Malay, 
and  when  any  sudden  and  grim  poetic  justice  is 
exacted  in  blood  in  a  Gurkha  regiment  the  odds 
are  that  one  or  the  other  are  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
The  Magars  and  the  Gurung  are  the  basic  type, 
the  "every man"  among  Gurkhas,  the  backbone 
in  numbers  of  the  twenty  battalions.  As  regards 
pluck  there  is  nothing  to  choose  between  any  of 
them,  and  if  one  battalion  goes  further  than 
another  the  extra  stiffening  is  the  work  of  the 
British  officers. 

One's  impression  of  the  Gurkha  in  war  and 
peace  is  of  an  almost  mechanical  smartness, 
movements  as  quick  and  certain  as  the  click  of  a 
rifle  bolt.  Soldiering  is  a  ritual  among  them. 
You  may  mark  it  in  the  way  they  pitch  camp, 
solemnly,  methodically,  driving  in  each  peg  as  if 
it  were  an  ordained  rite.  They  have  learnt  it 
all  by  rote.  They  could  do  it  as  easily  in  their 
sleep.     And  the  discipline  has  stood  the  shock 


24  THE    GURKHA 

of  seismic  disturbance.  In  the  Dharmsala  earth- 
quake of  1905  the  quarter  guard  of  the  2/8 th 
Gurkhas  turned  out  and  saluted  their  officer  with 
the  same  clockwork  precision,  when  their  bun- 
galow had  fallen  like  a  house  of  cards.  They 
had  escaped  by  a  miracle,  and  half  the  regiment 
had  been  killed,  or  maimed,  or  buried  alive. 

But  remove  the  Gurkha  from  the  atmosphere 
of  barracks  and  camps  and  the  whole  ritual  is 
forgotten  like  a  dream.  Out  on  shikar,  or 
engaged  in  any  work  away  from  the  battalion,  he 
becomes  his  casual  self  again.  But  the  guest  of 
a  Gurkha  regiment  does  not  see  this  side  of  him. 
I  have  memories  of  the  men  called  into  the  mess 
and  standing  round  like  graven  images,  the 
personality  religiously  suppressed,  the  smile 
tardily  provoked  if  Generals  or  strange  Sahibs 
are  present.  A  boy,  with  a  smooth,  round,  in- 
nocent face,  as  still  and  as  expressionless  as  if  he 
had  been  hypnotized.  Next  him  a  man  with  the 
face  of  a  bonze.  Another  with  an  expression 
of  ferocity  asleep  and  framed  in  benevolence. 
Passion  has  drawn  those  deep  lines  at  right 
angles  with  the  mouth.  They  are  scars  of  the 
spirit — often  enough  now  in  the  same  setting  as 
dints  of  lead  and  steel. 


LOOT  25 

You  get  these  faces  in  Gurung,  Magar, 
Limbu,  Khas,  and  Rai.  But  differentiation  is 
profitless  and  often  misleading,  whether  as  re- 
crards  the  outward  or  inward  man.  I  heard  an 
almost  heated  discussion  as  to  relative  values  by 
officers,  who  should  know  best,  terminated  by  an 
outsider  with  the  laconic  comment,  "  They  are 
all  dam  good  at  chivying  chickens."  As  to  this 
all  were  agreed.  And  the  remark  called  up 
another  picture — the  Gurkha  returning  from  a 
punitive  raid  against  a  cut-throat  tribe,  smothered 
in  spoil  and  accoutrements,  three  carpets  under 
one  saddle,  and  the  little  man  on  top  with 
chickens  under  each  arm,  and  strung  as  thick 
as  cartridges  to  his  belt  and  bandolier. 


THE    SIKH 

It  has  often  been  said  that  the  Indian  Army  has 
kept  Sikhism  alive.  War  is  a  conserver  of  the 
Khalsa,  peace  a  dissolvent.  When  one  under- 
stands how  this  is  so,  one  has  grasped  what 
Sikhism  has  done  for  the  followers  of  the  faith, 
and  why  the  Sikh  is  different  in  habit  and  thought 
from  his  Hindu  and  Muhammadan  neighbour, 
though  in  most  cases  he  derives  from  the  same 
stock. 

The  Sikhs  are  a  community,  not  a  race.  The 
son  of  a  Sikh  is  not  himself  a  Sikh  until  he  has 
taken  the  pahul,  the  ceremony  by  which  he  is 
admitted  into  the  Khalsa,  the  community  of  the 
faithful.  It  would  take  volumes  to  explain 
exactly  what  initiation  means  for  him.  But  the 
important  thing  to  understand  is  that  the  convert, 
in  becoming  a  Sikh,  is  not  charged  with  a 
religious  crusade.  There  is  no  bigotry  in  the 
faith  that  has  made  a  Singh  of  him.  His  baptism 
by  steel  and  "the  waters  of  life"  only  means 
that  he  has  gained  prestige  by  admission  into  a 

26 


To  face  p.  26.] 


THE   SIKH. 


GURU    NANAK  27 

military  and  spiritual  brotherhood  of  splendid 
traditions. 

Guru  Nanak  (1469-1539),  the  founder  of  the 
sect,  was  a  man  of  peace  and  a  quietist.  He 
only  sought  to  remove  the  cobwebs  that  had 
overgrown  sectarian  conceptions  of  God.  He 
could  not  in  his  most  prophetic  dreams  have  fore- 
seen the  bearded,  martial  Sikh  whom  we  know 
to-day.  This  is  the  Govindi  Sikh,  the  product 
of  the  tenth  Guru,  that  inspired  leader  of  men 
who  welded  his  followers  into  the  armed  fraternity 
which  supplanted  the  Moguls  and  became  the 
dominant  military  class  of  the  Punjab. 

It  was  persecution  that  made  the  Sikh  what 
he  is — not  theological  conviction.  Dogma  was 
incidental.  The  rise  of  the  Khalsa  was  a  political 
movement.  The  thousands  of  Jat  yeomen  who 
joined  the  banner  accepted  the  book  with  the 
sword.  To  make  a  strong  and  distinctive  body 
of  them,  to  lift  them  above  the  Hindu  ranks,  to 
convert  a  sect  into  a  religion,  to  give  them  a 
cause  and  a  crusade  was  Govind's  work.  It  was 
he  who  consolidated  the  Sikhs  by  giving  them 
prestige.  He  instituted  the  Khalsa,  or  the  com- 
monwealth of  the  chosen,  into  which  his  disciples 
were  initiated  by  the  ceremony  of  the  pahul.     He 


28  THE   SIKH 

swept  away  ritual,  abolished  caste,  and  ordained 
that  every  Sikh  should  bear  the  old  Rajput  title 
of  Singh,  or  Lion,  as  every  Govindi  Sikh  does 
to  this  day.  He  also  gave  national  and  dis- 
tinctive traits  to  the  dress  of  his  people,  ordaining 
that  they  should  carry  a  sword,  dagger,  and 
bracelet  of  steel,  don  breeches  instead  of  a  loin- 
cloth, and  wear  their  hair  long  and  secured  in  a 
knot  by  a  comb.  He  it  was  who  grafted  the 
principles  of  valour,  devotion,  and  chivalry  on 
the  humble  gospel  of  Nanak,  and  introduced  the 
national  salutation  of  "  Wah  Guru  ji  ka  Khalsa  ! 
Wa  Guru  ji  ki  Futteh  !  "— "  Hail  to  the  Khalsa  ! 
Victory  to  God  " — a  chant  that  has  dismayed  the 
garrison  of  many  a  doomed  trench  held  by  the 
Turk  and  the  Hun. 

"The  Sikhs  of  Govind  shall  bestride  horses. 
And  bear  hawks  upon  their  hands  ; 
The  Turks  who  behold  them  shall  fly  ; 
One  shall  combat  a  multitude, 
And  the  Sikh  who  thus  perishes  shall  be  blessed  for  ever."* 

It  was  odd  that  the  Arabs  in  Mesopotamia 
should  have  called  the  Sikh  "  the  black  lion,"  f 
bearing  witness  to  the  boast  that  every  member 
of  the  Khalsa  when  he  puts  on  the  consecrated 
steel  and  adopts  the  title  of  Singh  is  lionised  in 

*  The  Tunkha  Nameh  of  Guru  Govind. 
t  Sabaa  aswad. 


WAR    A    NFXESSITY  29 

the  most  literal  sense  of  the  word  and  becomes 
the  part  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name. 

War  is  a  necessary  stimulus  for  Sikhism.     In 
the  reaction  of  peace  the  Sikh  population  dwindles. 
It  was  in  the  struggle  with    Islam,  during    the 
ascendency   of    Ranjit   Singh,  in   the   two    wars 
against  the  British,  and  after  in  the  Mutiny,  when 
the  Sikhs  proved  our  loyal  allies,  that  the  Khalsa 
was  strongest.     Without  the  incentive  to  honour 
and  the  door  open  to  military  service  the  inera- 
dicable instincts  of  the  Hindu  reassert  themselves. 
Fewer  jiwans  come  forward  and  take  the  pahul ; 
not  only  is  the  community  weakened  by  lack  of 
disciples,  but  many  who  hold  fast  to  the  form  let 
go  the  spirit ;  ritual,  idolatry,  superstition,  exclu- 
siveness,    and   caste,    the    old    enemies    to    the 
reformed    religion,    creep    in    again  ;    the    aris- 
tocracy  of  honour    lapses    into    the    aristocracy 
of  privilege.     Then  the  Brahman  enters  in,  and 
the  simple  faith   is   obscured   by  all    manner  of 
un-Sikh-like  preoccupations.    Sikhism  might  have 
fallen  back  into  Hinduism  and  become  an  obscure 
sect  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Indian  Army.    But 
here   the   insignia   of  Guru    Govind    have  been 
maintained,   and  his  lav/s  and   traditions.     The 
class    regiments    and    class-company    regiments 


30  THE    SIKH 

have  preserved  not  merely  the  outward  obser- 
vances ;  they  have  kept  alive  the  inward  spirit  of 
the  Khalsa.  Thus  it  is  that  the  Sikh  has  more 
class  feeling  than  any  other  sepoy,  and  more  pride 
in  himself  and  his  community.  Govind  set  the 
lion  stamp  on  him  as  he  intended.  By  his  out- 
ward signs  he  cannot  be  mistaken — by  his  beard, 
the  steel  bracelet  on  his  wrist,  his  long  knotted 
hair,  or  if  that  is  hidden,  by  the  set  of  his  turban, 
above  all  by  his  grave  self-respect.  The  casual 
stranger  can  mark  him  by  one  or  all  of  these 
signs,  but  there  is  a  subtler  physical  distinction 
in  expression  and  feature  that  you  cannot  miss 
when  you  know  the  Sikh  well.  This  is  quite 
independent  of  insignia.  It  is  as  marked  in  a 
boy  without  a  hair  to  his  chin  as  in  an  old 
campaigner.  This  also  is  Govind's  mark,  the 
sum  of  his  influence  inscribed  on  the  face  by 
the  spirit.  A  great  tribute  this  to  the  genius  of 
the  Khalsa,  when  one  remembers  that  the  Sikh 
is  not  a  race  apart,  but  comes  of  the  same  original 
stock  as  most  of  his  Hindu  and  Muhammadan 
neighbours  in  the  Punjab,  and  that  Govind,  his 
spiritual  ancestor,  only  died  two  hundred  years  ago. 
Amongst  all  the  races  and  castes  that  have 
been  caught  up  into  the  Khalsa,  by  far  the  most 


THE    JAT  31 

important  in  influence  and  numbers  is  the  Jat. 
Porus  was  probably  of  the  race.  When  Alexander, 
impressed  by  his  gallantry,  asked  him  what  boon 
he  might  confer,  he  demanded  "to  be  treated 
like  a  king" — a  very  Sikh-like  speech.  The 
Sikh  soldier  is  the  Jat  sublimated,  and  the  bulk 
of  the  Sikhs  in  the  Indian  Army  are  of  Jat  origin. 
Authorities  differ  as  to  the  derivation  of  the  Jats, 
but  it  is  commonly  believed  that  they  and  the 
Rajputs  are  of  the  same  Scythian  origin,  and  that 
they  represent  two  separate  waves  of  invasion  ; 
and  this  is  borne  out  by  their  physical  resemblance 
and  by  a  general  similarity  in  their  communal 
habits  of  life.  The  Jat,  so  long  as  he  remains  a 
Hindu,  is  called  Jat  (pronounced  Ja-at),  while  the 
Jat  who  has  adopted  Sikhism  is  generally  referred 
to  as  Jat  (pronounced  Jut).  The  spelling  is  the 
same,  and  to  the  uninitiated  this  is  a  constant 
source  of  confusion.  The  difference  in  pronunci- 
ation arose  from  a  subtlety  of  dialect,  it  beino- 
customary  in  the  part  of  the  Punjab  where  Sikhs 
preponderate  to  shorten  the  long  a  of  the  Hindi. 
The  Jat  is  the  backbone  of  the  Punjab.  From 
his  Scythian  ancestors  is  derived  the  same  stub- 
born fibre  that  stiffens  the  Punjabi  cultivator, 
whatever    changes    he    may    have    suffered    by 


32  THE    SIKH 

influence  of  caste  or  creed,  whether  he  be  Hindu, 
Muhammadan,  or  Sikh.  The  admitted  character- 
istics of  the  Jat  are  stubbornness,  tenacity,  patience, 
devotion,  courage,  discipline  and  independence 
of  spirit  fitly  reconciled  ;  add  to  these  the  prestige 
and  traditions  of  the  Khalsa  and  you  have  the 
ideal  Sikh. 

I  say  **  the  ideal  Sikh,"  for  without  the 
contributory  influences  you  may  not  get  the 
type  as  Govind  conceived  it.  The  ideal  Sikh 
is  the  happy  Sikh,  the  Sikh  who  is  content  with 
the  place  he  occupies  in  his  cosmos,  who  respects 
and  believes  in  his  superior  officers,  who  does 
not  consider  himself  unjustly  treated,  and  who 
has  received  no  injury  to  his  self-esteem.  For 
the  virtuous  ingredients  in  his  composition  are 
subject  to  reaction.  When  he  fancies  he  is 
wronged,  he  broods.  The  milk  in  him  becomes 
gall.  The  **  waters  of  life  "  stirred  by  steel,  his 
baptismal  draught,  take  on  an  acid  potency.  "  I'd 
rather  command  Sikhs  than  any  other  class  of 
sepoy,"  a  brigadier  told  me,  and  he  had  com- 
manded every  imaginable  class  of  sepoy  for 
twenty  years,  "  but  they  must  be  happy  Sikhs," 
he  added.  The  broodinor  or  intris^uinof  Sikh  is 
a  nuisance  and  a  danger. 


THE  CLASS    REGIMENTS  33 

The   pick  of  the    Khalsa  will   be  found    in 
the  class  regiments  and  class  company  regiments 
to   which    the    Sikhism  of  to-day  owes  its  con- 
servation,  vigour,   and   life.      The    14th    Sikhs 
were  raised  at  Ferozepore  in  1846  ;  the  15th  at 
Ludhiana  in  the  same  year  ;  the  45th  Rattray's 
Sikhs  in  1856  for  service  among  the  Sonthals ; 
the  35th  and  36th  Sikhs   in   1887,   the    47th   in 
1901.    The  15th,  the  oldest  Sikh  battalion,  and 
the  47th,  the  latest  raised,  were  the  first  to  be 
given  the  opportunity  of  showing  the  mettle  of 
the   Khalsa    in    a    European    war.       The    47th, 
who  were  not  raised  till  1901,  earned  as  proud 
a  record  as  any  in  France,  distinguishing  them- 
selves from  the  day  in  October,  1914,  when,  with 
the    20th  and  21st    Sappers   and    Miners,    they 
cleared  the  village  of  Neuve  Chapelle  after  some 
Homeric    hand-to-hand   fighting   in    the    houses 
and  streets,  to  the  desperately  stubborn  advance 
up  the  glacis  to  the  German  trenches  on  April  26, 
191 5,  in  the  second  battle  of  Ypres,   when  the 
regiment  went  in   with  eleven   British  and   ten 
Indian  officers  and  423   other  ranks,   of  whom 
but  two  British  and  two  Indian  officers  and  92 
rank  and  file  mustered  after  the  action.      The 
15th  Sikhs,  one  of  the  two  earliest-raised  Sikh 

D 


34  THE    SIKH 

battalions,  were  the  first  to  come  into  action  in 
France,  and  they  maintained  a  high-level  repu- 
tation for  gallantry  all  through  the  campaign. 
The  story  of  Lieutenant  Smyth  and  his  ten  Sikh 
bombers  at  Festubert  is  not  likely  to  be  forgotten. 
Smyth  and  two  sepoys  were  the  only  two  sur- 
vivors of  this  gallant  band  who  passed  by  a 
miracle,  crawling  over  the  dead  bodies  of  their 
comrades,  through  a  torrent  of  lead,  and  carried 
their  bombs  through  to  the  first  line.  Smyth 
was  awarded  the  V.C.,  Lance-Naik  Mangal 
Singh  the  Indian  Order  of  Merit,  and  every 
sepoy  in  the  party  the  Indian  Distinguished 
Service  Medal.  Two  of  these  men  belonged 
to  the  45th  Sikhs,  four  to  the  19th  Punjabis. 
And  here  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 
Sikhs  earned  a  composite  part  of  the  honour  of 
nearly  every  mixed  class-company  regiment  in 
France ;  of  the  Punjabi  regiments,  for  instance, 
and  of  the  Frontier  Force  Rifle  battalions,  in 
which  the  number  of  Sikh  companies  varies  from 
one  to  four,  not  to  mention  the  Sappers  and 
Miners.  It  was  in  the  very  first  days  of  the 
Indians'  debut  in  France  that  a  Sikh  company  of 
the  57th  Rifles  earned  fame  when  it  was  believed 
that  the  line  must  have  given  way,  holding  on 


"STICKING   IT   OUT"  35 

all  through  the  night  against  repeated  counter- 
attacks, though  the  Germans  were  past  them  on 
both  flanks.  As  for  the  Sappers,  the  story  of 
Dalip  Singh  is  pure  Dumas.  This  fire-eater 
helped  his  fallen  officer,  Lieut.  Rail- Kerr,  to 
cover,  stood  over  him  and  kept  off  several  parties 
of  Germans  by  his  fire.  On  one  occasion — a  feat 
almost  incredible,  but  well  established — he  was 
attacked  by  twenty  of  the  enemy,  but  beat  them 
all  off  and  got  his  officer  away.* 

It  is  in  ''sticking  it  out "  that  the  Sikh  excels. 
No  one  will  deny  his  elaw^  yet  6lan  is  not  so 
remarkably  and  peculiarly  his  as  the  dogged 
spirit  of  resistance  that  never  admits  defeat, 
the  spirit  that  carried  his  ancestors  through  the 
long  ordeal  by  fire  in  their  struggle  with  the 
Moofuls.  It  is  in  defensive  action  that  the  Sikhs 
have  won  most  renown,  fighting  it  out  against 
hopeless,  or  almost  hopeless  odds,  as  at  Arrah 
and  Lucknow  in  the  Mutiny,  and  in  the  Tirah 
campaign  at  Saraghiri  on  the  Samana  ridge. 
The  defence  of  the  little  house  at  Arrah  by 
Rattray's  (the  45th)  Sikhs  was  one  of  the  most 
glorious  episodes  of  the  Indian  Mutiny,  and  the 

*  "  The^Indian  Corps  in  France,"  by  Lieut.-Colonel  J.  W.  B. 
Merewether,  C.I.E.,  and  Sir  Frederick  Smith. 


36  THE    SIKH 

story  of  the  Sikh  picket  at  Saraghiri  will  live  as 
long  in  history.  The  whole  garrison  of  the  post, 
twenty-one  men  of  the  36th  Sikhs,  a  battalion 
lately  raised  and  then  in  action  for  the  first 
time,  fell  to  a  man  in  its  defence.  The  Afridis 
admitted  the  loss  of  two  hundred  dead  in  the 
attack.  As  they  pressed  in  on  all  sides  in  over- 
whelming numbers  the  Sikhs  kept  up  their  steady 
fire  for  six  hours,  until  the  walls  of  the  post 
fell.  The  last  of  the  little  band  perished  in  the 
flames  as  he  defended  the  guard-room  door,  and 
shot  down  twenty  of  the  assailants  before  he 
succumbed. 

Strangely  enough,  these  two  regiments,  the 
36th  and  45th  Sikhs,  to  whom  we  owe  two  of 
the  most  enduring  examples  in  history  of  "  stick- 
ing it  out,"  fought  side  by  side  on  the  Hai  in 
an  action  which  called  for  as  high  qualities  of 
discipline  and  endurance  under  reverse  as  any 
that  was  fought  in  Mesopotamia.  The  Sikhs 
lived  up  to  their  tradition.  Both  regiments  went 
over  the  parapet  in  full  strength  and  were  prac- 
tically annihilated.  Only  190  effectives  came  out 
of  the  assault ;  only  one  British  ofticer  returned 
unwounded.  The  45th  on  the  right  were  ex- 
posed  to   a  massed   counter-attack.      A  British 


WARIAM    SINGH  37 

officer  was  seen  to  collect  his  men  and  close  in 
on  the  Turks  in  the  open  ;  he  and  his  gallant 
band  were  enveloped  and  overwhelmed.  So, 
too,  in  Gallipoli  the  14th  Sikhs,  who  saved 
Allahabad  in  the  Mutiny  and  immortalized  them- 
selves with  Havelock  in  the  march  on  Lucknow 
and  the  defence  of  the  Residency,  displayed 
their  old  spirit.  When  they  had  fought  their 
way  through  the  unbroken  wire  at  Gully  Ravine 
(June  4,  191 5)  and  taken  three  lines  of  trenches, 
they  hung  on  all  day,  though  they  had  lost  three- 
fourths  of  their  effectives,  and  every  British 
officer  but  two  was  killed. 

But  I  must  tell  the  story  of  Wariam  Singh, 
a  Jat  Sikh  of  a  Punjabi  regiment;  it  was  told 
me  by  one  Zorowar  Singh,  his  comrade,  in  France. 
"  You  heard  of  Wariam  Singh,  Sahib,"  he  asked 
— **  Wariam  Singh,  who  would  not  surrender  ?  " 

Wariam  Sinorh  was  on  leave  when  the  reei- 
ment  was  mobilized,  and  the  news  reached  him 
in  his  village.  It  was  a  very  hot  night.  They 
were   sitting    by    the    well,  and    when    Wariam 

Singh  heard  that  the Punjabis  were  going 

to  Wilayat  to  fight  for  the  Sircar  against  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  white  man,  he  said  that,  come  what 
might,  he  would  never  surrender.     He  made  a 


38  THE    SIKH 

vow  then  and  there,   and,  contrary  to  all  regi- 
mental discipline,  held  by  it. 

I  can  picture  the  scene — the  stencilled 
shadows  of  the  kikar  in  the  moonlight,  the 
smell  of  baked  flour  and  dying  embers,  the 
almost  motionless  group  in  a  ring  like  birds  on 
the  edge  of  a  tank,  and  in  the  background  the 
screen  of  tall  sugar-cane  behind  the  dry  thorn 
hedge.  The  village  kahne-wallah  (recounter  of 
tales)  would  be  half  chanting,  half  intoning,  with 
little  tremulous  grace-notes,  the  ballad  about 
"  Wa-ar-button  Sahib,"  or  Jan  Nikalsain,  when 
the  lumbardar  from  the  next  village  would  appear 
by  the  well  and  portentously  deliver  the  message. 

The  scene  may  have  flickered  before  the 
eyes  of  Wariam  Singh,  lying  stricken  beside  his 
machine-gun,  just  as  the  cherry  blossom  of  Kent 
is  said  to  appear  to  the  Kentish  soldier.  The 
two  English  officers  in  his  trench  had  fallen ; 
the  Germans  had  taken  the  trenches  to  the  left 
and  the  right,  and  they  were  enfiladed  up  to  the 
moment  when  the  final  frontal  wave  broke  in. 
The  order  came  to  retire,  but  Wariam  Singh 
said,  **  I  cannot  retire,  I  have  sworn "  ;  and  he 
stood  by  his  machine-gun. 

"If  he  had  retired  no  doubt  he  would  have 


DISCIPLES    OF   GOVIND  39 

been  slain.  Remaining  he  was  slain,  but  he  slew 
many,"  was  Zorowar  Singh's  comment. 

Afterwards  the  trench  was  taken  back,  and 
the  body  of  Wariam  Singh  was  found  under  the 
gun.  The  corpses  of  the  Germans  lay  all  round 
"like  stones  in  a  river  bed." 

The  disciples  of  Govind  comprise  many  classes 
other  than  the  J  at,  of  whom  there  are  some  thirty 
main  clans.  There  are  Sikhs  of  Brahman  and 
Rajput  descent,  and  a  number  of  tribes  of  humbler 
origin.  The  J  at  stands  first  in  respect  to  honour 
and  numbers ;  apart  from  him,  it  is  the  humbler 
classes  who  have  contributed  most  weight  to  the 
fighting  arms  of  the  community.  The  Brahman-, 
Rajput-,  and  Khatri-descended  Sikhs  do  not 
enlist  freely. 

The  48th  Pioneers  are  recruited  almost  en- 
tirely from  Labanas,  a  tribe  whose  history  goes 
back  to  the  beginning  of  time.  There  are 
Labanas,  of  course,  who  are  not  Sikhs.  The 
Raja  of  the  community  is  a  Hindu  and  lives  at 
Philibit,  and  there  are  Labana  hillmen  about 
Simla,  farmers  in  the  Punjab,  traders  in  the 
Deccan  and  Bombay,  and  owners  of  ships ;  but  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  pick  of  them  are  those 
that  have  enlisted  in  the  Khalsa.      The  Labanas 


40  THE   SIKH 

were  soldiers  at  least  two  thousand  years  before 
Govind,  and  according  to  tradition  formed  the 
armed  transport  of  the  Pandavas  and  brought 
in  the  fuel  (labanke — a  kind  of  brushwood,  hence 
the  tribal  name)  for  the  heroes  of  the  Mahabha- 
rata.  I  heard  this  story  from  a  Labana  Sikh  one 
night  on  the  upper  reaches  of  the  Euphrates  near 
Khan  Baghdadi,  when  we  were  miles  ahead  of 
our  transport  and  had  rounded  up  a  whole  army 
of  Turks.  He  told  it  me  with  such  impressment 
that  I  felt  it  must  be  true,  though  no  doubt  there 
are  spoilers  of  romance  who  would  unweave 
the  web. 

Theoretically  Sikhism  acknowledges  no  caste  ; 
but  in  practice  the  Sikh  of  Jat  or  Rajput  descent 
will  not  eat  or  drink  with  Sikhs  drawn  from  the 
menial  classes,  though  the  lowest  in  the  social 
scale  have  been  tried  and  proved  on  the  field,  and 
shown  themselves  possessed  of  military  qualities 
which,  apart  from  caste  prejudice,  should  admit 
them  to  an  equal  place  in  the  brotherhood  of  the 
faithful.  The  Mazbhis  are  a  case  in  point.  The 
first  of  this  despised  sweeper  class  to  attain  dis- 
tinction were  the  three  whom  Guru  Govind  ad- 
mitted into  the  Khalsa  as  a  reward  for  their 
fidelity  and  devotion  when  they  rescued  the  body 


THE    MAZBHI  4^ 

of    Tegh   Bahodur,   the   murdered   ninth  Guru, 
from  the  fanatical  Moslem  mob  at  Delhi.    When 
Sikhism  was  fighting  for  its  life,  these  outcasts 
were   caught   up  in   the  wave   of  chivalry   and 
** gentled    their  condition;"   but  as  soon  as  the 
Khalsa  were  dominant  in  the  Punjab  the  Maz- 
bhis  found  that  the  equality  their  religion  pro- 
mised them  existed  in  theory   rather  than  fact. 
They  occupied  much   the  same  position  among 
thejat-   and  Khattri-descended  Sikhs  as  their 
ancestors,    the   sweepers,    enjoyed    amongst   the 
Hindus.    They  were  debarred  from  all  privileges, 
and  were  at  one  time  even  excluded  from  the 
army.     It  fell  to  the  British  to  restore  the  status 
of  the  Mazbhi,  or  rather  to  give  him  the  opening 
by  which  he  was  able  to  re-establish  his  honour 
and  self-esteem.    The  occasion  was  in  the  Mutiny 
of  1857,  when  we  were  in  great  need  of  trained 
sappers  for  the  siege-work  at  Delhi.     A  number 
of  Mazbhis  who  were  employed  at  the  time  in 
the  canal  works  at  Madhopur  were  offered  mili- 
tary service  and  enlisted  readily.     On  the  march 
to  Delhi  these  raw  recruits  fought  like  veterans. 
They  were  attacked  by  the    rebels,  beat    them 
off,  and  saved  the  whole  of  the  ammunition  and 
treasure.     During  the  siege  Neville  Chamberlain 


42  THE    SIKH 

wrote  of  them  that  "their  courage  amounted  to 
utter  recklessness  of  life."  Eight  of  them  carried 
the  powder-bags  to  blow  up  the  Kashmir  Gate, 
under  Home  and  Salkeld.  Their  names  are 
inscribed  on  the  arch  to-day  and  have  become 
historical.  John  Lawrence  wrote  of  the  deed  as 
one  of  "  deliberate  and  sustained  courage,  as  noble 
as  any  that  ever  graced  the  annals  of  war." 

The  Mazbhis  are  recruited  for  the  Sikh 
Pioneer  regiments,  the  23rd,  32nd,  and  34th, 
sister  regiments  of  whom  one,  or  more,  has  been 
engaged  in  nearly  every  frontier  campaign  from 
Waziristan  in  i860  to  the  Abor  expedition  in 
191 1.  It  was  the  32nd  who  carried  the  guns 
over  the  Shandur  Pass  in  the  snow,  in  the  march 
from  Gilgit,  and  relieved  the  British  garrison 
in  Chitral.  The  34th  were  among  the  earliest 
Indian  regiments  engaged  in  France,  and  the 
Mazbhis  gained  distinction  in  October,  191 4, 
when  they  were  pushed  up  to  relieve  the  French 
cavalry,  and  the  Sikh  officers  carried  on  the 
defence  for  a  day  and  a  night  under  repeated 
attacks  when  their  British  officers  had  fallen. 
Great,  too,  was  the  gallantry  of  the  Indian 
officers  of  the  regiment  at  Festubert  (November, 
1914),  and    the    spirit   of  the    ranks.      Yet   the 


THE   JAT   SIKH  43 

Mazbhis  are  still  excluded  from  most  privileges 
by  the  Khalsa.  They  are  not  eligible  for  the 
other  Sikh  class  regiments.  Nor  are  they  accept- 
able in  the  cavalry  or  in  other  arms,  for  the 
aristocratic  J  at  Sikh,  as  a  rule,  refuses  to  serve 
with  them.  Yet  you  will  find  a  sprinkling  of  Jat 
Sikhs  in  the  Mazbhi  Pioneer  regiments — quick- 
witted, ambitious  men  usually,  who  are  ready  to 
make  some  sacrifice  in  the  way  of  social  prestige 
for  the  sake  of  more  rapid  promotion.  The  solid 
old  Mazbhis,  with  all  their  sterling  virtues,  are 
not  quick  at  picking  up  ideas.  It  is  sometimes 
difficult  to  find  men  among  them  with  the 
initiative  to  make  good  officers.  Thus  in  a 
Mazbhi  regiment  the  more  subtle-minded  Jat 
does  not  find  it  such  a  stiff  climb  out  of  the 
ranks. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  think  that  the  Jat 
Sikh  is  necessarily  a  better  man  in  a  scrap  than 
the  Mazbhi,  though  this  is  no  doubt  assumed  as 
a  matter  of  course  by  ofificers  whose  acquaintance 
with  the  Sikh  is  confined  to  the  Jat.  I  shall 
never  forget  introducing  a  young  captain  in  a 
Mazbhi  regiment  to  a  very  senior  Colonel  on  the 
Staff.  The  colonel  in  his  early  days  had  been 
a   subaltern  in  the  — th   Sikhs,  but  had   put   in 


44  THE    SIKH 

most  of  his  life's  work  in  "  Q "  Branch  up  at 
Simla,  and  did  not  know  a  great  deal  about  the 
Sikh  or  any  other  sepoy.  He  turned  to  the 
young  leader  of  Mazbhis,  who  is  quite  the  keenest 
regimental  officer  I  know,  and  said — 

"  Your  men  are  Mazbhis,  aren't  they  ?  But 
I  suppose  you  have  a  stiffening  of  Jats." 

The  youngster's  eyes  glinted  rage  and  he 
breathed  fire. 

"Stiffening,  sir?  Stiffening  of  Jats  !  Our 
men  are  Mazbhis." 

Stiffening  was  an  unhappy  word,  and  it  stuck 
in  the  boy's  gorge  for  weeks.  To  stiffen  the 
Mazbhi, 

"  to  gild  refined  gold, 
To  add  another  hue  unto  the  rainbow," 

all  come  in  the  same  catalogue  of  ridiculous 
excess.  Stiffening  !  Why  the  man  is  solid  con- 
crete. It  would  take  a  stream  of  molten  larva 
to  make  him  budge.  Or,  as  Atkins  would 
say — 

"  He  wants  a  crump  on  his  blamed  cokernut 
before  he  knows  things  is  beginning  to  get  a  bit 
'ot,  and  then  he  ain't  sure." 

It  was  to  stiffen  his  men  a  bit,  as  they  were 
all  jiwans  and  likely  to  get  a  little  flustered,  that 


COURAGE    OF    THE    MAZBHIS     45 

old  Khattak  Singh,  Subadar  of  the  34th  Sikh 
Pioneers,  called  "  Left,  right ;  right,  left,"  as  the 
regiment  tramped  into  action  at  Dujaila ;  but 
the  Mazbhi  did  not  want  stiffening.  It  is  rather 
his  part  to  contribute  the  inflexible  element  when 
there  is  fear  of  a  bent  or  broken  line.  In  the 
action  at  Jebel  Hamrin,  on  March  25,  191 7, 
when  we  tried  to  drive  the  Turks  from  a  strong 
position  in  the  hills,  where  they  outnumbered  us, 
the  Mazbhis  showed  us  how  stiff  they  could  be. 
They  were  divisional  troops  and  for  months  they 
had  been  employed  in  wiring  our  line  at  night, 
— a  wearing  business,  standing  about  for  hours 
in  the  dark,  under  a  blind  but  hot  fire,  casualties 
every  night  and  never  a  shot  at  the  Turk.  So 
tired  were  they  of  being  fired  at  without  return- 
ing the  enemy's  fire  that,  when  they  got  the 
chance  at  Jebel  Hamrin  and  were  rolling  over 
visible  Turks,  for  a  long  time  they  could  not  be 
induced  to  retire.  The  Turks  were  bringing 
off  an  enveloping  movement  which  threatened 
our  right.  The  order  had  been  given  for  the 
retirement.  But  the  Mazbhis  did  not,  or  would 
not,  hear  it.  Somebody,  I  forget  whether  it  was 
a  British  officer,  or  if  it  was  an  Indian  officer 
after  the  British  officers  had  all  fallen,  said  that 


46  the;  SIKH 

he  would  not  retire  without  a  written  order. 
Ninety  of  them  out  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  fell. 
Old  Khattak  Singh  got  back  in  the  night, 
walked  six  miles  to  the  hospital  with  seven 
wounds,  one  in  his  shoulder  and  two  in  his  thigh, 
and  said,  "  I  had  ninety  rounds.  I  fired  them  all 
at  the  Turks  and  killed  a  few.  Now  I  am  happy 
and  may  as  well  lie  up  for  a  bit." 

The  Staff  Colonel  had  a  certain  spice  of 
humour,  if  little  tact,  and  I  think  he  rather  liked 
the  boy  for  his  outburst  in  defence  of  his  dear 
Mazbhis.  To  the  outsider  these  little  passages 
afford  continual  amusement.  One  has  to  mix 
with  different  regiments  a  long  time  before  one 
can  follow  all  the  nuances,  but  it  does  not  take 
lone  to  realize  to  what  extent  the  British  officer 
is  a  partisan.  Insensibly  he  suffers  through  his 
affections  a  kind  of  conversion.  He  comes  to 
see  many  things  as  his  men  see  them,  even  to 
adopt  their  own  estimate  of  themselves  in  relation 
to  other  sepoys.  And  one  would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  It  speaks  well  for  the  qualities  of 
the  Indian  soldier,  for  the  courage,  kindliness, 
loyalty,  and  faith  with  which  he  binds  his  British 
officer  to  his  own  community.  It  may  be  very 
narrow  and  wrong,  but  an  Indian  regiment  is  the 


THE    BRITISH    OFFICER  47 

better  fighting  unit  for  it.  Better  an  enthusiasm 
that  is  sometimes  ridiculous  than  a  lukewarm 
attachment.  The  officer  who  does  not  think 
much  of  his  jiwans  will  not  go  far  with  them. 
There  are  cases,  of  course,  where  pride  runs  riot 
and  verges  on  snobbishness.  I  remember  a 
subaltern  who  was  shocked  at  the  idea  of  his 
men  playing  hockey  with  a  regiment  recruited 
from  a  lower  caste.  And  I  once  knew  a  field 
officer  in  a  class  regiment  of  Jat  Sikhs  who,  I 
am  sure,  would  have  felt  very  uncomfortable  if 
he  had  been  asked  to  sit  down  at  table  with  an 
officer  who  commanded  Mazbhis.  Yet,  I  am 
told,  he  was  a  fine  soldier. 

Fanatics  of  his  kidney  were  happily  rare.  I 
use  the  past  tense  for  they  have  gone  with  the 
best,  and  I  am  speaking  generally  of  a  school 
that  has  vanished.  It  may  be  resuscitated,  but 
it  will  hardly  be  in  our  time.  Too  many  of 
the  old  campaigners,  transmitters  of  tradition, 
splendid  fellows  who  lived  for  the  regiment  and 
swore  by  it,  are  dead  or  crippled,  and  the  pick 
of  the  Indian  Army  Reserve  has  been  reaped 
by  the  same  scythe.  The  gaps  have  had  to  be 
filled  so  fast  and  from  a  material  so  unready  that 
one  meets  officers  now  who  know  nothin<i  about 


48  THE   SIKH 

their  sepoys,  who  do  not  understand  their  lan- 
guage and  who  are  not  even  interested  in  them, 
youngsters  intended  for  other  walks  of  life  who 
will  never  be  impressed  by  the  Indian  soldier 
until  they  have  first  learnt  to  impress  him. 


THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

The  ••  P.  M.",  or  Punjabi  Mussalman,  is  a 
difficult  type  to  describe.  Next  to  the  Sikh,  he 
makes  up  the  greater  part  of  the  Indian  Army. 
Yet,  outside  camps  and  messes,  one  hears  little  of 
him.  The  reason  is  that  in  appearance  there  is 
nothing  very  distinctive  about  him  ;  in  character 
he  combines  the  traits  of  the  various  stocks  from 
which  he  is  sprung,  and  these  are  legion  ;  also,  as 
there  are  no  P.  M.  class  regiments,  he  is  never 
collectively  in  the  public  eye. 

Yet  the  P.  M.  has  played  a  conspicuous  part 
in  nearly  every  action  the  Indian  Army  has 
fought  in  the  war,  and  in  every  frontier  campaign 
for  generations  ;  in  gallantry,  coolness,  endurance, 
dependability,   he  is  every  bit   as   good  as   the 

best. 

"  Why  don't  you  write  about  the  P.  M.  ?  "  a 
friend  in  the  Nth  asked  me  once.  He  was  a 
major  in  a  Punjabi  regiment,  and  had  grown  grey 
in  service  with  them. 

49  E 


50      THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

We  were  standing  on  the  platform  of  a  flank- 
ing trench  screened  by  sandbags  from  Turkish 
snipers,  looking  out  over  the  marsh  at  Sannaiyat. 
Nothing  had  happened  to  write  home  about  for 
six  months,  not  since  we  delivered  our  third  and 
bloodiest  attack  on  the  position  on  the  22nd  April. 
The  water  had  receded  nearly  a  thousand  yards 
since  then.  Our  wire  fences  stood  out  high  and 
dry  on  the  alkaline  soil.  The  blue  lake  seemed 
to  stretch  away  into  the  interstices  of  the  hills 
which  in  the  haze  looked  a  bare  dozen  miles 
away. 

Two  days  before  our  last  attack  in  April  the 
water  was  clean  across  our  front  six  inches  deep, 
with  another  six  inches  of  mud  ;  on  the  21st  it 
was  subsiding ;  on  the  22nd  the  flooded  ground 
was  heavy,  but  it  was  decided  that  there  was  just 
a  chance.  So  the  assault  was  delivered.  The 
Turkish  front  line  was  flooded  ;  there  was  no  one 
in  it,  and  it  was  not  until  we  had  passed  it  that 
we  were  really  in  difficulties.  The  second  line  of 
trenches  was  neck  deep  in  water;  behind  it  there 
was  a  network  of  dug-outs  and  pits  into  which 
we  floundered  blindly.  Beyond  this,  between  the 
Turkish  second  and  third  lines,  the  mud  was  knee 
deep.    The  Highlanders,  a  composite  battalion  of 


To  face  p    50.]  THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALM 


AN. 


GALLANTRY  51 

the  Black  Watch  and  Seaforths,  and  the  92nd 
Punjabis,  as  they  struggled  grimly  through,  came 
under  a  terrific  fire.  It  was  here  that  their 
splendid  gallantry  was  mocked  by  one  of  those 
circumstances  which  make  one  look  darkly  for 
the  hand  of  God  in  war. 

The  breeches  of  their  rifles  had  become 
choked  and  jammed  with  mud.  The  Jocks  were 
tearing  at  them  with  their  teeth,  panting  and 
sobbing,  and  choking  for  breath.  They  were 
almost  at  grips  with  the  Turk,  but  could  not 
return  his  fire. 

The  last  action  we  fought  for  Kut  was  un- 
successful, but  the  gallantry  of  the  men  who 
poured  into  that  narrow  front  through  the  marsh 
will  become  historic.  The  Highlanders  hardly 
need  praise.  The  constancy  of  these  battalions 
has  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  natural  law.  "  The 
Jocks  were  magnificent,"  my  friend  said,  "as  they 
always  are.     So  were  the  Indians." 

And  amongst  the  Indians  were  the  P.  Ms. 
There  were  other  classes  of  sepoy  who  may  have 
done  as  well,  but  the  remnants  of  the  three 
Indian  battalions  in  this  fight  were  mostly  Pun- 
jabi Mussalmans.  And  here,  as  at  Nasiriyeh, 
Ctesiphon    and    Kut-el-Amara,    in    Egypt    and 


52       THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

France,  at  Ypres,  Festubert  and  Serapeum,  the 
P.  M.  covered  himself  with  glory.  The  Jock, 
that  sparing  critic  of  men,  had  nothing  but  good 
words  for  him. 

"  Yes !  Why  don't  you  write  about  the 
P.  M.  ?"  the  Major  asked.  One  of  the  reasons 
why  I  had  not  written  about  the  P.  M.  is  that  he 
is  a  very  difficult  person  to  write  about.  There 
is  nothing  very  salient  or  characteristic  about 
him ;  or  rather,  he  has  the  characteristics  of  most 
other  sepoys.  To  write  about  the  P.  M.  is  to 
write  about  the  Indian  Army.  And  that  is  why, 
to  my  friend's  intense  annoyance,  the  man  in  the 
street,  who  speaks  glibly  of  Gurkha,  Sikh,  and 
Pathan,  has  never  heard  of  him. 

"  Here's  the  old  P.  M.  sweating  blood,"  he 
said,  *'  all  through  the  show,  slogging  away, 
sticking  it  out  like  a  good  'un,  and  as  modest 
as  you  make  'em.  Never  bukhs ;  never  comes 
up  after  a  show  and  tells  you  what  he  has  done. 
You  don't  know  unless  you  see  him.  Old 
Shere  Khan,  our  bomb  havildar,  was  hit  through 
both  jaws  on  the  22nd.  He  got  two  bullets  in 
the  arm.  Then  he  was  shot  in  the  lungs.  But 
it  was  only  when  he  got  his  fifth  wound  in  the 
leg  that  he  ceased   to  lead  his  men  and  limped 


THE   JEMADAR   GHULAM    ALI     53 

back  to  the  first-aid  post.  All  our  B.  O.'s  were 
down,  but  a  doctor  man  with  the  Highlanders 
happened  to  see  the  whole  thing.  So  Shere 
Khan  was  promoted." 

The  Major  was  bound  to  his  P.  Ms.  with 
hoops  of  steel.  It  was  the  rifles  with  fixed 
bayonets  slung  from  pegs  between  the  sandbags 
that  recalled  Polonius'  metaphor.  It  seemed 
more  apt  at  Sannaiyat. 

He  introduced  me  to  the  Jemadar,  Ghulam 
Ali,  a  man  with  a  mouth  like  a  rat-trap  and 
remarkable  for  a  kind  of  dour  smartness.  The 
end  of  his  pagri  was  drawn  out  into  a  jaunty 
little  tuft  by  the  side  of  his  kula.  His  long  hair, 
oiled,  but  uncurled,  fell  down  to  the  nape  of  his 
neck.  Ghulam  Ali,  though  shot  through  the 
forearm  himself,  had  built  up  a  screen  of  earth 
round  his  Sahib  when  he  was  severely  wounded 
at  the  Wadi,  stayed  with  him  till  dusk,  helped 
him  back  to  better  cover,  and  then  returned  to 
the  firing  line  to  bring  in  a  lance-naik  on  his 
shoulders. 

There  were  very  few  of  the  old  crowd  left 
in  the  trenches.  "  These  youngsters  are  mostly 
recruits,"  the  Major  explained,  "but  they  are  a 
good  lot.     I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Subadar 


54      THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

,"  and  he  mentioned  a  man  who  had  prac- 
tically run  a  district  in  East  Africa  all  on  his 
own  when  there  was  no  white  man  by.  A 
tremendous  character.  "And  Subadar-Major 
Farman  Ali  Bahadar.  He  got  the  D.S.M.  when 
he  was  with  us  in  Egypt,  led  a  handful  of  his 
men  across  the  open  at  Touffoum,  and  turned  the 
Turkish  flank  very  neatly.  He  got  an  I.O.M. 
at  Sheikh  Saad.  And  he  led  the  regiment  back 
at  Sannaiyat  when  all  the  British  officers  were 
down.     He  was  a  Khoreshi,  by  the  way." 

A  Khoreshi  is  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  the 
Prophet.  A  good  Khoreshi  is  a  man  to  be 
sought  for  and  honoured,  for  his  influence  is 
great ;  but  a  bad  Khoreshi  among  the  P.  Ms. 
is  as  big  a  nuisance  as  a  Mir  among  Pathans. 

"A  kind  of  ecclesiastical  dignitary,"  the 
Major  explained,  "a  sort  of  Rural  Dean.  You 
will  find  men  who  funk  him  for  reasons  which 
have  nothing  to  do  with  discipline ;  and  if  he 
pulls  the  wrong  way  it  is  the  very  devil." 

The  P.  Ms.  in  the  trenches  were  varied  in 
type.  There  was  nothing  distinctive  or  showy 
about  them,  only  they  all  looked  workman-like ; 
Sikh,  Jat,  and  Punjabi  Mussalman  are  mostly  of 
common  stock,  and  they  assimilate  so  much  in 


VARIETY   OF   TYPE  55 

feature  that  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  distinguish 
between  them.  The  P.  Ms.  ancestry  may  be 
Rajput,  J  at,  Gujar,  Arab  or  Mogul.  There  are 
more  than  400  tribes  which  he  can  derive  from, 
and  these  are  broken  up  into  innumerable  sects 
and  sub-divisions.  He  does  not  pride  himself  on 
his  class,  but  on  his  clan.  The  generic  "izzat" 
of  the  P.  M.  is  merged  in  the  specific  "izzat"  of 
the  Gakkar,  Tiwana,  Awan,  or  whatever  he  may 
be.  "Punjabi  Mussalman"  is  a  purely  official 
designation.  And  that  is  why  the  general  public 
hears  so  little  of  him. 

As  a  class  he  is  a  kind  of  Indian  Everyman 
and  comprises  all.  You  will  find  among  the 
P.  Ms.  every  variety  of  type,  from  the  big-boned 
Awan,  stalwart  of  the  Salt  Range,  to  the  thin- 
bearded  little  hillman  of  Poonch ;  from  the 
Tiwanas,  bloods  of  the  Thai  country  who  give 
us  the  pick  of  our  cavalry  and  will  not  serve  on 
foot,  to  the  wiry  Baluchi,  who  has  forgotten  the 
language  and  observances  of  his  kinsmen  over 
the  border.  You  will  find  descendants  of  all  the 
Muhammadan  invaders  of  India,  from  the  time 
of  Mahmud  of  Ghazni  in  a.d.  1001,  and  of  pre- 
Islamic  invaders  centuries  before  that,  and  of  the 
converts  of  every  considerable  Moslem  freebooter 


56      THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

since.  The  recruiting  officer  encourages  pride 
of  race,  which  is  generally  accompanied  with  a 
soldierly  bearing  and  pride  in  arms,  though  the 
oldest  stock  is  not  always  the  best.  You  will 
find  among  the  P.  Ms.  Khoreshis  and  Sayads  of 
the  tribes  of  the  Prophet  and  of  Ali,  Gakkars 
who  will  only  give  their  daughters  to  Sayads, 
Ketwals  who  descended  from  Alexander  the 
Great.  The  Bhatti  are  Pliny's  Baternae.  The 
Awans  claim  descent  from  the  iconoclast  Mah- 
mud.  At  Sannaiyat  I  saw  a  Jungua  of  the 
Jhelum  district  who  might  have  stood  for  a 
portrait  of  Disraeli.  The  true,  or  spurious,  seed 
of  the  Moguls  are  scattered  all  over  the  Punjab, 
and  there  are  scions  of  ancient  Rajput  stock  like 
the  Ghorewahas,  who  preserve  their  bards  and 
are  still  half  Hindus,  and  the  Manj,  who  are  too 
blue-blooded  to  follow  the  plough.  But  as  a 
rule  the  P.  M.  has  less  frills  than  the  Hindu  of 
the  same  stock ;  he  will  lend  a  hand  at  any 
honest  work,  and  falls  easily  into  disciplinary 
ways. 

What  is  it  then  that  differentiates  the  Punjabi 
Mussalman  ?     I  put  the  case  to  my  friend. 

"Your  P.  M.  comes  from  all  stocks,  has  the 
same  ancestor  as  the  Jat,  the  Sikh,  the  Rajput, 


CHARACTER  57 

or  the  Pathan.  Can  you  tell  me  exactly  what 
being  a  P.  M.  does  for  him  ? " 

The  Major  was  unable  to  enlighten  me  fully. 
He  told  me  what  I  had  heard  officers  say  of 
other  classes  of  sepoy ;  only  he  left  out  all  their 
faults. 

"  Personally,  I  think  the  P.  M.  is  more 
human,"  he  said.     "  He  is  not  so  proud  as  the 

,  or  so  ambitious  as  the ,  or  so  mean 

as  the  ,  or  so  stupid  as  the .     He   is 

a  cheery  soul,  and  when  he  gets  money  he 
doesn't  mind  spending  it.  He  is  the  most 
natural  and  direct  of  men,  and  there  is  no  damned 
humbug  about  him.  I  remember  old  Fazal 
Khan  pulling  up  a  jiwan  (youth)  we  had  up,  and 
who  was  being  cross-examined  in  an  inquiry  about 
some  lost  ammunition.  The  youngster  hedged, 
corrected  himself,  modified  his  statements,  and 
generally  betrayed  his  reluctance  to  come  to  the 
point.  Fazal  Khan's  rebuke  was  characteristic. 
*  Judging  distance  ka  mafik  gawahi  mut  do  ! '  he 
said  ('  Don't  give  your  evidence  as  if  you  were 
judging  distance  at  the  range ! ').  He  had  a 
wholesome  contempt  for  civilian  ways.  The 
regiment  was  giving  a  tamasha  in  the  lines — an 
anniversary    show— and   one    of   our   subalterns 


58       THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

suggested  putting  up  a  row  of  flags  all  the  way 
from  the  gate  to  the  marquee.  But  Fazal  Khan 
was  not  for  it.  'No,  sahib!'  he  said  gravely, 
*  too  civil  ka  mafik,'  *  the  sort  of  thing  a  civilian 
would  do.'  The  old  fellow  is  a  soldier  all 
through." 

The  Major's  story  gave  me  a  glimmering  of 
what  it  was  that  being  a  P.  M.  did  for  Fazal 
Khan  and  his  brood.  "There  is  no  damned 
humbug  about  them," — which  was  his  way  of 
saying  that  his  friends  neglect  the  arts  of  in- 
sinuation. 

"  There  is  something  downriorht  about  the 
p.  M.  Even  when  he  is  mishandled,  he  is  not 
mulish,  only  dispirited.  And  he'll  do  anything 
for  the  right  kind  of  Sahib.  Besides,  look  how 
he  rolls  up,  recruiting  is  now  better  than  ever — 
he  is  the  backbone  of  the  Indian  Army." 

A  good  "  certifkit "  and  I  think  in  the  main 
true,  though  necessarily  partial.  But  the  Major 
was  not  literally  accurate  in  saying  that  the  P.  M. 
is  the  backbone  of  the  Indian  Army.  The  Sikhs 
would  have  something  to  say  to  that,  for  214 
companies  of  infantry,  including  the  class  regi- 
ments, and  forty  squadrons  of  cavalry,  are  re- 
cruited entirely  from  the  Khalsa,  besides  a  large 


QUALITY  59 

proportion  of  sappers  and  miners,  and  half  the 
mountain  batteries.  The  Gurkhas  contribute 
twenty  battalions  of  foot,  but  they  serve  only  in 
the  infantry.  Taking  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery 
and  sappers,  the  P.  M.  in  point  of  numbers  is  an 
easy  second  to  the  Sikh.* 

There  are,  of  course,  Mussalman  sepoys  and 
sowars  recruited  from  other  provinces  than  the 
Punjab.  Those  from  the  United  Provinces  fall 
under  the  official  designation  of  "  Hindustani 
Mussalman,"  and  need  not  be  differentiated  from 
the  Muhammadans  east  of  the  Jumna.  The 
same  qualities  may  be  discovered  in  any  clan  ; 
the  difference  is  only  in  degree ;  it  is  among  the 
Punjabi  Mussalmans  that  you  will  find  the  pick 
of  Islam  in  the  Indian  Army. 

Of  quality  it  is  difficult  to  speak.  He  is  a 
bold  man  who  would  generalise  upon  the  Indian 
Army,  more  especially  upon  the  Punjab  fighting 
stocks.  The  truth  is  that,  if  you  pick  the  best  of 
them  and  give  them  the  same  officers,  there  is 
nothing  to  choose  between  Sikh,  Jat,  and  Punjabi 
Mussalman.  Only  you  must  be  careful  to  choose 
your  men  from  districts  where  they  inherit  the 

*  These  statistics  relate  to  the  pre-war  establishment  of  the 
Indian  Army. 


6o       THE    PUNJABI    MUSSALMAN 

land  and  are  not  alien  and  browbeaten,  but  carry 
their  heads  high. 

Why,  then,  if  the  P.  M.  is  as  good  as  the 
best,  has  he  not  been  discovered  by  the  man  in 
the  street  ?  One  reason  I  have  suggested.  You 
can  shut  your  eyes  in  the  Haymarket  and  conjure 
up  an  image  of  Gurkha,  Sikh,  or  Pathan,  but 
you  cannot  thus  airily  summon  the  P.  M. — be- 
cause he  is  Everyman,  the  type  of  all.  Another 
source  of  his  obscurity  is  the  illogical  nomen- 
clature of  the  Indian  Army.  A  class  designation 
does  not  mean  a  class  regiment.  How  many 
Baluchis  proper  are  there  in  the  so-called  Baluchi 
regiments  ?  Who  gives  a  thought  to  the  Dogras, 
P.  Ms.  and  Pathans  in  the  51st,  52nd,  53rd, 
and  54th  Sikhs,  the  Dekkani  Mussalman  in  the 
Maharatta  regiments,  or  the  Dogras  and  P.  Ms. 
in  the  40th  Pathans  .'*  Now  the  P.  M.  only 
exists  in  the  composite  battalions.  He  has  no 
class  regiment  of  his  own.  You  may  look  in 
vain  in  the  Army  List  for  the  49th  Gakkars, 
50th  Awans,  or  the  69th  Punjabi  Mussalmans. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  P.  M.  swells  the  honour  of 
others,  while  his  own  name  is  not  increased. 

Every  boy  in  the  street  heard  of  the  40th 
Pathans  at  Ypres,  but  few  knew  that  there  were 


GOOD    FIGHTERS  6i 

two  companies  of  P.  Ms.  In  the  crowd — "  as 
good  as  any  of  them,"  the  Major  said,  "men 
who  would  stiffen  any  regiment  in  the  Indian 
Army." 

And   when   it   is   generally  known   that   the 

Sikhs  were  first  into  the  Turkish  trenches 

on  the  right  bank  at  Sheikh  Saad  and  captured 
the  two  mountain  guns,  nobody  is  likely  to  hear 
anything  of  the  P.  M.  company  who  was  with 
them,  a  composite  part  of  the  battalion.  ' 

The  Major's  men  had  been  complimented  for 
every  action  they  had  been  in,  and  this  was  the 
scene  of  their  most  desperate  struggle.  But 
there  was  little  to  recall  the  Sannaiyat  of  April 
— only  an  occasional  bullet  whistling  overhead, 
or  cracking  against  the  sandbags.  Instead  of 
mud  a  thin  dust  was  flying  and  the  peaceful 
birds  stood  by  the  edge  of  the  lake. 

I  wished  the  P.  M.  could  have  his  Homer. 
Happily  he  is  not  concerned  with  the  newspaper 
paragraph.  Were  the  Press  to  discover  him  it 
is  doubtful  if  he  would  hear  of  it.  He  enlists 
freely.  He  is  such  an  obvious  fact,  stands  out 
so  saliently  wherever  the  Indian  Army  is  doing 
anything,  looms  so  large  everywhere,  that  it  has 
probably  never  entered  his  head  that   his  light 


62       THE    PUNJABI    AIUSSALMAN 

could  be  obscured.  But  his  British  officer  takes 
the  indifference  of  the  profane  crowd  to  heart. 
When  he  hears  the  Sikh,  Gurkha,  and  Pathan 
spoken  of  collectively  as  synonymous  with  the 
Indian  Army  he  is  displeased ;  and  his  dis- 
pleasure is  natural,  if  not  philosophic.  If  he 
were  philosophic  he  would  find  consolation  in 
the  same  sheets  which  annoy  him,  for  it  is  better 
to  be  ignored  than  to  be  advertised  in  a  foolish 
way.  It  is  with  a  joy  that  has  no  roots  in  pride 
that  the  Indian  Army  officer  reads  of  the  Gurkha 
hurling  his  kukri  at  the  foe,  or  blooding  his 
virgin  blade  on  the  forearms  of  the  self-devotingr 
ladies  of  Marseilles,  or  of  the  grave,  bearded 
Sikhs  handing  round  the  hubble-bubble  with  the 
blood  still  wet  on  their  swords  ;  or  of  the  Bengali 
lancer  dismounting  and  charging  the  serried  ranks 
of  the  Hun  with  his  spear.  Hearing  of  these 
wonders,  the  Sahib  who  commands  the  Punjabi 
Mussalman,  and  loves  his  men,  will  discover 
comfort  in  obscurity. 


THE    PATHAN 

One  often  hears  British  officers  in  the  Indian 
Army  say  that  the  Pathan  has  more  in  common 
with  the  EngHshman  than  other  sepoys.  This 
is  because  he  is  an  individuahst.  Personality 
has  more  play  on  the  border,  and  the  tribesman 
is  not  bound  by  the  complicated  ritual  that  lays 
so  many  restrictions  on  the  Indian  soldier.  His 
life  is  more  free.  He  is  more  direct  and  out- 
spoken, not  so  suspicious  or  self-conscious.  He 
is  a  gambler  and  a  sportsman,  and  a  bit  of  an 
adventurer,  restless  by  nature,  and  always  ready 
to  take  on  a  new  thing.  He  has  a  good  deal  of 
joie  de  vivre.  His  sense  of  humour  approximates 
to  that  of  Thomas  Atkins,  and  is  much  more 
subtle  than  the  Gurkha's,  though  he  laughs  at 
the  same  things.  He  will  smoke  a  pipe  with 
the  Dublin  Fusiliers  and  share  his  biscuits  with 
the  man  of  Cardiff  or  Kent.  He  is  a  Highlander, 
and  so,  like  the  Gurkhas,  naturally  attracted  by 
the  Scot.     Yet  behind  all  these  superficial  points 

63 


64  THE    PATH  AN 

of  resemblance  he  has  a  code  which  in  ultimate 
things  cuts  him  off  from  the  British  soldier  with 
as  clean  a  line  of  demarcation  as  an  unbridged 
crevasse. 

The  Pathan's  code  is  very  simple  and  distinct 
in  primal  and  essential  things.  The  laws  of 
hospitality,  retaliation,  and  the  sanctuary  of  his 
hearth  to  the  guest  or  fugitive  are  seldom  vio- 
lated. But  acting  within  the  code  the  Pathan 
can  indulge  his  bloodthirstiness,  treachery,  and 
vindictiveness  to  an  extent  unsanctioned  by  the 
tables  of  the  law  prescribed  by  other  races  and 
creeds.  It  is  a  savage  code,  and  the  only  saving 
grace  about  the  business  is  that  the  Pathan  is 
true  to  it,  such  as  it  is,  and  expects  to  be  dealt 
with  by  others  as  he  deals  by  them.  The  main 
fact  in  life  across  the  border  is  the  badi,  or  blood- 
feud.  Few  families  or  tribes  are  without  their 
vendettas.  Everything  that  matters  hinges  on 
them,  and  if  an  old  feud  is  settled  by  mediation 
through  the  Jirgah,  there  are  seeds  of  a  new  one 
ready  to  spring  up  in  every  contact  of  life.  The 
favour  of  women,  insults,  injuries,  murder,  debt, 
inheritance,  boundaries,  water-rights, — all  these 
disputes  are  taken  up  by  the  kin  of  the  men  con- 
cerned, and  it  is  a  point  of  honour  to  assassinate, 


To  face  p.  64.] 


THE    PATHAN    PIPERS. 


BLOOD-FEUDS  65 

openly  or  by  stealth,  any  one  connected  by  blood 
with  the  other  side,  however  innocent  he  may  be 
of  the  original  provocation.  Truces  are  arranged 
at  times  by  mutual  convenience  for  ploughing, 
sowing,  or  harvest ;  but  as  a  rule  it  is  very  difficult 
for  a  man  involved  in  a  badi  to  leave  his  watch- 
tower,  and  still  more  difficult  for  him  to  return 
to  it.  It  will  be  understood  that  the  Pathan  is 
an  artist  in  taking  cover.  He  probably  has  a 
communication  trench  of  his  own  from  his  strong- 
hold to  his  field,  and  no  one  better  understands 
the  uses  of  dead  ground. 

What  makes  these  blood-feuds  so  endless 
and  uncompromising  is  that  quarrels  begun  in 
passion  are  continued  in  cold  blood  for  good 
form.  The  Malik  Din  and  Kambur  Khil  have 
been  at  war  for  nearly  a  century  and  nobody 
remembers  how  it  all  began.  It  is  a  point  of 
honour  to  retaliate,  however  inconvenient  the 
state  of  siege  may  be.  The  most  ordinary 
routine  of  life  may  become  impossible.  The 
young  Pathan  may  be  itching  to  stroll  out  and 
lie  on  a  bank  and  bask  or  fall  asleep  in  the  sun. 
But  this  would  be  to  deliver  himself  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemy.  There  is  no  dishonour  in 
creeping  up   and  stabbing   a  man   in   the  back 

F 


66  THE    PATHAN 

when  he  is  sleeping ;  but  there  is  very  great 
dishonour  in  failing  to  take  an  advantage  of  an 
adversary  or  neglecting  to  prosecute  a  blood 
feud  to  its  finish.  Such  softness  is  a  kind  of 
moral  leprosy  in  the  eyes  of  the  Pathan. 

With  so  much  at  stake  the  Pathan  cannot 
afford  to  be  long  away  from  home.  In  peace- 
time he  frequently  puts  in  for  short  leave. 
"Sahib,"  Sher  Ali  explains,  "it  is  the  most 
pressing  matter."  And  the  Sahib  gathers  that 
evil  is  likely  to  befall  either  Sher  All's  family  or 
his  neighbour  Akbar  Khan's  during  the  next  two 
weeks,  and  is  bound  by  the  brotherhood  of  arms 
to  provide,  so  far  as  he  is  able,  that  it  is  not  Sher 
All's.  So  the  Pathan  slips  away  from  his  regi- 
ment, anticipating  the  advertised  date  of  his  leave 
by  consent,  for  there  are  men  in  his  company 
connected  by  blood  ties  with  the  other  party — 
men  perhaps  who  are  so  far  committed  that  they 
would  lie  up  for  Sher  Ali  themselves  on  a  dark 
night  if  they  were  away  on  leave  in  their  own 
country  at  the  same  time.  But  the  code  does 
not  permit  the  prosecution  of  a  vendetta  in  the 
regiment.  A  Pathan  may  find  himself  stretched 
beside  his  heart's  abhorrence  in  a  night  picquet, 
the  two  of  them  alone  together,  alert,  with  finger 


RESULT   OF    ENLISTING  67 

on  the  trigger.  They  may  have  spent  inter- 
minable Ions:  hours  stalkincj  each  other  in  their 
own  hills,  but  here  they  are  safe  as  in  sanctuary. 

The  trans-frontier  Pathan  would  not  wittingly 
have  enlisted  in  the    Indian    Army   if  he  could 
have    foreseen    the   prospect   of  a   three    years' 
campaign  in  a  foreign  land.     The  security  of  his 
wife,  his  children,  his  cattle,  his  land,  depend  on 
his  occasional   appearance   in    his   village.     The 
interests  of  the  Indian  sepoy  are  protected  by  the 
magistrate  and  the  police,  but  across  the  border 
the  property  of  the  man  who  goes  away  and  fights 
may  become  the  property  of  the  man  who  stays  at 
home.     The  exile  is  putting  all  the  trump  cards 
into   his   enemy's    hands.       The    score   will    be 
mounting  up  against  him.     His  name  will  become 
less,  if  not  his  kin  ;  his  womenkind  may  be  dis- 
honoured.    In  the  event  of  his  return  the  other 
party  will  have  put  up  such  a  tally  that  it  will 
take  him  all  his  time  to  pay  off  old  scores.    After 
a  year  of  "the  insane  war"  in  which  he  has  no 
real  stake,  and  from  which  he  can  see  no  probable 
retreat,  he  is  likely  to  take  thought  and  brood. 
Government  cannot  protect  his  land  and  family  ; 
continued  exile  may  mean  the  abandonment  of 
all  he  has.     In  the  tribal  feud  the  man  away  on 


68  the:  PATH  AN 

long  service  is  likely  to  go  under  ;  the  man  on  the 
spot  has  things  all  his  own  way. 

Now  the  Pathan  is  a  casuist.  He  is  more 
strict  in  the  observance  of  the  letter  of  his  code 
than  in  the  observance  of  the  spirit.  An  oath  on 
the  Koran  is  generally  binding  where  there  is  no 
opening  for  equivocation,  but  it  is  not  always 
respected  if  it  can  be  evaded  by  a  quibble.  A 
Pathan  informer  was  tempted  by  a  police  officer 
to  give  the  names  of  a  gang  of  dacoits. 

"Sahib,"  he  said,  "  I've  sworn  not  to  betray 
any  son  of  man." 

"  You  need  not  betray  them,"  the  officer  sug- 
gested.    "  Don't  tell  me,  tell  the  wall." 

The  Pathan  was  sorely  tempted.  He  thought 
over  the  ethics.  Then  he  smiled,  and,  like 
Pyramus,  he  addressed  the  wall : 

"  Oh !  whited  wall,"  he  began,  "  their  names 
are  Mirza  Yahya,  Abdulla  Khan  ..." 

The  code  was  not  violated,  as  with  a  robust 
conscience  the  Pathan  gave  away  the  name  of 
every  man  in  the  gang. 

A  tribesman  who  boasts  that  he  would  not 
injure  a  hair  of  an  unclean  swine  which  took 
sanctuary  in  his  house,  will  conduct  the  guest 
with  whom  he  has  broken  bread  just  beyond  the 


PECULIARITIES  69 

limits  of  his  property  and  shoot  him.  In  a  land 
dispute  a  mullah  ordained  that  the  two  rival 
claimants  should  walk  the  boundary  of  the 
property  in  question  on  oath,  each  carrying  a 
Koran  on  his  head.  They  walked  over  the  same 
ground,  and  each  bore  witness  that  he  trod  his 
paternal  acres,  and  they  did  so  without  shame, 
for  each  had  concealed  a  bit  of  his  own  undoubted 
soil  in  his  shoe.  When  a  round  or  two  of  ammu- 
nition are  missing,  the  subadar  of  the  company 
will  raise  a  little  heap  of  dust  on  the  parade 
ground  and  make  each  man  as  he  passes  by 
plunge  his  clenched  fist  in  it,  and  swear  that  he 
has  not  got  the  ammunition.  The  rounds  are 
generally  found  in  the  dustheap,  and  nobody  is 
perjured. 

An  officer  in  a  Pathan  militia  regiment  found 
a  stumpy  little  tree  stuck  in  the  sand  near  the 
gate  of  the  camp  where  trees  do  not  grow.  He 
was  puzzled,  and  asked  one  Indian  officer  after 
another  to  explain.  They  all  grinned  rather 
sheepishly.  **  It  is  this  way,  Sahib,"  one  of  them 
said  at  last.  "We  lose  a  number  of  small  things 
in  the  camp.  Now  when  an  object  is  lost  the 
theft  is  announced,  and  each  man  as  he  passes 
the  tree  says,  '  Allah  curse  the    Budmash    who 


lCji.-i 


70  THE    PATHAN 

stole  the  boots,'  or  the  dish,  or  the  turban,  or 
whatever  it  may  be.  And  so  it  will  happen 
sometimes  that  the  article  will  be  found  hanging 
in  the  fork  of  the  tree  in  the  morning  when  dark- 
ness gives  place  to  light." 

The  Pathan  cannot  bear  up  under  the  weight 
of  such  commination,  it  spoils  his  sleep  at  night. 
Not  that  he  has  a  sensitive  conscience  :  theft, 
murder,  and  adultery  are  not  crimes  to  him  in  the 
abstract,  but  only  so  far  as  they  violate  hospi- 
tality or  loyalty  to  a  bond.  He  has  no  sentiment, 
or  inkling  of  chivalry  ;  but  he  must  save  his  face, 
avoid  shame,  follow  the  code,  and  prefer  death 
to  ridicule  or  dishonour.  One  of  the  axioms  of 
his  code  is  that  he  must  be  true  to  his  salt.  The 
trans-frontier  Pathan  is  not  a  subject  of  the  King 
as  is  the  British  Indian  sepoy,  but  he  has  taken 
an  oath.  An  oath  is  in  the  ordinary  way  binding, 
but  if  it  can  be  shown  that  he  has  sworn  unwit- 
tingly and  against  his  religion — every  text  in  the 
Koran  is  capable  of  a  double  interpretation — why, 
then  the  obligation  is  annulled.  "  Your  religion 
comes  first " — the  argument  is  put  to  him  by  the 
Hun  and  the  Turk.  *'  No  oath  sworn  to  infidels 
can  compel  you  to  break  your  faith  with  Allah." 
The  Pathan   is   not   normally  a   religious  fanatic 


TRUE    TO    HIS    SALT  71 

any  more  than  the  Punjabi  Mussalman.  Had  he 
been  so  he  would  not  have  ranged  himself  with 
us  against  an  Islamic  enemy,  as  he  has  done  in 
every  frontier  campaign  for  the  last  half-century. 
But  in  this  war  Islam  offered  him  the  one  decent 
retreat  from  an  intolerable  position. 

There  were  one  or  two  cases  of  desertion 
among  the  Pathans  in  France  and  Mesopotamia. 
The  Pathan  did  not  expect  absolution  if  he  fell  into 
our  hands  afterwards,  or  if  he  were  caught  trying 
to  slip  away.  Forgiveness  is  not  in  his  nature. 
But  think  of  the  temptation,  the  easiness  of  self- 
persuasion.  Remember  how  subtly  the  maggot  of 
sophistry  works  even  in  the  head  of  the  Christian 
divine.  Then  listen  to  the  burning  words  of  the 
Jehad  : — 

"  Act  not  so  that  the  history  of  your  family 
may  be  stained  with  the  ink  of  disgrace  and  the 
blood  of  your  Muhammadan  brethren  be  shed  for 
the  attainment  of  the  objects  of  unbelievers.  We 
write  this  to  you  in  compliance  with  the  orders 
of  God  Almighty,  the  kind  and  also  stern 
Avenger." 

A  hundred  texts  might  be  quoted,  and  have 
been  quoted,  from  the  Koran  to  show  that  it  is 
obligatory  for  the  Moslem  soldier  to  fight  against 


72  THE    PATHAN 

his  King's  enemies,  whether  they  be  of  his  own 
faith  or  no.  But  how  many,  after  taking  thought 
and  counsel  of  expediency,  are  quite  sure  that 
black  is  not  white  after  all !  The  deserter  may 
not  escape  to  the  Hun  lines  and  the  pretended 
converts  of  Islam,  whom  instinct,  stirring  beneath 
the  Jehadist's  logic,  must  teach  him  to  despise. 
And  he  is  for  the  wall  if  he  is  caught,  shame- 
fully led  out  and  bandaged  and  shot  in  the  eyes 
of  his  brethren  who  have  been  true  to  their 
oath.  None  of  us  would  hesitate  to  slip  the 
trigger  against  a  traitor  of  his  kidney.  The 
man's  very  memory  is  abhorred.  Yet  in  dealing- 
out  summary  execution  one  should  remember 
the  strone  bias  that  deflected  his  mind.  Out  of 
the  mud  and  poisoned  gas  of  Flanders.  Out 
of  Mesopotamia.  Out  of  the  blood  and  fruitless 
sacrifice,  the  doom  of  celibacy,  the  monotony 
which  is  only  broken  by  the  variety  it  offers  of 
different  shapes  of  disease  and  death.  Back  to 
his  tower  and  maize  field  if  his  kin  have  held 
them,  and  his  wife  if  she  has  waited  for  him, 
and  all  in  the  name  of  honour  and  religion. 

It  may  seem  a  mistake  in  writing  of  a  brave 
people  to  take  note  of  backsliders;  but  the 
instances  in  which  the  Pathan  has  been  seduced 


COURAGE    AND    COOLNESS        73 

from  loyalty  have  been  so  discussed  that  it  is 
better  for  the  collective  honour  of  the  race  to 
examine  the  psychological  side  of  it  frankly.  It 
would  be  a  great  injustice  to  the  Pathan  if  it  were 
thought  that  any  failed  us  through  fear. 

In  couraee  and  coolness  the   Pathan  is  the 

unquestioned   equal  of  any  man.     Mir   Dast,  of 

Coke's    Rifles   F.F.,   attached  to  Wilde's  Rifles 

F.F.  in  France,  the  first  Indian  officer  to  win  the 

V.C.,  was  a  type  of  the  best  class  of  Afridi.     No 

one  who  knew  him  was  surprised  to  hear  how,  at 

the  second  battle  of  Ypres,  after  all  his  officers 

had  fallen,   he  selected  and  consolidated  a  line 

with    his   small    handful    of  men;    how,    though 

wounded  and  gassed  himself,  he  held  the  ground 

he  had  hastily  scratched  up,  walking  fearlessly  up 

and  down  encouraging  his  men  ;  how,  satisfied  at 

last  that  the  line  was   secure,   he  continued  to 

carry  in  one  disabled  man  after  another,  British 

and  Indian,  back  to  safety  under  heavy  fire.     Mir 

Dast  had  told  the  Colonel  of  the  55th,  when  he 

left  the  battalion  in  Bannu  to  join  the  regiment 

he  was  attached  to  in  France,  that  he  would  not 

come  back  without  the  Victoria  Cross.     "Now 

that  Indians  may  compete  for  this  greatest  of  all 

bahadris,"    he    said,    "  I    shall    return  with  it  or 


74  THE    PATHAN 

remain  on  the  field."  And  he  did  not  say  this  in 
a  boastful  manner,  but  quietly  as  a  matter  of 
course,  as  though  there  were  no  other  alternative  ; 
just  as  a  boxer  might  tell  you  by  way  of  assur- 
ance, repeating  an  understood  thing,  that  he  was 
going  to  fight  on  until  the  other  man  was  knocked 
out.  I  met  Mir  Dast  afterwards  in  hospital,  and 
was  struck  with  the  extraordinary  dignity  and 
quiet  reserve  of  the  man  ;  an  impression  of 
gallantry  was  conveyed  in  his  brow  and  eyes,  like 
a  stamp  on  metal. 

It  was  in  the  Mohmand  compaign  that  Mir 
Dast  won  the  I.O.M.,  in  those  days  the  nearest 
Indian  equivalent  to  the  V.C.  An  officer  friend 
of  mine  and  his  who  spoke  to  him  in  his  stretcher 
after  the  fight,  told  me  that  he  found  Mir  Dast 
beaming.  "  I  am  very  pleased,  Sahib,"  he  said. 
"  I've  had  a  good  fight,  and  I've  killed  the  man 
that  wounded  me."  And  he  held  up  his  bayonet 
and  pointed  to  a  foot-long  stain  of  blood.  He 
had  been  shot  through  the  thigh  at  three 
yards,  but  had  lunged  forward  and  got  his  man. 
On  the  same  day  another  Afridi  did  a  very 
Pathan-like  thing.  I  will  tell  the  story  here,  as 
it  is  typical  of  the  impetuous,  reckless  daring  of 
the  breed,   thai  sudden    lust    for    honour  which 


LUST   FOR    HONOUR  75 

sweeps  the  Pathan  off  his  feet,  and  carries  him 
sometimes  to  the  achievement  of  the  impossible — 
an  impulse,  brilliant  while  it  lasts,  but  not  so 
admirable  as  the  more  enduring  flame  that  is 
always  trimmed  and  burns  steadily  without 
flaring. 

Nur  Baz  was  a  younger  man  than  Mir  Dast, 
and  one  of  the  same  Afridi  company.  It  entered 
his  head,  just  as  it  entered  the  head  of  Mir  Dast 
when  he  left  Bannu  for  France,  that  he  must 
achieve  something  really  remarkable.  The  young 
man  was  of  the  volatile,  boastful  sort,  very  different 
from  the  hero  of  Ypres,  and  to  his  quick  imagina- 
tion the  conception  of  his  bahadri  was  the  same 
thing  as  the  accomplishment  of  it,  or  the  difference, 
if  there  were  any,  was  only  one  of  tense.  So  he 
began  to  talk  about  what  he  was  going  to  do  until 
he  wearied  the  young  oflicer  to  whom  he  was 
orderly.  *'  Bring  me  your  bahadri  first,  Nur  Baz," 
the  subaltern  said  a  little  impatiently,  "  then  I 
shall  congratulate  you,  but  don't  bukh  so  much 
about  it." 

The  pride  went  out  of  Nur  Baz  at  this  snub 
as  the  air  out  of  a  pricked  bladder,  and  he  was 
very  shamefaced  until  his  opportunity  came. 
This  was  in  the  same  attack  in  which  Mir  Dast 


76  THE    PATHAN 

fell.  The  regiment  were  burning  a  village,  and 
the  Afridi  company  had  to  clear  the  ridge  behind 
which  commanded  it ;  they  and  another  Pathan 
company  were  attacking  up  parallel  spurs.  Nur 
Baz,  finding  that  his  orderly  work  committed 
him  to  a  secondary  role  in  the  operations,  asked 
if  he  might  join  his  section,  which  was  to  lead  the 
attack.  He  obtained  his  officer's  consent,  and 
was  soon  scrambling  up  the  hillside  in  the  pursuit. 
When  the  leading  section  extended  he  found  the 
advance  too  slow,  so  he  squatted  behind  a  boulder, 
waited  until  the  wave  had  got  on  a  few  yards, 
then  dived  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  nullah, 
climbed  up  again  under  cover,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  spur  some 
250  yards  in  advance  of  the  assault.  A  yell  of 
rage  went  up  from  the  Pathans  behind  when  they 
found  that  Nur  Baz  had  forestalled  them  and  was 
CToinor  to  be  first  in  at  the  death.      But  Nur  Baz 

o  o 

was  happy  as  he  leapt  from  one  great  boulder  to 
another,  the  ground  spitting  up  under  him,  and 
stopped  every  moment  to  get  in  a  shot  at  the 
men  in  the  sangar  in  front.  Just  as  he  reached 
it  a  Martini  bullet  struck  his  rifle  in  the  small  of 
the  butt  and  broke  off  the  stock.  He  could  not 
fire  now,  but   he   fixed  his  bayonet  and  charged 


RECKLESS    DARING  77 

the  sangar  with  his  broken  weapon.  There  were 
three  men  in  it  when  he  clambered  over  the 
parapet.  One  was  dead,  another  who  had  missed 
him  with  his  muzzle-loader  a  second  or  two  before 
was  reloading,  and  the  third  was  slipping  away. 
Nur  Baz  bayoneted  the  man  who  was  reloading 
just  as  he  withdrew  the  rod  with  which  he  was 
ramming  the  charge  home  ;  then  he  picked  up 
the  dead  man's  rifle  and  shot  the  fugitive ;  thus 
he  cleared  his  little  bit  of  front  alone. 

His  subaltern  had  watched  this  very  spec- 
tacular bit  of  bahadri  from  the  parallel  spur ;  but 
he  only  discovered  that  the  central  figure  of  it 
was  his  orderly  when  Mir  Dast  in  his  stretcher 
remarked,  "  Nur  Baz  has  done  well,  Sahib, 
hasn't  he  ? "  Afterwards  Nur  Baz  appeared 
"with  a  jaw  like  a  bulldog,  grinning  all  over, 
and  the  three  rifles  slung  to  his  shoulder,"  and 
received  the  congratulations  of  his  Sahib. 

"  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  will  you  honour  me  by 
taking  one  of  these  ?  Choose  the  one  you  like 
best." 

The  subaltern  selected  the  muzzle-loader,  but 
Nur  Baz  demurred. 

"  I  must  first  see  the  Colonel  Sahib,"  he  said, 
"  if  you  choose  that  one." 


7S  THE    PATHAN 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"It  is  loaded,  and  it  is  not  permitted  to  fire 
off  a  round  in  the  camp  without  the  Colonel 
Sahib's  permission." 

Just  then  the  Colonel  arrived,  and  Nur  Baz, 
having  obtained  permission,  raised  the  rifle 
jauntily  to  his  shoulder  and  with  evident  satis- 
faction loosed  the  bullet  which  oufjht  to  have 
cracked  his  brain  pan  into  the  empty  air.  Nur 
Baz  and  Mir  Dast,  though  differing  much  in  style, 
both  had  a  great  deal  of  the  original  Pathan  in 
them. 

One  more  story  of  an  Afridi.  It  was  in 
France,  There  had  been  an  unsuccessful  attack 
on  the  German  lines.  A  sergeant  of  the  Black 
Watch  was  lying  dead  in  no-man's  land,  and 
the  Hun  sniper  who  had  accounted  for  him  lay 
somewhere  in  his  near  neighbourhood  ;  he  had 
lain  there  for  hours  taking  toll  of  all  who  exposed 
themselves.  It  was  gfettinof  dark  when  an  officer 
of  the  57th  Rifles  saw  a  Pathan,  Sher  Khan, 
pushing  his  way  along  the  trench  towards  the 
spot.  The  man  was  wasting  no  time  ;  he  was 
evidently  on  some  errand,  only  he  carried  no 
rifle.     The  officer  called  after  him  : 

"  Hello,  Sher  Khan,  where  are  you  off"  to  ?  " 


BRILLIANT    INITIATIVE  79 

"  I   am  going  to  gtit  the  sniper,  Sahib,  who 
shot  the  sergeant." 

"  But  why  haven't  you  got  a  rifle  ?  " 

*'  I  am   not  going  to  dirty  mine,  Sahib.     I'll 
take  the  sergeant's." 

It  was  still  light  when  he  crawled  over  the 
parapet  and  wriggled  his  way  down  a  furrow  to 
where  the  sergeant  lay.  The  sniper  saw  him, 
and  missed  him  twice.  Sher  Khan  did  not  reply 
to  this  fire.  He  lay  quite  still  by  the  side  of  the 
Highlander  and  gently  detached  one  of  his  spats. 
This  he  arranged  so  that  in  the  half  light  it 
looked  like  a  white  face  peeping  over  the  man's 
body.  Then  he  withdrew  twenty  yards  to  one 
side  and  waited.  Soon  the  Hun's  head  appeared 
from  his  pit  a  few  yards  off  and  disappeared 
quickly.  But  Sher  Khan  bided  his  time.  The 
sniper  was  evidently  intrigued,  and  as  it  grew 
darker  he  exposed  himself  a  little  more  each  time 
he  raised  his  head  peering  at  the  white  face  over 
the  dead  Highlander's  shoulder.  At  last  he 
knelt  upright,  reassured — the  thing  was  so  motion- 
less ;  nevertheless  he  decided  that  another  bullet 
in  it  would  do  no  harm.  He  was  taking  steady 
aim  when  the  Pathan  fired.  The  range  was  too 
close  for  a  miss  even  in  that  light,  and  the  Hun 


80  THE    PATHAN 

rolled  over.  Half  an  hour  afterwards  Sher  Khan 
returned  with  the  Hun's  rifle  and  the  High- 
lander's under  his  arm  ;  in  his  right  hand  he 
carried  the  Hun's  helmet,  a  grisly  sight,  as  his 
bullet  had  crashed  through  the  man's  brain. 

It  is  his  individual  touch,  his  brilliancy  in 
initiative  and  coolness  and  daring  in  execution 
that  has  earned  the  Afridi  his  high  reputation 
among  Pathans.  The  trans-frontier  Pathan  with 
his  eternal  blood-feuds  would  naturally  have  the 
advantage  in  this  kind  of  work  over  the  Pathan 
from  our  side  of  the  border ;  his  whole  life  from 
his  boyhood  up  is  a  preparation  for  it.  That  is 
why  some  of  the  most  brilliant  soldiers  in  the 
Indian  Army  have  been  Afridis.  On  the  other 
hand,  collectively  and  in  companies,  the  cis-frontier 
Yusafzais  and  Khattaks  have  maintained  a  higher 
aggregate  of  the  military  virtues,  especiaily  in  the 
matter  of  steadiness  and  "  sticking  it  out." 

A  strange  thing  about  the  Pathan,  and  in- 
consistent with  his  hard-grained,  practical  nature, 
is  that  he  is  given  to  visions  and  epileptic  fits. 
He  is  visited  by  the  fairies,  to  use  his  own 
expressive  phrase.  I  knew  a  fine  old  subadar 
who  believed  that  these  visitations  came  to  him 
because  he  had  shot  a  pigeon  on  a  mosque.     He 


RUNNING   AMOK  8i 

became  a  prey  to  remorse,  and  made  ineffectual 
pilgrimages  to  various  shrines  to  exorcise  the 
spirit.  How  much  of  this  subconscious  side  of 
the  Pathan  is  responsible  for  his  state  of  mind 
when  he  runs  amok  would  be  an  interesting  point 
for  the  psychologist.  The  man  broods  over  some 
injury  or  wrong  and  he  is  not  content  until  he 
has  translated  his  vision  into  fact.  Sometimes 
he  goes  to  work  like  the  Malay,  killing  in  a  hot, 
blind  fury.  But  there  is  often  method  in  the 
orgy.  It  is  an  orgy  of  blood,  one  glorious  hour, 
perhaps,  or  a  few  rapturous  seconds  in  which 
vengeance  is  attained  and  satisfaction  demanded 
of  collective  humanity,  and  the  price  to  be  paid 
for  it,  the  Pathan's  own  life,  is  perfectly  well 
understood. 

Take  the  case  of  Ashgar  AH.  He  learnt 
that  a  disparaging  report  as  to  the  work  of 
his  brother  had  been  sent  in  to  the  O.C. 
of  the  battalion  by  one  Fazal-ud-din,  a  non- 
commissioned Pathan  officer.  Fazal-ud-din  slept 
with  him  in  the  same  tent,  and  Ashgar  Ali  lay 
brooding  and  sleepless  all  night.  Before  day- 
break he  had  devised  a  plan.  In  the  darkness 
he  removed  all  the  rifles  from  the  tent  and  hid 
them   outside.       He  waited  till    the  moon  rose, 

G 


82  THE   PATHAN 

Then  standing  by  the  door  he  shot  the  betrayer 
through  the  head  as  he  slept.  He  shot  another 
Pathan  by  his  side  who  leapt  to  his  feet,  awakened 
by  the  report.  Then  he  slipped  away  stealthily 
to  the  little  round  knoll  which  he  had  marked 
out  for  the  catastrophe  of  his  drama.  Here  he 
kept  up  a  steady  fire  at  any  human  shape  that 
came  within  range,  a  stern  dispenser  of  justice 
in  full  measure  making  good  the  errors  of  a  too- 
biassed  Providence.  It  was  a  calculated  adjust- 
ment of  right  and  wrong,  and  he  kept  a  cool  head 
as  he  counted  up  his  tally.  He  saw  his  Colonel 
stalking  him,  an  iron-grey  head  lifted  cautiously 
from  behind  a  hummock  at  fifty  yards,  an  easy 
target.  But  Ashgar  Ali  called  out,  "  Keep  away, 
Sahib.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you.  My  account 
is  with  the  men.  Keep  away,  or  I  must  shoot." 
Snipers  were  firing  at  him  at  long  range ;  a  sepoy 
was  creeping  up  behind,  and  almost  as  he  spoke 
he  rolled  over  and  lay  still. 

A  Pathan  murder,  as  viewed  by  the  assassin, 
generally  stands  for  judgment  and  execution  at 
the  same  time.  There  must  be  some  such  system 
among  a  people  who  have  no  Government  or 
police.  When  a  Pathan  comes  over  the  frontier 
and  is  arraigned  by  our  code  for  a  crime  sanctioned 


AND   THE    LAW  83 

by  his  own  there  is  trouble.  It  is  a  tragic 
matter  when  law,  especially  if  it  is  the  Indian 
Penal  Code,  defeats  the  natural  dispensations  of 
justice.  A  splendid  young  Pathan,  the  pick  of 
his  battalion,  was  tried  for  shooting  a  man  in  his 
company.  The  act  was  deliberate,  and  to  the 
Pathan  mind  justified  by  the  provocation.  The 
man  who  was  put  away  meanly  denied  an  obliga- 
tion of  honour.  The  Pathan  shot  him  like  a  dog 
before  a  dozen  witnesses,  and  no  doubt  felt  the 
same  generous  thrill  of  satisfaction  as  he  would 
have  done  in  passing  judgment  in  his  own  land. 
But  to  the  disgust  of  the  regiment,  and  more 
especially  of  the  British  officer,  who  understood 
the  Pathan  code,  the  upholder  of  honour,  one 
of  the  best  and  straightest  men  they  had,  was 
hanged. 

The  great  difference  between  the  Pathan  and 
the  Sikh  is  that  the  Pathan  is  for  himself.  He 
has  a  certain  amount  of  tribal,  but  no  national, 
pride.  His  assurance  is  personal.  Family  pride 
depends  on  what  the  family  has  done  within  the 
memory  of  a  generation  ;  for  there  is  little  or 
no  distinction  in  birth.  The  Pathan  is  genuinely 
a  democrat,  the  Sikh  only  theoretically  so.  In 
strict  accordance  with  his  code  the  Sikh  should 


THE    PATHAN 

be  democratic,  but  whatever  he  may  profess,  he 
is  aristocratic  in  spirit.  His  pride  is  in  the  com- 
munity and  in  himself  as  one  of  the  community.. 
The  prestige  of  the  Khalsa  is  always  in  his 
mind.  The  Pathan's  pride  is  there,  but  is  latent. 
It  leaps  out  quickly  enough  when  challenged. 
But  when  the  Pathan  is  boastful  it  is  in  a  casual 
manner.  Normally  he  does  not  bother  his  head 
about  appearances.  He  is  more  like  an  English- 
man in  taking  things  as  they  come.  But  the 
Sikh  is  always  acquisitive  of  honour.  One  cannot 
imagine  Sikhs  turnino:  out  old  kit  in  order  to 
save  the  new  issue  for  handing  in  to  the  quarter- 
master when  they  "  cut  their  name."  Yet  the 
Pathan,  with  his  eye  on  the  main  chance,  is  quite 
content  to  go  shabby  if  when  he  retires  he  can 
get  more  for  his  equipment  on  valuation.  On 
one  occasion  on  manoeuvres,  when  a  Pathan 
company  had  carried  their  economy  in  this  re- 
spect a  bit  too  far,  their  company  commander 
got  even  with  them  in  the  kind  of  way  they 
respect.  Haversacks,  water-bottles,  coats,  ban- 
doliers, were  laid  on  the  ground  for  inspection. 
Then  he  sent  them  off  to  dig  the  perimeter. 
While  they  were  digging  some  distance  away, 
he  went  round  quietly  with  an  Indian  officer  and 


A    BORN    GAMBLER  85 

weeded  out  all  the  unserviceable  kit.  Then  he 
sent  for  the  men  to  come  back.  "  I'm  going  to 
make  a  bonfire  of  these  things,"  he  said,  "and 
what  is  more,  you  are  going  to  dance  round  it." 
That  young  officer  had  the  right  way  with  the 
Pathan,  who  can  enjoy  a  joke  turned  against 
himself  better  than  most  people.  They  danced 
round  the  fire,  hugely  amused,  and  no  one  re- 
sented it. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  the  Pathan  is 
of  a  careful  or  saving  disposition.  He  is  out  to 
enjoy  himself,  fond  of  all  the  good  things  of  life, 
open-handed,  and  a  born  gambler.  The  money 
he  would  have  saved  on  his  new  kit  would 
probably  have  been  gambled  away  a  few  days 
after  he  had  "cut  his  name."  I  knew  a  regiment 
where  some  of  the  young  Pathans  on  three  and 
a  half  months'  leave  never  went  near  their  homes, 
but  used  to  enlist  in  the  coolie  corps  on  the  Bolan 
Pass  simply  for  the  fun  of  gambling !  Gambling 
in  the  regiment,  of  course,  was  forbidden.  But 
here  they  could  have  their  fling  and  indulge  a 
love  of  hazard.  Wages  were  high  and  the  place 
became  a  kind  of  tribal  Monte  Carlo.  If  they 
won,  they  threw  up  the  work  and  had  a  good 
time;  if  they  lost,  it  was  all  in  the  day's  work. 


86  THE    PATHAN 

The  Pathan  is  very  much  a  bird  of  passage  in  a 
regiment.  He  is  a  restless  adventurer,  and  he 
is  always  thinking  of  "  cutting  his  name."  He 
likes  a  scrap  on  the  frontier,  but  soldiering  in 
peace-time  bores  him  after  a  little  while.  It  is 
all  "  farz  kerna,"  an  Orakzai  said,  "  make  believe," 
like  a  field-day.  "  You  take  up  one  position  and 
then  another,  and  nothing  comes  of  it.  One  gets 
tired."  Raids  and  rifle-thievinor  over  the  frontier 
are  much  better  fun.  The  Pathan  had  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  most  successful  rifle-thief  we 
had  rubbed  up  against  in  a  campaign  until  we 
met  the  Arab  in  Mesopotamia.  The  Arab,  when 
he  goes  about  at  night,  seems  to  be  leagued  with 
Djinns;  but  in  stealth,  coolness,  invisibility,  daring, 
the  Pathan  runs  him  close.  A  sergeant  of  the 
Black  Watch  told  me  a  characteristic  story  of 
how  a  Pathan  made  orood  a  rifle  he  had  lost  in 

o 

France.  There  had  grown  up  a  kind  of  entente 
between  the  Black  Watch  and  Vaughan's  Rifles, 
who  held  the  line  alongside  of  them.  It  could 
not  be  otherwise  with  two  fighting  regiments  of 
like  traditions  who  have  advanced  and  retired 
together,  held  the  same  trenches  and  watched 
each  other  closely  for  months. 

The   Black  Watch   had  been    at  Peshawar ; 


A    RIFLE-THIEF  87 

some  of  them  could  speak  Hindustani,  and  one  or 
two  Pushtu.  Their  scout- sergeant,  MacDonald, 
lost  his  rifle  one  night.  He  had  stumbled  with 
it  into  a  ditch  during  a  patrol,  and  left  it  caked 
with  mud  outside  his  dug-out  when  he  turned  in 
in  the  small  hours.  When  he  emerged  it  was 
gone,  gathered  in  by  the  stretcher-bearers  with 
the  rifles  of  the  dead  and  wounded,  for  Mac- 
Donald's  dug-out  was  beside  a  first-aid  station, 
and  his  rifle  looked  as  if  it  belonged  to  a  man 
who  needed  first  aid. 

He  had  to  make  a  reconnaissance.  There 
was  a  rumour  that  the  enemy  had  taken  down 
the  barbed  wire  in  the  trenches  opposite  and 
were  going  to  attack.  It  was  the  scout-sergeant's 
business  to  see.  Luckily  there  was  grass  in  no- 
man's-land  knee-deep.  But  he  wanted  a  rifle, 
and  he  turned  to  his  good  friends  the  Pathans  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

"  Ho,  brothers  ! "  he  called  out.  "Where  is 
the  Pathan  who  cannot  lay  his  hands  on  a  rifle  ? 
I  am  in  need  of  a  rifle." 

It  was,  of  course,  a  point  of  honour  with  the 
58th  Rifles  to  deliver  the  goods.  Shabaz  Khan, 
a  young  Afridi  spark,  glided  off  in  the  direc- 
tion from    which    the  scout-sergeant   had  come. 


88  THE    PATHAN 

MacDonald  had  not  to  wait  many  minutes  before 
he  returned  with  a  rifle. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  was  sHpping 
down  the  communication  trench  when  he  heard 
an  oath  and  an  exclamation  behind  him. 

"  By !    There  was  eight  rifles'against  the 

wall  ten  minutes  ago,  and  now  there's  only  seven, 
and  nobody's  been  here." 

It  was  the  stretcher-bearer  sergeant.     Mac- 

o 

Donald  examined  his  rifle  and  found  the  regi- 
mental mark  on  the  stock.  He  went  on  his  way 
smiling.  The  Black  Watch  were  brigaded  with 
the  58th  Rifles  at  Peshawar.  "  I  remember," 
Sergeant  MacDonald  told  me,  "when  the  High- 
land Brigade  Sports  were  held  there,  one  of  our 
fellows  was  tossing  the  caber — it  took  about  six 
coolies  to  lift  the  thing.  I  thought  it  would 
impress  the  Pathans,  but  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  asked 
the  old  Subadar  what  he  thought  of  MacAndrew's 
performance,  and  he  said,  *  It  is  not  wonderful 
that  you  Jokes  ' — 'Joke'  was  as  near  as  he  could 
get  to  Jock — *  should  do  this  thing.  Are  you 
not  Highlanders  (Paharis)  like  us,  after  all  ? '  " 

There  is  a  marked  difterence  in  temperament 
among  the  Pathan  tribes.  The  Mahsud  is  more 
wild  and  primitive  than  most,  and  more  inclined 


DIFFERENT   TEMPERAMENTS    89 

to  fanaticism.  There  are  the  makings  of  the 
Ghazi  in  him.  On  the  other  hand,  his  blood- 
feuds  are  more  easily  settled,  as  he  Is  not  so 
fastidious  in  questions  of  honour.  The  Afridi 
is  more  dour  than  the  other,  and  more  on  his 
dignity.  He  has  not  the  openness  and  cheer- 
fulness of  the  Usafzai  or  Khattak,  who  have  a 
great  deal  of  the  Celt  in  them.  The  Afridi  likes 
to  saunter  about  with  a  catapult  or  pellet  bow. 
He  will  condescend  to  kill  things,  even  starlings, 
but  he  does  not  take  kindly  to  games.  He  is  a 
good  stalker  and  quite  happy  with  a  rifle  or  a 
horse.  He  excels  in  tent-pegging.  But  hockey 
and  football  do  not  appeal  to  him  as  much  as 
they  do  to  other  sepoys,  though  he  is  no  mean 
performer  when  he  can  be  induced  to  play.  This 
applies  in  a  measure  to  all  Pathans.  An  outsider 
may  learn  a  good  deal  about  their  character  by 
watching  the  way  they  play  games.  One  cannot 
picture  the  Afridi,  for  instance,  taking  kindly  to 
cricket,  but  a  company  of  them  used  to  get  some 
amusement  out  of  net  practice  in  a  certain  frontier 
regiment  not  long  ago.  An  officer  explained  the 
theory  of  the  game.  The  bat  and  ball  did  not 
impress  the  Pathan,  but  the  gloves  and  pads 
pleased  his  eye  with  their  suggestion  of  defence. 


90  THE    PATHAN 

Directly  the  elements  of  a  man-to-man  duel  were 
recognized  cricket  became  popular.  They  were 
out  to  hurt  one  another.  They  did  not  care  to 
bat,  they  said,  but  wished  to  bowl,  or  rather  shy. 
The  Pathan  likes  throwing  things,  so  he  was 
allowed  to  shy.  Needless  to  say  the  batsman 
was  the  mark  and  not  the  wicket.  A  good,  low, 
stinging  drive  to  the  off  got  one  of  the  men  on 
the  ankle.  Shouts  of  applause.  P^irst  blood  to 
the  Sahib.  But  soon  it  is  the  Pathan's  turn  to 
score.  His  quick  eye  designs  a  stratagem  in 
attack.  By  tearing  about  the  field  he  has  col- 
lected three  balls,  and  delivers  them  in  rapid 
succession  standing  at  the  wicket.  The  first,  a 
low  full-pitch,  goes  out  of  the  field  ;  the  second, 
aimed  at  the  Sahib's  knee,  is  neatly  put  into  the 
slips  ,  but  the  batsman  has  no  time  to  guard  the 
third,  hurled  with  great  violence  at  the  same 
spot,  and  it  is  only  the  top  of  his  pad  that  saves 
him  from  the  casualty  list. 

The  Pathan  is  more  careless  and  happy-go- 
lucky  than  the  Punjabi  Mussalman,  and  not  so 
amenable  to  discipline.  It  is  his  jaunty,  careless, 
sporting  'attitude,  his  readiness  to  take  on  any 
new  thing,  that  attracts  the  British  soldier.  That 
rifle-thief   of    the    58th    was    dear    to    Sergeant 


THE    KHATTAK  91 

MacDoriald.  But  it  is  difficult  to  generalize 
about  the  Pathan  as  a  class.  There  is  a  sensible 
gulf  fixed  between  the  Khattak  and  the  Afridi, 
and  between  the  Afridi  and  the  Mahsud.  I  think, 
if  it  were  put  to  the  vote  among  British  officers 
in  the  Indian  Army,  the  Khattak  would  be 
elected  the  pick  of  the  crowd.  A  special  chapter 
is  devoted  to  him  in  this  volume,  and  as  his 
peculiar  virtues  are  discoverable  in  some  degree 
among  other  classes  of  Pathans,  the  Khattak 
chapter  may  be  regarded  as  a  continuation  of 
the  present  one.  There  used  to  be  an  idea  that 
the  cis-frontier  Pathan,  by  reason  of  his  settled 
life  and  the  security  of  the  policeman  and  the 
magistrate  round  the  corner,  was  not  a  match  for 
the  trans-frontier  Pathan  who  adjusted  his  own 
differences  at  the  end  of  a  rifle.  But  the  war 
has  proved  these  generalizations  unsafe.  The 
Pathan  is  a  hard  man  to  beat  whichever  side 
of  the  border  he  hails  from ;  but  in  a  war  like 
this  he  is  all  the  better  for  being  born  a  subject 
of  the  King. 


THE  DOGRA 

Chance  threw  me  amon^j  the  Dosfras  after  a 
battle,  and  I  learnt  more  of  these  north-country 
Rajputs  than  I  had  ever  done  in  times  of  peace. 
Everybody  knows  how  they  left  Rajputana  before 
the  Muhammadans  conquered  the  country  and  so 
never  bowed  to  the  yoke,  how  they  fought  their 
way  north,  cut  out  their  own  little  kingdoms,  and 
have  held  the  land  they  gained  centuries  ago  by 
the  sword.  I  have  travelled  in  the  foothills  where 
they  live,  both  in  Kangra  and  Jammu,  and  can 
appreciate  what  they  owe  to  a  proud  origin  and 
a  poor  soil.  But  one  cannot  hope  to  learn  much 
of  a  people  in  a  casual  trek  through  their  country. 
The  Dogra  is  shy  and  does  not  unbosom  himself 
to  the  stranger.  Even  with  his  British  officer 
he  is  reserved,  and  one  has  to  be  a  year  or  more 
with  him  in  the  regiment  before  he  will  talk  freely 
of  himself.  But  the  confidence  of  the  British 
officer  in  the  Dogra  is  complete,  and  his  affection 
for  him  equals  that  of  the  Gurkha  officer  for  "the 

92 


To  face  p.  92.] 


THE   DOGRA. 


AND    HIS    BRITISH    OFFICERS     93 

Gurkha."  "  He  is  such  a  Sahib,"  the  subaltern 
explained.  "You  won't  find  another  class  of 
sepoy  in  the  Indian  army  who  is  quite  such  a 
Sahib  as  the  Dogra." 

And  here  I  must  explain  that  I  am  only 
setting  down  what  the  subaltern  told  me,  that  I 
tapped  him  on  the  subject  he  loved  best,  and 
that  I  am  making  no  invidious  comparisons  of 
my  own.  One  seldom  meets  a  good  regimental 
officer  who  does  not  modify  one's  relative  estimate 
of  the  different  fighting  stocks  of  the  Indian  Army. 
Still  one  can  discriminate.  What  the  subaltern 
told  me  about  the  gallantry  of  the  Dogras  I  saw 
afterwards  repeated  in  "  Orders  "  by  the  General 
of  the  Division.  There  were  other  regiments 
which  received  the  same  praise,  and  if  I  had 
fallen  among  these  I  should  have  heard  the  same 
tale. 

"  The  first  thing  we  knew  of  that  trench,"  the 
subaltern  explained,  "  was  when  the  Turkey-cock 
blazed  off  into  us  at  three  hundred  yards.  Thank 
heaven,  our  fellows  were  advance  guard." 

I  smiled  at  the  boy's  delightful  conceit  in  his 
own  men.  His  company  were  sitting  or  lying 
down  on  the  banks  of  a  water-cut  in  the  restful 
attitudes  men  fall  into  after  strain.     They  were 


94  THE    DOGRA 

most  of  them  young  men,  clean-shaven  with  neat 
moustaches,  lightly  built  but  compact  and  supple, 
of  regular  features,  cast  very  much  in  a  type. 
Some  were  smoking  their  chillums,  the  detached 
bowl  of  a  huqah,  which  they  hold  in  their  two 
palms  and  draw  in  the  smoke  between  the 
fingers  through  the  aperture  at  the  base.  The 
Dogra  is  an  inveterate  smoker  and  will  have  his 
chillum  out  for  a  final  puff  two  minutes  before 
going  into  the  attack.  I  was  struck  by  their 
scrupulous  neatness.  The  morning  had  been  the 
third  day  of  a  battle.  The  enemy  had  decamped 
at  dawn,  but  in  the  two  previous  days  half  the 
regiment  had  fallen.  Yet  they  seemed  to  have 
put  in  a  toilet  somehow.  Their  turbans,  low  in 
the  crown  with  the  shell-like  twist  in  front  peculiar 
to  the  Dogra,  were  as  spick  and  span  as  on 
parade.  They  looked  a  cool  crowd,  and  it  was 
of  their  coolness  under  the  most  terrible  fire  that 
the  subaltern  spoke.  One  of  them  was  readjust- 
ing his  pagri  by  a  mirror  improvised  out  of  a  tin 
he  had  picked  up  in  the  mud,  and  was  tying  it  in 
neat  folds. 

"  The  Dogra  is  a  bit  fussy  about  his  personal 
appearance,"  the  subaltern  explained.  "  He  is  a 
blood  in  his  way.     I  have  seen  our  fellows  giving 


AN   ATTACK  95 

their  turbans  the  correct  twist  when  they  are  up 
to  the  neck  in  it  during  an  advance. 

"  It  was  the  devil  of  a  position.  The  Turkey- 
cock  lay  doggo  and  held  his  fire.  We  didn't  see 
a  sign  of  him  until  he  popped  off  at  us  at  three 
hundred  yards.  Their  trenches  had  no  parapets 
and  were  almost  flush  with  the  ground.  In  places 
they  had  built  in  ammunition  boxes  which  they 
had  loopholed  and  plastered  over  with  mud. 
They  had  dotted  the  ground  in  front  with  little 
mounds  which  they  used  as  range-marks,  and 
they  had  every  small  depression  which  offered 
any  shelter  covered  with  their  machine-guns." 

And  he  told  me  how  the  Dogras  pressed  on 
to  the  attack  over  this  ground  with  a  shout — 
not  the  *'  Ram  Chandra  ji  ki  jai  "  of  route  marches 
and  manoeuvres,  but  with  a  "  Ha,  aha,  aha,  aha, 
aha,"  a  sound  terrifying  in  volume,  and  probably 
the  most  breath-saving  war  cry  there  is. 

A  great  many  of  the  regiment  were  new  to 
the  game,  mere  boys  of  seventeen,  and  the  old 
hands  had  piqued  their  vanity,  reminding  them 
that  they  had  never  been  in  battle  and  expressing 
a  pious  hope  that  they  would  stand  their  ground. 
The  subaltern  had  to  pull  some  of  these  striplings 
down    who   exposed   themselves   too  recklessly. 


96  THE    DOGRA 

He  pointed  out  to  me  one  Teku  Singh,  "  a  top- 
hole  fellow."  In  the  trench  a  machine-gun 
jammed,  Teku  Singh  clambered  out  to  adjust  it. 
The  subaltern  called  to  him  to  keep  his  head 
down.  "  What  does  dying  matter,  Sahib  ?  "  he 
answered,  echoing  at  Sheikh  Saad  the  spirit  of 
Chitore.  "  The  only  fit  place  for  a  Rajput  to 
die  is  on  the  field  of  battle."  Teku  Singh  was 
modestly  smoking  his  chillum  on  the  bund. 

The  Dogra's  is  an  unobtrusive  gallantry.     He 
is  no  thruster.     He  has  not  the  Pathan's  devil- 
may-care  air,  nor  the    Sikh's  pleasing  swagger. 
When  a  group  of  Indian  officers  are  being  intro- 
duced to  an  inspecting  general  or  the  ruler  of  a 
province,  you  will  find  it  is  the  Dogra  who  hangs 
in  the  background.     Yet  he  is  intensely  proud, 
conservative,  aristocratic.     The   subaltern's   de- 
scription of  Teku  Singh  at  home  reminded  me 
of  the   hero    of  the    "  Bride   of   Lammermuir," 
that   classic   and    lovable   example   of    the    im- 
poverished   aristocrat,    whose   material    poverty 
is   balanced    by    more    honourable    possessions. 
I  have  seen  the  land  the  Dogra  cultivates.    It 
is  mostly  retrieved  from  a  stony  wilderness.    His 
cornfields  are  often    mere   sockets    in   the   rock 
over  which  a  thin  layer  of  earth  has  gathered. 


FAMILY   TRADITIONS  97 

His  family  traditions  forbid  him  to  work  on  the 
soil  and  compel  him  to  keep  a  servant,  though 
he  has  been  known  to  plough  secretly  by  night. 
Under- fed  at  home,  he  will  not  accept  service 
save  in  the  army.  There  are  families  who  do 
nothing  but  soldiering.  There  is  no  difficulty 
about  recruits.  "When  a  man  goes  home  on 
leave,"  the  subaltern  explained,  "  he  brings  back 
his  pals.  There  is  always  a  huge  list  of  umedwars 
(candidates)  to  choose  from.  It  is  like  waiting 
to  get  into  the  Travellers  or  the  Senior  Naval 
and  Military." 

Most  of  the  men  in  the  regiment  were  Katoch 
Dogras  from  the  Kangra  district,  the  most 
fastidious  of  all.  They  won't  plough,  and  won't 
eat  unless  their  food  is  cooked  by  a  Katoch  or  a 
Brahmin.  There  are  families  who  will  only  join 
the  cavalry.  The  plough  they  disdain,  as  they 
boast  that  the  only  true  weapon  of  a  Rajput  is 
the  sword  ;  when  driven  by  hunger  and  poverty 
to  cultivate  their  land  themselves,  they  do  it 
secretly,  taking  out  their  oxen  by  night  and 
returning  before  daylight.  The  head  of  the 
house  has  his  talwar,  or  curved  Indian  sword 
with  a  two-and-a-half-foot  blade.  It  is  passed 
down  as  an  heirloom  from  father  to  son,  and   is 

H 


98  THE    DOGRA 

carried  on  campaigns  by  the  Dogra  officer. 
I  have  seen  them  in  camp  here,  though  they 
are  not  worn  in  the  trenches.  The  Dogra 
has  a  splendid  heart,  but  his  physique  is  often 
weakened  by  poverty.  It  is  extraordinary  how 
they  fill  out  when  they  come  into  the  regiment. 
It  is  the  same,  of  course,  with  other  sepoys,  but 
there  is  more  difference  between  the  Dogra 
recruit  and  the  seasoned  man  than  in  any  other 
slock.  The  habit  of  thrift  is  so  ingrained  in 
them  that  it  is  difficult  to  prevent  them  stint- 
ing themselves  in  the  regiment.  The  subaltern 
had  a  story  of  a  recruit  who  left  his  rations 
behind  on  manoeuvres.  It  was  the  General 
himself  who  discovered  the  delinquent.  Asked 
for  an  explanation  the  lad  thought  awhile  and 
then  answered  bashfully,  "  Sahib,  when  I  am 
fighting  I  do  not  require  food." 

Every  Dogra  is  shy  and  reserved  and  very 
sensitive  about  his  private  affairs.  When  his 
name  is  entered  in  the  regimental  sheet  roll,  the 
young  recruit  is  asked  who  is  his  next  of  kin. 

**  Wife,"  he  will  say  bashfully. 

"What  age?" 

He  is  not  quite  certain,  thinks  she  is  about 
twelve. 


HOME    LIFE  99 

'*  How  high  is  she  ?  " 

"  About  so  high."  He  stretches  his  hand 
four  feet  from  the  ground. 

He  is  dreadfully  bashful  as  he  makes  this 
gesture,  afraid  the  other  recruits  should  hear, 
just  like  a  boy  in  the  fourth  form  asked  to 
describe  his  sister's  complexion  or  hair. 

Needless  to  say,  the  Dogra  seldom,  if  ever, 
brings  his  wife  into  cantonments.  Exile  must 
be  harder  to  him  than  to  many  as  he  is  the  most 
home-loving  person.  His  only  crime  is  that 
when  he  goes  to  his  village  he  sometimes  runs 
things  too  close,  so  that  an  accident  by  the  way, 
a  broken  wheel  or  swollen  stream,  makes  him 
overstay  his  leave. 

"  I  wish  I  could  show  you  Moti  Chand," 
the  subaltern  continued.  "  He  was  a  mere  boy 
not  turned  seventeen.  This  show  was  the  first 
time  he  had  been  under  fire ;  he  was  one  of  the 
ammunition- carriers  and  had  to  go  from  the 
front  trenches  to  the  first-line  transport  and  bring 
back  his  box.  He  made  two  journeys  walking 
slowly  and  deliberately  as  they  all  do,  very  erect, 
balancing  the  ammunition-box  on  his  head. 
When  he  came  up  the  second  time  I  told  him 
to   hurry  up   and   get   down   into  the   trenches. 


100  THE    DOGRA 

'  No,  Sahib/  he  said,  '  Ram  Chand,  who  was 
coming  up  beside  me,  was  killed.  I  must  go 
back  and  bring  in  his  box.'  He  brought  in  the 
box  all  right,  but  was  shot  in  the  jaw.  I  think 
he  is  doing  well. 

"  I  can  tell  you,  you  would  like  the  Dogra  if 
you  knew  him.  He  is  difficult  to  know  and  his 
reserve  might  make  you  think  him  sulky  at  first, 
but  there  is  nothing  sulky  or  brooding  about  him. 
He  never  bears  a  grudge  ;  he  is  rather  a  cheery 
fellow  and  has  his  own  sense  of  humour.  As  a 
shikari " 

The  subaltern  sang  the  praises  of  Teku  Singh 
and  Moti-Chand  in  a  way  which  was  very  pleasant 
to  hear.  He  told  me  how  their  families  received 
him  in  Kangra,  every  household  insisting  that  he 
should  drink  tea,  and  he  ended  up  by  repeating 
that  the  true  Dogra  was  the  most  perfect  sahib 
he  knew. 

It  was  no  new  experience  for  me  to  hear  the 
Dogra  praised.  Their  fighting  qualities  are  well 
known,  and  they  have  proved  themselves  in 
many  a  frontier  campaign,  more  especially  in  the 
capture  of  Nilt  (1891),  and  in  the  defence  of 
Chitral  and  in  the  memorable  march  to  the  relief 
of  the  (garrison.      And    one    had    heard    of   the 


JEMA13AR    KAPUR    SINGH        loi 

Dogra  officer,  Jemadar  Kapiir  Singh,  in  France, 
who  held  on  until  all  but  one  wounded  man  had 
been  put  out  of  action,  and  then  rather  than 
surrender  shot  himself  with  his  last  cartridge. 
Besides  the  three  Dogra  class  regiments,  the 
37th,  38th,  and  41st,  there  are  many  Dogra 
companies  in  mixed-company  battalions,  and 
Dogra  squadrons  in  cavalry  regiments.  They 
may  not  make  up  a  large  part  of  the  Indian 
Army,  but  they  contribute  a  much  larger  part  in 
proportion  to  their  numbers  than  any  other  stock. 

When  next  I  met  the  subaltern  the  regiment 
had  been  in  action  again  and  he  had  been 
slightly  wounded.  He  took  me  into  his  tent 
and  showed  me  with  pride  what  the  General 
had  written  about  his  Dogras.  One  of  them, 
Lance-Naik  Lala,  had  been  recommended  for 
the  Victoria  Cross  ;  he  was  the  second  sepoy  in 
Mesopotamia  on  whom  the  honour  was  conferred. 

"  You'll  see  I  haven't  been  talking  through 
my  hat,"  he  explained.  "  Lala  was  at  it  all  day 
and  most  of  the  night,  and  earned  his  V.C.  a 
dozen   times.     It   seemed    certain  death    to   go 

out  to ;   the  enemy  were  only  a  hundred 

yards  off." 

**  Lance-Naik  Lala  insisted  on  going  out  to 


102  THE    DOGRA 

his  Adjutant,"  the  recommendation  ran,  "  and 
offered  to  crawl  back  with  him  on  his  back  at 
once.  When  this  was  not  permitted,  he  stripped 
off  his  own  clothing  to  keep  the  wounded  officer 
warmer,  and  stayed  with  him  till  just  before 
dark  when  he  returned  to  the  shelter.  After 
dark  he  carried  the  first  wounded  officer  back  to 
the  main  trenches,  and  then,  returning  with  a 
stretcher,  carried  back  his  Adjutant," 

This  was  at  El  Hannah  on  the  21st  January. 
There  was  a  freezing  wind  and  the  wounded 
lay  out  in  pools  of  rain  and  flooded  marsh  all 
night ;  some  were  drowned  ;  others  died  of  ex- 
posure. It  was  a  Dogra-like  act  of  Lala  to  strip 
himself,  and  to  make  a  shield  of  his  body  for 
his  Adjutant,  an  act  of  devotion  often  repeated 
by  the  sepoy  in  Mesopotamia ;  and  the  Adjutant 
was  only  one  of  five  officers  and  comrades  whom 
Lala  saved  that  day. 

In  a  special  issue  of  orders  the  Divisional 
General  spoke  of  the  splendid  gallantry  of  the 
41st  Dogras  in  aiding  the  Black  Watch  to  storm 
and  occupy  the  enemy's  trenches.  The  6th  Jats 
and  97th  Infantry  were  mentioned  with  the 
Dogras.  Of  the  collective  achievement  of  the 
four  regiments  on  that  day  the  General  wrote  : — 


GALLANTRY  103 

"  Their  advance  had  to  be  made  across  a 
perfectly  open,  bullet-swept  area,  against  sunken 
loop-holed  trenches  in  broad  daylight,  and  their 
noble  achievement  is  one  of  the  highest.  The 
great  and  most  admirable  gallantry  of  all  ranks, 
and  especially  that  of  the  British  officers,  is 
worthy  of  the  highest  commendation.  They 
showed  the  highest  qualities  of  endurance  and 
courage  under  circumstances  so  adverse  as  to  be 
almost  phenomenal," 


THE   MAHRATTA 

I  SAW  it  stated  in  a  newspaper  that  one  of  the 
surprises  of  the  war  has  been  the  Mahratta. 
*'  Surprise "  is  hardly  a  tactful  word ;  and  it 
points  back  to  a  time  when  two  or  three  classes 
of  sepoy  were  praised  indiscriminately  to  the 
disparagement  of  others.  The  war  has  brought 
about  a  readjustment  of  values.  Not  that  the 
more  tried  and  proven  types  have  disappointed 
expectation  ;  the  surprise  is  that  less  conspicuous 
types  have  made  good. 

In  France  one  heard  a  great  deal  about  the 
Garhwali ;  in  Mesopotamia  the  Cinderella  of  the 
Indian  Army  was  undoubtedly  the  Mahratta. 

That  his  emergence  should  be  a  surprise  was 
illogical.  The  Mahratta  horseman  was  once  a 
name  to  conjure  with,  and  the  sword  of  Siwoji 
has  left  a  dint  in  history  legible  enough.  He 
was  once  the  "Malbrovck"  of  Hindustan.  If 
the  modern  Mahratta  has  fallen  under  an  eclipse 
the  cause  has  been  largely  geographical.     Our 

104 


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O 


HIS   VALUE  105 

frontier  campaigns  have  never  offered  the  Indian 
Army  active  service  enough  to  go  round ;  cer- 
tainly the  Bombay  Army  has  not  come  in  for  its 
share,  and  Saihan,  on  the  15th  of  November, 
1 9 14,  was  the  first  pitched  battle  in  which  a 
Mahratta  regiment,  constituted  as  such,  had  been 
ensfaeed.  What  honour  he  earned  before  that 
went  to  swell  the  collective  prestige  of  class- 
company  regiments ;  for  it  was  not  until  the 
Indian  Army  was  reorganised  in  1897  that  the 
Mahratta  battalion  came  into  being.  The  British 
officer,  of  course,  in  these  regiments  knew  his 
sepoy ;  he  believed  that  the  Dekkan  and  Konkan 
produced  as  stout  a  breed  as  any  other  soil,  and 
he  would  tell  you  so  in  the  most  definite  terms, 
and  remind  you  how  the  Mahrattas  proved  their 
mettle  at  Maiwand.  But  then  one  never  listened 
seriously  to  a  regimental  officer  when  he  talked 
about  his  own  men. 

The  Sapper  in  a  field  company  with  divers 
races  under  his  command  is  listened  to  with  less 
suspicion.  It  was  a  Sapper  who  first  opened  my 
eyes  to  the  virtue  of  a  Mahratta,  and  that  was 
before  the  war. 

"  Who  do  you  think  the  pick  of  your  lot  ?  "  I 
asked. 


io6  THE    MAHRATTA 

"  The  Mahratta,"  he  replied,  unhesitatingly. 

"  Because  he  can  dig  ?  " 

" None  better.  But  it  is  his  grit  I, was  think- 
ing of.  I'd  as  soon  have  a  Mahratta  with  me  in 
a  scrap  as  any  one." 

One  heard  little  or  nothing  of  the  Mahratta 
in  France.  Yet  it  was  a  Mahratta  who  earned 
the  Medaille  Militaire — I  believe  the  first  be- 
stowed on  an  Indian — for  an  unobtrusive  bit  of 
work  at  Givenchy  on  the  nth  of  December, 
19 1 4,  We  took  a  German  saphead  that  day 
and  drove  the  Huns  down  their  communication 
trench,  and  then  we  had  to  sap  back  to  our  own 
lines,  while  another  sap  was  being  driven  forward 
to  meet  us.  For  twenty-three  hours  the  small 
party  was  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  lines,  and 
they  worked  steadily  with  their  backs  to  the 
enemy,  bombed  at  and  fired  on  the  whole  time. 
Supplies  and  ammunition  ran  short,  and  we 
threw  them  a  rope  with  a  stone  on  it,  and  they 
dragged  ammunition  and  food  and  bombs  into 
the  trench,  bumping  over  the  German  dead,  and 
the  Mahratta  took  his  turn  at  the  traverse 
'  covering  the  party,  as  cool  as  a  Scot. 

There  were  but  a  sprinkling  of  them  in 
Flanders,   a   few  Sappers   and    Miners  and   two 


HIS    RECORD  107 

companies  of  the  107th  Pioneers.  It  was  left 
to  Force  "  D  "  to  discover  that  the  Mahratta  has 
as  big  a  heart  for  his  size  as  any  sepoy  in  the 
Indian  Army.  To  follow  the  exploits  of  the 
Mahratta  battalions  from  the  battle  of  Saihan 
on  the  15th  November,  19 14,  to  Ctesiphon  is  to 
follow  the  glorious  history  of  the  6th  Division. 
Up  to  and  including  Ctesiphon,  no  Mahratta 
battalion  was  given  a  position  to  attack  which 
it  did  not  take,  and  in  the  retirement  on  Kut-el- 
Amarah  their  steadiness  was  well  proved.  It 
is  a  record  which  is  shared  with  other  regiments  ; 
but  this  chapter  is  concerned  with  the  Mahratta 
alone.  They  were  in  nearly  every  fight,  and  for 
a  long  time  they  made  up  a  fourth  part  of  the 
whole  force. 

It  was  the  1 1 7th  who,  with  the  Dorsets,  took 
the  wood,  and  cleared  the  Turks  out  of  their 
trenches  at  Saihan,  It  was  the  iioth,  with  the 
Norfolks,  who  led  the  attack  on  Mazeera  village 
on  the  4th  December,  clearing  the  left  bank  of 
the  river ;  and  a  double  company  of  the  regiment 
captured  the  north  face  of  the  Ournah  position 
four  days  afterwards.  Two  battalions  of  the 
Mahrattas  were  in  the  front  line  again  at  Shaiba 
when  the  Turks  were  routed  in  one  of  the  hardest 


io8  THE    MAHRATTA 

fought  and  most  critical  battles  of  the  campaign. 
They  were  at  Nasiriyeh  and  Amara,  and  they 
were  a  tower  of  strength  in  the  action  at  Sinn 
which  p-ave  us  Kut-el-Amarah.  Here  all  three 
battalions — the  103rd,  iioth,  and  117th — were 
engaged.  They  went  without  water  and  fought 
three  consecutive  engagements  in  forty-eight 
hours.  The  117th,  with  the  Dorsets,  and  the 
22nd  company  of  Sappers  and  Miners,  were  the 
first  troops  to  enter  the  enemy's  trenches.  They 
broke  through  the  wire  and  rushed  the  big 
redoubt,  led  by  a  subadar-major  when  all  their 
British  officers  had  fallen.  At  Ctesiphon  again 
they  covered  themselves  with  glory.  The  British 
regiment  brigaded  with  them  speak  well  of  these 
hard-bitten  men,  and  many  a  villager  of  Dorset, 
Norfolk,  or  Oxford  will  remember  the  Mahratta, 
and  think  of  him  as  a  person  one  can  trust. 

"What   was   the    Indian   regiment   on   your 
right  ? "  I  heard  a  Norfolk  man  ask  another,  in 
discussing  some  obscure  action  on  the  Tigris  of 
a  year  ago. 
,     "The Mahrattas." 

The  Bungay  man  nodded.    "  Ah,  they  wouldn't 
leave  you  up  a  tree." 

«'  Not  likely." 


u 


*,:■ 


A   TOWER   OF    STRENGTH       log 

And  being  familiar  with  the  speech  of  Norfolk 
men,  who  are  sparing  of  tribute,  or  admiration, 
or  surprise,  I  knew  that  the  "Mahratta"  had 
received  a  better  "  chit  "  than  even  the  Sapper 
had  given  him. 

It  was  in  the  trenches,  and  I  had  been  getting 
the  Norfolks  to  tell  me  about  the  thrust  up  the 
river  in  the  winter  of  19 14. 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  firing.  The  Turks, 
200  yards  ahead,  were  screened  from  us  by  the 
parapet ;  and  as  I  stood  with  my  back  to  this 
looking  eastward,  there  was  nothing  visible  but 
earth  and  sky  and  the  Norfolk  men,  and  a  patch 
of  untrodden  field,  like  a  neglected  lawn,  running 
up  to  the  next  earth-work,  and  yellow  with  a  kind 
of  wild  mustard.  The  flowers  and  grasses  and  a 
small  yellow  trefoil,  wild  barley,  dwarf  mallow, 
and  shepherd's  purse  were  Norfolk  flowers.  They 
and  the  broad,  familiar  accent  of  the  men  made 
the  place  a  little  plot  of  Norfolk.  Nothing 
Mesopotamian  impinged  on  the  homeliness  of 
the  scene. 

And  beyond  the  traverse  were  the  Mahrattas, 
sons  of  another  soil.  They  were  a  new  draft, 
most  of  them  mere  boys  who  had  come  straight 
from  the  plough  into  this  hard  school.      They 


no  THE    MAHRATTA 

looked  dreamy  and  pensive,  with  a  not  very 
intelligent  wistfulness,  but  they  were  ready  for 
anything  that  was  going  on.  Two  of  them  were 
sniping  from  a  loophole.  One  of  them  was  shot 
in  the  shoulder  through  a  sandbag  while  I  was 
there.  Soon  after  dark  I  saw  a  batch  of  six  with 
an  officer  step  over  the  parapet  into  that  particu- 
larly horrid  zone  called  no-man's-land.  They 
were  to  look  for  surface  mines  and  to  be  careful 
not  to  tread  on  one.  The  bullets  cracked  against 
the  parapet,  but  they  were  as  casual  as  if  they 
were  going  out  to  pick  mushrooms. 

The  "  mines  "  were  charged  shell-cases  lying 
flat  on  the  ground.  The  difficulty  with  these 
young  recruits  was  to  prevent  them  feeling  for 
them  with  their  feet  or  prodding  them  with  a 
bayonet.  They  were  quite  untrained,  but  there 
was  the  same  stuff  in  them  as  in  the  men  who 
fought  at  Shaiba  and  Ctesiphon,  and  boasted 
that  they  had  never  been  beaten  by  the  Turks. 
A  boy  of  seventeen  who  had  gone  out  a  few 
nights  before  was  shot  in  the  leg  and  lost  his 
patrol.  In  the  morning  he  found  he  was  crawling 
up  to  the  Turkish  trenches.  He  was  out  all  that 
day,  but  got  back  to  his  regiment  at  night,  and 
all  the  while  he  hung  on  to  his  rifle. 


YOUNG    RECRUITS  iii 

The  Subaltern  had  been  a  little  depressed 
with  this  new  batch  of  recruits.  There  was  so 
little  time  to  knock  them  into  shape,  and  he  was 
particularly  pleased  that  Ghopade  had  brought 
back  his  rifle. 

"  They've  got  the  right  spirit,"  he  said.  "  It's 
only  a  question  of  a  month  or  two.  But  look  at 
these  children." 

They  certainly  did  not  look  very  smart  or 
alert  or  particularly  robust. 

"  This  one  doesn't  look  as  if  he  could  stick 
a  Turk,"  I  said,  and  pointed  to  a  thin  hatchet- 
faced  lad  who  could  not  have  weighed  much  more 
than  eight  stone. 

"Oh,  I  expect  he'd  do  that  all  right.  They 
are  much  wirier  than  you  would  think.  It's  their 
turn-out  I  mean." 

"They've  been  in  the  trenches  a  week,"  I 
said,  by  way  of  extenuation.  But  the  Subaltern 
and  I  had  passed  by  the  — th  and  the  — th  in 
the  same  brigade,  equally  trench-bound,  and  they 
were  comparatively  spick  and  span. 

The  Mahratta  sepoy  is  certainly  no  swash- 
buckler. To  look  at  him,  with  his  dark  skin 
and  irregular  features,  you  would  not  take  him 
for  a  member  of  a  military  caste.     No  one  cares 


112  THE    MAHRATTA 

less  for  appearance;  and  his  native  dress — the 
big,  flat  pagri,  dhoti,  and  large  loose  shoes  of  the 
Dekkan  and  Konkan — do  not  lend  themselves 
to  smartness.  Nor  does  the  King's  uniform  bring 
with  it  an  immediate  transformation.  The  un- 
accustomed military  turban,  which  the  Sikh  or 
Pathan  ties  deftly  as  if  with  one  fold,  falls  about 
the  head  and  down  the  neck  of  the  Mahratta  in 
the  most  capricious  convolutions.  If  he  is  a 
Bayard  he  does  not  look  the  part,  and  looks,  no 
doubt,  as  well  as  his  geographical  position, 
have  stood  in  the  way  of  his  finding  himself. 
Anyhow,  the  men  who  move  the  pawns  on 
the  board  in  the  war-game  had  long  passed  him 
over. 

The  Mahratta  battalions  are  not,  strictly 
speaking,  class  regiments,  for  they  each  contain 
a  double  company  of  Dekkan  Muhammadans. 
These,  but  for  their  inherited  religion,  are  not 
very  widely  separated  from  the  Mahrattas.  They 
too  have  brought  honour  to  the  Dekkan.  At 
Ctesiphon  a  double  company  of  them  were  attack- 
ing a  position.  They  lost  all  five  officers,  the 
British  subaltern  killed,  two  jemadars  wounded, 
two  subadars  killed.  One  subadar,  Mirza  Rustum 
Befj,  was  wounded  twice  in  the  attack,  but  went 


"Pi^^liS? 


THE    DEKHANI    MUSSALMAN. 


To  face  p.  1 12.J 


A    SPLENDID    RECORD  113 

on  and  received  his  death-wound  within  twenty- 
five  yards  of  the  enemy.  The  rest  of  the  com- 
pany went  on,  led  by  the  havildars,  and  took 
the  trench  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

That  is  not  a  bad  record  for  a  class  of  sepoy 
who  has  probably  never  been  mentioned  in  the 
newspapers  during  the  war.  But  it  has  been  a 
war  of  "  surprises,"  and  one  of  the  morals  of 
Mesopotamia  is  that  one  ought  not  to  be  sur- 
prised at  anything.  What  the  Mahratta  and 
Dekkani  Muhammadan  have  done  may  be  ex- 
pected from — has,  indeed,  been  paralleled  by — 
other  hardened  stocks.  With  good  leading  and 
discipline  and  the  moral  that  tradition  inspires, 
you  can  make  good  troops  out  of  the  agriculturist 
in  most  lands,  provided  he  is  not  softened  by  a 
too  yielding  soil. 

The  Mahratta  has  no  very  marked  charac- 
teristics to  distinguish  him  from  other  sepoys. 
He  is  just  the  bedrock  type  of  the  Indian  culti- 
vator, the  real  backbone  of  the  country.  And 
he  has  all  the  virtues  and  limitations  which  you 
will  find  in  the  agriculturist  whether  he  be  Sikh, 
Rajput,  Dogra,  Jat,  or  Mussalman,  whether  he 
tills  the  land  in  the  Dekkan  or  Peshawar.  A 
prey  to  the  priests,   money-lenders   and   vakils, 


114  THE    MAHRATTA 

litigious,  slow-thinking,  unsophisticated — but  of 
strong  affections,  long-enduring  and  brave.  The 
small  landowner,  where  the  soil  resists  him  and 
the  elements  chastise,  is  much  the  same  all  over 
the  world. 


THE   JAT 

The  Jat,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  backbone  of 
the  Punjab  ;  for  it  is  from  this  Scythian  breed 
that  most  of  the  Sikhs  and  a  number  of  the 
Punjabi  Mussalmans  derive  their  sinews  and 
stout-heartedness.  If  you  used  the  word  in  its 
broad  ethnic  sense,  signifying  all  classes  of  Jat 
descent,  the  muster  would  include  the  best  part 
of  the  roll  of  modern  Indian  chivalry.  But  it 
is  with  the  Hindu  Jat,  whose  ancestors  were 
not  seduced  or  intimidated  by  Islam  and  who 
himself  is  not  sufficiently  attracted  by  the  Khalsa 
to  become  a  Sikh,  that  this  chapter  deals.  That 
neither  material  expediency,  love  of  honour, 
nor  the  glamour  of  an  ideal  has  turned  him 
aside  from  the  immemorial  path  of  his  ancestors 
presupposes  a  certain  stolidity,  in  which  one  is 
not  disappointed  when  one  knows  the  man. 

I  have  passed  many  years  in  a  district  where 
there  are  Jats,  but  the  Jat  villager  is  not  the 

"5 


Ii6  THE    JAT 

same  man  as  the  J  at  sepoy,  and  I  did  not  make 
acquaintance  with  the  sepoy  breed  until  I  ran 
across  the  bomb-havildar  of  the  6th  Jats  in 
Mesopotamia. 

I  was  taking  my  bully,  and  "  Tigris  "  and 
whisky,  with  a  Jat  regiment,  the  6th,  when 
the  discussion  arose  as  to  why  the  Jat  wears 
gold  in  his  teeth.  The  doctor  thought  the 
idea  was  that  gold  carried  you  over  the  Styx  ; 
it  was  a  kind  of  Elysian  toll.  I  persuaded  the 
Colonel  to  call  one  of  the  men  into  the  dug-out 
and  to  draw  him  on  the  point.  So  Tara,  the 
bomb-havildar,  was  sent  for,  a  jiwan  of  five 
years'  service  and  the  quickest  intelligence  in 
the  regiment. 

Tara  entered,  saluted  and  stood  at  attention, 
each  joint  of  him  independently  stiff  and  inflexible, 
the  stiffest  wooden  soldier  could  not  be  more 
stiff  than  he,  and  his  rifle  was  speckless  in  spite 
of  the  mud.  At  the  O.C.'s  command  his  limbs 
became  more  independent  of  one  another,  but 
rigidity  was  still  the  prominent  note. 

"Why  do  Jats  wear  gold  in  their  teeth, 
Tara?"  the  Colonel  asked:  "this  Sahib  wants 
to  know." 

Tara  pondered. 


To  face  p.  ii6.]  A  JAT  camel  SOWAR. 


GOLD    IN   THEIR   TEETH        117 

"  For  the  sake  of  appearance,  Sahib,"  he 
said,  "to  give  them  an  air." 

"  Is  there  no  other  reason  ?" 

Tara  consulted  the  tarpauHn  overhead,  the 
mud  walls,  the  mud  table  of  the  mess,  v^here 
"  La  Vie  Parisienne "  and  a  Christmas  annual 
gave  the  only  bit  of  relief  to  this  dun-coloured 
habitation.  Then  he  smiled  and  delivered  him- 
self slowly,  "  There  is  a  saying  among  my  people, 
Sahib,  that  he  who  wears  gold  in  his  teeth  must 
always  speak  what  is  true.  Gold  in  the  teeth 
stops  the  passage  of  lies." 

*'  But  you  have  no  gold  in  your  teeth  ?  " 

"  No,  Sahib." 

"  Is  that  why  you  tell  the  tall  story  about 
all  those  Germans  you  killed  at  Festubert  ? " 

Tara  smiled  at  this  thrust. 

'*  No,  Sahib,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  It  is  true 
I  killed  ten  between  two  traverses." 

*•  Better  ask  him  right  out,  sir,"  the  doctor 
suggested. 

"  I  have  heard  some  story  about  gold  helping 
the  J  at  to  heaven,"  the  Colonel  observed  to 
Tara. 

The  gleam  of  reminiscence  in  the  havildar's 
eyes,  as  he  confirmed  this  legend,  showed  that 


ii8  THE   JAT 

he  was  not  speaking  merely  to  please.  It  was 
the  old  story  of  Charon.  Gold,  he  explained, 
was  a  passport  in  the  other  world  as  in  this,  and 
it  was  not  safe  to  carry  it  on  the  finger  or  on 
the  ear  where  it  might  be  detached,  so  it  was 
worn  in  the  teeth. 

"  And  who  puts  it  there  ? " 
J         **The   goldsmith.    Sahib,"   and    he    enlarged 
upon  the  exorbitance  of  the  Sonari  ;  for  the  Jat 
is  as  thrifty  as  the  Scot. 

It  was  on  account  of  these  chargres  that  Tara 
had  omitted  the  rite. 

"  When  you  go  back  to  your  village,"  the 
Colonel  said,  dismissing  him,  "don't  forget  to 
visit  the  Sonari,  and  then  you  will  not  tell  any 
more  lies." 

Tara  saluted  with  an  irradiating  smile. 

"  Assuredly,  Sahib,  I  will  not  forget,"  he  said. 
"  I  shall  go  straight  to  the  Sonari." 

This  was  quite  a  sally  for  Tara,  and  we  all 
laughed,  for  the  Jat  is  not  quick  at  repartee. 
The  way  we  had  to  dig  the  story  out  of  him  was 
characteristic,  but  he  is  not  as  a  rule  so  responsive 
to  badinage.  The  Jat  has  no  time  for  play. 
When  he  is  a  boy  he  is  too  busy  looking  after 
the  cows,  and  his  nose  is  kept  at  the  grindstone 


A   FARMER  119 

until  he  crumbles  into  the  soil  that  bore  him. 
He  has  no  badges,  flags,  emblems,  no  peculiar 
way  of  tying  his  turban  or  wearing  his  clothes  ; 
and  he  has  very  little  sentiment.  It  was  a  stroke 
of  genius  in  Guru  Gobind  Singh  when  he  turned 
the  Jat  into  a  Sikh,  gave  him  the  five  badges, 
and  wedded  him  to  steel.  Tradition  grew  with 
the  title  of  Singh,  and  a  great  military  brother- 
hood was  founded :  but  in  the  unconverted  Jat 
there  is  the  same  strong  fibre,  the  stronger,  the 
regimental  officer  will  tell  you,  for  not  having 
been  uprooted  or  pruned,  and  he  prides  himself 
that  he  will  make  as  good  a  soldier  out  of  the 
Jat  as  ever  the  Guru  did. 

The  Jat  is  primarily  a  farmer.  He  has  not 
the  ancient  military  traditions  of  the  Rajput, 
Mahratta,  or  Sikh,  though  none  so  stubborn  as 
he  to  fight  for  his  own  land.  He  does  not 
figure  in  history  among  the  adventurers,  builders 
of  kingdoms,  leaders  of  men,  but  circumstance 
has  moulded  him  from  time  to  time  into  a 
fighting  man.  Prosperity  may  soften  him,  but 
adversity  only  stiffens  the  impression  of  the 
mould. 

It  was  during  the  reconstitution  of  the  Indian 
Army  in  1893,  that  the  Jats  were  built  up  again 


120  THE   JAT 

into  a  fighting  race.  A  good  regimental  officer 
can  make  anything  he  will  out  of  the  J  at.  It 
takes  earthquakes  and  volcanoes  to  turn  a 
regiment  of  these  hard-bitten  men  out  of  a 
position  they  have  been  given  to  hold.  If  the 
Jat  is  wanting  in  initiative  and  enterprise,  this 
is  merely  a  defect  of  a  virtue,  for  once  set  going 
it  never  enters  his  honest  hard  head  to  do  any- 
thing else  but  go  on.  And  that  is  why  the 
Jat  has  done  so  well  in  this  war.  Every  knock 
hardens  him.  Courage  is  often  the  outcome 
of  ignorance,  but  the  remnants  of  a  Jat  battalion 
which  has  been  wiped  out  half  a  dozen  times 
will  go  into  the  attack  again  as  unconcerned 
as  a  new  draft. 

The  6th  Jats  was  one  of  the  first  of  the 
Indian  regiments  to  be  engaged  in  France.  As 
early  as  the  i6th  of  November,  19 14,  they  had 
broken  into  the  German  trenches.  It  was  on 
the  23rd  of  the  same  month  that  they  made  the 
gallant  counter-attack  over  the  snow  at  Festubert 
with  the  Garhwalis  and  won  back  the  lost 
trenches.  At  Givenchy,  on  December  20th, 
they  held  their  ground  against  the  German  wave 
when  they  were  left  practically  in  the  air;  and 
they   would    not   let   go   their   hold   at    Neuve- 


WITHOUT    FEAR  121 

Chapelle  when  they  were  enfiladed  from  the 
Port  Arthur  position,  still  intact,  on  their  right. 
Two  months  afterwards,  on  the  9th  of  May, 
they  made  their  frontal  attack  on  Port  Arthur. 
A  double  company  penetrated  the  German  lines  ; 
only  seven  men  returned  un wounded.  History 
repeated  itself  in  Mesopotamia.  It  has  been 
the  part  of  this  gallant  stock  to  arrive  on  the 
scene  in  the  nick  of  time  and  to  be  thrown  into 
the  brunt  of  the  attack. 

The  Jat  is  not  troubled  with  nerves  or 
imagination,  and  he  is  seemingly  unacquainted 
with  fear.  Alarums,  bombardments,  and  ex- 
cursions having  become  his  normal  walk  of  life, 
he  will  continue  on  his  path,  probably  with  fewer 
inward  questionings  than  most  folk,  until  the 
end  of  the  war.  Give  him  a  trench  to  hold  and 
he  will  stick  to  it  as  a  matter  of  course  until 
he  is  ordered  to  come  out. 

The  regiment  in  the  trenches  were  mostly 
Jats  of  Hissar  and  Rohtak,  and  the  Colonel  told 
me  with  the  pride  that  is  right  and  natural  in  the 
regimental  officer  that  this  was  the  best  stock. 
'*  You  must  get  the  Jat  where  he  is  top  dog  in 
his  own  country,"  he  said,  "  and  not  where  he 
lives  among  folk  who  think  they  are  his  betters. 


122  THE   JAT 

And  he  is  best  where  the  land  is  poor.  In 
districts  where  the  sub-division  of  the  soil  among 
large  families  does  not  leave  enough  to  go  round 
you  will  get  a  good  recruit."  Locality  is  all 
important;  a  dividing  river  may  make  all  the 
difference.  The  Colonel  admired  the  Jats  of  A, 
bat  he  had  no  good  word  for  the  Jats  of  B.  The 
Rajput  Jat,  especially  from  Bikaner,  he  admitted, 
were  stout  fellows,  though  they  were  not  of  his 
crew.  There  were  well-to-do  districts  in  which 
the  Jat  would  not  follow  the  pursuit  of  arms 
whether  in  peace  or  in  war.  "  And  if  you  want 
recruits,"  he  enjoined  on  me,  "don't  go  to  an 
irrigated  district."  Water  demoralises  them. 
When  a  Jat  sits  down  and  watches  the  canal 
water  and  the  sun  raise  his  crop,  his  fibre 
slackens,  for  his  stubborn  qualities  proceed  from 
the  soil.  It  is  the  same  with  other  ac^ricultural 
classes  in  the  Indian  Army,  but  the  Jat  is  pro- 
bably the  best  living  advertisement  of  the  uses 
of  adversity.  There  is  a  proverb  in  the  Punjab 
on  the  lines  of  our  own  tag  about  the  three  things 
that  are  most  improved  by  flagellation,  but 
woman  is  the  only  item  recommended  in  both 
cases.  The  Hindu  variant  adds  "flax"  and 
"the  Jat." 


"LIKE   JAT,    LIKE    BYLE  "        123 

There  is  another  rude  proverb  of  the  country. 
"  Like  Jat,  like  byle  (ox)."  There  are  many  Jats 
and  most  of  them  have  some  peculiar  virtue  of 
their  own,  but  quickness  of  apprehension  is  not 
one  of  them.  I  had  an  amusinof  reminder  of  this 
before  I  left  the  trench.  Bullets  were  spattering 
against  the  parapet  with  a  crack  as  loud  as  the 
report  of  a  rifle,  and  our  own  and  the  Turkish 
shells  screamed  over  the  dug-out  with  so  con- 
fused a  din  that  one  was  never  quite  sure  which 
was  which.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the  after- 
noon "strafe."  Still  there  was  no  call  for 
casualties,  and  one  only  had  to  keep  one's  head 
low.  In  the  middle  of  it  a  subaltern  coming 
down  "  Oueen  Street "  looked  in  and  told  us 
that  one  of  the  Jats  was  hit.  "  Loophole  ?  "  the 
Colonel  asked.  But  it  was  not  a  loophole. 
The  jiwan  had  got  hold  of  somebody's  peri- 
scope ;  he  had  heard  that  it  was  a  charm  which 
enables  you  to  see  without  being  hit — he  was 
standing  up  over  the  parapet  trying  to  adjust 
it  like  a  pair  of  field  glasses,  when  a  bullet  flicked 
off  part  of  his  ear. 

The  supply  of  good  Indian  officers  is  some- 
times a  difticulty  in  a  Jat  regiment,  for  these 
children  of  labour  follow  better  than   they  lead. 


124  THE   JAT 

But  even  in  the  acquisition  of  understanding 
it  is  hard  plugging  appHcation  that  tells.  "  Con- 
tinuing "  is  the  Jat's  virtue,  or  "  carrying  on " 
as  we  say,  and  he  will  sap  through  a  course 
of  signalling  with  the  same  doggedness  as  he 
saps  up  to  the  enemy's  lines.  "  We've  got  some 
first  class  signallers,"  the  Colonel  boasted,  "  they 
can  write  their  reports  in  Roman  Urdu." 

And  the  pick  of  the  lot  was  Tara.  What 
that  youth  has  seen  in  France  and  Mesopotamia 
would  keep  old  Homer  in  copy  through  a  dozen 
Iliads,  but  it  has  left  no  wrinkle  on  his  brow. 
Tara  is  still  as  fresh  as  paint. 

"Sahib,"  he  asks,  "when  may  I  go  to  the 
Turkish  saphead  with  my  bombs?"  He  lost 
a  brother  at  Sheikh  Saad  and  wants  to  make 
good. 


THE    RAJPUT   AND   BRAHMAN 

In  the  early  days   before  the    British  Raj  had 

spread    North    and   West,    there    was   a  period 

when    the    Bengal    Army    was   enlisted  almost 

exclusively  from  the  high-caste  Hindu.     In  the 

campaigns    against    the     Muhammadan    princes 

the  Mussalman  sepoy,  for  reasons  of  expediency, 

was   gradually  weeded   out.     The   Gurkha   was 

unknown    to    Clive's   officers ;    the    day  of    the 

Sikh   and    Mahratta   was    not   yet ;    the    Dogra 

was    undiscovered ;    there   was    a   sprinkling   of 

Pathan   adventurers    in    the    ranks    and   a    few 

Jats  and  Rohillas ;    but,  generally  speaking,  the 

Rajput    and    Brahman    had   something    like    a 

monopoly  in  military  service. 

The  Rajputs,  of  course,  are  par  excellence 
the  military  caste  of  Hindustan,  and  there  is 
no  more  glorious  page  in  the  annals  of  chivalry 
than  the  story  of  that  resistance  to  the  succes- 
sive waves  of  Moslem  invaders.  Three  times  the 
flower  of  the  race  were  annihilated  in  the  defence 

125 


126     THE    RAJPUT   AND    BRAHMAN 

of  Chitore.  But  they  never  yielded,  for  the 
Rajput  would  take  no  quarter.  He  was  true 
to  his  oath  not  to  yield  ;  and  when  the  odds 
against  him  offered  no  hope  of  victory,  his  only 
care  was  to  sell  his  life  dearly  and  to  cut  his 
way  deep  into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  before 
he  fell.  The  women,  too,  refused  the  dishonour 
of  (Survival.  Led  by  their  queen  and  the  prin- 
cesses they  passed  into  a  sepulchre  of  flame. 
Others  fought  and  fell  beside  their  husbands 
and  sons,  and  their  courage  was  celebrated  by 
the  pen  of  Akbar,  whose  testimony  to  the  spirit 
of  the  race  does  not  fall  short  of  the  Rajput 
bards. 

The  Rajput  of  to-day  does  not  hold  the  same 
pre-eminence  in  the  army  as  did  his  ancestors. 
His  survival  in  the  land  he  held  so  bravely  is 
due  to  the  British,  who  only  came  in  time  to 
save  the  race,  exhausted  by  centuries  of  strife, 
from  conquest  by  more  vigorous  invaders.  Yet 
it  was  on  the  Rajput  and  the  Brahman  more 
than  on  any  other  class  of  sepoy  that  we  de- 
pended in  our  early  campaigns.  They  fought 
with  us  against  the  French  ;  they  helped  us  to 
crush  the  Nawab  of  Oudh.  They  served  with 
conspicuous  gallantry  in   the   Mahratta,  Nepal, 


^^^^■W*'* 


To  face  p.  126.] 


■J  HE    RAJPUT. 


HISTORY   OF  127 

Afghan,  and  Sikh  wars.  They  formed  part  of 
the  gallant  band  that  defended  the  Residency 
at  Lucknow.*  And  later  in  Egypt,  Afghanistan, 
and  Burma,  they  maintained  the  honour  they 
had  won.  Had  there  been  class  regiments  in 
those  days  the  izzat  of  the  Rajput  and  Brahman 
sepoy  would  have  been  higher  than  it  is. 

The  Brahmans  only  enlist  in  two  class 
regiments  of  the  Indian  Army.  The  type  re- 
cruited is  of  magnificent  physique ;  their  breed- 
ing and  pride  of  race  is  reflected  in  their 
cleanliness  and  smartness  on  parade.  They  are 
fine  athletes,  expert  wrestlers,  and  excel  in  feats 
of  strength ;  and  they  have  a  high  reputation 
for  courage.  Unhappily  they  have  seen  little 
service  since  the  class  system  was  introduced, 
and  so  have  not  had  the  opportunity  of  adding 
to  a  distinguished  record. 

For  various  reasons  the  Rajput  does  not 
enlist  so  freely  in  the  Indian  Army  as  his  proud 
military  traditions  might  lead  one  to  expect. 
The  difficulties  of  recruiting  are  greatest  among 
the  classes  which  should  provide  the  best 
material.      The    difference    of    quality    among 

*  The  remnants  of  "the  gallant  few"  became  the  nucleus  of 
the  Loyal  i6th  Regiment. 


128     THE    RAJPUT    AND    BRAHMAN 

Rajput  sepoys  is  to  a  large  extent  determined 
by    the    locality    of   enlistment.      Those    from 
Rajputana  and  the  neighbouring  districts  of  the 
Punjab  as  a  rule  rank  higher  than  recruits  from 
the  United  Provinces  and  Oudh.     The  western 
Rajputs,  generally   of  purer   blood,  are    not   so 
fastidious  about  caste,  while   farther  east,  espe- 
cially  Benares    way,  the   Rajput    is    inclined    to 
become    Brahmanised.       Brahmanism,    whatever 
its  merits,  is  not  a  good  forcing  ground  for  'the 
military   spirit.      Exclusiveness   is   the   bane   of 
"  the  twice-born,"  especially  in  war.      On  service 
the    essentials   of    caste    are    observed    amone 
Rajputs  and  Brahmans  as  fastidiously  as  in  peace- 
time,   only    a   certain    amount    of  ceremonial    is 
dispensed    with.      At   ordinary  times    the  high- 
caste  Hindu  when  he  is  away  from  home  prepares 
his  own  dinner  and  eats  it  alone.      Before  cook- 
ing   he    bathes.      Complete    immersion    is   pre- 
scribed,   preferably   in    natural    running    water. 
Where  there  is  no  stream  or  pool  he  is  content 
with  a  wash   down  from  a  bucket ;    and  as   he 
washes   he   must    repeat  certain  prayers,    facing 
the  east.      While  eatino-  he   wears   nothings   but 
his    dhoti    (loin   cloth)    and    sacred  thread ;    the 
upper  part   of  his  body  and  his  feet   are  bare. 


FOOD    PECULIARITIES  129 

A  small  square  is  marked  off  for  cooking.  This 
is  called  the  chauka.  It  is  smoothed  and  plas- 
tered over,  or  lepai-ed  as  he  calls  it,  with  mud, 
or  cowdung  when  available.  Should  anyone  not 
of  the  caste  touch  the  chauka  after  it  has  been 
prepared,  all  the  food  within  its  limits  is  defiled 
and  must  be  thrown  away. 

There  are  two  distinct  kinds  of  food,  kachi 
which  is  cooked  in  ghi,  and  pakhi  which  is 
cooked  in  water.  Kachi  may  be  eaten  only 
at  the  chauka  ;  but  happily  for  the  sepoy  pakhi 
may  be  carried  about  and  eaten  anywhere  ;  other- 
wise caste  would  completely  demobilise  him. 
Amongst  Brahmans  the  caste  convention  of  cook- 
ing their  own  food  and  eating  it  alone  dies  hard  ; 
and  I  know  a  Rajput  class  regiment  in  which 
it  took  ten  years  to  introduce  the  messing  system. 
Company  cooking  pots  were  accepted  at  first, 
but  with  no  economy  of  space  or  time  ;  for  the 
vessels  were  handed  round  and  each  man  used 
them  to  cook  his  own  food  in  turn.  The  Brah- 
mans are  even  more  fastidious.  I  remember 
watching  a  class  regiment  at  their  meal  in  the 
Essin  position ;  their  habit  of  segregation  had 
spread  them  over  a  wide  area.  Each  man  had 
ruled  out  his  own  pitch,  and  a  Turk  would  have 

K 


130     THE    RAJPUT   AND    BRAHMAN 

taken  the  battalion  for  a  brigade.  Only  in  the 
case  of  near  relatives  will  two  men  sit  at  the 
same  chauka.  In  spite  of  the  cold,  one  or  two 
of  them  were  naked  except  for  the  loin  cloth. 
The  others  wore  vests  of  wool,  which  (apart 
from  the  loin  cloth)  is  the  one  and  only  material 
that  Brahmans  may  wear  at  meals.  All  had  first 
bathed  and  changed  their  dhoti  according  to  the 
prescribed  rites,  and  carried  water  with  them 
to  wash  off  any  impurity  from  their  feet  when 
they  entered  the  chauka. 

There  are  many  prescribed  minutiae  of  ritual 
which  vary  with  each  sect  and  sub-tribe,  but 
these  are  the  main  inhibitions.  Even  on  service 
the  Hindu  preserves  the  sanctity  of  the  chauka, 
and  if  not  a  Brahman,  takes  with  him  a  Brahman 
cook,  relaxes  nothing  in  regard  to  the  purity 
of  his  water  from  contamination  by  the  wrong 
kind  of  people,  and  would  rather  starve  than  eat 
meat  killed  in  an  unorthodox  way.  The  mutton 
or  goat  that  the  Mussalman  eats  must  be  slain 
by  the  halal  or  the  stroke  at  the  throat,  and  the 
mutton  the  Sikh  or  Hindu  eats  by  the  jatka 
or  stroke  at  the  back  of  the  neck.  The  most 
elaborate  precautions  were  taken  in  France  and 
were   observed  in   Mesopotamia  and  elsewhere. 


FOOD   PRECAUTIONS  131 

to  keep  the  two  kinds  of  meat  separate.  There 
was  once  a  complaint  that  the  flies  from  the 
Muhammadan  butchery  settled  on  the  meat 
prepared  for  the  Hindus,  and  the  two  slaughter- 
houses were  accordingly  removed  farther  apart. 
Orthodoxy  in  this  point  is  no  mere  fad,  but  a 
genuine  physical  need  born  of  centuries  of  tradi- 
tion. The  mere  sight  of  the  wrong  kind  of  meat 
is  nauseating  to  the  fastidious,  and  in  cases  where 
it  is  not  physically  nauseating,  toleration  would 
be  extremely  bad  form.  I  think  the  story  has 
already  been  told  of  the  Gurkha  subadar  on 
board  the  transport  between  Bombay  and  Mar- 
seilles who,  when  asked  if  his  men  would  eat 
frozen  meat,  replied,  after  consulting  them, 
"  Sahib,  they  will  have  no  objection  whatever, 
provided  one  of  them  may  be  permitted  each 
day  to  see  the  animal  frozen  alive." 

On  service,  of  course,  as  on  pilgrimages 
under  hard  climatic  conditions,  there  are  dis- 
pensations in  the  ceremonial,  though  not  in  the 
essentials,  of  caste.  Brahmans  have  fought  for 
us  from  Plassey  to  the  present  day  and  their 
fastidious  personal  cleanliness  has  contributed 
to  the  smartness  and  discipline  of  the  Indian 
Army.     In  early  days,  when   the  ranks  of  the 


132     THE    RAJPUT   AND    BRAHMAN 

Bengal  regiments  were  filled  almost  entirely 
with  high-caste  Hindus,  orthodoxy  was  main- 
tained in  spite  of  all  the  rigours  of  war.  To-day 
little  has  changed.  Bathing  when  the  nearest 
water  is  an  icy  glacier  stream  is  not  indulged 
in  now  on  a  frontier  campaign ;  and  where  there 
is  no  water  at  all  the  sepoy  does  not  lose  caste 
by  the  neglect  of  his  ablutions.  The  Rajput 
as  a  rule  will  eat  his  meals  with  his  boots  and 
clothes  on,  as  he  has  done  no  doubt  whenever 
he  has  been  under  arms  since  the  Pandavas  and 
Kouravas  fought  at  Delhi. 

The  fastidious  caste  ceremonial  is  discouraged 
in  the  Indian  Army.  It  leads  to  complications 
at  all  times,  especially  on  a  campaign  ;  and  a 
good  Commanding  Officer  prides  himself  on  his 
men's  common  sense  and  adaptability  to  environ- 
ment. Yet  there  have  been  occasions,  even 
among  sepoys,  when  ritual  and  caste  exclusive- 
ness  have  been  turned  to  disciplinary  uses. 
Here  is  a  story  which  is  very  much  to  the  point. 
The  first  scene  of  this  little  drama  was  played 
in  Egypt ;  the  last  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris. 

There  was  a  company  of  Rajputs  somewhere 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Suez,  which  contained 
a  draft   of  very  raw   recruits.     Three  of  these 


THE   JIWANS  133 

youngsters  and  a  particularly  callow  lance-naik 
were  holding  a  picquet  on  the  east  bank  of  the 
canal  when  they  lost  their  heads.  One  of  them 
blazed  off  at  a  shadow.  He  was  frightened  by 
the  tamarisk  bushes  in  the  moonlight,  and  thought 
they  were  Turks'  heads.  A  panic  set  in.  All 
four  blazed  into  the  scrub,  threw  down  their 
rifles,  bolted  as  if  the  devil  were  behind  them, 
and  were  only  held  up  by  the  barbed  wire  of 
their  own  outpost.  The  jiwans  were  notori- 
ously wild  and  jungly,  and  everything  that  a 
recruit  should  not  be.  They  had  never  left 
their  village  save  for  a  few  months'  training 
before  they  embarked  on  the  transport  in 
Bombay.  A  certain  allowance  might  be  made 
for  stupidity  and  bewilderment,  sufficient  in  the 
case  of  extreme  youth  to  waive  the  death  penalty. 
Had  it  been  a  moving  campaign ;  had  the  regi- 
ment been  in  actual  contact  with  the  enemy, 
these  young  men  would  have  been  "for  the 
wall."  There  is  nothing  else  to  do  when  soldiers 
go  the  wrong  way.  The  O.C.  and  the  Adjutant 
were  considering  how  to  deal  with  them  when 
the  Subadar-Major  entered  the  orderly  room. 
The  man  was  a  veteran,  with  a  double  row  of 
ribbons  on  his  breast,  and  he  had  never  let  the 


134     THE    RAJPUT   AND    BRAHMAN 

regiment  down  in  all  his  service.  He  begged, 
as  a  special  favour,  that  Rajput  officers  should 
be  permitted  to  wipe  out  the  stain.  "  Leave  it 
to  us,  Sahib,"  he  said :  "  we  will  put  such  an 
indignity  on  them,  that  there  will  not  be  a  jiwan 
in  the  regiment  who  will  shrink  from  bahadri  * 
again."  The  Colonel  saw  the  wisdom  of  this. 
The  Rajput  izzat  was  at  stake,  and  he  knew 
his  man.  So  the  Indian  officers  of  the  regiment 
were  deputed  to  deal  with  the  case  themselves, 
just  as  prefects  at  school  take  the  law  into  their 
own  hands  and  administer  it  with  a  much  more 
deterrent  effect  than  the  headmaster  with  his 
cane.  The  jiwans  were  tapped  on  the  head  with 
a  slipper,  the  last  ignominy  that  can  befall  a 
Rajput.  After  such  disgrace  they  could  not 
enter  the  chauka  and  mess  with  their  caste  com- 
panions. That  is  to  say,  they  were  socially 
excommunicated  until  their  honour  was  retrieved. 
For  nearly  eighteen  months  they  lit  their  outcast 
fire  and  took  their  meals  apart  at  a  measured 
distance  from  the  chaukas — at  such  a  distance 
that  no  ray  of  contamination  could  proceed  from 
them  to  it. 

They  were  still  under  the  ban  when  the  regi- 

♦  Brave  deeds. 


REHABILITATION  OF  THE  JIVVANS  135 

ment  left  Egypt  and  went  to  Mesopotamia. 
They  did  not  go  into  action  until  the  relieving 
column  found  themselves  in  the  impasse  before 
Kut.  This  was  their  first  chance,  and  all  four 
rehabilitated  themselves.  Two  died  honourably, 
one  of  them  inside  the  enemy's  trenches  killed 
by  a  Turkish  grenadier ;  one  was  awarded 
the  Indian  Order  of  Merit ;  and  the  lance-naik 
degraded  was  promoted  to  naik.  He  was  in 
the  rearguard  covering  the  retirement  until  dark, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  he  laid  out  all  his 
cartridge  cases  as  he  fired,  keeping  them  nicely 
dressed  in  a  neat  little  heap,  as  had  been  well 
rubbed  into  him  on  parade.  I  am  told  that  there 
is  much  promise  in  this  jiwan.  And  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  caste  instinct  with  all  its  dis- 
abilities made  a  man  of  him.  Breedingf  brouorht 
into  contact  with  regimental  tradition  gives  the 
sense  of  7ioblesse  oblige,  and  deference  is  the 
birthright  of  the  twice-born.  Thus  the  Brahman 
of  Oudh,  tried  and  proved  in  a  wrestling  match 
or  a  tug-of-war,  thinks  himself  as  good  a  man 
in  a  scrap  as  the  most  fire-eating  Turk ;  and 
the  assumption  is  all  on  the  credit  side. 

Rajput  pride  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  saddest 
story   of    a   sepoy    I    have    ever    heard.     The 


T36     THE    RAJPUT   AND    BRAHMAN 

man  was  not  a  Rajput  of  the  plains,  but  a  hill- 
man  of  Rajput  descent,  as  brave  a  man  as  any 
in  a  battalion  whose  chivalry  in  France  became 
a  household  word.  After  two  days'  incessant 
fighting  with  a  minimum  of  rest  at  night,  he  fell 
asleep  at  his  post.  On  account  of  his  splendid 
service,  and  his  exhaustion  at  the  time,  which 
was  after  all  the  tax  of  gallantry,  the  death 
penalty  was  commuted,  and  the  man  was  sen- 
tenced to  thirty  lashes.  He  would  much  have 
preferred  death.  However,  he  took  the  lashes 
well,  and  there  was  little  noticeable  change  in 
him  afterwards  beyond  an  increase  of  reserve. 
He  went  about  his  work  as  usual,  and  was  in 
two  or  three  more  actions,  in  which  he  acquitted 
himself  well.  After  a  complete  year  in  France, 
the  battalion  was  moved  to  Egypt,  where  they 
stayed  five  months.  Then  came  the  welcome 
news  that  they  were  returning  home.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  he  disembarked  at  Bombay 
the  Rajput  shot  himself.  He  had  chosen  to  live 
when  there  was  work  to  do  and  death  was  his 
neighbour  every  day ;  now,  when  he  might  have 
lived,  and  when  he  was  a  bare  three  days  from 
his  family  and  home,  he  chose  to  die.  The 
British   officers  tried   to   find    out  from  the  men 


RAJPUT    PRIDE  137 

what  had  driven  him  to  it.  But  the  sepoys 
were  very  silent  and  reticent.  All  they  would 
say  was  that  it  was  "  on  account  of  shame." 

The  boy  who  commanded  his  platoon,  and  who 
had  been  shooting  with  him  in  his  district  before 
the  war,  knows  no  more  than  I  the  processes  of 
his  mind.  He  is  inclined  to  think  that  he 
decided  at  once,  immediately  after  sentence  had 
been  executed,  to  destroy  himself  when  his 
regiment  returned.  Or  he  may  have  turned  it 
over  in  his  mind  day  and  night  for  more  than 
a  year,  and  in  the  end  the  sight  of  Hindustan 
resolved  him.  When  the  idea  of  home  became 
real  and  imminent,  the  thought  became  unen- 
durable that  he  should  be  pointed  at  in  the 
village  street  as  the  man  who  had  been  whipped. 
In  one  case  there  is  heroism  ;  in  the  other  a 
very  human  weakness ;  and  in  either  case  a 
tragedy  of  spirit  that  reveals  the  intensity  of 
pride  which  is  the  birthright  of  the  "  twice-born." 


THE   GARHWALI 

The  iGarh walls'  debut  in  Mesopotamia  was 
worthy  of  their  inspiring  record  in  France.  It 
was  at  Ramadie.  They  made  the  night  march 
on  September  27th,  191 6,  marched  and  fought 
all  the  28th,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  29th 
carried  the  Aziziyah  and  Sheikh  Faraja  Ridges 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  in  an  advance  of 
1500  yards  under  frontal  and  enfilade  fire.  The 
Sheik  Faraja  ridge  was  their  objective.  But 
this  'was  not  enouo^h.  The  bridcje  of  the 
Aziziyah  Canal  lay  beyond,  a  point  of  vantage, 
for  over  it  all  guns  or  wheeled  transport  that 
escaped  from  Ramadie  would  have  to  pass. 
Feeling  that  they  had  rattled  the  Turk,  that  his 
tail  was  down,  and  that  it  was  a  moment  when 
initiative  might  turn  the  scale,  they  pushed  on 
another  thousand  yards  over  open  ground,  '*  as 
bald  as  a  coot,"  crossed  a  deep  nullah,  seized  the 
bridge,  scuppered  the  teams  of  three  Turkish 
guns,  captured  them,  and  accepted  the  surrender 
of  a  Turkish  General  and  two  thousand  men. 

138 


To  face  p.  138.] 


THE   GARHWALI. 


HIS    DEBUT  139 

Of  course  there  was  a  lot  of  luck  in  it,  but  it 
was  the  luck  that  gallantry  deserves  and  wins 
for  itself  and  turns  to  account.  The  Turk  was 
cornered  and  hemmed  in  with  the  cavalry  astride 
the  Aleppo  road  to  the  west,  the  Euphrates  at 
his  back  and  no  bridge,  and  our  infantry  pressing 
in  on  the  south  and  the  east.  But  it  was  a 
wide  front  and  our  line  was  thin  ;  by  the  time 
that  they  had  reached  the  Canal  the  three 
assaulting  companies  were  a  bare  hundred  strong, 
and  if  the  Turk  had  had  the  heart  of  the 
Garhwalis  he  would  have  rolled  them  up. 

Standing  by  the  captured  guns,  with  the 
stalwart  Turks  coming  in  submissively  all  round, 
as  if  the  surrender  of  the  Anatolian  to  the 
Garhwali  were  a  law  of  nature  and  a  pre- 
ordained thing,  a  subadar  of  the  regiment  turned 
modestly  to  his  lieutenant  and  said,  "  Now  it 
is  all  right,  Sahib.  I  had  my  fears  about  the 
young  men.  They  knew  so  little  and  were 
untried.  Now  we  may  be  assured.  They  will 
stand." 

When  the  battalion  made  the  night  march  on 
September  27th,  exactly  two  years  and  two  days 
had  passed  since  they  had  fought  their  last  action 
in  France  ;   and  they  had  seen  more  than  one 


140  THE    GARHWALI 

incarnation.  The  Subadar  might  well  be  anxious. 
The  regiment  had  a  large  proportion  of  recruits, 
and  they  had  a  tall  record  to  preserve.  For  the 
"  gharry- wallah,"  or  Indian  cabby,  as  he  is 
familiarly  called,  though  he  has  never  driven 
anything  but  the  Hun — and  the  Turk,  leapt 
into  fame  at  Festubert,  and  has  never  lost  an 
iota  of  his  high  repute.  Before  the  war  his  name 
was  unknown  to  the  man  in  the  street.  The  first 
battalion  of  the  39th  Garhwal  Rifles  was  raised 
in  1887 — the  second  in  1901,  and  they  had  seen 
little  service  till  France.  Yet  the  Garhwali  had 
always  been  a  fighting  man.  He  enlisted  in  the 
Gurkha  regiments  before  the  class  battalions 
were  formed,  and  his  prowess  helped  to  swell 
their  fame,  though  one  heard  little  or  nothing 
of  him.  He  was  swallowed  up  and  submerged 
in  the  Gurkha,  and  did  not  exist  as  a  race  apart. 
When  at  last  the  class  regiments  came  into  being 
he  had  to  wait  thirty  years  for  his  chance.  But 
his  officers  knew  him  and  loved  him,  and  were 
confident  all  the  while  that  his  hour  of  recog- 
nition would  come. 

It  came  at  Festubert,  when  the  first  battalion 
attacked  and  recaptured  the  lost  trenches.  Regi- 
ment  after   regiment    had   driven    in    the   most 


GALLANTRY  141 

determined  counter-attacks  across  a  thousand 
yards  of  snow-covered  ground,  and  every  assault 
had  been  withered  up  by  the  enemy's  lire.  The 
GarhwaHs  got  in  on  the  flank,  working  along 
trenches  held  by  our  own  troops  to  the  left  of  those 
captured  by  the  Germans.  They  carried  traverse 
after  traverse,  and  the  taking  of  every  traverse 
was  as  the  taking  of  a  fort.  At  first  they  had 
a  bagful  of  "jampot "  bombs  hastily  contrived  by 
the  Sappers — it  was  long  before  the  days  of 
Mills  and  Stokes  and  other  implements  of 
destruction ;  but  the  bombs  soon  gave  out,  and 
for  the  long  stretch  of  trench,  300  yards  or  more, 
it  was  nothing  but  rifle  and  bayonet  work.  A 
few  men  would  leap  on  the  parapet  and  parados 
at  each  traverse,  and  then  the  party  in  the  trench 
would  charge  round  the  traverse  and  dispatch 
the  garrison  with  the  bayonet  until  the  whole 
line  was  in  our  hands.  These  are  familiar  tactics 
to-day,  but  trench  warfare  was  then  in  its  infancy, 
and  it  fell  to  the  Garhwalis  to  give  the  lead  and 
point  the  way.  The  gallant  Naik  Dewan  Singh 
Neei,  who  led  his  men  round  traverse  after 
traverse  and  evicted  the  Hun,  was  awarded 
the  V.C. 

That   was  in    the  last   week  of   November, 


142  THE    GARHWALI 

1 91 4.  For  the  next  few  months  the  Garhwahs 
were  tried  and  proved  every  day.  Neither  the 
severe  conditions  of  the  winter,  nor  the  strange 
and  terrible  phenomena  of  destruction  evolved 
in  the  new  Armageddon,  could  damp  his  fighting 
spirit.  But  it  was  on  the  loth  March,  1915,  when 
the  two  battalions  "  went  over  the  top  "  at  Neuve 
Chapelle,  that  the  name  of  Garhwal,  no  longer 
obscure,  became  a  name  to  conjure  with  in 
France.  Ever  since  that  day  the  Garhwali  has 
stood  in  the  very  front  rank  in  reputation  among 
the  fighting  classes  of  the  Indian  Army.  The 
I  St  Battalion  charged  a  line  of  trenches  where 
the  wire  was  still  uncut.  Every  British  officer 
and  nearly  every  Indian  officer  in  the  attacking 
line  was  killed,  but  the  men  broke  through  the 
wire,  bayoneted  the  garrison  of  the  trench,  and 
hung  on  all  that  day  from  8  a.m.  to  6  p.m.  with 
no  Sahib  in  command.  The  CO.  and  Adjutant 
were  both  wounded,  and  at  nightfall  two  officers 
were  sent  across  from  the  2nd  Battalion,  who  had 
got  through  with  less  severe  loss,  to  help  the 
shattered  remnants  of  the  ist.  They  hung  on 
all  that  night  and  the  next  day,  and  beat  off  a 
heavy  counter-attack  on  the  morning  of  the  12th. 
Rifleman  Gobar  SinG:h  was  awarded  the  V.C.  for 


"THE    DAY   OF   THE   CHARGE"    143 

his  day's  work  on  the  loth,  when  he  led  the 
front  line  bayoneting  the  Hun,  but  the  gallant 
sepoy  never  lived  to  wear  his  award. 

The    Garhwali    subadar  who  went    over  the 
field  with  us  after  the   Ramadie  fight,  said  to  his 
officer  that  the  regiment  had  not  had  such  a  day 
since  the   "  charge-ki-din."     The    loth  of  March 
at     Neuve    Chapelle     is    remembered     by    the 
Garhwali    as    "the   day   of    the    charge."     For 
them  it  is  the  day.       Even   Ramadie  will    not 
wipe  it  out  with  all  its  fruits  of  victory.     For  the 
regiment  was  put  to  a  grimmer  test  at   Neuve 
Chapelle,    and    the    reward    in    the    measure   of 
honour  could  not   possibly  be   surpassed.     Still 
it   was   good  to    see   that   the    new   lot  was  as 
staunch  as  the  first.     They  are  a  modest-looking 
crowd,  some  of  the  youngest  mere  boys  without 
a  wrinkle  on  their  faces.     The  veterans  reminded 
me   very    much  of   Gurkhas,   but    more   of  the 
Khas   Ghurka,  who   is   half  a  Rajput,   than   of 
the  Magar  or  Gurung.     The  Garhwalis,  like  the 
Dogras,    are  direct  descendants  of  the  Rajputs 
who  cut  out  kingdoms  for  themselves  in  the  hills 
centuries  ago.      There  is  no   Mongol  blood   in 
them,    save  in    the    case  of   intermarriage  with 
Nepal.      They   are    a   distinct    race,    yet    bein 


144  THE   GARHWALI 

hillmen  and  neighbours,  they  naturally  have  much 
in  common  with  the  Gurkha,  in  habit  as  well  as 
look.  They  have  the  cheerfulness  and  simplicity 
of  the  Gurkha,  and  the  same  love  of  a  scrap  for 
its  own  sake,  and,  what  is  more  endearing,  the 
same  inability  to  grow  up.  They  are  always 
children.  They  care  nothing  for  drill  books  and 
maps,  and  as  often  as  not  hold  them  upside 
down.  But  they  see  red  in  a  fight,  and  go  for 
anything  in  front  of  them.  Both  battalions 
would  have  been  wiped  out  a  dozen  times  had  it 
not  been  for  their  British  officers. 

There  is  in  build  a  great  deal  in  common 
between  the  Gurkha  and  Garhwali,  and  confusion 
is  natural  in  the  uninitiated.  It  is  not  only  that 
both  are  hillmen,  belong  to  riile  regiments, 
and  wear  slouch  or  terai  hats  ;  the  Garhwali  is  in 
appearance  a  cross  between  the  Dogra  and  the 
*'  Ghurk."  He  has  the  close-cropped  hair,  the 
'*  bodi  "  or  topknot,  the  hillman's  face,  and  you 
will  find  in  the  veterans  the  same  tight-drawn 
lines  under  the  eye  that  bespeak  stiffening  in 
a  hard  school  and  give  them  a  grim  and  warlike 
look.  But  the  British  officer  in  a  Garhwali 
regiment  naturally  resents  the  swallowing  of 
the  small  community,  with  its  honour,  prestige, 


RAMADIE  145 

individuality  and  all,  by  the  great.  The  Garhwali, 
he  argues,  has  at  least  earned  his  right  to  a 
separate  identity  now,  and  he  is  jealous  of  the 
overshadowing  wing. 

Ramadie  was  a  great  day  for  him.  The 
Garhwalis  did  not  win  the  battle,  but  they  reaped 
the  rich  field  by  the  bridge  alone.  Other  regi- 
ments did  splendid  work  that  day,  and  the  officer 
who  showed  me  over  the  oround  was  afraid  that 

o 

I  should  forget  them  in  "booming  his  show." 
"It  was  just  our  luck,"  he  explained,  "  that  we 
happened  to  be  there."  Most  of  the  90th 
Punjabis  had  side-tracked  to  the  right  to  take 
Unjana  Hill,  while  the  rest  of  the  brigade  swept 
on  and  cleared  the  Sheikh  Faraja  Ridge.  To 
gain  the  Aziziyah  Canal  the  Garhwalis  changed 
direction  and  bore  off  to  the  left.  Other  com- 
panies came  up  afterwards,  but  when  the  Garh- 
walis reached  the  bridge  they  were  unsupported. 
They  took  the  bridge,  the  guns,  the  2000 
prisoners,  the  Turkish  General,*  alone.  As  for 
the  prisoners,  "  It  was  not  so  much  a  capture," 
the  officer  explained  to  me  modestly,  "  as  a 
surrender  to  the  nearest  troops,  and  we  hap- 
pened to  be  there." 

*  The   Commander,   Ahmed  Bey,   surrendered    to    the   90th 
Punjabis. 

L 


146  THE    GARHWALI 

I  had  watched  them  in  the  distance,  black 
specks  on  the  sand,  but  it  was  not  until  I  went 
over  the  field  with  them  the  next  day,  and  they 
fought  the  battle  again,  that  I  realised  what  they 
had  done.  As  the  Garhwalis  charged  over  the 
open  from  Sheikh  Faraja  Ridge,  the  three  guns 
in  front  of  them,  firing  point-blank  over  their 
sights,  poured  in  shrapnel,  raking  the  ground, 
churning  up  the  sand  in  a  deadly  spray.  Half- 
way across  there  was  a  deep  dry  nullah,  with 
steep  banks  and  a  few  scattered  palms  on  the 
other  side.  It  was  an  ideal  place  to  hold,  but  the 
enemy  were  slipping  away.  In  a  moment  the 
Garhwalis  were  in  the  nullah,  clambered  up  the 
opposite  bank,  and  had  their  Lewis-gun  trained 
on  the  gun  teams  at  400  yards.  The  Turkish 
gunners  died  game,  and  in  the  Garhwalis'  last 
burst  over  the  flat  not  a  man  fell.  They  rushed 
the  palm-clump  to  the  right  of  the  guns  and  the 
guns,  which  were  undefended  with  their  dead 
all  round.  The  three  pieces  were  intact.  The 
Turks  had  no  time  to  damage  them.  The  horses 
were  all  saddled  up  in  the  palms,  with  the 
ammunition  limbers,  officers'  charges,  mules  and 
camels.  Very  quickly  the  Garhwalis  dug  a  pot- 
hook  trench   round   the    guns  and  palm-clump, 


SUCCESSFUL   ASSAULT  147 

watched  eagerly  for  the  supports,  and  waited  for 
the  counter-attack  which  surely  must  come.  The 
three  assaulting  companies  were  a  bare  hundred 
strong  now,  and  behind  the  mud  walls  five 
hundred  yards  in  front  of  them,  though  they 
did  not  know  it,  lay  the  Turkish  General  and 
2000  of  his  men.  But  the  silencing  of  the 
guns  was  the  beginning  of  the  collapse.  The 
Turks  knew  the  game  was  up.  The  iron 
ring  we  were  drawing  round  them,  their  unsuc- 
cessful sortie  against  the  cavalry  in  the  night,  had 
taken  the  heart  out  of  them.  No  doubt  they 
thought  the  Garhwalis  the  advance-guard  of  a 
mighty  host. 

White  flags  appeared  on  the  mud  wall  in 
front.  A  small  group  of  Turks  came  out  un- 
armed. Eight  men  were  sent  to  bring  them  in. 
Then  a  "crocodile"  emerged  from  the  nullah. 
"I've  seen  some  crocodiles,"  a  very  junior 
subaltern  said  to  me,  *'  but  I  have  never  seen  one 
which  bucked  me  like  that."  The  monster  grew 
and  swelled  until  it  assumed  enormous  pro- 
portions. One  could  not  see  whence  each  new 
fold  of  the  beast  proceeded.  It  was  like  dragon 
seed  conjured  up  out  of  invisibility  in  the  desert 
by  a  djinn.     But  it  was  a  very  tame  dragon  and 


148  THE    GARHWALI 

glad  of  its  captivity.  And  there  was  really 
something  of  a  miracle  in  it, — the  kind  of  miracle 
that  happens  in  a  legend  or  at  the  end  of  a  fairy 
tale,  where  the  moral  is  pointed  of  the  extra- 
ordinary rewards  that  befall  all  the  young  who 
are  single-minded  and  unafraid.  Half  an  hour 
after  the  crocodile  had  collected  its  folds  Ahmed 
Bey,  the  Turkish  General,  was  discovered  in  a 
neighbouring  house,  and  surrendered  to  a  young 
British  officer  of  the  company. 

When  they  saw  the  Turkish  General  coming 
in,  all  the  jiwans  (young  men)  must  have  thought 
of  the  "charge-ki-din,"  the  day  of  honour  of 
which  they  had  inherited  the  tradition  but  not  the 
memory,  and  wished  they  had  been  there  too. 


THE    KHATTAK 

The  Khattaks  kept  their  spirits  up  all  through 
the  hot  weather.  They  were  too  lively  some- 
times. There  was  one  man  who  imitated  a 
three-stringed  guitar  a  few  yards  from  my  tent 
as  an  accompaniment  to  his  friend's  high  treble. 
One  night  after  a  good  feed,  when  the  shamal 
began  blowing,  they  broke  out  into  one  of  their 
wild  dances,  after  the  Dervish  fashion,  swinging 
swords  and  leaping  round  the  bonfire.  You 
would  think  the  Khattak  would  be  up  to  any 
murder  after  this  kind  of  show,  but  I  am  told 
the  frenzy  works  the  offending  Adam  out  of 
him. 

I  was  watching  a  fatigue  party  working  at 
a  bund  on  a  particularly  sultry  afternoon.  They 
were  all  a  bit  "tucked  up,"  but  as  soon  as  the 
dhol  (drum)  and  serinai  (oboe)  sounded,  they 
started  cat-calling  and  made  the  earth  fly.  The 
Khattak  is  as  responsive  to  the  serinai  as  the 
Highlander  to  the  regimental  slogan,  but  he  is 

149 


150  THE    KHATTAK 

more  demonstrative.     It  is  a  good  thing  to  be 

by,  when  the Rifles   leave  camp.     At  the 

first  sound  of  the  dhol  and  serinai  the  Khattak 
company  breaks  into  a  wild  treble  shriek,  tailing 
off  perhaps  with  the  bal-bala,  the  Pathan  imita- 
tion of  the  gurgling  of  the  camel.  The  Sikh 
comes  in  with  his  "Wah  Guru-ji-Ki-Khalsa, 
Wah  Guru-ji-Ki-jai! "  and  the  Punjabi  mussal- 
man  with  his  "Allah,  Allah,  Allah,  Allah";  or 
he  may  borrow  the  Khattak's  bal-bala,  or  the 
British  "  Hip,  hip,  hooray  !  " 

The  Khattak  is  impulsive,  mercurial,  easily 
excited,  seldom  dispirited,  and  if  so,  only  for 
a  short  time.  His  61an  is  sometimes  a  positive 
danger  during  an  attack.  At  Sheikh  Saad,  on 
the  right  bank  on  January  7th,  it  was  difficult 
to  hold  the  Khattak  company  back  while  the 
regiment  on  their  left  was  coming  up  ;  they  were 
all  for  going  on  ahead  and  breaking  the  line ; 
and  in  the  end  it  was  a  premature  sortie  of  the 
Khattaks  that  precipitated  the  assault. 

Shere  AH  was  among  these.  He  and  his 
father,  Shahbaz  Khan  of  the  Bhangi  Khel,  were 
typical  Khattaks.  From  these  two  one  may 
oather  a  fair  estimate  of  the  breed.  Shahbaz 
Khan,   the  father,    I  did   not  meet.     Shere  Ali 


SHERE   ALI  151 

I  saw  wounded  on  a  barge  at  Sheikh  Saad.  He 
was  introduced  to  me  by  his  machine-gun  officer, 
who  was  wounded  at  the  same  time. 

Father  and  son  both  served  in  the  Khattak 

double  company  of  the Rifles.     Shahbaz 

Khan,  retired  subadar,  died  after  eighteen 
months  of  the  Great  War  without  hearing  a  shot 
fired.  It  was  very  galling  to  the  old  man  to 
be  out  of  it,  for  his  idea  of  bliss  was  a  kind 
of  glorified  Armageddon.  He  had  fought  in 
Tochi  and  Waziristan,  but  these  frontier  scraps 
were  unsatisfying.  "It  was  only  playing  at 
war,"  he  said.  He  longed  for  a  padshah-ki-Ierai, 
"a  war  of  kingdoms,"  in  the  old  Mahabharat 
style.  "  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  to  be 
up  to  my  knees  in  gore  with  thousands  of  dead 
all  round  me."  But  the  old  man  was  born  fifteen 
years  too  soon.  He  would  have  been  happy  in 
the  night  attack  upon  Beit  Aieesa,  or  even 
perhaps  with  Shere  Ali  on  the  right  bank  at 
Sheikh  Saad,  when  the  regiment  rushed  the 
Turkish  trenches. 

Shere  Ali  was  with  the  regiment  in  Egypt, 
left  the  canal  with  them  in  December,  19 15, 
and  was  just  in  time  for  the  advance  from  Ali 
Gharbi.     Shahbaz  Khan  came  down  to  the  depot 


152  THE    KHATTAK 

and  dismissed  his  son  with  envious  blessings. 
He  had  dyed  his  beard  a  bright  red,  and  he 
carried  himself  with  a  youthful  air,  hoping  that 
the  Colonel  might  discover  some  subterfuge  by 
which  he  could  re-emerge  on  the  active  list. 
The  Colonel  would  have  given  ten  of  his  jiwans 
for  him,  and  Shahbaz  Khan  knew  it.  But  the 
rules  were  all  against  him.  So  the  regiment 
went  off  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  dhol  and 
serinai,  amidst  many  loud  shouts  and  salutations, 
mingled  with  British  cheers,  and  old  Shahbaz 
Khan  was  left  behind.  He  died  in  his  bed 
before  Shere  Ali  came  back,  and  no  doubt  a 
broodinof  sense  of  having  been  born  too  soon 
hastened  his  end. 

Father  and  son,  I  have  explained,  were 
faithful  to  type.  The  Khattak  is  the  Celt  of 
the  Indian  Army,  feckless,  generous,  improvident, 
mercurial,  altogether  a  friendly  and  responsive 
person,  but  with  the  queer  kink  in  him  you  get 
in  all  Pathans,  that  primitive  sensitive  point 
of  honour  or  shame  which  puzzles  the  psycho- 
logist. It  is  often  his  duty  to  kill  a  man.  On 
these  occasions  the  cegis  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment is  a  positive  misfortune.  For  the  Khattaks 
are    mainly    a    cis-frontier    race,    and    therefore 


INSTINCT    FOR    HONOUR        153 

subject  to  all  the  injustice  and  inequalities  of 
our  law.  Citizenship  of  the  Empire  hampers 
the  blood  feud.  A  stalking  duel  started  in 
British  territory  generally  ends  in  the  Andamans 
or  Paradise.  If  you  lose  you  lose,  and  if  you 
win  you  may  be  hanged  or  deported  for  life. 
Nevertheless,  the  instinct  for  honour  survives 
this  discouragement,  and  there  is  a  genial  colony 

of  Khattak  outlaws  over  the  border. 

Old  Shere  Khan  killed  a  rival  for  his  wife's 
affections  in  the  regimental  lines,  and  he  could 
not  have  done  anything  else.  The  man's  offence 
carried  its  own  sentence  in  the  minds  of  all 
decent-thinking  people.  The  Subadar-Major 
begged  the  Adjutant  to  cut  the  fellow's  name — 
Sher  Gol,  I  think  it  was — and  to  get  him  well 
away  before  night.  Otherwise,  he  said,  there 
would  be  trouble.  But  the  Adjutant  could  not 
look  into  the  case  before  the  next  morning.  In 
the  meantime,  to  safeguard  Sher  Gol,  he  told 
the  Subadar  to  see  that  twenty  stout  men  slept 
round  his  bed.  The  Subadar  made  it  fifty,  but 
the  quarter  guard  would  have  been  better;  for 
at  one  in  the  morning — it  was  a  late  guest-night 
— the  Adjutant  and  Sher  Gol's  company  com- 
mander were  called  out  quietly  to  see  the  remains 


154  THE    KHATTAK 

of  him.  His  head  was  swaying  slowly  from  side 
to  side  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  A  hatchet 
planted  in  the  skull  and  oscillating  with  every 
movement  of  it  had  been  left  there  as  evidence. 
The  Subadar  put  his  knee  against  the  charpoy 
(bed)  and  pulled  the  chopper  out.  Whereupon 
Sher  Gol  opened  his  eyes,  saying,  "  Ab  roshni 
hai  "  ("Now  there  is  light"),  and  expired.  He 
had  been  killed  with  fifty  men  sleeping  round 
him.  They  had  all  slept  like  the  dead  and 
nobody  had  heard  the  blow.  There  was  no 
evidence  against  Shahbaz  Khan  whatever ;  public 
opinion  was  on  his  side. 

Of  such  stock  was  Shere  Ali,  and  though  a 
mere  lad  he  had  killed  his  man  at  Kohat  before 
he  fought  at  Sheikh  Saad.  Zam,  zan,  zar  (land, 
women,  and  gold),  according  to  the  Persian 
proverb,  are  at  the  bottom  of  all  outrages,  and 
with  Shahbaz  Khan  and  Shere  Ali,  as  with  nine 
Khattaks  out  of  ten,  it  was  zan.  And  zan 
(woman),  too,  was  in  Shere  All's  mind  when  he 
brooded  so  dejectedly  over  his  wound  at  Sheikh 
Saad.  He  was  hit  in  the  foot  and  lamed  the 
moment  he  left  the  trenches.  This  meant  a 
two-inch  shortage,  and,  as  he  believed,  permanent 
crutches. 


A   BIT   OF   A    BLOOD  155 

"  I  have  never  seen  him  so  down  in  the 
mouth,"  Anderson,  the  machine-gun  officer,  said 
to  me  on  the  barge.  "He  has  lost  all  his  cheery 
looks." 

Shere  Ali  was  certainly  dispirited.  He  had 
his  head  and  chest  low,  and  all  the  wind  taken 
out  of  him.  He  looked  like  a  bird  with  its 
crest  down  and  its  feathers  ruffled. 

The  Khattak  thinks  no  end  of  his  personal 
appearance.  He  dresses  to  kill,  and  loves  to 
go  and  swank  in  the  bazaar  in  his  gala  kit.  He 
will  spend  hours  over  his  toilet  peering  at  himself 
in  the  glass,  all  the  while  without  a  trace  of  self- 
consciousness,  though  his  neighbours  may  be 
almost  as  interested  in  the  performance  as  he. 
Then  when  his  hair  is  neatly  oiled  and  trim  to 
the  level  of  the  lobe  of  his  ear,  he  will  stride 
forth  in  his  flowery  waistcoat  of  plum-colour  or 
maroon  velvet  with  golden  braid,  spotless  white 
baggy  trousers,  a  flower  behind  his  ear,  a  red 
handkerchief  in  his  pocket,  a  cane  in  his  hand, 
and  for  headgear  a  high  Kohat  lungi — black 
with  yellow  and  crimson  ends,  and  a  kula  * 
covered  with  gold. 

Every  Khattak  is  a  bit  of  a  blood,  and  Shere 

*  The  peak  which  protrudes  from  the  centre  of  the  turban. 


156  THE    KHATTAK 

Ali  was  true  to  type.  In  his  country  a  showy 
exterior  betokens  the  gallant  in  both  senses  of 
the  word.  A  woman  of  parts  will  not  look  at 
a  man  unless  he  has  served  in  the  army,  or  is 
at  least  something  of  a  buccaneer.  Of  course, 
a  wound  honourably  come  by  is  a  distinction, 
and  Shere  Ali  should  not  have  been  depressed. 
He  would  return  a  bahadur,  I  told  him,  but  he 
only  smiled  sadly.  He  was  crippled ;  there  was 
no  getting  over  it.  He  would  join  in  the 
Khattak  dance  no  more.  As  for  the  dhol  and 
serinai — if  that  intriguing  music  had  broken  out 
just  then  I  believe  we  should  both  have 
wept. 

I  heard  more  of  Shere  Ali  from  Anderson 
when  he  returned  fit  three  months  afterwards. 
In  the  depot  the  lad's  depression  seemed  per- 
manent. He  was  very  anxious  to  get  back  to 
his  village,  and  kept  on  asking  when  he  might 
go.  But  he  was  told  that  he  must  wait  for  a 
special  pair  of  boots.  He  was  sent  to  Lahore 
to  Watts  to  be  fitted. 

"Give  him  the  best  you  can  turn  out,"  the 
Adjutant  wrote  ;  "  a  pair  that  will  last  at  least 
three  years."     Shere  Ali  returned  all  impatience. 

"  I    have   been    measured,   Sahib,"    he   said ; 


A    PLEASANT    SURPRISE         157 

"  but  I  have  not  yet  got  the  boots.     Now  may 
I  go  back  to  my  village." 

*'  No,"  the  Adjutant  told  him,  "  you  must  wait 
for  the  boots.  We  must  see  you  well  fitted 
out  first." 

He  had  another  weary  two  weeks  to  wait. 
He  was  evidently  rather  bored  with  all  this  fuss 
about  footgear.  What  good  are  boots  to  a  man 
who  can't  walk  ? 

At  last  they  came.  He  untied  the  box  with 
melancholy  indifference,  threw  the  tissue  paper 
and  cardboard  on  the  floor,  and  examined  them 
resignedly. 

"  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  there  is  some  mistake — 
they  are  not  a  pair." 

He  was  persuaded  to  put  them  on. 

**  Now  walk,"  the  Adjutant  said. 

Shere  Ali  rose  with  an  effort,  and  was  leaning 
forward  to  pick  up  his  crutches,  when  he  noticed 
that  his  lame  foot  touched  ground.  He  advanced 
it  gingerly,  stamped  with  it  once  or  twice  in  a 
puzzled  way,  and  then  began  doubling  round 
the  orderly  room.  The  Adjutant  said  that  his 
chest  visibly  filled  out  and  the  light  came  back 
to  his  eyes.  He  took  a  step  forward  and 
saluted. 


158  THE    KHATTAK 

"  When  is  the  next  parade,  Sahib  ? "  he 
asked. 

*•  Never  mind  about  parades,"  the  Adjutant 
told  him.  "  Go  back  to  your  village  and  bring 
us  some  more  jiwans  like  yourself,  as  many  as 
you  like,  and  keep  on  bringing  them." 

We  can't  have  too  many  Khattaks.  Shere 
Ali,  I  am  told,  has  quite  a  decent  stride.  He 
is  no  end  of  a  bahadur.  And  he  is  a  sight  for 
the  gods  in  his  white  baggy  trousers,  flowery 
waistcoat,  and  Kohat  lungi,  when  he  dresses 
to  kill. 


THE    HAZARA 

I  THOUGHT  I  had  met  all  the  classes  in  the 
Indian  Army.  But  one  day  at  Sheikh  Saad, 
when  I  was  half  asleep  with  the  heat,  I  opened 
my  eyes  to  see  a  company  of  unfamiliar  faces. 
They  were  not  unfamiliar  individually.  I  had 
met  the  double  of  each  of  them  ;  yet  collectively 
they  were  unfamiliar.  In  the  first  platoon  I 
could  have  sworn  to  a  Gurkha,  a  Chinaman,  a 
Tibetan,  a  Lepcha  of  Sikkim,  a  Chilasi,  and  an 
undoubted  Pathan  with  a  touch  of  the  Turki 
in  him. 

Whether  in  eye,  nose,  complexion,  or  the 
flatness  of  the  cheek  there  was  something  Mongol 
in  them  all,  while  in  at  least  half  there  was  a 
suggestion  of  the  Semitic.  The  Lepcha  had  the 
innocent  jungly  glance  of  the  cowherd  of  Gantok 
or  Pemiongchi ;  the  Chinaman  with  the  three- 
cornered  eyes  was  an  exaggeration  of  type ; 
the  Pathan  would  have  passed  muster  in  the 
Khyber  Rifles.     They  were  all  fairer  than  many 

159 


i6o  THE    HAZARA 

Englishmen  after  a  year  ,of  Mesopotamia,  and 
they  spoke  a  kind  of  mongrel  Persian  with  a 
Tibetan  intonation. 

The  reofiment  disembarked  from  the  steamer 
and  filed  out  to  the  rest  camp  behind  my  tent 
in  the  intense  heat  of  a  September  afternoon. 
It  was  too  hot  to  sleep,  much  too  hot  to  wander 
about  and  ask  questions.  If  it  had  been  cooler 
I  should  have  gone  out  and  talked  to  one  of 
the  regimental  officers.  But  ii8  degrees  in  the 
shade  under  canvas  kills  curiosity.  I  remember 
there  was  a  dog  under  the  outside  fly  of  my  tent, 
and  for  half  an  hour  I  mistook  its  breathing  for 
the  engine  of  a  motor-car,  but  never  quite  rose 
to  the  effort  of  getting  up  to  see  if  the  machine 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  move  on.  Happily 
there  was  no  need  to  go  out  and  ask  who  these 
men  were.  I  soon  tumbled  to  it,  though  I  had 
never  seen  the  breed  until  they  landed  in  the 
blinding  glare  of  Sheikh  Saad. 

The  history  of  the  Hazaras  is  written  in  their 
faces.  They  are  of  Mongol  origin,  though  the 
colony  is  settled  near  Ghazni  in  Afghanistan. 
I  had  heard  how  they  came  there,  but  had  for- 
gotten the  story,  only  remembering  that  the 
Mongols  had   married  wives  of  the  country  of 


♦y 


< 

so 


in 


THE    ONLY   SHADY   SPOT       i6i 

their  adoption.  Hence  the  curious  blend  of  the 
Central  Asian  and  the  Jew  in  the  crowd  that 
was  stumbling  up  the  bank.  A  little  reflection 
solved  the  puzzle  in  spite  of  the  heat.| 

There  was  one  small  tamarisk  bush,  not 
more  than  eighteen  inches  high,  but  where  it 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  bank  it  threw  a  four- 
foot  patch  of  shade ;  the  only  natural  shadow 
to  be  had  anywhere  round.  A  sepoy  of  the 
regiment  appropriated  this.  Then  a  jemadar 
came  up  and  demanded  it  for  himself.  The 
sepoy  pretended  not  to  hear.  "Go  and  relieve 
the  sentry,"  his  officer  said,  pointing  to  an  erect 
figure  in  the  sun  who  was  being  broiled  by 
inches,  "over  the  kit  pile  there  by  the  steamer. 
Look  alive.  Clear  out ! "  The  Hazara  dragged 
himself  out  of  the  shade,  and  approaching  his 
friend  the  guard,  caught  him  a  resounding  whack 
on  the  ear.  One  cannot  strike  an  officer;  yet 
something  had  to  be  done ;  one  has  to  let  steam 
off  somehow.  The  guard  jabbed  at  him  with 
the  bayonet  and  took  himself  off  in  good  spirit. 
The  jemadar  laughed. 

All  this  horseplay  was  characteristic  of  every- 
thing I  had  heard  of  the  Hazara.  The  psy- 
chology of  it  was  not  of  the  East.     There  was 

M 


i62  THE    HAZARA 

something  Cockney  or  Celtic  in  the  blows  taken 
in  good  part,  the  give  and  take,  the  common- 
sense  and  easy-going  humour  of  the  scene. 

In  the  evening  I  went  over  and  had  a  chat 
with  the  Hazara.  One  or  two  of  them  spoke 
Hindustani  with  the  accent  of  a  Tommy,  calling 
me  "Sabb."  Finding  them  friendly  and  com- 
municative folk,  I  asked  them  their  history. 
They  had  come  over  with  a  Ghenghiz  Khan, 
they  told  me,  to  sack  Delhi ;  all  agreed  that  it 
was  Ghenghiz  Khan,  and  that  it  was  about  800 
years  ago  and  that  they  had  crossed  the  Kara- 
koram,  and  that  their  own  particular  ancestors 
had  been  left  by  the  Khan  to  hold  the  outpost 
of  Ghazni  in  Afghanistan.  I  looked  up  their 
history  afterwards  and  found  that  they  had  given 
it  me  more  or  less  as  it  is  set  down  in  the  text- 
books. 

Also  I  learnt  that  it  is  not  easy  for  the 
Hazaras  to  leave  Afghanistan.  The  Amir's 
cruards  have  orders  to  hold  them  up  at  the 
frontier,  though  there  are  time-honoured  ways 
in  which  they  contrive  to  break  the  cordon, 
bribing  the  guards  or  slipping  through  in  dis- 
o-uise.  fyenerallv  with  the  Powindah  caravans. 
It  is   still   more  difficult   for  them  to  get  home 


ILLITERATE  BUT  KEEN  WITTED   163 

and  return  when  on  leave,  and  this  is  an  embargo 
which  indulges  the  Hazara's  natural  bent  for 
travel.  In  the  furlough  season  you  will  find 
him  as  far  afield  from  cantonments  as  he  can  get 
in  the  time,  often  as  far  as  Colombo,  Calcutta, 
Madras,  or  Rangoon.  Filthy  lucre  is  not  his 
motive.  What  he  earns  he  spends.  He  has  a 
curiosity  uncommon  in  the  Asiatic.  He  likes 
wandering  and  seeing  the  world  for  its  own 
sake ;  he  lives  comfortably,  is  a  bit  of  a  spend- 
thrift, gambles  a  lot,  dresses  with  an  air,  and 
likes  to  cut  a  figure  in  a  tonga  where  the  ordi- 
nary sepoy  would  save  a  few  annas  by  going 
on  foot.  If  he  belongs  to  a  Pioneer  regiment 
he  can  afford  it.  For  the  Pioneer  works  on  a 
Government  contract  in  peace  time,  and  the 
Hazara  thinks  he  has  fallen  on  a  poor  job  if  he 
cannot  make  twelve  annas  extra  for  a  day's  work 
in  addition  to  his  pay. 

Few  of  them  can  read  or  write,  but  though 
illiterate  they  are  keen-witted  and  speak  with 
the  terseness  of  a  proverb.  They  are  much 
quicker  "  at  the  uptake  "  than  the  Gurkha,  whom 
they  resemble  in  many  ways.  When  they  go  to 
Kirkee  for  Pioneer  training  they  generally  come 
out    top     in    the     machine-gun,    musketry,    and 


i64  THE    HAZARA 

signalling  courses,  and  they  make  excellent  sur- 
veyors.    As  Pioneers  they  are  hard  to  beat. 

It  will  be  gathered  from  the  incident  of  the 
sepoy  who  was  dispossessed  of  his  tamarisk  bush, 
that  the  Hazara  is  of  a  cheerful  disposition. 
There  is  generally  a  comedian  in  the  regiment, 
and  after  dinner  at  Sheikh  Saad  one  of  the 
men  was  called  in  to  give  us  a  kind  of  solo- 
pantomime.  He  began  with  the  smart  salute 
of  the  sepoy,  bringing  his  hand  down  with  the 
mechanical  click  of  a  bolt ;  then  he  gave  us  the 
Sahib's  casual  lifting  of  the  cane,  next  he  was 
a  havildar  drilling  a  raw  recruit.  He  took  the 
parts  in  turn  and  contrived  some  clever  fooling. 
But  I  gathered  that  the  man  was  only  second- 
rate.  No  sooner  had  he  made  his  exit  than 
everybody  in  the  mess  lamented  Faizo  who 
beguiled  so  many  nights  of  the  New  Zealanders 
on  the  canal,  a  subtle  artist  compared  to  this 
clown  with  his  stock  regimental  turns.  Faizo  is 
the  castigator  of  pretence,  scourge  of  hypocrisy 
and  the  humbug  of  the  Church.  In  one  scene 
he  is  the  shaven  mullah  abstractedly  mumbling 
his  prayers  while  he  intently  prepares  his  food. 
A  doe  comes  in  and  defiles  the  dish,  Faizo  for 
the  moment  becomes  the  dosf — then  the  mullah 


FAIZO  165 

torn  with  the  fury  of  commination,  pursuing  the 
dog  with  oaths  and  missiles  and  spurning  the 
polluted  food.  Then  the  mullah  again,  hungry 
and  unctuously  sophisticated,  blessing  the  food, 
miraculously  restoring  its  virtue,  and  finding  it 
good. 

No  one  is  better  at  a  nickname  than  Faizo. 
Few  men  are  known  in  the  regiment  by  the 
name  their  father  gave  them.  They  are  remem- 
bered by  some  oddity  or  unhappy  lapse  of  con- 
duct, or  the  place  they  come  from,  and  Faizo  is 
the  regimental  godfather  of  them  all.  There  is 
Mahomet  Ulta — Mahomet  upside  down — who 
always  gets  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the  stick ; 
Ser  Khuskh— the  dry-head,  and  "  The  Mullah," 
and  "  Kokri  Gulpusht,"  "the  frog  with  a  shining 
posterior,'*  who  looks  as  if  his  face  had  been 
glazed.  Also  there  is  Ghulam  Shah  the  "  May- 
gaphon."     This  is  how  he  came  by  the  name. 

Ghulam  Shah  is  that  rare  thing,  a  stupid 
Hazara — and  what  is  worse  a  stupid  havildar. 
One  day  on  manoeuvres  he  had  tied  the  Hazaras 
up  in  an  inextricable  knot  through  misunder- 
standing some  command.  The  Colonel  stood  on 
a  mound  and  cursed  him  from  afar  off,  and  as 
his  language  became  more  violent  Ghulam  Shah 


i66  THE    HAZARA 

became  more  confused.  He  stood  on  one  leg 
and  then  on  the  other.  Then  remembering  the 
megaphone  he  carried  he  put  it  to  his  ear,  and 
lastly,  in  despair,  to  his  eye.  On  the  evening  of 
the  field  day  Faizo  borrowed  the  regimental 
megaphone  and  pursued  the  wretched  Ghulam 
Shah  round  the  parade  ground.  Ghulam  Shah 
was  a  fat  man  who  ran  heavily  and  panted. 
Faizo  put  the  instrument  to  his  ear  and  to  his 
eye.  He  inspected  him  with  a  theatrical  gesture 
of  his  disengaged  hand.  He  listened  to  him 
curiously,  as  though  he  was  some  strange  beast. 
Last  insult  of  all,  he  put  the  megaphone  to  his 
nose  and  smelt  him. 

It  was  refreshing  to  see  how  the  Hazaras 
kept  their  spirits  up  in  this  firepit,  and  to  hear 
the  clipped  Mongol  speech  of  the  tableland  in 
the  plain  of  Iraq.  At  Sheikh  Saad  we  were 
little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  the  plain 
of  Shinar  and  the  site  of  the  Tower  of  Babel, 
and  we  were  carrying  on  with  a  confusion  of 
tongues  that  would  have  demobilised  the  tower 
builders.  Here  was  a  man  talking  Persian  like 
a  Tibetan,  and  from  beyond  the  circle  of  light 
there  penetrated  to  us  the  most  profane  com- 
ments delivered  in  the  homeliest  Devonshire  burr. 


THE    BALTIS  167 

Among  the  Hazaras  were  Baltis,  who  are 
being  recruited  into  the  Hazara  battalion  now. 
Their  country,  Baltistan,  or  Little  Tibet,  lies  to 
the  north  of  Kashmir,  between  Fadakh  and  the 
Gilgit  district.  The  Baltis,  too,  have  a  distinct 
language  of  their  own  and  come  of  a  semi- 
Mongolian  stock,  and  are  Shiahs  by  faith  like 
the  Hazaras.  They  were  originally  polygamists, 
like  their  neighbours  the  Bhots  of  Fadakh,  but 
when  they  became  Muhammadans  they  adopted 
polyandry.  They  resemble  the  Hazaras  in  looks, 
but  on  the  whole  are  shorter  and  darker.  They 
are  an  extremely  hardy  race,  and  eke  out  a  very 
scanty  living  as  coolies  and  tillers  of  the  soil 
in  the  valleys  of  the  Indus  and  its  tributaries 
up  Skardu  and  Shigar  way — a  happy  hunting- 
ground,  the  mere  thought  of  which  gave  one  an 
empty  and  homesick  feeling  inside  when  tied 
down  to  one's  gridiron  or  Iraq.  I  had  seen 
them  at  work  in  the  high  snow  passes  of  Tibet, 
their  natural  home,  and  little  expected  to  meet 
them  in  the  malignant  waste  by  the  Tigris, 
which  one  would  have  thought  must  be  death  to 
mountain-born  folk  whose  villages  are  seldom 
found  at  an  altitude  of  less  than  8000  feet 
above  the   sea.       Yet   the   descent  to  Tartarus 


i68  THE    HAZARA 

did  not   seem   to   have   dismayed   them    in   the 
least. 

The  Hazara  is  probably  the  nearest  approach 
to  the  European  you  will  find  in  the  Indian 
Army.  It  is  odd  that  a  cross  of  the  Mongol 
and  Semitic  should  have  produced  this  breed. 
His  leg  is  not  of  the  East ;  he  walks  like  the 
Tyke.  I  do  not  know  the  Tartar  in  his  home, 
but  these  descendants  of  his  have  much  in  com- 
mon with  us.  In  his  sense  of  humour,  quick 
temper,  rough  and  tumble  wrestling,  ragging 
and  practical  jokes,  and  practical  common  sense  ; 
in  his  curiosity  and  love  of  travel,  in  his  com- 
plexion and  disposition  and  in  his  easy-going 
habits  of  life,  the  Hazara  is  not  so  very  far 
removed  from  an  Islander  of  the  West. 

The  Hazara  has  a  good  opinion  of  himself 
though  his  pride  is  unobtrusive.  He  is  hard 
as  nails,  a  man  of  tremendous  heart,  and  he  is 
not  easily  beaten  in  a  trial  of  physical  strength. 
They  nearly  always  pull  off  the  divisional  tug- 
of-war.  In  the  two  mixed-company  battalions 
that  enlist  Hazaras  it  is  a  recognised  tradition 
that  the  light-weights  should  be  a  purely  Hazara 
team. 

There  is  not  much   material    as   yet  for   an 


GOOD    MEN    IN    A   SCRAP         169 

estimate  of  the  military  virtue  of  the  race,  but 
according  to  all  precedent  they  should  prove 
good  men  in  a  scrap.  For  the  Hazara  is  an 
anomaly  in  the  East,  where  men  as  a  rule  are 
only  stout-hearted  and  self-respecting  where  they 
are  lords  of  the  soil  and  looked  up  to  by  their 
neighbours.  In  Afghanistan,  as  alien  subjects 
of  the  Amir,  Shiahs  among  Sunnis,  Mongols 
among  Pathans,  they  have  held  their  heads 
high  and  proved  themselves  unbroken  in  spirit ; 
though  living  isolated  and  surrounded  by  hostile 
peoples,  and  from  time  to  time  the  objects  of 
persecution,  you  will  find  few  types  of  manhood 
less  browbeaten  than  the  Hazara. 


THE    MER   AND   MERAT 

The  Hindu  and  Muhammadan  Mers  and  Merats 
from  the  Merwara  Hills  round  Ajmere  are  men 
of  curious  customs  and  antecedents,  very  homely 
folk,  and  as  good  friends  to  the  British  Govern- 
ment as  any  children  of  the  Empire.  I  met  them 
first  at  Qurnah,  in  June,  1916;  thin,  lithe  men 
with  sparse  beards  like  birds'  nests  in  a  winter 
tree.  You  could  not  tell  the  Mer  from  the 
Merat.  They  are  of  one  race,  and  claim  to 
be  the  issue  of  a  Rajput  king — Prithi  Raj,  I 
believe — by  a  Meena  woman, — a  mythical  an- 
cestry suggested  no  doubt  by  Brahmans  in  order 
to  raise  their  social  standing  among  other 
Hindus.  They  are  really  the  descendants  of 
the  aboriginal  tribes  of  Rajputana,  but  in  course 
of  time,  through  intercourse  with  Rajput  Thakurs 
as  servants,  cultivators,  and  irregular  levies,  they 
have  imbibed  a  certain  amount  of  Rajput  blood. 
They  are  a  democratic  crowd,  and  have  never 
owed   allegiance    to   the   princes    of    Rajasthan. 

170 


To  face  p.  170.] 


THE    HERAT. 


.^**'"  ?;•. 


1  \ 


MOTA   JEMADAR  171 

Nor  have  they  been  defeated  by  them.  In  the 
old  days  when  they  made  a  foray  the  Rajput 
cavaHers  would  drive  them  back  into  their 
impossible  country,  where  among  their  rocks  and 
trees  they  would  hurl  defiance  in  the  shape  of 
stones  and  arrows  at  mounted  chivalry.  Then 
in  the  middle  of  last  century  an  Englishman 
came  along  and  did  everything  for  them  which 
a  true  friend  can  do.  Like  Nicholson,  he  became 
incorporated  in  the  local  Pantheon.  He  gave 
the  Mers  a  statute  and  a  name,  and  lamps  are 
still  burning  at  his  shrine. 

Mota  is  a  Mer.  There  are  six  regiments  in 
the  Indian  Army  that  draw  from  his  community, 
one  class  and  five  company  class  battalions.  But 
as  Mota  is  an  exaggeration  of  type,  and  more 
blessed  with  valour  than  brains  and  discretion, 
I  will  not  say  to  what  particular  battalion  he 
belonged. 

When  I  saw  Mota  Jemadar  he  was  rehearsing 
a  part.  His  Colonel  and  I  were  sitting  on  the 
roof  of  a  mud  Arab  house,  then  a  regimental 
mess,  where  we  had  established  ourselves  for 
the  evening,  hoping  to  find  some  movement  in 
the  stifling  air.  Looking  down  we  saw  the 
jemadar     doubling    painfully    and     deliberately 


172  THE    MER   AND    MERAT 

across  the  walled  palm  grove  in  a  temperature 
of  105  degrees  in  the  shade.  We  thought  at  first 
the  man  had  been  bitten  by  a  scorpion  or  a 
snake,  and  the  Colonel  called  out  to  him  from 
the  roof,  "  What  is  the  matter,  Mota  ? " 
"  Nothing  is  the  matter.  Sahib,"  he  called  up, 
*'  I  am  practising  for  the  Victaria  Crarse." 

The  Colonel  smiled  and  sighed.  He  knew 
his  man,  and  he  told  me  what  these  preparations 
impended.  The  regiment  was  new  to  the 
country  and  to  war,  and  I  gathered  that  unless 
otherwise  instructed  the  jemadar  would  go  over 
the  parapet  the  first  time  he  found  himself  in 
action,  doubling  along  clumsily  in  the  same 
determined  fashion  as  if  he  had  been  propelled 
mechanically  from  behind,  and  that  he  would  not 
pull  up  or  look  round  until  he  got  to  the  enemy's 
trenches.  And  he  would  do  this  with  the  full 
expectation  of  having  the  glittering  cross  pinned 
on  his  breast  in  the  evening.  The  other  alter- 
native would  not  trouble  his  head. 

Also  I  gathered  that  the  phrase  **  unless 
otherwise  instructed "  implied  much  uphill  work 
on  the  part  of  the  regimental  officer.  Mota  was 
imbued  with  a  fixed  idea.  His  mind  was  not  in 
that  receptive  mood  which  enables  the  fighting 


PECULIARITIES  173 

man  to  act  quickly  in  an  emergency.  Supposing- 
his  role  were  not  the  offensive.  Supposing 
that  he  were  suddenly  attacked  at  the  moment 
when  he  felt  himself  secure,  and  had  no  time  for 
deliberation  or  counsel,  the  old  jemadar  might  be 
doubling  in  any  direction  under  the  contagion  of 
example  or  to  reach  a  place  where  he  could  think 
out  the  new  situation  and  resolve  how  to  act. 
When  a  Mer  gets  as  far  as  a  rehearsal  he  will 
never  fail  in  the  performance.  He  is  all  right  so 
long  as  he  knows  exactly  what  he  is  expected 
to  do. 

There  was  the  historic  occasion  of  Ajmere  in 
1857.  when  the  action  of  the  Mers  and  Merats 
altered  the  whole  course  of  the  Mutiny  in  their 
own  district,  and  held  back  the  wave  that 
threatened  to  sweep  over  Rajasthan.  News 
came  to  the  local  battalion  that  the  garrison  had 
risen  at  Nasirabad  and  murdered  the  British 
officers.  Led  by  their  Sahib  and  lawgiver,  the 
Mers  made  a  forced  march  of  thirty-eight 
miles  from  Beawar  to  Ajmere,  dispossessed  the 
mutinous  guards  of  the  treasury  and  arsenal, 
and  held  the  fort  against  the  rebels  who  were 
advancing  upon  the  city,  flushed  with  success, 
from   Nasirbad.     All   of  which   fell   in  with  the 


174         THE    MER   AND    MERAT 

Mer  legend  that  they  would  never  be  ruled  by 
any  save  a  white  king.' 

It  was  a  class  battalion  that  I  met  at  Ournah 
in  June,  1916;  incidentally  it  was  not  Mota's 
crowd.  They  had  already  seen  much  hard 
campaigning,  and  a  small  scrap  or  two  in  the 
desert  between  the  Kharkeh  and  Karum  rivers, 
where  some  of  the  regiment  had  died  of  thirst. 
But  the  most  interesting  point  about  the  Mers 
and  Merats  to  a  student  of  Indian  races  is  the 
relationship  between  the  Hindus  and  Muham- 
madans  of  the  same  stock.  In  the  chapter  about 
the  Brahmans  and  Rajputs  in  the  Army  I  have 
given  an  instance  of  how  the  caste  system 
strengthened  discipline.  Caste,  of  course,  is  in 
itself  a  discipline,  and  was  originally  imposed  as 
such.  In  its  call  for  the  sacrifice  of  the  indi- 
vidual to  the  community  it  has  played  its  part 
in  the  stiffening  of  the  Hindu  for  countless 
generations.  But  in  the  twentieth  century  the 
most  orthodox  will  admit  its  disabilities,  the 
exacting  ritual  involved  in  it,  and  the  artificial 
and  complex  differentiation  between  men  who 
have  really  everything  in  common.  The  caste 
question  as  a  rule,  when  it  emerges  in  a  regi- 
ment, creates  difficulties,  and  very  rarely,  as  in 


LOVE   OF    HOME  175 

the  case  of  the  excommunicated  Rajputs,  smooths 
them  over.  The  Merwara  battalion,  which  was 
once  divided  by  caste  into  two  camps,  is  a  case 
in  point.  It  is  an  old  story,  but  as  it  is  little 
known  it  is  worth  recording  as  an  example  of  the 
evils  of  exclusiveness.  And  as  both  parties  are 
now  good  friends,  no  harm  can  be  done  by 
telling  it. 

First  it  should  be  understood  that  the  Mers 
and  Merats  are  the  most  home-staying  folk  in 
the  Indian  Army.  Like  the  Gurkhas,  the  class 
battalion  has  one  permanent  cantonment,  and 
never  leaves  it  except  to  go  on  active  service. 
Until  this  war  they  had  not  been  on  a  campaign 
since  the  Afghan  expedition  in  1878-9.  They 
are  even  more  domiciled  than  the  Gurkha,  for  their 
depot  at  Ajmere  is  in  their  own  district,  and  they 
can  get  home  on  a  week-end's  leave  from  Friday 
night  till  Monday  morning  ;  and  when  their  turn 
comes  they  seldom  let  the  privilege  go  by. 

Living  and  serving  in  their  own  country, 
detached  from  other  folk,  they  evolved  a  happy 
easy-going,  tolerant,  social  system  of  their  own. 
The  Mers  are  Hindus ;  the  Merats  Muham- 
madans.  They  are  of  the  same  stock,  but  the 
Mussalman    Merats  are  the  descendants  of  the 


176  THE    MER   AND   MERAT 

Mers  who  were  forcibly  converted  to  Islam  by 
Aurungzeb.  This  conversion  did  not  break 
up  the  brotherhood.  Hindu  and  Muhammadan 
intermarried,  and  sat  at  meals  together  within 
the  chauka  as  before.  It  is  no  doubt  on  account 
of  their  freedom  from  the  restrictions  of  both 
religions  that  the  Merats  have  never  reverted 
to  Mers  or  become  Muhammadans  in  real 
earnest.  They  still  feared  the  Hindu  deities, 
and  were  strangers  to  the  inside  of  a  mosque. 
Mer  and  Merat  together  made  up  a  very  united 
people,  and  one  quite  apart.  They  cared  little 
for  dogma  or  ritual,  and  had  their  own  ideas 
about  caste.  Thus  they  lived  contentedly  to- 
gether until  1904,  when  a  party  of  them  were 
sent  home  to  England  with  other  details  of  the 
Indian  Army  to  attend  the  Coronation  of  King 
Edward  VII. 

It  is  sad  to  think  that  this  happy  anniversary 
should  have  been  the  beginning  of  discord,  but 
the  serpent  entered  their  Eden  when  they  took 
train  to  Bombay  and  embarked  on  the  transport. 
Here  they  found  themselves  amongst  every  kind 
of  sepoy  from  the  Mahratta  of  the  Konkan  to 
the  Jharwa  of  Assam,  from  the  Bhangi  Khel  of 
Kohat  to  the  Mussalman  of  Southern  Madras — 


AT    SEA  177 

all  of  whom  had  their  prescribed  ritual  and  fixed 
rules  of  life.  Few  of  this  crowd  had  ever  seen 
the  sea  before,  but  they  were  most  of  them 
travelled  men  of  the  world  compared  to  the  Mer 
and  Merat.  Amongst  the  Rajputs,  Gurkhas, 
Sikhs,  Pathans,  and  Punjabi  Mussalmans,  the 
Ajmere  contingent  must  have  appeared  the  most 
open-mouthed  and  bewildered  of  country  cousins. 
None  of  the  sepoys  knew  anything  about  them. 
"Who  are  you?  Where  do  you  come  from?" 
they  were  asked.  They  were  just  like  children 
torn  from  the  bosom  of  the  family  and  plunged 
for  the  first  time  into  the  unsympathetic  en- 
tourage of  a  school.  They  were  twitted  un- 
mercifully for  their  unnatural  alliance.  Asked 
to  define  themselves  they  stated,  quite  honestly, 
that  they  were  Rajputs.  The  easy-going  Hindus 
made  a  huge  joke  out  of  this  ;  the  orthodox  were 
angry  and  rude.  For  whoever  saw  a  Rajput  and 
a  Mussalman  break  bread  together  ?  The  Mer 
was  told  that  he  was  not  a  true  Rajput,  not  even 
a  true  Hindu.  The  poor  Merats,  too,  were 
regarded  as  blacksliders  from  Islam.  They  did 
all  sorts  of  things  that  a  good  Muhammadan 
ought  not  to  do.  All  their  old  customs  and 
easy    compromises,    all    the   happy    little   family 

N 


178         THE   MER   AND    MERAT 

understandings,  those  recognised  and  cherished 
inconsistences  which  make  half  the  endearments 
of  home-life,  became  the  subject  of  an  unfeeling 
criticism. 

Mer  and  Merat  became  mutually  suspicious. 
Before  they  reached  Aden  the  Mers  had  already 
begun  to  dress  their  hair  differently,  more  in  the 
Rajput  style.  At  Suez  they  were  in  two  distinct 
camps.  The  cooking-vessels  which  had  been 
common  to  both  were  abhorred  by  the  Hindus  ; 
neither  would  eat  what  the  other  had  touched  ; 
each  eyed  the  other  askance. 

When  they  returned  to  India  the  infection 
of  exclusiveness  spread,  and  Hindu  sectarian 
missionaries  coming  into  the  fold  added  to  the 
mischief.  But  happily  common  sense  and  old 
affections  prevailed.  Now  they  do  not  ostensibly 
feed  together  and  intermarry  ;  but  they  are  good 
friends,  and  relations  are  smooth,  though  they 
can  never  be  quite  the  same  happy  family  again. 

Two  generations  or  more  of  regimental  life 
have  passed  since  these  events,  and  I  heard  a 
very  different  story  of  a  Merwara  company  on 
board  a  transport  in  this  war.  When  they  em- 
barked in  Karachi  harbour  they  trod  the  deck  of 
the  vessel  tentatively  and  with   suspicion.     But 


SEA   SICKNESS  179 

soon  timidity  gave  place  to  pride.  "  You  see, 
Sahib,"  the  Subadar  explained,  "  we  are  not  laid 
out  by  this  sea-sickness  which  we  are  told  is  very 
disastrous  to  certain  classes  of  sepoys,  and  even 
to  some  sahibs."  The  unknown  peril  had  been 
the  theme  of  conversation  most  of  the  way  from 
Rajputana,  and  the  Mers,  no  doubt,  believed 
that  the  first  entries  in  the  "  Regimental  Roll  of 
Honour  "  would  be  the  victims  of  the  subtle  and 
malignant  paralysis  with  which  Kala  pani  (the 
black  water)  can  infect  the  strongest.  As  bad 
luck  would  have  it,  no  sooner  had  the  transport 
cleared  the  harbour  than  they  struck  dirty 
weather  and  a  choppy  sea.  Mer  and  Merat 
collapsed  as  one.  On  the  third  day  those  who 
had  legs  to  support  them  or  strength  to  stir  the 
pot  were  carrying  round  food  to  the  less  fortu- 
nate, united  in  this  common  emergency  and 
careless  of  caste  and  creed.  The  sea  separated 
them,  and  ten  years  afterwards  the  sea  joined 
them  again.  Let  us  hope  that  the  voyage 
marked  a  revival  of  the  golden  age. 

The  story  of  both  voyages  bears  out  the 
comment  of  Mota's  Colonel,  that  the  Mer  and 
Merat,  though  far  from  being  impressionable,  are 
singularly  open  to  example.     These  brave   and 


i8o         THE    MER   AND    MERAT 

friendly  folk  may  be  lacking  in  initiative,  but 
give  them  a  lead,  show  them  what  may  be  done, 
and  they  will  never  fail  in  emulation.  Hardly 
a  man  of  military  age  is  not  enlisted,  and  the 
traditions  of  Ajmere  were  continued  at  Kut, 
where  there  was  a  company  of  Mers  and  Merats 
in  one  of  the  two  regiments  who  held  the 
liquorice  factory  so  gallantly  through  the  siege. 


THE    RANGHAR 

The  Mussalmans  of  Rajput  descent  are  a  fine 
fighting  stock.  The  best  known  are  the  Ran- 
ghars  of  the  Eastern  Punjab  and  the  Kaim 
Khanis  of  Rajputana  proper.  The  handsomest 
sepoy  I  met  in  Mesopotamia  was  a  Ranghar, 
and  he  had  that  jolly,  dare-devil  look  about 
him  which  recalls  the  best  traditions  of  the 
highwayman. 

When  the  non-military  Hindus,  most  of  them 
unwilling  converts,  embraced  Muhammadanism, 
it  was  the  custom  in  choosing  their  Islamic  name 
to  adopt  the  prefix  "Sheikh."  Alma  Ram  be- 
came Sheikh  Ali,  for  instance,  and  Gobind  Das 
Sheikh  Zahur-ud-din.  But  the  proud  Rajput 
warriors  were  unwilling  to  be  classed  with  these. 
"We  come  of  a  fighting  stock,"  they  argued, 
"  like  the  Pathans.  Our  history  is  more  glorious 
than  theirs."  So  they  adopted  the  suffix  "  Khan," 
which  with  the  man  of  genuine  Muhammadan 
ancestry  implies  Pathan  descent.     The  Chohans, 

i8i 


i82  THE    RANGHAR 

when  they  became  converted,  were  known  to 
the  Rajputs  as  the  Kaim  Khanis,  or  "  the  firm 
and  unbreakable  ones."  Every  Ranghar,  too,  was 
be-khaned,  and  as  a  class  they  have  shown  a 
martial  spirit  equal  to  the  title. 

The  British  officer  in  the  Indian  Cavalry 
swears  by  the  Ranghars.  I  know  cavalry  leaders 
who  would  unhesitatingly  name  him  if  asked  in 
what  breed  they  considered  there  was  the  best 
makings  of  a  sowar.  He  is  born  horseman  and 
horsemaster.  And  he  is  very  much  "  a  man." 
Even  in  the  Punjab,  where  there  are  collected 
the  best  fighting  stocks  in  India — that  is  to  say, 
the  best  fighting  stocks  in  the  East — he  is  a 
hero  of  romance.  "  You'll  find  the  Ranghar," 
the  Pirrhai  tells  us, 

"  In  the  drink  shop,  or  in  the  jail, 
On  the  back  of  a  horse, 
Or  in  the  deep  grave." 

I  had  heard  that  tag  long  before  I  met  the 
Ranghar  on  service,  and  I  wanted  to  see  how 
his  dare-devil,  undisciplined  past — if  indeed  it 
was  as  dare-devil  as  it  is  painted — served  him 
on  a  campaign.  The  Ranghar,  one  knows,  is  a 
Rajput  by  origin  and  a  Muhammadan  by  faith. 
His   ancestors  were  brought  to  see  eye  to  eye 


To  face  p.  182.] 


THE   RANGHAR. 


LORD   OF    HIMSELF"  183 

with  the  Mogul — a  change  of  vision  due  to  no 
priestcraft,  but  dictated  by  the  sword.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  their  lands  were  exposed 
to  the  full  tide  of  the  Moslem  flood.  The  Raj- 
puts who  earned  immortality  by  their  defiance 
of  Akbar,  the  lions  of  Rajasthan,  lived  far  from 
Delhi  in  the  shelter  of  their  forests  and  hills. 
The  vicinity  of  the  Ranghars  to  the  Mogul 
capital  helps  to  explain  their  submission  ;  it  does 
not  explain  the  relative  virility  and  vitality  of 
the  breed  to-day  compared  with  their  Hindu 
Rajput  contemporaries.  It  will  be  generally  ad- 
mitted, I  think,  that  the  average  Ranghar  or 
Khaim  Khani  is  a  stouter  man  than  the  Rajput 
pure  and  simple.  Why  this  should  be  so  ;  why 
the  descendants  of  the  unconverted  Rajputs  who 
held  by  their  faith  should  not  produce  as  hard 
a  breed  of  men  as  the  Rajputs  who  were  the 
first  to  submit  to  Islam,  and  that  under  com- 
pulsion, is  a  mystery  unexplained.  One  does 
not  set  much  store  by  converts  in  the  East. 
They  are  generally  a  yielding,  submissive  crew. 
But  the  Ranghar  is  very  decidedly  "  lord  of  him- 
self," a  man  of  action,  with  something  of  the 
pagan  in  him  perhaps,  but  no  hidden  corners  in 
his    mind   where    sophistry   can    enter    in   and 


i84  THE    RANGHAR 

corrupt.     The  best  answer  I  have  heard  to  the 
Hun  Jehadist  wile  was  given  by  a  Ranghar. 

It  was  in  the  Shabkadr  show  on  the  5th 
September,  191 5,  when  the  Mohmunds  had  the 
support  of  the  Afghan  Ningrahahis  under  the 
notorious  Jan  Badshah,  who  came  in  against  us 
in  defence  of  the  Amir.  There  had  been  some 
hot  scrapping.  Our  cavalry  were  clearing  a 
village  out  Michni  way  in  the  afternoon,  and  had 
had  heavy  casualties  in  horses  and  men.  The 
scene  was  a  long,  walled  compound,  from  which 
we  had  been  sniped  at  for  hours.  Into  this  rode 
half  a  dozen  men  of  the  ist  D.Y.O.  Lancers, 
headed  by  the  Ranghar  Jemadar  Rukkun-ud-din. 
The  colonel  of  the  regiment,  standing  up  in  his 
stirrups,  saw  the  whole  affair  from  over  the  wall, 
and  heard  the  first  parley,  or  rather  the  Afghans' 
impudent  Jehadist  appeal  and  the  Ranghars' 
answer  to  it.  As  the  Lancers  cantered  through 
the  gate  three  abreast,  the  head  of  the  Afghan 
crowd  stepped  forward,  gave  them  the  Muham- 
madan  greeting,  and  with  the  confidence  of  an 
unassailable  argument  cried  out  to  them,  "  We 
are  of  the  true  faith.  Ye  are  of  the  true  faith. 
Why  then  do  ye  fight  for  unbelieving  Kafirs  ? " 
For  answer   Jemadar    Rukkun-ud-din   drew  his 


NO   QUARTER  185 

revolver  and  shot  the  man  in  the  stomach  where 
he  stood.  In  the  scrimmage  that  followed  the 
two  parties  were  evenly  matched  in  respect  of 
numbers.  No  one  gave  quarter ;  in  fact,  no 
quarter  had  been  given  or  taken  all  day  ;  it  is 
not  the  Mohmund  or  the  Afghan  habit,  and 
they  do  not  understand  it.  The  sowars  were 
mounted,  and  rode  in  with  their  lances ;  the 
Afghans  were  unmounted,  but  their  magazines 
were  full,  and  they  iired  a  volley  at  the  Lancers 
as  they  charged.  Two  sowars  fell  wounded,  but 
not  mortally.  There  was  pandemonium  in  the 
compound  for  the  next  forty  seconds,  the  Afghans 
running  round  and  firing,  the  Ranghars  galloping 
and  swerving  to  get  in  their  thrust.  The  lance 
beat  the  rifie  every  time,  for  the  Afghan  found 
the  point  and  the  menace  of  impact,  and  the 
plunging  horse  too  unsteadying  for  accurate  aim. 
In  less  than  a  minute  they  were  all  borne  down. 

Some  one  suggested  that  in  the  natural  course 
of  events  Rukkun-ud-din  would  receive  a  reward, 
but  the  astute  Colonel,  said  in  the  hearing  of  all — 

"  Reward  !  What  talk  is  this  of  reward  ? 
What  else  could  a  Ranghar  do  but  kill  the  man 
who  insulted  him.  It  would  be  a  deep  shame  to 
have  failed." 


i86  THE    RANGHAR 

At  the  moment  the  speech  was  worth  more 
than  a  decoration.  It  made  the  Ranghars  feel 
very  Ranghar-Hke — and  that  is  the  best  thing 
that  a  Ranghar  can  feel,  the  best  thing  for  him- 
self and  for  his  regiment.  Incidentally  the 
decoration  came.  One  has  not  to  search  for 
pretexts  for  bestowing  honour  on  men  like 
these. 

There  was  another  youngster  in  that  melee 
who  deserved  an  I.O.M.,  a  lance-duffadar,  a  lad 
of  twenty.  He  had  been  hit  in  the  seat  from 
behind.  The  colonel  heard  of  it  and  noticed 
that  the  lad  was  still  mounted. 

"  You  are  wounded  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sahib,  it  is  nothing." 

"  Answer  my  question.  Where  were  you 
hit  ?  " 

The  boy  for  the  first  time  showed  signs  of 
distress. 

"  Sahib,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  it  is  a  shame- 
ful thing.  These  dogs  were  spitting  in  every 
corner.     I  have  been  wounded  in  the  back." 

He  was  made  to  dismount.  His  saddle  was 
ripped  by  a  bullet  and  sodden  with  blood. 

"  You  must  go  back  to  the  ambulance,  young 
man,"  his  Colonel  told  him. 


A    NASTY   WOUND  187 

*'  Sahib,  I  cannot  go  back  in  a  doolie  like  a 


woman." 


He  was  allowed  to  mount,  though  it  was  an 
extraordinarily  nasty  wound  for  the  saddle.  A 
weight  seemed  to  be  lifted  from  him  when  the 
Colonel  explained  that  to  a  Ranghar  and  a 
cavalryman  a  wound  in  the  back  could  only 
mean  one  was  a  good  thruster  and  well  in 
among  the  enemy  when  one  was  hit. 


THE   MEENA 

I  FOUND  the  Meenas  of  the  DeoH  regiment  in  a 
backwater  of  the  Euphrates  some  days'  journey 
from  anywhere.  They  were  so  far  from  any- 
where that  when  we  came  round  a  bend  in  the 
river  in  our  bellam  the  sight  of  their  white  camp 
on  the  sand,  and  the  gunboat  beside  it,  made  me 
feel  that  we  had  reached  the  coast  after  a  voyage 
of  inland  exploration.  The  Meenas  were  a 
little  tired  of  Samawa,  where  nothing  happened. 
They  wanted  to  be  brigaded ;  they  wanted  to 
fight ;  they  wanted  at  least  to  get  up  to  Baghdad. 
They  had  to  wait  a  long  time  before  any  of  these 
desires  were  fulfilled.  Nevertheless,  although 
they  had  reasons  to  think  themselves  forgotten, 
they  were  a  cheery  crowd. 

There  are  two  classes  of  Meenas — those  of 
the  42nd  Deoli  regiment,  the  Ujlas,  Padhiars 
and  Motis,  who  claim  to  have  Rajput  blood  in 
them,  and  the  purely  aboriginal  stock  enlisted  by 

188 


To  face  p.  i88.] 


THE   MEENA. 


DESCRIPTION    OF  189 

the   43rd    Erinpura    regiment    from    Sirohi   and 
Jodhpur.     I  expected  to  find  the  Deoli  Meenas 
small,  alert,  suspicious-looking  men  of  the  Bhil, 
Santal,  or  Sawarah   cast.     I    was    surprised    to 
discover  them  tall  and  stolid ;  pleasant,  honest, 
plain  in  feature ;    and  offering  great  variety  in 
type.     The  Rajput  blood  is  no  myth.     They  do 
not  look  the  least  like  aboriginals,  and  you  could 
find  the  double  of  many  of  them  among  Dogras, 
Jats,    Mahrattas,    and    Rajputana   and    Punjabi 
Mussalmans.      This   normal    Aryan   appearance 
is  no  doubt  partly  the  impression  of  discipline, 
drill,    confidence,   training.     In   their  own   hills, 
before  they  enlisted  they  were  a  wild  and  startled- 
looking  breed.     And  they  had  curious  customs. 
One  was  that  a  man  on  losing  his  father  had 
the  right  to  sell  his  mother.     In  the  days  when 
they  were  first  recruited  you  had  to  pay  a  man 
four  annas  to  come  in  for  a  drill.     The  Meena 
would  arrive  with  his  bow  and  arrow,  which  were 
deposited  in  the  quarter-guard.     He  was  taught 
drill  and  paid  for  a  day's  work.      He  then  picked 
up  his  bow  and  arrow  and  departed.    Gradually,  as 
they  realised  that  no  harm  came  of  it,  they  began 
to  settle  and  to  bring  their  families  into  canton- 
ments.    But  they  were  so  distrustful  of  us  in  the 


igo  THE    MEENA 

beginning  that  we  had  to  pay  them  every  evening 
after  the  day's  work. 

The  taming  of  the  Meena  and  the  genesis  of 
the  Deoli  cantonment  were  slowly  evolved  pro- 
cesses.    The  history  of  it  reads  like  an  account 
of  the  domestication  of  a  wild  creature.     First 
the  Meena  was  encouraged  to  build.     A  collec- 
tion of  huts  was  soon  grouped  together,  and  the 
men    lived  in  them.     Each  man  built   his   own 
hut,  and  when  he  left  the  regiment  sold  it  to  his 
successor.     After  some  little  time  they  asked  if 
they  might  bring  their  wives  and  families  to  live 
in    them.       This    marked    the   beginning   of  an 
unalienable    confidence,    but    the    Meena    was 
already    imbued    with    a    faith    in    his    British 
officer.     In  after  days,  when  the  old  huts  were 
pulled  down  and  regimental  lines  constructed,  the 
men  still  lived  in  their  own  quarters,  and  this 
proprietary   right    was    maintained   until    a   few 
years  ago.    The  motto  of  the  regiment,  "E  turba 
legio,"  well  describes  the  method  of  raising  it. 

Suspicion  is  the  natural  inheritance  of  the 
Meenas.  They  are  the  sons  of  catde-lifters, 
dacoits,  and  thieves.  For  centuries  they  plun- 
dered the  Rajput  and  were  hunted  down  by  him. 
It  was  the  British  who   helped  the    Rajput    to 


CHARACTER  191 

subdue  them.  To  clear  the  district  they  infested 
it  was  necessary  to  cut  down  the  jungle.  The 
Meenas  were  gradually  rounded  up  and  confined 
to  a  prescribed  area — the  Meena  Kerar,  which 
lies  partly  in  Jaipur  and  partly  in  Udaipur  and 
Bundi,  and  is  administered  by  the  Political 
Agent  at  Deoli.  Roll  was  called  at  night  in  the 
villages,  and  the  absentee  was  the  self-pro- 
claimed thief.  The  system  still  holds  in  the 
more  impenitent  communities,  but  the  restric- 
tions on  the  Meena's  movements  are  becoming 
fewer  as  he  conforms  with  the  social  contract. 
The  pleasing  thing  about  it  is  that  he  bears  us 
no  grudge  for  the  part  we  played  in  breaking 
him  in.  Like  his  neighbours,  the  Mer  and  the 
Merat,  he  recognises  the  British  as  the  truest 
friends  he  has. 

The  simplicity,  disingenuousness,  and  friendli- 
ness of  the  Meena  are  unmistakable.  They  are 
the  most  responsive  people,  and  as  sepoys, 
through  contact  with  their  British  officers,  they 
soon  lose  the  habit  of  suspicion.  I  spent  half 
a  day  with  the  Indian  officers,  and  neither  I  nor 
they  were  bored.  They  like  talking,  and  inter- 
sperse their  conversation  with  ready  and  obvious 
jokes.     It  seemed  to  me  that  though  they  had 


192  THE    MEENA 

had  most  of  the  mischief  knocked  out  of  them, 
they  retained  a  good  deal  of  their  superstition 
and  childishness.  That  was  to  be  expected,  but 
one  missed  the  shyness  and  sensitiveness  that 
generally  go  with  superstition.  They  were 
curiously  frank  and  communicative  about  their 
odd  beliefs.  Like  the  old  Thugs  they  have 
faith  in  omens.  The  Subadar  showed  me  the 
lucky  and  unlucky  fingers,  and  I  gathered  that 
if  the  jackal  howls  twice  on  the  right,  one's 
objective  in  a  night  march  is  as  good  as  gained ; 
if  thrice  on  the  left,  the  stars  are  unpropitious, 
and  the  enterprise  should  be  abandoned.  In 
November,  19 14,  the  regiment  was  moved  to 
Lahore  to  do  railway  defence  work.  The 
morning  the  battalion  left  the  railway  station 
where  they  entrained  most  of  the  men  did  puja 
(homage)  to  the  engine,  standing  with  open 
mouths,  and  fingers  tapping  foreheads.  The 
railway  is  fifty-eight  miles  from  cantonments  in 
Deoli,  and  it  was  the  first  train  that  many  of 
them  had  seen.  Until  the  regiment  moved 
opinions  were  divided  as  to  whether  the  Meenas 
would  continue  to  enlist.  Such  an  upheaval  and 
migration  had  not  happened  since  the  Afghan 
war.     Wild  rumours  flew  round  the  villages,  but 


THE    DYNASTY  193 

the  Commanding  Officer,  by  a  wise  system  of 
letting  a  few  men  return  on  leave  to  their  homes 
to  spread  the  good  news  that  the  regiment  was 
well  and  happy,  soon  quieted  the  countryside. 
Living  so  far  out  of  the  world  they  are  naturally 
clannish.  There  is  as  much  keenness  about 
winning  a  hockey  match  against  an  outside  team 
as  there  is  in  the  final  for  a  house-cup  in  an 
English  public  school.  And  here  in  Mesopo- 
tamia they  were  full  of  challenge.  They  wanted 
to  show  what  Deoli  could  do,  but  as  luck  would 
have  it  there  was  not  a  Turk  within  a  hundred 
and  fifty  miles. 

The  most  delightful  story  I  got  out  of  the 
Subadar  was  the  history  of  a  Meena  dynasty 
which  ruled  in  Rajputana  in  the  good  old  days 
before  the  orods  became  indifferent.  I  learnt 
that  the  proud  Rajputs  who  claim  descent 
from  the  sun  and  the  moon  are  really  inter- 
lopers who  dispossessed  the  Meena  by  an  act 
of  treachery  a  hundred  years  ago. 

"  Fifteen  princes  have  been  Rajputs,"  the 
Subadar  told  me.  "  Before  that  the  Meenas 
were  kings.  The  last  Meena  king  was  the 
sixteenth  from  now.". 

"  What  was  his  name  ?  "  I  asked. 

o 


194  THE    MEENA 

"Sahib,  I  have  forgotten  his  name— but  he 
was  childless.  One  day,  when  he  was  riding 
out,  he  met  a  Rajput  woman  who  carried  a  child 
unborn.  '  Your  son  shall  be  the  child  of  my 
heart,'  he  told  her ;  and  when  the  boy  was  born 
he  brought  him  up,  and  made  him  commander  of 
his  horse." 

"  Did  he  adopt  him  ?  " 

"  Sahib,  he  could  not  adopt  him.  The 
custom  was  in  those  days  that  when  the  old 
king  died,  the  new  king  must  be  one  of  his  line. 
Thus  the  gadi  would  pass  to  his  brother's  son,  a 
Meena.  No  Rajput  could  inherit.  Neverthe- 
less, he  treated  the  boy  as  his'  child.  And  then, 
Sahib,  one  day  when  the  boy  came  back  from 
seeing  the  Emperor  at  Delhi,  he  killed  the  king 
and  all  his  relatives,  and  the  whole  army.  It 
was  like  this,  Sahib.  It  was  the  Kinaghat 
festival,  when  the  king  and  all  his  people  used 
to  go  down  to  the  river  without  arms,  and 
sprinkle  water  for  the  dead.  It  was  the  old 
custom,  Sahib,  and  no  one  had  ever  made  use  of 
it  for  an  evil  purpose.  But  the  Rajput  secretly 
gathered  his  men  behind  a  hill,  and  when  the 
king  and  his  people  had  cast  aside  their  arms, 
and  were  performing  the  holy  rite,  the  Rissaldar 


THE   TRAGEDY  195 

and  other  Rajputs  fell  upon  them  and  killed 
them  all,  so  that  there  was  not  a  Meena  left 
alive  within  a  great  distance  of  the  place  of 
slaughter.  That  is  how  the  Rajput  became  the 
master,  and  the  Meena  his  servant." 

The  Subadar's  solemn  "Again  Huzoor"  as 
he  introduced  each  new  phase  in  the  tragedy 
was  inimitable,  but  there  was  nothing  tragic  or 
resentful  in  his  way  of  telling  it.  It  was  a 
tale  comfortable  to  Meena  pride,  and  therefore 
it  was  believed  as  leofends  are  believed  all 
over  the  world  which  make  life  easier  and 
give  one  a  stiffer  back  or  a  more  honourable 
ancestry. 

The  Subadar  told  me  that  the  books  of  the 
Meena  bards  had  been  confiscated.  They  are 
locked  up  In  the  fort  at  Ranatbawar,  and  no  one 
may  enter.  If  any  one  reads  them,  the  Rajput 
dynasty  will  pass  away,  and  the  Meena  will  be 
restored ;  therefore  the  Rajputs  would  like  to 
destroy  them,  but  there  is  some  ancient  inhibition. 
The  chronicles  are  put  away  in  an  iron  chest 
under  the  ground;  yet, as  the  Subadar  explained, 
the  record  is  indestructible.  It  has  lived  in 
men's  memories  and  hearts,  new  epics  have  been 
written,    and   the    story    is   handed    down    from 


196  THE   MEENA 

father  to  son.  Another  Meena  told  me  the 
story  is  written  "  in  the  PoUtical  Agent's  Book 
at  Jaipur."  This,  I  think,  was  by  way  of  refer- 
ence rather  than  confirmation,  for  it  could  never 
have  entered  any  of  their  heads  that  one  could 
doubt  the  genuineness  or  authenticity  of  the  tale. 
When  the  usurper  was  crowned  a  Meena  was 
called  in  from  afar  to  put  the  tilak,  or  caste 
mark,  on  the  king's  forehead.  And  here  the 
fairy  story  comes  in  again,  for  the  tilak  was 
imprinted  on  the  king's  brow  by  the  Meena's 
toe.  This  is  still  the  custom,  the  Subadar 
assured  me,  and  he  explained  that  it  was  a 
humiliation  imposed  upon  the  king  by  the  priests 
as  an  atonement  for  his  bad  faith.  The  priest 
persuaded  the  king  that  the  only  way  that  he 
could  hope  to  keep  his  throne  was  by  receiving 
the  tilak  from  the  toe  of  the  Meena,  and  he 
appeased  his  vanity  by  pretending  that  the 
Meena,  by  raising  his  toe,  signified  submission, 
just  as  the  Yankee  talks  about  turning  up  his  toe 
to  the  daisies. 

Here  the  Subadar  was  becoming  too  subtle 
for  me,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  getting  out  of  my 
depth.  But  there  was  another  point  which  was 
quite  clear  and  simple.     It  bore  out  his  theory 


CUSTODIANS   OF   TREASURE     197 

of  an  hereditary  obligation  which  the  Rajput 
owes  the  Meena  by  way  of  restitution.  In 
Jaipur  and  Alwar  the  Ujla  Meenas  are  the 
custodians  of  the  State  treasure.  I  used  to 
think  that  they  were  appointed  on  the  same 
principle  as  the  Chaukidar  who  would  be  a  thief 
if  he  were  not  a  g-uardian  of  the  property  under 
his  trust.  But  in  this  I  wronged  the  Meena. 
The  Ujlas  are  honourable  office-holders.  When 
the  Maharaja  of  Jaipur  comes  to  the  gadi  he  has 
to  take  an  oath  that  he  will  not  diminish  his 
inheritance,  and  he  is  responsible  to  the  Ujlas 
that  anything  that  he  may  take  away  in  times 
of  famine  or  other  emergency  shall  be  restored. 
The  old  Subadar  took  this  as  a  matter  of  pride. 
He  was  quite  content  with  his  ancestry — if 
indeed  he  bothered  his  head  about  the  status 
of  the  Meena  at  all.  The  legend  of  the  regicide 
rissaldar  was  well  found.  You  could  tell  by 
the  way  he  told  the  story  that  he  was  pleased 
with  it.  One  hears  yarns  of  the  kind,  comforting 
tales  of  legendary  wrong,  all  over  the  world,  in 
Hottentot  wigwams  and  Bloomsbury  lodging- 
houses.  The  difference  is  only  in  degree.  They 
contribute  mildly  to  self-respect ;  the  humble  are 
rehabilitated  in  garments  of  pride  ;  and  very  few 


igS  THE    MEENA 

of  those  who  inherit  the  myth  look  for  the  miracle 
of  reversion. 

The  Meenas   are  as   contented  a  people  as 
you  could  find,   a  cheery,  simple,    frugal,  hardy 
race.     The  old  Subadar   boasted  that   his  men 
never  fell  out.     "  Even  when  the  mules  fall  out," 
he  told  me,  "  they  go  on."     They  are  very  brave 
in  the  jungle,   and  will  stand  up  to  a  wounded 
leopard  or  tiger.     The  Meena   is  a  good  shot, 
and  a  fine  shikari.      He  will  find  his  way  any- 
where in  the  dark,  and  he  never  loses  himself. 
He  ought  to  be  useful  in  a  night  raid.     He  is 
a  trifle  hot-headed,  I  gathered.     In  the  divisional 
manoeuvres    near    Nasiriyeh    the   cavalry   were 
coming  down  on  a  line  of  them  in  open  country, 
when  they  fixed  bayonets  and  charged.     "  They 
are    a   perfectly   splendid    crowd,"    one   of    the 
officers  told  me,   "  I   should  dearly    love  to  see 
them  go  into  action,  and  take    twenty-five  per 
cent,   casualties.     It    would    be    the    making-   of 
them."      But   his    Meenas    had    no    luck.       No 
doubt,   if  they  had    been  given   a  chance,  they 
would  have  fought  as  well  as  the  best.     It  was 
their   misfortune    that   they   came  too  late,   and 
that  they  were  sent  up  the  wrong  river.     In  the 
meanwhile,   at    Deoli,   recruits   are    pouring   in. 


WILLING   RECRUITS  199 

Every  village  contains  a  number  of  old  pen- 
sioners who,  like  my  friend  the  Subadar,  love 
to  talk  of  their  own  deeds,  the  prowess  of  their 
Sahibs,  and  how  they  marched  with  the  regiment 
towards  Kabul.  The  young  men  stand  round 
and  listen,  and  are  fired  with  emulation,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  if  the  Sircar  wants  them 
the  contingent  of  Meenas  will  increase.  They 
are  not  a  very  numerous  class,  but  they  are 
steadfast  and  loyal.  The  love  of  honour  and 
adventure  will  spread  as  wide  a  net  among 
them  as  conscription,  and  there  will  be  no  jiwans 
seen  in  the  villages  who  are  not  home  on  leave. 


THE   JHARWAS 

(by  an  officer  who  has  commanded  them) 

There  are  not  many  aboriginals  in  the  Indian 
Army — a  few  Brahuis  from  the  borders  of  Belu- 
chistan,  the  Mers  and  Merats  and  Meenas  from 
the  hills  and  jungles  of  Rajputana,  and  the 
Jharwas  of  Assam.  The  word  *' Jharwa  "  is  the 
Assamese  term  for  a  "jungle-man,"  and  how 
it  came  to  be  generally  applied  to  the  enlisted 
man  from  Assam  and  Cachar  is  lost  in  the 
obscurity  of  years.  It  is  now  the  usual  term 
for  any  sepoy  who  hails  from  these  parts,  with 
the  exception  of  the  Manipuri. 

When  the  Sylhet  local  battalion,  afterwards 
the  44th  Sylhet  Light  Infantry,  now  the  i/Sth 
Gurkha  Rifles,  was  raised  on  February  19th, 
1824,  it  was  composed  of  Sylhetls,  Manipuris, 
and  the  surrounding  tribes  of  Cachar,  which  pro- 
vince took  its  name  from  the  Cacharis,  who 
settled  there  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century,    having  been  driven  out  of  the  Assam 

200 


WM 

aJixa^ffe 

,-**»* 

\ 

■    -'              i 

■'i 

91 


\ 


To  face  p.  200.] 


THE   JHARWA. 


THE    PRINCIPAL   RACES         201 

valley  by  the  Ahoms,  or  Assamese,  and  Muham- 
madans.  The  plainsmen  of  Assam  were  very 
warlike  till  the  Muhammadan  invasion  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  when  they  were  so  thoroughly 
overcome  they  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  Burmese, 
who  were  finally  driven  out  of  Assam  and  Cachar 
by  the  British  in  1824-26,  since  when  the 
Assamese  have  settled  down  peacefully. 

The  principal  races,  now  enlisted  under  the 
name  of  Jharwa,  are  the  Mech,  the  Kachari,  and 
the    Rawa.     The    Mech  mostly  came    from   the 
region  of  Jalpaiguri,  and  spread  eastwards.     The 
Kachari  were  the  original  inhabitants  of  Assam  ; 
they  are  also  found  in  Cachar,  and  are  of  the 
Koch   stock,   from   whom   Coochbehar   takes  its 
name ;  they  generally  call  themselves  Rajbansi, 
"  of  princely   race."      The    Rawa   (Ahoms)   are 
also  original  Assamese.     There  are,  besides,  the 
Garos,    who   come    from    the    Goalpara   district. 
All   the  three  former  are   Hindu  converts,  and 
show  much  more  caste  prejudice  than  the  Gurkha 
does,  though  he,  in  turn,  is  not  impressed  with 
their  Hindu  claim?.    He  raises  no  objection,  how- 
ever, to  living  under  the  same  barrack-roof  with 
them,   but  will  not  eat  their  food.     In  the  old 
days,  the  Jharwa  proved  his  value  as  a  soldier 


202  THE   JHARWAS 

in  all  the  fighting  in  the  valleys  of  Assam  and 
Cachar,  and  surrounding  hills.  He  rid  the  low 
country  of  the  Khasias,  who  were  the  terror  of 
the  plains,  as  can  be  seen  from  the  "  The  Lives 
of  the  Lindsays  "  and  a  recent  publication  "  The 
Records  of  Old  Sylhet,"  compiled  by  Archdeacon 
Firminger.  The  first  troops  engaged  in  the 
subjugation  of  the  Khasias  and  Jaintias  in  their 
hills  were  Jharwas  of  the  Sylhet  battalion  ;  the 
campaign  began  in  1829,  and  was  continued  at 
intervals  until  1863,  when  the  Jaintia  rebellion 
was  finally  stamped  out.  Two  companies  of 
Gurkhas  were  brought  into  this  regiment  in  1832, 
and  by  degrees  the  Jharwa  ceased  to  be  enlisted 
in  the  regular  army,  till  at  last,  in  1 891,  it  was 
ordered  that  no  more  were  to  be  taken.  This 
was  the  time  of  the  Magar  and  Gurung  boom  ; 
in  fact,  except  as  regards  the  Khas,  it  was  not 
considered  the  thing  to  enlist  any  other  Gurkha 
races  in  the  army.  The  fact  that  the  Gurkha 
regiments  up  country  earned  their  name  with  a 
large  admixture  of  Garhwalis  in  their  ranks,  in 
the  same  way  as  the  Assam  regiments  earned 
theirs  with  the  help  of  many  Jharwas,  seemed 
largely  to  be  lost  sight  of,  and  though  the  Jharwa 
had  continued  to  do  yeoman  service  in  the  ranks 


CHARACTER  203 

of  the  Assam  Military  Police,  it  was  not  till  191 5 
that  it  was  thought  worth  while  to  try  him  in  the 
regular  army  again.  After  the  war,  a  regular 
Jharwa  Regiment  raised  and  stationed  in  Assam 
should  be  a  most  efficient  unit,  and  a  most  valu- 
able asset  on  that  somewhat  peculiar  frontier. 

The  Jharwa  is  a  curious  creature  in  many 
ways.  He  has  nothing  in  common  with  the 
Gurkha,  except  his  religion,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  his  appearance ;  nor  is  he  even  a  hillman. 
Till  he  joins,  he  has  probably  never  done  a  hard 
day's  work,  nor  any  regular  work,  but  has  earned 
his  living  by  cutting  timber,  or  doing  a  little 
farming  in  a  rich  and  fertile  country  where  a  man 
does  not  need  to  do  much  to  keep  himself.  He 
is  more  intelligent  than  the  Gurkha,  and  has,  as  a 
rule,  a  fairly  good  ear  for  music ;  he  is  lazy,  hard 
to  train,  and  not  very  clean  in  his  person,  unless 
well  looked  after,  but  he  is  a  first-class  man  at 
any  jungle  work.  The  last  of  the  old  lot  of 
Jharwas  in  the  i/8th  Gurkhas,  Havildar  Madho 
Ram  (Garoo),  won  the  Macgregor  Memorial 
medal,  in  1905,  for  exploration  and  survey  work 
in  Bhutan.  Others  again  are  intensely  stupid. 
In  October  19 16,  a  Military  Police  havildar  came 
out  in  charge  of  a  small  draft  to  Mesopotamia, 


204  THE   JHARWAS 

and  his  CO.  tried  to  find  out  how  much  he  knew 
about  practical  soldiering.  He  put  him  in  charge 
of  a  squad  of  men,  and  told  him  to  exercise  them. 
The  worthy  havildar  was  soon  in  a  fix.  When 
asked  how  he  rose  to  be  havildar,  he  replied  that 
he  was  promoted  because  he  was  a  good  wood- 
cutter and  repairer  of  buildings.  The  CO.  asked 
him  where  he  was  to  get  wood  to  cut  in  Meso- 
potamia, upon  which  he  looked  round  vacantly 
on  all  sides  and  remarked,  "  Jhar  na  hoi  "  ("there 
is  no  jungle "),  whereupon  he  was  sent  back  to 
look  after  the  regimental  dump.  Where  the 
Jharwa  fails  is  as  an  officer  or  non-commissioned 
officer,  since  for  generations  he  has  never  been 
in  a  position  to  enforce  or  give  implicit  and 
prompt  obedience.  In  Assam,  it  is  all  one  to  the 
ordinary  villager  whether  he  does  a  thing  now 
or  next  week  ;  a  high  standard  of  work  or  punc- 
tuality has  never  been  expected  of  him,  con- 
sequently he  does  not  expect  it  of  anyone  else, 
and  a  good  many  N.C.O.'s  got  the  surprise  of 
their  life  when  they  found  that  the  excuse,  "  I 
told  them,  but  they  didn't  do  it,"  would  not  go 
down.  But  in  jungle  work  there  are  few  to 
touch  him,  and  he  has  proved  his  grit  in  the 
stress  of  modern  battle.     Many  years  ago,  I  was 


SPLENDID   JUNGLE    WORK      205 

following  up  a  wounded  buffalo  in  the  Nambhar 
forest,  and  one  of  our  men  was  walking  in  front 
of  me,  snicking  the  creepers  and  branches,  which 
stretched  across  the  track,  with  a  little  knife  as 
sharp  as  a  razor.  Suddenly,  without  a  word,  he 
sprang  to  one  side  to  clear  my  front,  and  there 
lay  the  huge  beast  about  ten  yards  off,  luckily 
stone  dead.  It  requires  some  nerve  to  walk  up 
to  a  wounded  buffalo,  without  any  sort  of  weapon 
to  defend  oneself  with.  In  the  winter  of  19 16-17, 
a  small  party  of  the  7th  Gurkhas  swam  the  Tigris, 
to  reconnoitre  the  Turk  position  near  Chahela. 
They  carried  out  their  work  successfully,  but  two 
Jharwas,  who  had  volunteered  to  go  with  the 
party,  were  overcome  with  the  cold,  and  were 
drowned  coming  back.  The  surviving  Gurkhas 
all  got  the  I.O.M.  or  D.S.M.  On  February  17th, 
19 1 7,  at  Sannaiyat,  a  signaller,  attached  to  the 
I /8th  Gurkhas,  Lataram  Mech,  took  across  his 
telephone  wire  into  the  second  Turkish  line  under 
very  heavy  shell- fire,  which  wiped  out  the  N.C.O. 
and  another  of  his  party  of  four,  established  com- 
munication with  battalion  headquarters  and  the 
line  behind  him,  and,  when  that  part  of  the  trench 
was  recaptured,  came  back  across  the  open  and 
rolled  up  his  wire,  under  fire  all  the  time.     On 


2o6  THE   JHARWAS 

the  same  day  another  Jharwa  lad,  when  he  got 
into  the  Turkish  trench,  flung  away  his  rifle  and 
belt,  and  ran  amok  with  his  kukri.  He  broke 
that  one  and  came  back,  covered  with  blogd  from 
head  to  foot,  into  our  front  trench  to  get  another, 
when  he  went  forward  again.  I  could  never  find 
out  his  name.  If  he  was  not  killed,  he  lay  low, 
probably  thinking  he  would  be  punished  for 
losing  his  rifle. 

At  Istabulat,  another  Jharwa  (Holiram  Garo) 
got  separated  from  the  rest  of  his  party,  and 
attacked  a  part  of  the  Turk  position  by  himself. 
Although  wounded  in  the  head,  he  lay  on  the 
front  of  the  enemy's  parapet,  and  sniped  away  till 
dark,  when  he  returned  to  his  platoon,  and  asked 
for  more  ammunition.  For  this  he  got  the 
I.O.M.  The  poor  little  Jharwa  did  wonderfully 
well,  seeing  that,  till  he  left  Assam,  his  horizon 
had  been  bounded  by  the  Bhootan-Tibet  range 
on  one  side  and  the  Patkoi  on  the  other.  He 
had  never  seen  guns,  cavalry,  trenches,  or  any- 
thing to  do  with  real  warfare.  Although  reared 
in  the  damp  enervating  climate  of  the  plains  of 
Assam,  he  stuck  the  intense  cold  and  heat,  as 
well  as  food  to  which  he  had  never  been  accus- 
tomed, without  grumbling,  whilst  the  doctors  said 


PLUCK    AND   COURAGE         207 

his  endurance  of  pain  in  hospital  was  every  bit  as 
good  as  the  Gurkha's,  and  an  example  to  all  the 
other  patients.  Till  191 5,  the  authorities  knew 
nothing  about  him,  his  antecedents,  or  peculiari- 
ties, so  he  was  looked  on  as  merely  an  untidy 
sort  of  Gurkha,  with  whom,  as  said  before,  he 
had  no  affinity,  besides  not  having  anything  like 
the  same  physical  strength. 

Before  we  went  out  to  Mesopotamia,  my 
regiment  was  detailed  to  counter  an  expected 
raid  on  a  certain  part  of  the  Indian  coast.  We 
entrained  at  midnight,  and  in  the  morning  it  was 
reported  we  had  fifty  more  men  than  we  started 
with.  It  turned  out  that  a  party  of  fifty  Jharwas 
had  arrived  at  the  railway  station,  just  before  we 
left,  and  when  they  realised  that  the  regiment 
was  going  off  without  them,  they  made  a  rush, 
crowded  in  where  they  could,  and  came  along, 
leaving  all  their  kit  on  the  platform.  This,  if  not 
exactly  proving  good  discipline,  showed  at  any 
rate  they  were  not  lacking  in  keenness  an.d 
enterprise. 


THE    DRABI 

In  the  Great  War  the  Drabi  has  come  by  his  own. 
He  is  now  a  recognised  combatant.  At  Shaiba 
and  Sahil  alone  six  members  of  the  transport  corps 
were  awarded  the  Indian  Order  of  Merit.  This 
is  as  it  should  be,  for  before  August,  19 14,  there 
was  only  one  instance  recorded  of  a  Drabi 
receiving  a  decoration. 

The  Drabi  is  recruited  from  diverse  classes, 
but  he  is  generally  a  Punjabi  Mussalman,  not  as 
a  rule  of  the  highest  social  grade,  though  he  is 
almost  invariably  a  very  worthy  person.  If  I 
were  asked  to  name  the  agents  to  whom  we  owe 
the  maintenance  of  our  empire  in  the  East,  I 
should  mention,  very  high  in  the  list,  the  Drabi 
and  the  mule.  No  other  man,  no  other  beast, 
could  adequately  replace  them.  There  are  com- 
binations of  the  elements  which  defeat  the  last 
word  of  scientific  transport.  And  that  is  where 
the  Drabi,  with  his  pack  mules  or  A.T.  carts, 
comes  in. 

208 


PACK    MULES  209 

In  France,  when  the  motor-lorries  were  stuck 
in  the  mud,  we  thanked  God  for  the  mule  and 
the  Drabi.  I  remember  my  delight  one  day 
when  I  saw  a  convoy  of  Indian  A.T.  carts 
swinging  down  the  road,  the  mules  leaning 
against  one  another  as  pack  mules  will  do  when 
trained  to  the  yoke.  The  little  convoy  pulled 
up  outside  the  courtyard  of  an  abattoir  in  an 
old  town  in  Picardy,  where  it  had  been  raining 
in  torrents  for  days,  until  earth  and  water  had 
produced  a  third  element  which  resembled 
neither.  The  red-peaked  kula  protruding  from 
the  khaki  turban  of  the  Drabi  proclaimed  a  Pun- 
jabi Mussalman.  Little  else  was  distinguishable 
in  the  mist  and  rain,  which  enveloped  every- 
thing in  a  dismal  pall.  The  inert  bundle  of 
misery  unrolled  itself  and,  seeing  a  Sahib  by 
the  gate,  saluted. 

"  Bad  climate,"  I  suggested. 

*'  Yes,  Sahib,  very  bad  climate." 

"  Bad  country  ?  " 

But  the  man's  instinctive  sense  of  conciliation 
was  proof  against  dampness,  moral  or  physical. 

"  No,  Sahib.  The  Sircar's  country  is  every- 
where very  good."  The  glint  of  a  smile  crept 
over  the  dull  white  of  his  eyes. 

p 


210  THE    DRABI 

To  the  Drabi  there  are  only  two  kinds  of 
white  people — the  Sircar,  or  British  Raj,  and  the 
enemy.  The  enemy  is  known  to  him  only  by 
the  ponderous  and  erratic  nature  of  his  missiles, 
for  the  mule-cart  corps  belongs  to  the  first  line 
of  transport. 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?  "  I  asked. 

*' Amritsar,  Sahib." 

I  wondered  whether  he  were  inwardly  com- 
paring the  two  countries.  Here,  everything 
drenched  and  colourless  ;  there,  brightness  and 
colour  and  clean  shadows.  Here,  the  little  stone 
church  of  a  similar  drabness  to  its  envelope  of 
mist ;  there,  the  reflection  of  the  Golden  Temple 
sleeping  in  the  tank  all  day.  The  minarets 
of  his  mosque  and  the  crenellated  city  walls 
would  be  etched  now  against  a  blue  sky.  I 
looked  at  his  mules.  They  did  not  seem  at  all 
ddpayses. 

*'  How  do  they  stand  the  damp  }  "  I  asked. 
"  Much  sickness  ? " 

"  No,  Sahib.  Only  one  has  been  sick. 
None  have  died  except  those  destroyed  by  the 
bo-ombs." 

I  wondered  what  the  carts  were  doing  at 
.     They  were  of  the  first  line  ;  the  first  line 


TRANSPORT   CARTS  211 

transport  carries  the  food  into  the  very  mouth 
of  the  Army.  Being  the  last  link  in  the  line 
of  communications,  it  is  naturally  the  most  vul- 
nerable. Other  links  are  out  of  range  of  the 
enemy's  guns  and  immune,  in  this  phase  of  the 
operations  at  least,  from  attack  except  by  air- 
craft. The  Drabi  explained  that  they  had  been 
detailed  for  forage  work. 

As  he  lifted  the  curricle  bar  from  the  yoke 
one  of  the  mules  stepped  on   his    foot,  and  he 
called  it  a  name  that  reflected  equally  on  his  own 
morals  and  those  of  the  animal's  near  relations. 
He  did  not  address  the  beast  in   the   tone  an 
Englishman    would    use,    but   spoke   to    it  with 
brotherly  reproach.    Just  then  an  officer  of  the 
Indian  Army  Supply  and  Transport  Corps  rode 
up,  and  I  got  him  to  talk,  as  I   knew  I  could  if 
I  praised  his  mules  and  carts  enough.     He  en- 
larged   on    the   virtues    of  the   most   adaptable, 
adjustable,  and    indestructible  vehicles  that  had 
ever  been  used  in  a  campaign,  and  of  the  most 
hardy,  ascetic,  and  providentially  accommodating 
beast  that  had  ever  drawn  or  carried  the  muni- 
tions   of  war.     These    light   transport-carts    are 
wonderful.     They  cut    through  the    mud  like  a 
harrow  over  thin  soil.     The  centre  of  the  road 


212  THE    DRABI 

is  left  to  the  lorries.  "  They  would  be  bogged 
where  we  go,"  the  S.  and  T.  man  said  proudly. 
"  They  are  built  for  swamps  and  boulder-strewn 
mountain  streams.  If  the  whole  show  turns 
over,  you  can  right  it  at  once.  If  you  get  stuck 
in  a  shell-hole,  you  can  cut  the  mules  loose,  use 
them  as  pack  transport,  and  man-handle  the 
carts.  Then  we  have  got  component  parts.  We 
can  stick  on  a  wheel  in  a  minute,  and  we  don't 
get  left  like  that  menagerie  of  drays,  furnishing 
vans,  brewers'  carts,  and  farmers'  tumbrils,  which 
collapse  in  the  fairway  and  seem  to  have  no 
extra  parts  at  all — unadaptable  things,  some  of 
them,  like  a  lot  of  rotten  curios.  And,  of  course, 
you  know  you  can  take  our  carts  to  pieces  and 
pack  them  ;  you  can  get " — I  think  he  said 
fourteen — *'  of    them     into    a    truck.      And    if 

you 

Then  he  enlarged  on  his  beasts.  Nothing 
ever  hurts  a  mule  short  of  a  bullet  or  shell. 
Physical  impact,  heat  or  cold,  or  drought,  or 
damp,  it  is  all  the  same.  They  are  a  little 
fastidious  about  drink,  but  they  deserve  one 
indulgence,  and  a  wise  Staff  officer  will  give 
them  a  place  up-stream  for  watering  above  the 
cavalry.     For  hardiness  nothing  can  touch  them. 


NO    NERVES  213 

They  are  as  fit  in  Tibet  as  in  the  Sudan,  as  com- 
posed in  a  blizzard  on  the  Nathu-la  as  in  a  sand- 
storm at  Wadi  Haifa.  And  I  knew  that  every 
word  he  said  was  true.  I  had  sat  a  transport- 
cart  through  the  torrents  of  Jammu,  and  had 
lost  a  mule  over  a  precipice  in  a  mountain  pass 
beyond  the  Himalayas.  It  lay  half  buried  in 
the  snow  all  night  with  the  thermometer  below 
zero.  In  the  morning  it  was  dragged  up  by 
ropes  and  began  complacently  grazing. 

"  And  look  at  them  now  in  this  slush ! " 
They  certainly  showed  no  sign  of  distress  or 
even  of  depression. 

"  And  the  Drabis  ?     Do  they  grouse  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  They  are  splendid.  They  have 
no  nerves,  no  more  nerves  than  the  mules.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  Muhammad  Alim  come  back 
from  Neuve  Chapelle.  When  hell  began  the 
order  had  gone  round  'All  into  your  dug-outs,' 
and  the  bombardier  of  his  cart  had  buried  him- 
self obediently  in  the  nearest  funkhole.  He 
stuck  it  out  there  all  day.  The  next  morning 
he  rolled  up  at  the  Brigade  Column  and  reported 
his  cart  was  lost.  Nothing  could  have  lived 
in  that  fire,  so  it  was  struck  off." 

But  Drabi  Muhammad  Alim  had  not  heard 


214  THE   DRABI 

the  order.  He  sat  through  the  whole  of  the 
bombardment  in  his  cart.  After  two  days, 
not  having  found  his  destination,  he  returned. 
"  Sahib,"  he  said,  "  I  have  lost  the  way."  When 
asked  what  the  fire  was  like  he  said  that  there 
had  been  a  wind  when  the  boom-golies  passed, 
which  reminded  him  of  the  monsoon  when  the 
tufan  catches  the  pine  trees  in  Dagshai. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  the  Asiatic  driver 
assimilated  the  peculiar  virtues  of  his  beast. 
The  man  with  a  camel  or  bullock  or  mule  is 
less  excitable,  more  of  a  fatalist,  than  the  man 
who  goes  on  foot  alone.  The  mule  and  the 
Drabi  would  rattle  along  under  shell-fire  as  im- 
perturbably  as  they  run  the  gauntlet  of  falling 
rocks  on  the  Kashmir  road  in  the  monsoon.  I 
have  seen  the  Drabi  calmly  charioteering  his 
pontoons  to  the  Tigris  bank,  perched  on  a  thwart 
like  a  bird,  when  the  bullets  were  flying  and 
the  sappers  preparing  the  bridge  for  the  crossing. 
And  I  have  seen  him  carry  on  when  dead  to 
the  world,  a  mere  automaton  like  Ali  Hussein, 
who  reported  himself  hit  in  the  shoulder  two 
days  after  the  battle  at  Umm-el- Hannah.  *'  Yes, 
Sahib,"  he  admitted  to  the  doctor  a  little  guiltily 
when  cross-examined,  "  it  was  in  the  battle  two 


FATALISTIC   ENDURANCE       215 

days  ago  that  I  came  by  this  wound."  Then  he 
added  shamefacedly  fearing  reproof,  *'  Sahib,  I 
could  not  come  before.  There  was  no  time. 
There  were  too  many  journeys.  And  the 
wounded  were  too  many." 

When  his  neighbour  is  hit  by  his  side,  the 
Drabi  buries  himself  more  deeply  into  his  wrap- 
pings. He  does  not  want  to  pick  up  a  rifle  and 
kill  somebody  for  shooting  his  "pale"  as  a 
Tommy  would,  but  says,  "  My  brother  is  dead. 
I  too  shall  soon  die."  And  he  simply  goes  on 
prepared  for  the  end,  neither  depressed  at  its 
imminence,  nor  unduly  exalted  if  it  be  postponed. 
He  is  a  worthy  associate  of  those  wonderful  carts 
and  mules. 

In  the  evening  I  passed  the  abattoir  again 
and  looked  over  the  gate.  Inside  there  was 
a  batch  of  camp  followers  who  had  come  in 
from  fatigue  duty.  I  saw  the  men  huddling 
over  their  fires  in  groups  in  that  humped  attitude 
of  contented  discomfort  which  only  the  Indian 
can  assume.  Their  families  in  the  far  villages 
of  the  Punjab  and  the  United  Provinces  would 
be  squatting  by  their  braziers  in  just  the  same 
way  at  this  hour.  Perhaps  the  Drabi  would  be 
thinking  of  them — if  thought  stirred   within  his 


2i6  THE    DRABI 

brain — and  of  the  golden  slant  light  of  the  sun 
on  the  shisham  and  the  orange  siris  pods  and  the 
pungent  incense  that  rises  in  the  evening  from 
the  dried  cow-dung  fire,  a  product,  alas !  which 
France  with  all  its  resources,  so  rich,  varied,  and 
inexhaustible,  cannot  provide. 


THE  SANTAL  LABOUR  CORPS 

The  Labour  Corps  in  Mesopotamia  introduced 
the  nearest  thing  to  Babel  since  the  original 
confusion  of  tongues.  Coolies  and  artisans 
came  in  from  China  and  Egypt,  and  from  the 
East  and  West  Indies,  the  aboriginal  Santals 
and  Paharias  from  Bengal,  Moplahs,  Thyas  and 
Nayars  from  the  West  Coast,  Nepalese  quarry- 
men,  Indians  of  all  races  and  creeds,  as  well  as 
the  Arabs  and  Chaldeans  of  the  country.  They 
made  roads  and  bunds,  built  houses,  loaded  and 
unloaded  steamers  and  trucks,  supplied  car- 
penters, smiths  and  masons,  followed  the  fighting 
man  and  improved  the  communications  behind 
him,  and  made  the  land  habitable  which  he  had 
won. 

One  day  I  ran  into  a  crowd  of  Santals  on  the 
Bridge  of  Boats  in  Baghdad.  It  was  probably 
the  first  time  that  Babylon  had  drawn  into  its 
vortex  the  aboriginals  of  the  hill  tracts  of 
Bengal.     They    were   scurrying   like  a  flock  of 

217 


2i8     THE    SANTAL   LABOUR   CORPS 

sheep,  not  because  they  were  rushed,  I  was  told, 
but  simply  for  fun.  Some  one  had  started  it, 
and  the  others  had  broken  into  a  jog-trot.  One 
of  them,  with  bricks  balanced  on  his  head,  was 
playing  a  small  reed  flute — the  Pipe  of  Pan. 
Another  had  stuck  a  spray  of  salmon-pink 
oleander  in  his  hair.  The  full,  round  cheeks  of 
the  little  men  made  their  black  skin  look  as  if 
it  had  been  sewn  up  tightly  and  tucked  under 
the  chin.  They  were  like  happy,  black,  golly- 
wogs,  and  the  dust  in  their  elfin  locks,  the  colour 
of  tow,  increased  the  impish  suggestion  of  the 
toy-shop.  The  expression  on  their  faces  is 
singularly  happy  and  innocent,  and  endorses 
everything  Rousseau  said  about  primitive  content. 
Evolution  has  spared  them  ;  they  have  even 
escaped  the  unkindness  of  war. 

When  the  Santal  left  his  home,  all  he  took 
with  him  was  two  brass  cooking-pots,  his  stick, 
and  a  bottle  of  mustard  oil.  The  stick  he  uses 
to  sling  his  belongings  over  his  shoulder,  with 
a  net  attached,  and  generally  his  boots  inside. 
He  loves  to  rub  himself  all  over  with  oil,  but  in 
this  unfruitful  land  he  can  find  little  or  none,  and 
he  had  not  even  time  to  refill  at  Bombay.  On 
board  ship  he  saw  coal  for  the  first  time.     Each 


SIMPLE    AND    HAPPY  219 

man  was  given  a  brickette  with  his  rations,  for 
fuel,  and  Jangal,  Baski,  Goomda  Kisku,  and 
others  put  their  vessel  on  the  strange,  black 
substance,  and  expected  it  to  boil.  A  very- 
simple,  happy,  and  contented  person  is  the 
Santal.  Once  gain  his  confidence,  and  he  will 
work  for  you  all  day  and  half  the  night ;  abuse 
it,  and  he  will  not  work  at  all. 

I  found  them  in  their  camp  afterwards  in  a 
palm  grove  by  the  Tigris,  not  unlike  a  camp  in 
their  own  land,  only  the  palms  were  dates  and 
not  cocoanuts.  Here  the  Santals  were  very 
much  at  home.  The  pensioned  Indian  officer 
in  charge,  a  magnificent  veteran,  of  the  34th 
Sikh  Pioneers,  with  snowy  beard  and  moustache 
and  two  rows  of  ribbons  on  his  breast,  was 
pacing  up  and  down  among  these  little  dark 
men  like  a  Colossus  or  a  benevolent  god.  The 
old  Subadar  was  loud  in  their  praises.  He  had 
been  on  the  staff  of  a  convict  Labour  Corps,  and 
so  spoke  from  his  heart. 

"  There  is  no  fighting,  quarrelling,  thieving, 
lying  among  them,  Sahib.  If  you  leave  any- 
thing on  the  ground,  they  won't  pick  it  up.  No 
trouble  with  women  folk.  No  gambling.  No 
tricks  of  deceit." 


220     THE   SANTAL   LABOUR  CORPS 

A  British  officer  of  the  company  who  knew 
them  in  their  own  country  told  me  the  same  tale. 

"  They  are  the  straightest  people  I  have 
ever  struck,"  he  said.  "We  raised  nearly  1700 
of  them  in  the  district,  paid  them  a  month's 
wages  in  advance,  and  told  them  to  find  their 
way  to  the  nearest  railway  station,  a  journey  of 
two  or  three  days.  They  all  turned  up  but  one, 
and  the  others  told  us  he  had  probably  hanged 
himself  because  his  wife  would  not  let  him  go. 
They  are  very  honest,  law-abiding  folk.  They 
leave  their  money  lying  about  in  their  tents,  and 
it  is  quite  safe.  They  have  no  police  in  their 
villages  ;  the  headman  settles  all  their  troubles. 
And  there  is  no  humbug  about  them.  Other 
coolies  slack  off  if  you  don't  watch  them,  and 
put  on  a  tremendous  spurt  when  they  see  an 
officer  coming  along,  and  keep  it  up  till  he  is 
out  of  sight.  But  the  dear  old  Santal  is  much 
too  simple  for  this.  If  the  Army  Commander 
came  to  see  them  they'd  throw  down  their  picks 
and  shovels  and  stare  at  him  till  he  went  away. 
They  are  not  thrusters  ;  they  go  their  own  pace, 
but  they  do  their  day's  work  all  right.  And 
they  are  extraordinarily  patient  and  willing. 
They'll  work  over  time  if  you  don't  tell  them  to 


THE    SIKA    MARK  221 

stop ;  and  they'll  turn  out,  if  you  ask  them,  and 
do  an  extra  turn  at  a  pinch,  without  grumbling, 
even  if  they  have  only  just  got  back  to  camp  and 
haven't  had  time  to  cook  their  food." 

All  this  sounded  very  Utopian,  but  the 
glimpse  of  them  on  the  Bridge  of  Boats,  and  an 
hour  spent  in  their  camp  on  Sunday  morning, 
gave  one  the  impression  of  children  who  had  not 
been  spoilt.  We  went  the  round  of  their  tents, 
and  they  played  to  us  on  their  flutes,  the  same 
pastoral  strains  one  hears  in  villages  all  over 
the  East ;  and  they  showed  us  the  sika  mark 
burnt  in  their  forearms,  always  an  odd  number, 
which,  like  Charon's  Obol,  is  supposed  to  give 
them  a  good  send-off  in  the  next  world.  They 
burn  themselves,  too,  when  they  have  aches  and 
pains.  One  man  had  a  scar  on  his  forehead  a 
week  old,  where  he  had  applied  a  brand  as  a 
cure  for  headache.  Nearly  every  Santal  is  a 
musician,  and  plays  the  drum  or  pipe.  The 
skins  of  the  drums  had  cracked  in  the  heat  at 
Makina,  and  they  had  left  them  behind,  but 
they  make  flutes  out  of  any  material  they  can 
pick  up.  One  of  them  blew  off  two  of  his  fingers 
boring  stops  in  the  brass  tube  of  a  Turkish  shell 
which  had  a  fuse  and  an  unexploded  charge  left 


222     THE    SANTAL    LABOUR   CORPS 

in  it.  That  is  the  only  casualty  among  the 
Santals  remotely  connected  with  arms.  It  is 
an  understood  thing  that  they  should  not  go 
near  the  firing  line.  Once  an  aeroplane  bomb 
fell  near  the  corps.  They  looked  up  like  a 
frightened  herd.  A  second  came  sizzling  down 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  them,  and  they  took 
to  their  heels.  A  little  man  showed  me  how  he 
had  run,  rehearsing  a  pantomime  of  panic  fright, 
with  his  bandy  legs,  and  doubled  fist  pummelling 
the  air. 

The  Santals  came  out  on  a  one  year's  agree- 
ment, as  they  must  get  back  to  their  harvest. 
But  they  will  sign  on  again.  They  have  no 
quarrel  with  Mesopotamia.  Twenty  rupees  a 
month,  and  everything  found,  is  a  wage  that  a 
few  years  ago  would  have  seemed  beyond  the 
dreams  of  avarice.  They  are  putting  on  weight ; 
fare  better  than  they  have  ever  done,  and  their 
families  are  growing  rich.  Most  of  them  have 
their  wages  paid  in  family  allotments  at  home, 
generally  to  their  elder  brother,  father,  or  son, 
rather  than  their  wife.  The  Santals  are  dis- 
trustful of  women  as  a  sex.  "  What  if  I  were 
labouring  here,"  one  of  them  said,  "  and  she  were 
to  run  off  with  another  man  and   the  money  ? " 


THE    WOMEN  223 

The  women  are  not  permitted  to  attend  the 
sacrifices  in  the  Holy  Grove,  or  to  eat  the  flesh 
of  offerings,  or  to  cHmb  the  consecrated  trees,  or 
to  know  the  name  of  the  family's  secret  god  lest 
they  should  betray  it ;  or  even,  save  in  the  case 
of  a  wife  or  unmarried  daughter,  to  enter  the 
chamber  where  the  household  god  dwells  in 
silent  communion  with  the  ancestors.  Save  for 
these  restrictions  the  relations  between  men  and 
women  in  the  tribe  are  happy  and  free.  In 
social  life  the  women  are  very  independent  and 
often  masters  in  the  house.  They  are  a  finer 
physical  type,  and  the  men  of  the  tribe  are  proud 
to  admit  it.  The  corps  was  collecting  firewood 
when  one  of  the  officers  twitted  a  man  on  the 
meagre  size  of  his  bundle. 

"  Look  at  the  Arabs,"  he  said.  "  Even  the 
women  carry  a  bigger  load  than  you." 

But  the  Santal  was  not  abashed.  He  did  not 
resent  this  reflection  upon  himself;  it  was  the 
carrying  power  of  his  own  women  he  defended. 
"  Our  women,  too,  carry  much  bigger  loads  than 
we  do,"  he  said  ingenuously. 

There  is  a  curious  reticence  about  names 
among  the  Santals.  Husband  and  wife  will 
not  mention  each  other's  names,  not  even  when 


224     THE    SANTAL   LABOUR   CORPS 

speaking  of  some  one  else  bearing  the  same  name. 
When  receiving  her  allotment  from  a  British 
officer  the  Santal  woman  has  to  call  in  a  third 
person  to  name  the  absent  husband.  It  would 
be  a  species  of  blasphemy  to  divulge  the  secret 
herself.  There  is  a  table  of  degrees  of  relation- 
ship in  which  the  mention  of  names  is  taboo 
among  the  tribes,  similar  to  the  catalogue  pro- 
hibiting intermarriage  of  kin  in  our  Prayer  Book. 
And,  of  course,  it  is  quite  useless  to  ask  a  Santal 
his  age.  Dates  and  sums  of  money  are  remem- 
bered by  the  knots  tied  in  a  string ;  but  the 
birth  date  is  not  accounted  of  any  importance. 
•'  How  old  are  you  ? "  the  O.  C.  of  the  corps 
asked  one  of  these  bearded  men  of  the  woods. 
•'  Sahib,"  the  Santal  replied,  after  some  pucker- 
ing of  the  brow  in  calculation,  "I  am  at  least  five 
years  old." 

There  is  one  comfort  the  Santal  misses  when 
away  from  home.  He  must  have  his  handi,  or 
rice  beer,  or  if  not  his  handi,  at  least  some 
substitute  that  warms  his  inside.  They  said 
they  would  make  their  own  handi  in  Mesopo- 
tamia if  we  gave  them  the  rice ;  but  they  dis- 
covered it  could  not  be  done.  Either  they  had 
not  the  full  ingredients,  or  their  women  had  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE  225 

secret  of  the  brew.  Hence  the  order  for  a  tri- 
weekly issue  of  rum.  Many  of  the  Santals  were 
once  debarred  from  becoming  Christians,  fearing 
that  the  new  faith  meant  abstention  from  the 
tribal  drink. 

This  summer  the  Santals  will  be  at  home 
again,  drinking  their  handi,  looking  after  their 
crops  and  herds,  reaping  the  same  harvest,  think- 
ing the  same  thoughts,  playing  the  same  plaintive 
melodies  on  their  pipes,  as  when  Nebuchadnezzar 
ruled  in  Babylon.  Three  dynasties  of  Babylon, 
Assyria,  Chaldea,  and  the  Empire  of  the 
Chosroes,  have  risen  and  crumbled  away  on  the 
soil  where  he  is  labouring  now,  and  all  the  while 
the  Santal  has  led  the  simple  life,  never  straying 
far  from  the  Golden  Age,  never  caught  up  in  the 
unhappy  train  of  Progress.  And  so  his  peace  is 
undisturbed  by  the  seismic  convulsions  of  Arma- 
geddon ;  he  has  escaped  the  crown  that  Kultur 
has  evolved  at  Karlsruhe  and  Essen  and  Potsdam. 
At  harvest-time,  while  the  Aryan  is  still  doing 
military  duties,  the  Santal  will  be  reaping  in  the 
fields.  As  soon  as  the  crops  are  in,  there  is  the 
blessing  of  the  cattle,  then  five  days  and  nights 
of  junketing,  drinking  and  dancing,  bathing  and 
sacrifice,  shooting  at  a  target  with  the  bow,  and  all 

Q 


226     THE    SANTAL    LABOUR   CORPS 

the  licence  of  high  festival.  Then  after  a  month 
or  two  he  will  return  to  the  fringe  of  the  Great 
War,  and  bring  with  him  his  friends.  He  will 
fall  to  again,  and  take  up  his  pick  and  shovel,  the 
most  contented  man  in  Iraq. 


THE    INDIAN    FOLLOWER 

The  Drabi  and  Kahar  ^  are  no  longer  followers. 
They  are  combatants  and  eligible  for  decora- 
tions, and  their  names  appear  in  the  columns  of 
honour  in  the  Army  List,  and  occupy  an  in- 
creasing space.  If  cooks,  syces,  bhisties,  bearers 
and  sweepers  were  eligible  too,  their  names 
would  also  appear  ;  for  the  war  has  proved  that 
chivalry  exists  under  the  most  unlikely  exteriors. 
A  great  deal  has  been  written  about  the  Drabi 
and  the  Kahar,  and  their  indifference  to  danger. 
The  nature  of  their  work  keeps  them  constantly 
under  fire,  whether  they  are  bringing  up  rations 
to  the  trenches,  or  searching  the  ground  for  the 
wounded.  The  recognition  of  them  as  com- 
batants is  a  belated  act  of  justice,  and  one  wishes 
that  the  devotion  of  the  humbler  menial  classes 
could  be  recognised  in  the  same  way.  One 
meets  followers  of  the  wrong  kind,  but  the  old 
type  of  Indian  servant  has  increased  his  prestige 

^  Stretcher-bearer. 
227 


228        THE    INDIAN    FOLLOWER 

in  the  war.  Officers  who  did  not  know  him 
before  are  impressed  with  his  worth.  He  has 
shown  courage  in  emergency,  and,  what  is  more, 
he  has  the  British  habit,  only  in  the  passive 
voice,  of  **  slogging  on." 

One  admires  the  Indian's  impassivity  under 
fire,  and  one  is  sometimes  led  into  neglecting 
cover  on  account  of  it.  It  does  not  do  for  the 
Sahib  to  sneak  along  behind  an  A.T.  cart  when 
the  Drabi  is  taking  his  chance  with  the  mules  in 
front.  In  France  I  heard  an  amusing  story  of  a 
Sergeant- Major  who  had  to  thread  a  bombarded 
area  much  more  slowly  than  his  wont,  on  account 
of  the  sang-froid  of  a  syce.  An  officer  was 
taking  an  extra  horse  with  him  into  Ypres  at  a 
time  when  the  town  was  beginning  to  establish 
its  reputation  for  unpleasantness,  and  he  came  in 
for  a  heavy  bombardment.  Besides  the  usual 
smaller  stuff,  seventeen-inch  shells  were  coming 
over  like  rumbling  trains,  and  exploding  with 
a  burst  like  nothing  on  earth.  The  officer 
wished  he  had  left  his  second  horse  behind,  and 
was  wondering  if  it  would  be  safe  to  send  his 
syce  back  on  the  chance  of  his  finding  the  new 
dump  when  he  met  the  Sergeant- Major  who 
was  returning  direct  to  it.     The  Sergeant-Major 


TOO    LITERAL   OBEDIENCE     229 

undertook  to  show  the  syce  the  way,  and  to 
look  after  him.  When  next  the  two  met,  the 
officer  asked  the  Sergeant-Major  if  the  syce  had 
given  him  any  trouble. 

"  Trouble,  sir  !  He  came  along  fast  enough 
until  we  got  to  the  pave.  Then  he  pulled  up, 
and  wouldn't  go  out  of  a  walk.  It  was  as  nasty 
a  mess-up  as  ever  I've  been  in,  but  he  wouldn't 
quit  his  walk." 

The  Sergeant- Major's  language,  I  believe, 
was  as  explosive  as  his  surroundings  ;  but  the 
syce  humbly  repeated  that  it  was  the  Sahib's 
orders  never  to  go  out  of  a  walk  where  there  was 
hard  ground  or  stones,  and  "  here  it  was  all 
stones."  Five  battery  mules  were  knocked  out, 
and  a  syce  and  horse  killed  next  door  to  him  ; 
stilled  he  walked — or  capered,  for  the  horse, 
even  more  than  the  sergeant-major,  was  for 
taking  over  charge. 

I  remember  an  old  cook  of  the  Black  Watch 
who  persisted  in  wearing  a  saucepan  on  his 
head  in  the  trenches  at  Sannaiyat  when  the 
Turks  w'ere  bombarding  us.  The  man  had  to 
be  humoured,  so  a  special  cooking  vessel — 
rather  a  leaky  one — was  set  aside  by  the  mess- 
sergeant    for    his    armour}\      He   was    nervous 


230       THE    INDIAN    FOLLOWER 

because  the  regimental  bhistie  had  been  killed 
by  a  shell.  There  was  great  lamentation  in  the 
battalion  when  the  bhistie  fell.  The  bhistie, 
that  silent,  willing  drudge,  is  always  a  favourite 
with  the  British  soldier.  His  gentleness, 
patience,  and  devotion  are  proverbial.  Even 
in  cantonments,  bent  under  the  weight  of  his 
massaq,^  he  is  invested  with  a  peculiar  dignity, 
and  in  desert  places  he  appears  as  one  of  the  few 
beneficent  manifestations  of  Providence.  One 
always  thinks  of  him  as  a  giver  ;  his  bestowals 
are  without  number,  his  demands  infinitesimal. 
I  have  never  heard  of  a  grumbling,  or  impatient, 
or  morose  bhistie,  or  of  one  whose  name  has 
been  associated  actively  or  passively  with 
violence,  or  provocation,  or  crime.  There  was 
a  dreadful  day  during  the  Ahwaz  operations  in 
May,  191 5,  when  our  troops,  after  a  stifling 
night,  found  the  wells  they  had  counted  on  were 
dry.  They  were  already  exhausted  ;  the  tem- 
perature was  125  degrees  in  the  shade,  or  would 
have  been  if  there  had  been  any  shade,  and  to 
reach  water  they  had  another  ten  or  fifteen 
miles'  march  to  Kharkeh.  An  officer  in  the 
Indian    Cavalry    told    me    that    he    watched    a 

*  Waterskin. 


I 


To  face  p.  230.] 


BHIL   FOLLOWERS 


DEVOTED    BHISTIES  231 

bhistie  of  the  Merwara  battalion  supporting  a 
man,  who  was  too  weak  to  walk  unaided,  for 
more  than  two  miles.  When  the  sepoy  came 
to  the  end  of  his  tether  the  bhistie  stayed  with 
him  a  few  seconds,  and  then  relieved  him  of  his 
rifle  which  he  carried  into  camp.  That  was 
probably  the  hottest  and  thirstiest  day's  march 
our  troops  endured  in  Mesopotamia.  A  number 
of  the  Merwaras  died  of  thirst.  It  was  just 
before  Dunlop's  burning  march  over  the  desert 
by  Illah  and  Bisaitin  to  Amara,  when  even  the 
most  hard-bitten  old  campaigners  fell  through 
heat-exhaustion.  During  all  these  operations 
the  bhisties  behaved  splendidly  at  a  time  when 
any  form  of  effort  was  a  virtue,  fetching  water 
untiringly  and  pouring  it  over  the  victims  of  the 
march. 

The  bearer,  too,  has  played  up  well  when  he 
has  had  the  chance.  During  the  retirement 
from  Ctesiphon  the  last  batch  of  boats  to  leave 
Kut  just  before  the  siege  came  in  for  a  good 
deal  of  sniping.  One  of  them  put  ashore  at  a 
bend,  and  landed  a  party  which  took  up  a 
position  on  the  bank  and  tried  to  keep  down 
the  enemy's  fire.  This  was  very  early  in  the 
morning.       "  It   was    quite    a    hot    corner,"    an 


232        THE    INDIAN    FOLLOWER 

officer  told  me.  "  I  had  spotted  a  man  who  had 
crawled  up  to  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
of  us,  and  was  drawing  a  bead  on  him.  I  had 
clean  forgotten  the  boat,  and  Kut,  and  the 
retreat,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  when  I  heard  a 
familiar  voice  behind  me,  '  Tea  ready,  sorr.' 
It  was  good  old  Dubru,  my  Madrasi  bearer,  who 
had  come  up  under  fire.  The  tea  was  good  and 
the  buttered  toast  still  hot.  His  only  remark 
when  I  had  finished  it  was  '  Master  like  another 
cup  ?  '  I  should  have  been  very  unhappy  if  the 
old  fellow  had  been  hit." 

I  could  multiply  instances  of  the  providence 
that  keeps  the  follower  to  his  prescribed  task, 
whether  in  emergency  or  in  the  ordinary  day's 
work.  A  medical  officer  was  going  round  his 
camp  during  a  bombardment,  to  see  that  his 
staff  were  taking  cover.  He  found  the  infection 
ward  in  a  great  state  of  perturbation — not  from 
fright  as  might  have  been  expected.  The 
trouble  was  a  violation  of  the  rules.  "  Sir,"  a 
Babu  explained  to  him,  "  it  is  a  serious  matter, 
no  doubt,  two  contact  cases  have  escaped  con- 
finement of  ward."  It  was  his  way  of  saying 
that  two  men  with  mumps  had  had  the  sense  to 
discover  a  funk-hole  and  make  themselves  scarce. 


THE    SWEEPER  233 

The  name  of  the  sweeper  is  associated  with 
chivalry  in  an  ironic  sense  only.  His  Indian 
titles  "Mehtar"  and  "Jemadar"  are  facetiously 
honorific,  as  when  one  speaks  of  him  as  "the 
knight."  Yet  the  sweeper  has  won  laurels  in  the 
war.  It  was  at  Givenchy,  I  think,  at  the  very 
beginning  of  things,  when  cartridges  were 
jammed  in  the  magazines,  and  men  were  wanted 
to  take  ramrods  to  the  front,  and  there  were  no 
spare  combatants  for  errands  of  this  kind,  that 
the  sweepers  carried  the  ramrods  over  the  open 
ground  with  no  cover  of  communication  trenches 
to  the  men  in  the  firing  line.  In  Mesopotamia 
a  sweeper  of  the  — th  Rifles  took  an  unautho- 
rised part  in  an  assault  on  the  Turkish  lines, 
picked  up  the  rifle  of  a  dead  sepoy,  and  went  on 
firing  until  he  was  shot  in  the  head. 

What  are  the  elements  of  the  follower's  sang- 
froid ?  In  the  case  of  this  sweeper  it  can  only 
have  been  the  love  of  honour  or  adventure,  but 
he  was  a  very  exceptional  man,  and  one  cannot 
expect  to  find  the  same  spirit  in  the  normal 
drudsfe.  The  orood  old  Drabi  who,  when  the 
bullets  are  flicking  round,  pulls  his  blanket  about 
his  ears  and  subsides  a  little  in  his  cart  is  not  of 
this  mould.     In  an  analysis  of  the  composition 


234       THE    INDIAN    FOLLOWER 

of  his  courage  lack  of  imagination  would  play  a 
part,  and  fatalism,  which  becomes  a  virtue  in  the 
presence  of  death  ;  but  the  main  thing,  and  this 
explains  two-thirds  of  his  stiffening,  is  that  it 
never  enters  his  head  that  it  is  possible  not  to 
carry  on  with  his  job.  In  the  follower's  honest, 
slow  brain,  the  processes  which  complicate 
decision  in  subtler  minds  are  clotted  into  one — 
the  sense  of  order,  continuity,  routine,  every- 
thing that  is  implied  in  a  regulation.  These 
things  are  of  the  laws  of  necessity.  He  does 
not  know  it,  but  "carrying  on"  is  his  gospel, 
philosophy,  and  creed. 


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