During the march and during his stay in the camp he had had an opportunity of closely observing the British system of campaigning. But he took good care not to mention it to the English officers, for they were not very favourable conclusions at which he had arrived. He had gained the impression that the troops were neither well led, nor displayed any special knowledge of campaigning. The men both in bivouac and in camp were often in want, and, indeed, frequently suffered real distress, because the necessary material was not always at hand, and their food was not regularly supplied; the greatest confusion reigned in the commissariat department.
Not alone there, but also in the tactical units serious confusion was everywhere apparent, in consequence of the unpractical and heterogeneous composition of the detachments. First of all, the regiments which were to make up the army corps in Peshawar and Quetta were all jumbled up together, because as soon as ever they appeared to be ready to march, they were separately taken away from their garrisons and placed upon the railway. Concentration upon Mooltan and the hurried march to Lahore had resulted in downright inextricable confusion.
Heideck found himself in the middle of an army which had never engaged in a great war and certainly never in one against regular troops. It is true that the English were accustomed to fighting, for they had been constantly obliged to measure themselves with barbarous and semibarbarous peoples. They had made expensive expeditions and gained dearly purchased victories; but it was always the undisciplined, dark-skinned, and black hordes with whom they had had to deal. The experiences of the Boer War had not entered into the flesh and blood of the troops. The personal bravery of the individual had almost always been regarded as the main thing, and it was easy to understand why all the officers should be puffed up with vanity. They looked down with contempt upon all foreigners, because they had, as a matter of fact, almost always gained their victories over superior numbers.
Heideck noticed with astonishment that the tactical rules and instructions in the British army were still often at variance with modern armament, particularly in the case of the infantry; volley firing was habitually employed as the general way of engaging the enemy. The men were drilled at the word of command to open and keep up a steady even fire and then in close ranks to rush with the bayonet on the enemy. This powerful nation was, in fact, too listless to utilise the most modern experiences of the science of war: proud Albion blindly believed everything English to be good and despised everything new and foreign. Or did the English perhaps only avoid advancing in loose order in action because they were afraid that they would otherwise not be able to control their Indian soldiers?
The environs of Lahore, particularly to the north of the city between the wall and the camp, presented a very lively scene. The innumerable camels which had served as baggage animals and formed the major portion of the transports afforded a very peculiar spectacle. They were either lying on the ground closely packed together or solemnly paced along, while the shrill yells of the drivers filled the air. Moreover, there was here congregated a huge crowd of men belonging to the army in one or other capacity without being combatants, and the eye fond of picturesque impressions could feast with delight on the gay, ever-changing kaleidoscopic effects of the wide plain; while the distant scenery was also interesting enough in itself. Between the widely scattered villages and suburbs of the city, which contained 180,000 inhabitants, beautiful parks and gardens shone in fresh green foliage, mostly surrounding the burial-place of a sultan or a famous Mohammedan saint. Towards the south-east there stretched away the great encampments of the cavalry and artillery in which were included many elephant batteries.
The city itself was choked full of military and the families of the officers. Almost all the women and children of the garrisons lying to the north-west of Lahore had fled here at the advance of the troops. Mrs. Baird, too, with her two little daughters and Mrs. Irwin were also in the city, where they were lodged in the Charing Cross Hotel. Although the city was packed to a most alarming degree and the military situation was decidedly critical, Heideck did not anywhere observe any particular excitement.
The English preserved their peculiarly calm demeanour, and the natives kept silence out of fear: upon the latter the fully unexpected and incomprehensible change in the situation had probably had a certain bewildering effect.
When Heideck, shortly before sunset, went from the camp to the city to visit the ladies, he only became more firmly convinced, as he passed through the surging crowd outside the walls, that the position of the army had been very badly selected. Far too large a number of men and animals had been crowded within a comparatively small space. If Russian shrapnel were to fall among this dense mass a terrible panic was inevitable. The proximity of the fortified city was sure to induce the soldiers to take refuge behind its walls. Heideck had hitherto not gained the impression that resolute courage was to be expected of the native soldiers. In the street which led from the Shalimar Park to the railway station in the suburb of Naulakha, Heideck had constantly to go out of his way to allow the long columns of heavily laden camels and ox-waggons which came towards him to pass, and he therefore took nearly two hours to reach his goal. The Charing Cross Hotel was full up to the attics, and the two ladies had, with the children, to be content with a small room on the third floor which had been let to them at an enormous price.
Mrs. Baird, a lady of small, delicate build, but of energetic spirits and genuine English pride, appeared perfectly collected and confident. She did not utter a single word about her own evidently very uncomfortable position and of the privations which, under the existing circumstances, her children had to suffer, but only about the victory of the British arms, that she was convinced would immediately take place. The march from Mooltan to Lahore was, in her eyes, an advance, and she did not entertain the smallest doubt that the Russian insolence would in a short time meet with terrible chastisement.
“It is terrible to think,” she said to Heideck, “that a nation that calls itself Christian should dare attack us in India. What was this unhappy land before we took pity on it? England has freed it from the hands of barbarous despots and brought it happiness! The Indian cities have grown in prosperity because our laws have paved the way for free development of commerce and intercourse. It is in the highest sense of the word a mission of civilisation that our nation has here fulfilled. If Heaven gives Russia the victory, this now so happy land will be hurled back into the blackness of barbarism.” She appeared to wait for a word of assent from Mrs. Irwin, but the latter sat in serious silence.