On the 27th of June, our camp was struck, and the Cavalry division, with the 1st Brigade of Infantry and head-quarters, preceded.
Next day, came the second Brigade, Shah Soojah and his motley procession, which swelled daily in numbers, with hordes of Afghans, who came to join the Shah and tender their allegiance (as they affirmed), but in reality, no doubt, to watch the progress of events: to remain faithful in case of success, or plunder in case of a reverse.
The Bombay division of Infantry, under Brigadier Willshire, brought up the rear. One regiment of Bengal Native Infantry and the heavy guns were left at Kandahar.
Most of our officers were on the sick list, and on the remainder the duty was severe, consisting principally of guards to protect the baggage, and pickets. The outlying cavalry picket was ordered, by the commander-in-chief, to take post four miles in advance, where, of course, no baggage was allowed, nor even a groom (strictly speaking) to hold your charger. This picket was posted at nightfall, with orders to fall back on the main picket, in case of feeling an enemy. The main picket was usually posted about a mile from camp, consisting of a squadron of cavalry, four companies of infantry, and two six-pounders, from whence a chain of pickets communicated along the front and round the flanks of the army, whence patrols from the rear-guards completed the circuit.
The third day's march brought us to the Turnuk river, which is a clear and shallow mountain stream, running through a valley sown abundantly with barley and Indian corn. The water was excellent, and supplies for our cattle were daily procurable; but numbers continued to die, unable to overcome the debility ensuing from previous overwork and starvation.
The natives of the valley were peaceable agriculturists, who came constantly into our camp, bringing for sale corn, eggs, fowls, and fruit; but the mountains which flanked our march, at a short distance, were amply stocked with marauders. The sickness under which the army had long suffered now began to abate, or at least, to assume a less virulent character; but the appearance of the sufferers was materially altered. Those of previously stout and portly figures were seen walking about in clothes once fitting closely, but now hanging down like empty pudding-bags; and faces, whose rubicundity once emulated the richest hues of Chateau Margaux, now wore a puckered-up, gamboge aspect, which made sympathy no easy matter with those who were prone to laughter.
Many who had never much flesh to spare, were reduced to varieties of angular shapes, which might have been useful to a mathematician when studiously inclined, on the line of march. Such had been the devastating effects of dysentery and fever on most of the community.
The zealous and able managers of the intelligence department had prophesied that we should probably be seriously molested by the tenants of a strong fort in the Ghilzie country, seven marches from Kandahar, called Khelat-i-Ghilzie.
A bribe had been sent to the two principal chiefs of the Ghilzies,[29] accompanied by a letter from Shah Soojah, desiring their assistance. The money was retained, and an insulting answer of defiance returned.
On approaching Khelat-i-Ghilzie, the adjutant-general of cavalry was sent, with a small escort, to reconnoitre the place.