CHAPTER XXIII.

The Afghan Army—The Amir Shere Ali’s Efforts to raise Disciplined Troops—The founding of Guns—Surferaz’s Failure—A Cabuli Gunsmith sent to Peshawur Arsenal—A Foundry established in Cabul—The Manufacture of Rifled Guns and Small Arms—Cabuli Gunpowder and Cartridges—Percussion Caps—Army Clothing Department—The Number of Guns and Small Arms in Afghanistan—Cost of Shere Ali’s Army—Weakness of the Organization—Regulars versus Tribesmen—Their Behaviour in various Actions—The Failure of the Regular Army—Suggestion for the Creation of a Militia—The Ghazi Element among Irregulars—How a Ghazi is Made—His Mode of Fighting.

Sherpur, 28th January, 1880.

Afghanistan is a nation of soldiers, every adult being (apart from any military training he may receive) a ready swordsman and a fair shot. In our old wars we found but little organization existing among the followers of the Dost and his son, Mahomed Akhbar, and the discipline of our troops told in the long run against the masses they had to face. Afghanistan then produced, as a writer has said, nothing but stones and men: the stones made good sungars, which thousands of men were always ready to defend. But after Shere Ali had assumed the Amirship, a change came over the “war department” of the country: that shrewd sovereign had his eyes opened to the necessity of having something more than an unlimited supply of men to fight his battles, and after his visit to India, in 1869, he began to cast about for means whereby he could arm and equip his troops in civilized fashion. Fortunately for his project, he was on the best of terms at that time with the Indian Government, and among the valuable presents he carried back with him to Cabul were a siege-train (consisting of four 18-pounders and two 8-inch howitzers), a mountain battery of six guns, 5,000 Snider rifles, 15,000 Enfields, and no less than 1,000,000 rounds of ball ammunition. This was the groundwork upon which he hoped to build up a well-equipped army, with artillery sufficient to make himself feared by all his neighbours, and respected both by the English and Russian Governments, upon his relations with which might ultimately depend the safety of his kingdom. To a man of less energy than Shere Ali, the project he took in hand would have seemed so full of difficulties, that it might have been reasonably abandoned after a fair trial; but the then Amir was a man of stubborn self-will; and his mind once made up, nothing could turn him from his object. The story of his successful struggle to create an army of all arms on the European pattern can be best told by reference to a report drawn up on information supplied by various sirdars and artisans, since our occupation of Cabul. Lieutenant Neville Chamberlain, Extra Assistant Political Officer, is the compiler of this valuable report, which gives in detail an account of Shere Ali’s steady progress in the armament of his kingdom, until he made the fatal mistake of quarrelling with the British. One cannot fail to be struck with astonishment at the rapidity with which guns were made, rifles imitated, and cartridges turned out by the 100,000 in a country which boasts of but few resources.

Shere Ali could easily enough make regiments of infantry and cavalry, dress them after the fashion of the men he had seen paraded in India, and drill them in a few simple movements. If he were guilty of the solecism of making Highlanders mount on horseback, there was no great blunder committed; they were his mounted rifles, and were not likely to come to grief, as every Afghan is more or less a horseman. But in the question of artillery, the Amir had to face a problem which must have cost him much anxious thought. The old brass cannon which had been used for many years as wall-pieces in the different fortresses of Afghanistan, sank into insignificance when compared with the guns Lord Mayo had given him. The latter were few in number, and it was all-important they should he multiplied, so that if three or four armies took the field, each should have its due complement of guns. There were skilled artisans in Cabul who had made brass guns; and one of these, named Surferaz, was given funds by Shere Ali and peremptorily ordered to turn out guns on the pattern of the siege-train and mountain battery which had lately arrived from India. The unlucky man tried his best; but, at the end of a few months, his work was pronounced a failure; and as he had spent Rs. 12,000 in his experiments, he was summarily thrown into prison, and all his property confiscated. This was his reward for obeying the orders of a tyrant. But Shere Ali was not to be foiled, and rightly attributing the failure to want of technical knowledge, he sent the uncle of Surferaz, Dost Mahomed, a skilled gunsmith, to Peshawur, to be instructed in the mysteries of rifled guns. Dost Mahomed may be allowed to tell his own story, as it is full of interest. He says:—

“I am a Cabuli by birth and a gunsmith. My father was a gunsmith before me. After Shere Ali’s return from India, I was sent to Peshawur with a letter to Colonel Pollock, the Commissioner there, in which he was asked to allow me to visit the Arsenal, and see how the rifled guns were made. I remained in Peshawur for three months, until the permission of Government arrived. I then visited the Arsenal daily, and saw exactly how everything was done; and on my departure I was given models of guns in wood, with complete drawings of the details. I returned to Cabul, and with these models and some complete models of rifled breech-loading Armstrongs, which had been given to the Amir during his visit to India, I began work. I had three principal assistants: my nephew, Surferaz (who had then been liberated), Mahomed Ali, and a man named Rashed. Any number of workmen were at my disposal, as I had only to state the number I required, and they were impressed from among the city smiths. Before commencing a gun, a sum of money was given to me, which I was not to exceed. The following were the prices in Cabuli rupees:—

Rs.
Field gun1,500
Royal Horse Artillery gun1,000
Mountain gun300
” ” (laminated steel)600

“I never either lost or gained much by my contract. The iron for the guns came principally from India—some through Shikarpur, some from Peshawur. A small quantity was procured from Bajour and Zurmut. The core of the gun was first welded by hand on an iron bar, the required length and diameter. Long strips of iron having been placed all round the core, they were well hammered together, and bands of iron placed over all to keep everything in its place. The gun was then bored out by the machinery at the water-mills of Deh-i-Afghan. The machinery for these mills was set up by a Hindustani, named Muah Khan. He learned his trade from a negro, named Belal, who was taught by one Ibrahim, a native of Ispahan, who came years ago from Persia to the service of Sultan Jan, late Governor of Herat. The gun was then rifled by hand, the breech-block and details completed, polished by machinery, and handed over to the Arsenal. The strength of the guns was never proved by heavy charges being fired out of them, and they were at once taken into use. Out of all the guns I have made only one has burst. I could turn out four or five guns a month if necessary. My pay was Rs. 70 a month, and I occasionally received presents.”

This was not a bad example of what perseverance can accomplish, for the guns manufactured are said by our gunners to be very well made, lacking only finish. The Armstrong breech-loaders would be creditable to an English founder, and we are now testing many of them to see if they cannot be used for the defences of Sherpur. A great number of small brass guns for mountain batteries were also made. The old ordnance was broken up, and new guns were cast in the Bala Hissar Arsenal, the boring and polishing being done at the Deh-i-Afghan water-mills. The alloy in these brass guns contains a larger percentage of copper than we generally use. The water-mills to which reference has been made can still be seen—a huge wheel with a long wooden shaft in which the boring-tool was fixed. With such simple means it seems almost impossible that heavy guns could be bored, but still the work was done, slowly it is true, but effectually.

The manufacture of small-arms was not such a success. Kootub-ud-din, a Cabul gunsmith, was placed in charge of the Bala Hissar Arsenal, and workmen under his direction made 2,000 Sniders and 8,000 Enfields. The Afghans placed but little faith in their imitation of our rifles; they found that the breech-action of the Snider would not act, the extractor often failing to throw out the cartridge-case after firing, while the grooving of the Enfields was so imperfect, that the barrel quickly got “leaded,” i.e. the grooves[grooves] were filled with lead stripped from the bullet as it was driven out by the charge. It is worth remarking that in the Amir’s palace were found several rifles of different patterns (the French Chassepot among them), and each had its Cabuli imitation. No doubt various experiments were made before the Snider was finally adopted.

There was never any lack of gunpowder in Cabul, as the Amir employed six contractors to turn out the quantities he needed. Each mill could make two maunds a day, and the total daily out-turn on an emergency would be nearly 1,000 lbs. These contractors were also ready to start other smaller mills during war-time, so that doubtless a ton of powder could have been supplied every day as long as funds were forthcoming. The composition of the powder was seventy-five parts of saltpetre, ten of sulphur, and fifteen of charcoal. Bamian supplied the sulphur, with occasional small quantities from Hazara and the Derajat. Saltpetre abounds near Cabul, and excellent charcoal is made from the thousands of small willow-trees which line every watercourse in Chardeh and the near valleys. The coarse-grain powder for muzzle-loading guns was paid for at the rate of Rs. 2 per lb., while that used for breech-loading field-guns and for rifles was Rs. 3 per lb. The powder, as a rule, is far inferior to that of European make, as the Afghans do not understand the final process of glazing, which adds so much to the strength of the composition. Shot and shell were strictly copied from the patterns brought from India, but time-fuses were not understood. A bursting charge—the secret of which was held by a Herati—was used, and not until just before the war of 1879 were fuses made in the Bala Hissar. They are not a success, the delicate nature of the fuse not being properly appreciated. In the matter of small-arm cartridges, the Afghan smiths deserve much credit. Sixty of them were constantly engaged in the Bala Hissar Arsenal making up cartridges, and their Snider ammunition is excellent. The cases are made by hand, and are technically known as “solid cold-drawn brass.” The bases are very strong, and the cases can be refilled many times. In a country where there is no machinery for turning out millions of cartridges in a few days this is a great advantage. Two clever Cabulis, Safi Abdul Latif and Safi Abdul Hak, invented a machine for making percussion caps, equal to turning out 5,000 a day. The detonating composition is fairly good, but spoils if the caps are kept for two or three years. Considering there were millions of caps still in the unopened boxes sent from Dum-Dum Arsenal to Shere Ali, native-made caps were not much needed. Gun carriages and limbers were made on the English pattern, the guns captured in the disastrous business of 1841-42 serving as models in addition to the siege-train given by Lord Mayo.

Among Shere Ali’s other improvements in his “War Department” was the establishment of a Clothing Department, which had for its object the equipment of his soldiers in proper uniforms. The tunics, trousers, kilts, gaiters, helmets, &c., are all neatly made; and as each soldier received a new uniform every two years, the regular regiments ought to have been smart and well set-up. That they were not so was chiefly due to the laxity of discipline and the incompetence of their officers. Pouch-belts and bayonet frogs on the English pattern were served out, and the cavalry were all furnished with new swords, slightly curved like those used by our own sowars. The steel is generally very soft, but the blade is well-tempered, and takes an edge so keen, that even a slight blow leaves a deep gash. Shere Ali’s ambition, while thus perfecting his armament, was to build a fortress of huge dimensions, and Sherpur was accordingly begun. The subsidy paid yearly by the Indian Government gave him money to lavish in this direction, and the cantonments our troops are now occupying were laid out on a scale that even to European ideas seems enormous. The fortress was to have been in the shape of a huge square with walls 3,000 yards long; and on the Bemaru Heights, in the middle, a strong citadel was to have risen—“the New Bala Hissar.” At the foot of the southern slope, below the citadel, a splendid palace was mapped out, the strong foundations of which even now show how imposing the building would have been. Shere Ali’s quarrel with the British put an end to his ambitious schemes, and Sherpur remains to this day incomplete; while away in the Hazara Darukht defile, thousands of logs are lying, ready squared, which the Gajis had got ready for the barracks which will now never be built.

Lieutenant Chamberlain, in summarizing the result of his interesting inquiries into Afghan armaments, makes out the following tabular statement:—

Number of Guns previous to War of 1878-79.

English Siege Train (Elephant)6
Cabuli ” ” ”10
” ” ” (Bullock)18
Horsed Guns{(Breech-loaders,
(Brass Guns,		89)
56)		}145
Mountain Guns{(Breech-loaders,
(Muzzle-loaders,
(Brass,		6
48
96)		}150
Various small guns of Position50
——
Total379
Deduct Guns captured, 1879-80256
——
Guns remaining in Country123
——

These are believed to be chiefly in Herat and Turkistan.

The number of rifles entered in the Government books as having been issued to the troops are—

English Sniders 5,000
” Enfields 15,000
” Rifled Carbines 1,200
” Brunswick Rifles 1,400
” Tower muskets 1,000
” Cavalry Pistols 1,045
Cabuli Sniders 2,189
” Enfields 8,212
” Rifled Carbines 589
Kandahari Enfields 453
Herati Enfields 516
Various kinds for Cavalry (double-barrelled, &c.)1,553
Smooth-bores (probably many Tower Muskets)1,418
Flint Muskets1,300
————
Total49,875
————

Of these 742 English Enfields, 560 English Sniders, and 5,427 muskets, Cabuli Sniders and Enfields, flint muskets, &c., have been given up, leaving 43,146 small-arms in the country.

It is worth noticing that no information could be got as to whence the English rifled carbines, Brunswick rifles, Tower muskets, and cavalry pistols were obtained. The “Brown Besses” were, perhaps, part of those taken in 1841-42. This estimate of arms, it should be remembered, takes no account of the many thousands of jhezails, native pistols, &c., in the hands of the tribesmen. The totals are sufficiently great to prove that the late Shere Ali had placed Afghanistan on such a military footing, that he may well have believed he could, with the mountain barriers between Cabul and India, defy any force the British could spare to send against him. He was grievously mistaken; his weakness lying in the want of discipline among his troops, and the incapacity of their leaders.

The cost of the army which he had raised and equipped was a serious item in his exchequer accounts, if he ever kept any. Lieutenant Chamberlain computes it at 19,21,195 Cabuli rupees, of which Rs. 17,81,238 went for pay to the army, Rs. 1,20,235 for Arsenal expenses (not including Herat and Turkistan), and Rs. 19,727 for uniform. Considering that Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer here, has calculated the whole revenue of Afghanistan at only Rs. 79,82,390, it will thus appear that nearly one-fourth of the revenue was lavished in military (expenditure. The Amir ought reasonably to have expected his army to have made a better defence of his kingdom against invasion than the weak struggle at Ali Musjid and the Peiwar Kotal. After the present campaign, Afghanistan can never hope to rise to the position it occupied under Shere Ali. The easy capture of Cabul and 214 guns is a blow that even a Dost Mahomed would find it hard to recover from. Having dealt with the armaments of Afghanistan, there remains the regular army to be considered. We used to hear a good deal, at first, of the regular army of Afghanistan, which Shere Ali had called into being and drilled according to his idea of European tactics. So many “regiments” with a proportionate number of guns were said to be encamped about Cabul, while others were hurrying in from outlying provinces to swell the assembly. Now there had undoubtedly been a determined effort on Shere Ali’s part to make every male in the population subject to the conscription, and the carefully prepared lists we afterwards found proved that the enrolments had been on a large scale. But there was one fault in the organization which told against all the Amir’s efforts,—and that was the want of competent officers to train the thousands of men who were available for the army. Such officers as were equal to their work were chiefly pensioners of the Indian native army, but these could only teach the sowars and infantry their drill, and could scarcely be expected to manœuvre even a brigade in the field. An intelligent malik once said to a British officer:—“We can never hope to fight you with success until we are educated.” “Well, why not have schools and colleges, such as the Sircar builds in India for the people?” The answer was one given with a half-contemptuous indignation:—“Not that kind of education; I mean until our army is educated, and our officers can do their work as well as yours.” It was military education the petty chief was craving for, and he was unquestionably right in his aspirations. Shere Ali might be able to distribute Enfield and Snider rifles among his sepoys, fit out batteries with every kind of shot and shell, and teach his men such rudimentary discipline as would enable them to march in fairly good order; but he could never get beyond this. Instead of sending his young nobles to Europe to learn the mysteries of military science, he distributed commands among such favourites as were ready to take them with their emoluments; and occasionally he made a good selection from among men of the stamp of Daoud Shah, soldiers of fortune, whose courage was above suspicion, and who could generally keep an army in order. Then there was the childish desire ever uppermost in the Amir’s mind, of clothing his troops in English uniforms, and his “Army Clothing Department” turned out imitation Highland and Rifle costumes, or old Pandy uniforms by the hundred. The plan might have succeeded if less attention had been paid to dress and more to discipline and musketry. The Afghan does not lack native courage, and in hill warfare he is unrivalled so long as it takes the shape of guerilla fighting; but once he is asked to sink his identity and to become merely a unit in a battalion he loses all self-confidence, and is apt to think more of getting away than of stubbornly holding his ground as he would have done with his own friends, led by his own malik or chief. In fact, the late Afghan campaign proved beyond doubt that the Afghan “regulars” had reached that most precarious stage where the men are in a transition state: not yet trained soldiers, but a mob led by strange officers whom they scarcely know, and whom they generally dislike because they are the direct means of imposing the irksomeness of discipline upon them. A tribesman who has never been enrolled is always comforted in action by the thought that if the battle ends disastrously he can make good his escape and probably reach his village in safety, there to play the part of a peaceful peasant proprietor if his civilized enemy visits him afterwards. But the Afghan sepoy is in a very different position: if he is true to his salt he must remain with his regiment and retire in some kind of order, which means to his mind that the pursuing cavalry will have a much better chance of overtaking him. The result of this has been that on nearly every occasion the most obstinate resistance has been offered by tribesmen acting as independent bodies, with no organization, but with a cool courage which made them at times foemen worthy of our steel. To deal more particularly with the merits and weaknesses of the regular troops, and to contrast their work with that of ghazi-led tribesmen, may be of some interest.

Upon Sir Frederick Roberts’s arrival at Charasia, the Herat and other regiments which had been in the neighbourhood of Cabul at the time of the Massacre were induced by Nek Mahomed and other sirdars to oppose the advance of the British force, and a strong position was taken up to prevent the Sang-i-Nawishta defile being forced. Guns were placed in position, commands distributed, and an effort made to fight a battle with some approach to European methods. At the same time regiments were strengthened by a number of the city people and by tribesmen from the Chardeh Valley and Koh-Daman. For all practical purposes, however, the action was fought on the Afghan side by regular troops, and the poor show they made against General Baker’s 2,000 men, gave evidence of the weakness before suspected. Our enemy was well armed with Enfield and Snider rifles, had plenty of ammunition, and was in a position which well-trained troops could have held against great odds; and yet on their left Major White, with 100 Highlanders, drove them from their most advanced position, while on their right the 72nd and 5th Ghoorkas, with a few companies of the 5th P.I. and the 23rd Pioneers (supported only by four mountain guns), turned their flank and drove them in confusion back upon Indikee. Their rifle-fire was well sustained and very rapid, but badly directed and not under control, and our men passed safely upwards with the storm of bullets rushing far above their heads. There was no counter-attack made, although we had practically no supports to fall back upon, and any rush would have involved the brigade in a very awkward position. On the road leading to the Sang-i-Nawishta tangi the enemy had twenty-six or thirty guns opposed to our single battery (G-3), and yet our artillery held its own with ease, and succeeded in dismounting some of their Armstrong breech-loaders. Their leaders had shown great patience and skill in placing their guns on commanding points, but the gunners were firing almost at random, as their training was of a superficial kind. Had the ranges been marked out, as at Ali Musjid, they would have done better; but our rapid advance destroyed what little confidence they might have felt in their own weapons.

Again, on October 8th, they were bold enough to engage in an artillery duel, and from Asmai answered our guns on the Sherderwaza, shot for shot. But not a man was wounded by their fire, although round-shot, shrapnel and common shell were all tried by their leaders. From this moment the Afghan army ceased to exist as a real body, yet in the actions which afterwards took place we had always fiercer fighting and much greater determination shown on the part of the adversary. The sepoys and sowars dispersed to their homes, carrying their arms and ammunition with them, but sinking their drill and discipline and looking upon themselves as once more tribesmen, but better armed than in the days when they had only matchlocks and jhezails as firearms. The rising in December was not a reorganization of the army, but a gathering of all the fighting-men from Ghazni to Charikar in answer to the appeal of the moollahs to their fanaticism. The short-lived success which followed was due chiefly to the leading of the ghazis, who knew no more of generalship or discipline than our own dhoolie-bearers. Occasionally we saw some sort of marshalling going on in the leading lines, in which the best-armed men were placed, but this was due more to the desire on the part of the leaders to make the most of their strength than to any idea of forming the mob into battalions. Mahomed Jan and Mushk-i-Alam trusted to numbers and to fanaticism, not to discipline, to win their battles, and their trust was fully justified. The losses they suffered were proportionately small. Our artillery could never be concentrated on a particular regiment or squadron, but had to be directed upon men in small scattered groups, or on a line extending for many miles across the country. Again, when the unsuccessful attack upon Sherpur was made, the retreat or rather dispersion of the 50,000 men was so rapid, owing to no regular army being with them, that we were powerless to overtake the fugitives; they had spread themselves broadcast over the country, hidden their arms, and had once more begun to play the part of an innocent peasantry.

The reason for the signal failure of Shere Ali’s system is to be found, as I have said, chiefly in the want of skilled leaders, more particularly of regiments; but there is a further explanation, and one which makes intelligible the comparatively slight losses we suffered when our troops were greatly outnumbered. In our own army, even with all the trouble and care devoted to instructing the men in the principles of musketry, the rifle-fire is deplorably bad; thousands of rounds are expended with very poor results, and company officers grow despondent when volley after volley is fired and no impression is made upon the enemy. If this be the case with our well-disciplined troops, it may be readily believed that Afghan sepoys are far worse. I learned from one of them in Cabul that although Enfields and Sniders were served out, each man only received three rounds of ammunition per year with which to gain a knowledge of his weapon, and that consequently they knew practically nothing of the capabilities of their rifles. They felt that at close quarters they might possibly hit their man, but at longer ranges they could not hope to shoot well. Their natural steadiness of hand and perfect eyesight, of course, served them in good stead; but position drill, the manipulation and sighting of the rifle, were generally a mystery to them. This was the cause of defeat when opposed to our regiments, though holding positions, such as the Peiwar and Charasia hills, which were capable of grand defence. For a time they fired rapidly and resolutely, but seeing no effect produced, and our skirmishing line always moving forward, they lost heart and abandoned position after position, until they had at last to make a hasty retreat. Again, with the artillery: to each gun issued from the Bala Hissar Arsenal one cartridge was served out, and when this had been fired and the gun had stood the test, no further practice was allowed. Could the gunners hope to attain proficiency under such conditions? This economy of ammunition was doubtless due to the difficulties of manufacture and the necessity of husbanding cartridges; but it was a short-sighted policy, and one which an Amir at all versed in the art of warfare would never have adopted.

If the time should ever arrive when Afghanistan becomes a protected State under the guidance of the Indian Government, and the people should recognize the advantages to be gained by an alliance with the British, the best plan would be, not to create a regular army, but to turn the population into a huge militia. The peasantry would not object to annual trainings, and if the principle were adopted of issuing breech-loaders only, instructing the men in their use and allowing them a fairly large number of rounds to be fired under the eye of their officers, and not to be retained under any circumstances, a splendid contingent could be formed. The men might retain their rifles, but the reserve ammunition should be stored in such a way that they could not gain access to it. In time of war they would assemble with rifles in their hands, but with empty ammunition pouches; and upon the discretion of our officers would depend the number of rounds to be served out to them. The mercenary army we have raised in India owes its strength to the system of class regiments, and Afghanistan could be similarly dealt with. No combination between Pathans and Hazaras would ever take place, and with the latter kept fully armed and equipped doing garrison duty, the militia could be called out as a Landwehr when occasion arose. These ideas may of course seem to some Quixotic, but perhaps before another generation has passed away they may be realized. If the French can reconcile Arabs to serve in the Algerian army, there should be but little difficulty in creating, hereafter, an Afghan militia—always provided that our influence is supreme in the country, and the kingdom enjoying the benefits of our administration.

When the irregular levies come to be considered, we are bound to admit at once that the fanaticism which animates many of their number often makes them formidable enemies. Their ghazis make splendid leaders in an attack. The word “ghazi” has come to mean in Western eyes something very different from its legitimate signification. It originally meant a conqueror, or great hero, and in this sense it is used in modern Turkey. Osman Pasha was dubbed “Ghazi” when his splendid resistance to the Russians saved for a time the fate of his country; and the title is one held in the highest respect by Mahomedans. From “conqueror” the meaning has passed into lower grades, one of the commonest being “a gallant soldier” (especially combating infidels); and at last, in the common course of events, it has been appropriated in the all-comprehensive vocabulary of the English language with a distinct and localized meaning. To us, now, a ghazi is simply a man upon whom fanaticism has had so powerful an effect that all physical fear of death is swamped in his desire to take the life of a Kafir, and, with his soul purified by the blood of the unbeliever, to be translated at once to Paradise. A true ghazi counts no odds too great to face, no danger too menacing to be braved: the certainty of death only adds to his exaltation; and, as in the case of other madmen, desperation and insensibility to consequences add enormously to his muscular powers and endurance. To kill such a man is sometimes so difficult a task at close quarters, that our men have learned to respect their peculiar mode of fighting, and a rifle-bullet at a fair distance checks the ghazi’s course before he can close upon his assailants with the terribly sharp knife he knows so well how to use. If every Afghan were a ghazi, as I once said during the siege of Sherpur, our defences would have been carried, and enormous slaughter would have followed on both sides; but ghazis are few and far between, though a spurious imitation is not uncommon. This imitation is often taken for the real article, whereas bhang or some other stimulant is the motive power, and not desperate fanaticism. The misuse of the word “ghazi” is strikingly seen in the accounts of the last war forty years ago. We are told of bands of ghazis, many thousands strong, harassing the retreating army and cutting off stragglers; and these ghazis are always spoken of as being quite out of the control of Akhbar Khan. If they had been true ghazis they would have made short work of our little army long before it reached the Khurd Cabul. Their fanaticism would have carried them into the midst of the soldiers; for what resistance can be made to madmen who desire death, and have thrown all thoughts of retreat to the winds? Only a few weeks after the dispersion of Mahomed Jan’s army from before Sherpur, absurd alarmist telegrams were circulated in India and England of a gathering of 20,000 ghazis on the Ghazni Road, only fifty miles from Cabul, and another disaster was foretold by every croaker, who found as much comfort in the awful word “ghazi” as did the old woman in many-syllabled Mesopotamia. If that number of ghazis had been within fifty miles of us, we might, indeed, have had our work cut out for us; but not in the whole of Afghanistan could so many be found. It is not given to every man to rise to such a pitch of religious exaltation, and fortunate for an “infidel” army it is not. To see how thousands of ghazis are always being spoken of, one would imagine they were a powerful clan, similar to the Ghilzais, Kohistanis, or Afridis. Just as the shining light of a missionary meeting at home described “zenana missions” as being missions sent to “Zenana, a district of Northern India, fruitful and densely-populated, but with its wretched inhabitants steeped in heathen ignorance,” so do sensation-mongers dress out these ghazis as a distinct section of Pathans, who gather together in their thousands whenever there is an appeal to arms. To them it would seem as easy to collect ghazis as to gather grapes—and certainly the two products are noteworthy enough in this sterile country—but practical acquaintance with the form fanaticism assumes about Cabul shows only too clearly that out of a crowd of 50,000 armed fanatics, such as lately held Cabul, not one in a hundred rises to the supreme rank of a ghazi. They are not born and bred to the vocation: chance makes them what they are, and our men know that a stray spark of enthusiasm may kindle their fanaticism and send them into our midst. The ghazi in Afghanistan, his true abode, answers to the assassin in Western countries, where enthusiasm in religious or political matters arouses him to shoot a priest at the altar, or stab a king in his palace. How the ghazi, the “conqueror of death,” as he deserves to be called, rises into being may be told with sufficient local colouring to make the story more than commonplace.

An infidel army is in occupation of the country, and under the outward cloak of sudden submission is hidden deep hatred of the intruders on account of race and religion. In every village and hamlet the men listen eagerly to the preaching of the moollahs, who stir up their passions by lying stories of the coming time when their religion will be insulted and their zenanas violated by the Kafirs. The appeal is made first to the two objects most precious in the eyes of an Afghan or of any other Mahomedan—his faith and his women. When passions have been deeply enough stirred, the moollah warms to his work. A Koran, wrapped and rewrapped in silks, and carefully protected from defiling influences, is drawn from the priest’s breast, and every passage imposing upon true Mahomedans the duty of destroying all unbelievers is quoted with vehement eloquence. The moollah is to these ignorant peasants the link between this world and the next; in him they place all trust; and as they listen to his fierce harangues, they are ready to do all that he requires of them. He is vested with mysterious attributes, rising occasionally to miracle-working; and with quiet assurance he promises that, if they attack the infidels “in the proper spirit and in full faith,” bullets shall turn harmlessly aside, bayonets shall not pierce them, and their poshteens thrown over the cannon’s mouth shall check shot and shell. The priesthood in all ages have traded upon the credulity of the people, and have abused their power without qualms of conscience to obtain their ends. Is it any more wonderful that an Afghan tribesman, shut out from the wonders of the outer world, should believe the clap-trap of his priest, than that highly-cultured scholars in the full glare of civilization should accept the dogmas of Papal Infallibility, or a crowd of devotees watch with awe-stricken faces the liquefaction, periodically, of the blood of a saint dead and gone ages ago? Yet such things have been in modern Europe, and the world has forgotten to smile. The moollah is merely a clever trickster in his own sphere, though, like many other priests, he comes often to believe in his own supernatural powers, and then sinks to the level of his followers. And the ghazi is the creature of the moollah. The latter’s eloquence is listened to by some more than usually susceptible villager, whose enthusiasm is aroused to fever heat by a glowing story of a ghazi, who went into the infidel camp, cut down two or three Kafirs, and died the death of a martyr, his soul going straight to the laps of the houris, and his name living for ever among his kindred. Shall he not emulate such a glorious example, so that his children and his children’s children may hand down his name to all generations as a Ghazi Allah-din—a “Champion of the Faith?” The moollah’s preaching has had its effect, and a ghazi has been called into being. If a great jehad is being preached, that man will always be in the forefront of the battle, and will probably carry the standard of his clan, blessed by the moollah who has aroused the tribesmen. The fiery cross, which was sped from end to end of the Scottish Highlands in the old days, when the call to arms was made, was no more powerful than is the Koran now, carried from village to village by the moollah of Afghanistan. But a few weeks ago the arch-moollah, Mushk-i-Alam, sent out his message from Charkh, and how well it was responded to we are living witnesses. With ghazis in their midst to lead the timorous, and moollahs always at hand to fan their fanaticism, Mahomed Jan’s rabble did wonders. How the ghazis acquitted themselves our men well know—many poor fellows to their cost.

In the action in the Chardeh Valley the standard-bearers rushed on even when our cavalry charged, and no more reckless rush was ever made. Many went down, but about them were others equal in desperation. A trooper of the 9th transfixed a man with his lance: the ghazi wriggled up like an eel, grasped the lance with his left hand, and, with one stroke of the knife, cut through the lancer’s hand and the tough shaft as[as] it had been of tinder. This is not romancing: the trooper is still living, but minus the fingers of his right hand. On the 13th December, when the 92nd Highlanders stormed the Takht-i-Shah Peak, isolated bands of ghazis stood to their posts when their comrades were in full retreat, and were shot and bayoneted in desperate hand-to-hand encounters. On the 14th the ghazis were so prominent that Mahomed Jan owed all his success to their daring leadership up the Asmai Heights, although many a white-clothed figure went down before that success was gained. In the early part of the day the last sungar on the Asmai Heights was held by a score of these fanatics when all else had fled. The banners were planted on the rude stone walls; and when Colonel Brownlow and the Highlanders made the final rush, the scene was an exciting one. What could be finer than the desperate leap out of the sungar by the ghazi who attacked Lance-Corporal Seller, our first man forward? Nothing but fanatical madness could have drawn a man from the temporary shelter of the sungar while there was still a chance of escape down the hill; the ghazi fulfilled his kismut; so let us hope all is well with him. Then, when the enemy streamed out from Indikee into the Chardeh Valley, and came straight upon the hills held by our troops, their standard-bearers, chiefly ghazis, were well in front, and the rush upwards was led by these men, who at times were 100 yards in front of the main body. When our men were forced back from the conical hill, the ghazis were the first to crown the rocks; and the splendid way in which they planted their standards on the Asmai Heights as the Highlanders and Guides were withdrawn was worthy of all respect. The steady volleys of Colonel Brownlow’s men kept back the main body; but yard by yard, as our soldiers fell back, flags were pushed up from behind protecting rocks, their bearers being at times within fifty paces of our rifles. With such leaders, even cowards must have rushed on, and it must have been a proud moment for the ghazis when they held the crest of the hill, and watched our troops slowly filing off into Sherpur.

They played the same prominent part during the siege, but they were ill-supported, and though a few succeeded once in placing a flag within 250 yards of the corner bastion looking towards Deh-i-Afghan, not a man remained, when night fell, to remove their cherished trophy: our Martinis had proved too fatal at so short a range. In the final assault on December 23rd the fanatical leaders were again in the van; and if they had been followed by the thousands who hung back so irresolutely, then there might have been a hand-to-hand fight in our trenches. In isolated instances, a ghazi would be seen within a few score yards of our defences, only to go down riddled through and through, though one more desperate than his companions reached the abattis, and had begun to pull away the intercepting branches, when he also was shot. To quote more instances of the audacity of the ghazi would be useless. I have said enough to prove his recklessness, and to show that, with an army of such men against us, even our splendid arms and steady discipline might avail nothing. But the true ghazi is a phenomenon—he at least deserves the scientific and sonorous title—and even Afghan fanaticism cannot bring forth many, however great may be the eloquence of the moollahs. Of the more despicable ghazi—the man who runs amuck in an infidel camp or waylays a Kafir in the streets of a city—I have nothing to say. Cabul has been free from such pests, and we do not wish to hear the cry of “ghazi!” raised. The fanatic generally takes so much killing that our revolver ammunition would run short were he to put in an appearance periodically.