One hundred and forty miles south of Chitral, as the crow flies, is the border city of Peshawar, standing like a sentinel on the north-western frontier of India. It is, indeed, the guardian of the gate, for before it winds westward the famous Khyber Pass, which links Afghanistan with our great Eastern Empire.
Peshawar stands almost in the heart of the Afridi country, surrounded with the hill tribes of Mohmunds, Swats, Buners, Khels, Afridis and Orakzais. Fierce warlike races are these, with whom from the beginning of things we have had trouble. At one time we thought we had tamed them, and we gave them the rifles they had hitherto stolen, put them into khaki, and made them wardens of the passes. But the wild tribesmen cannot live without fighting; disputes over boundaries arose, and these eventually culminated in a rising that threatened to weaken our grip on these frontier posts. Whence came the Malakand, Swat, and Tirah campaigns of 1897-98.
When in 1897 Sir William Lockhart, Commander-in-Chief in India, moved towards the rebellious tribes with an army numbering 35,000 men, it was evident that there was a powerful combination between the Mohammedan clans in the hills north, west, and south of Peshawar, against British rule. It was, in a sense, a Holy War, with Mad Mullahs as instigators, though behind them was the sinister influence of the Amir of Afghanistan.
The campaigns were comparatively brief, but they must ever rank as among the most difficult in modern history. The fighting was never in the open. Our soldiers—Highlanders, Dorsets, and Ghurkas alike—had to scale precipitous cliffs, worm their way up tortuous hillside paths, and storm the stone “sangars” behind which their enemies were strongly posted.
In the tangle of hills in which the engagements took place the agile Afridis and their brother-clansmen were perfectly at home. Rocks, caves, and bushes afforded them ample shelter, and from the heights that lined the passes they poured a deadly fire upon the British troops. The work of dislodging them, of driving them from their strongholds, taxed the powers of our men to the utmost.
Of the several V.C.’s won in this arduous mountain warfare the first fell to Lieutenant Edward Costello, of the Indian Staff Corps, for a gallant rescue of a native lance-havildar at Malakand. The wounded havildar lay out in the open, exposed to the enemy’s fire, when the lieutenant saw him, on a piece of ground, too, that was overrun with swordsmen. But the young officer with a couple of sepoys ran out to his assistance, and brought him into the hospital.
A month later, in the Swat valley beyond the Malakand Pass, three Crosses were earned for a very brilliant action. At Landikai, on August 17th, 1897, the advance guard of Sir Bindon Blood’s brigade shelled the enemy from their position and drove them out into the plain. Across this the Swatis retreated at top speed, making for the shelter of the hills on the other side.
In pursuit of the flying tribesmen went Colonel Robert Bellew Adams, Captain Palmer, Lieutenant Greaves, and Viscount Fincastle, the latter being present in the capacity of Times correspondent. Palmer’s horse was soon hit, its rider being saved by some of his men who galloped after him. Greaves’ horse, becoming restive under the din of the firing, suddenly bolted, and away went the lieutenant careering among the enemy.
Seeing him alone among the Swatis, Colonel Adams and Viscount Fincastle spurred hastily to his rescue, but before they could reach him the hapless lieutenant had been struck down by a swordsman. In the hope that he was not killed they pushed on, and with a furious charge swept the ground clear around his body.
A well-aimed shot now brought down Fincastle’s horse, leaving the young war-correspondent to meet his enemies on foot. He at once endeavoured to raise Greaves on to Adams’ saddle, but the wounded man slipped off again, and a rush of Ghazis prevented a second attempt for the time. Standing over the lieutenant’s body, Fincastle bravely kept the enemy at bay, being well aided by Colonel Adams. Then two sowars rode up to them, and another attempt was made to lift Greaves to the saddle. They succeeded in their object, but another bullet hit the poor fellow again as they raised him and killed him.