THE INDIANS IN THE TRENCHES.
Every boy and girl has heard of the wonderful valour and daring of the Sikhs and Gurkhas. Many people in this country fully believed that they would prove invincible on European battlefields. Too much was, perhaps, expected of them: they found themselves waging an entirely new kind of warfare in a cold, clammy land, which numbed their limbs and broke down their stamina. It was all so strange and new—the awful roar of the great howitzer shells, the fighting from holes in the ground, the endless stream of shrapnel, the bitter cold, and the absence of those fierce, furious charges in which they delight. At first their nerve was shaken, but they quickly recovered, and it must be remembered that when they broke they dashed forward just as frequently as they retired. Nevertheless, their splendid courage was not in doubt for a moment, and before long the enemy went in terror of them, as the following letter, published in a German newspaper, plainly shows:—
"To-day for the first time we had to fight against the Indians, and Heaven knows those brown rascals are not to be underrated. At first we spoke with contempt of the Indians. To-day we learned to look at them in a different light.... When for three days it had rained shells and the British thought we were beaten to a jelly, they had then in store for us a visit from their brown allies. Heaven only knows what the English had put into those fellows. Anyhow, those who stormed our lines seemed either drunk or possessed with an evil spirit. With fearful shouting, in comparison with which our hurrahs are like the whining of a baby, thousands of those brown forms rushed upon us as suddenly as if they were shot out of a fog, so that at first we were completely taken by surprise. At a hundred metres (109 yards) we opened a destructive fire which mowed down hundreds, but in spite of that the others advanced, springing forward like cats and surmounting obstacles with unexampled agility. In no time they were in our trenches, and truly these brown enemies were not to be despised. With butt-ends, bayonets, swords, and daggers we fought each other; and we had bitter hard work, which, however, was lightened by reinforcements which arrived quickly, before we drove the fellows out of the trenches."
The Indians are famous for "ruses"—that is, for tricks of war. Here is a striking instance of the resource and presence of mind of an Indian soldier. He and a comrade were instructed to creep out of the trench which they were defending, in order to spy out a German position some two hundred yards distant. They crawled along in the dark, and when they were half-way to the German trench a brilliant searchlight was suddenly flashed on them. At once they were revealed. One of the men was quick-witted enough to realize that only by a trick could he save his life. He immediately rose to his feet and advanced, salaaming to the Germans. They were so surprised that they ceased fire, and after some dumb show let him enter the trench. Then began a conversation, which, as you may imagine, was not very fruitful. The Germans were trying to find out the Indian race to which he belonged. When the word Mussulman was mentioned he nodded his head; but when the word British was uttered, he made a gesture of disgust. The Germans naturally concluded that he hated the British, so they gave him some rations and a blanket, and let him spend the night with them. Next morning, by means of dumb show, he made an officer believe that there were twenty-five other Mohammedans in his trench who were eager to join the Germans. Completely deceived, the officer gave him a final cup of coffee, and sent him off to bring in his friends. Needless to say, he did not return. Unhappily, a few weeks later this nimble-witted soldier was killed in action.
You must not suppose that the Indian army consists only of Gurkhas and Sikhs. There are many other Indian races serving as soldiers, and amongst them are the Pathans, fierce hillmen of the North-West Frontier Province. Somewhere south of Ypres British troops who were holding a line of trenches one misty night became aware of some hundreds of lithe gray figures silently gathering in their rear, and gliding forward like ghosts amidst the trees. Shortly afterwards a score of these gray figures detached themselves from the larger body, and stealthily, like Red Indians on the trail, moved up to and beyond the advanced line of the British trenches. Under their breath our soldiers whispered, "The Indians are going out," and as they craned their necks they saw the ghostly figures disappear from view, crawling python-like towards the first German trench.
