Forty-one years in India: from subaltern to commander-in-chief

by Earl Frederick Sleigh Roberts Roberts

In all, a little more than 1,000 men with 5 guns.

At 10 p.m. on Sunday, the 1st December, the little column fell in, in absolute silence, and began its hazardous march. Tents were left standing and camp-fires burning; and so noiselessly were orders carried out that our departure remained unsuspected even by those of our own people who were left in camp.

The track (for there was no road) led for two miles due east, and then, turning sharp to the north, entered a wide gorge and ran along the bed of a mountain stream. The moonlight lit up the cliffs on the eastern side of the ravine, but made the darkness only the more dense in the shadow of the steep hills on the west, underneath which our path lay, over piles of stones and heaps of glacier débris. A bitterly cold wind rushed down the gorge, extremely trying to all, lightly clad as we were in anticipation of the climb before us. Onward and upwards we slowly toiled, stumbling over great boulders of rock, dropping into old water-channels, splashing through icy streams, and halting frequently to allow the troops in the rear to close up.

In spite of the danger incurred, I was obliged every now and then to strike a match and look at my watch to see how the time was going. I had calculated that, by starting as early as ten o'clock, there would be an hour or two to spare for rest. The distance, however, proved rather greater than was expected and the road much rougher, but these facts were, to my mind, not sufficient to account for the slowness of our progress, and I proceeded to the head of the column, anxious to discover the true cause of the delay.

I had chosen the 29th Punjab Infantry to lead the way, on account of the high reputation of Colonel John Gordon, who commanded it, and because of the excellent character the regiment had always borne; but on overtaking it my suspicions were excited by the unnecessarily straggling manner in which the men were marching, and to which I called Gordon's attention. No sooner had I done so than a shot was fired from one of the Pathan companies, followed in a few seconds by another. The Sikh companies of the regiment immediately closed up, and Gordon's Sikh orderly whispered in his ear that there was treachery amongst the Pathans.

It was a moment of intense anxiety, for it was impossible to tell how far we were from the Spingawi Kotal, or whether the shots could be heard by the enemy; it was equally impossible to discover by whom the shots had been fired without delaying the advance, and this I was loath to risk. So, grieved though I was to take any steps likely to discredit a regiment with such admirable traditions, I decided to change the order of the march by bringing one company of the 72nd Highlanders and the 5th Gurkhas to the front, and I warned Lieutenant-Colonel Brownlow, in command of the 72nd, to keep a watch over the Pathans with his three remaining companies, for I felt that our enterprise had already been sufficiently imperilled by the Pathans, and that hesitation would be culpable; for, unless we could reach the kotal while our approach was still concealed by the darkness, the turning movement would in all probability end in disaster.

On the Gurkhas coming up, I told Major Fitz-Hugh, who commanded them, that the moment he reached the foot of the kotal, he must front form company, fix bayonets, and charge up the slope without waiting for further orders.

A Night Attack Soon afterwards, and just as the first streak of dawn proclaimed the approach of day, the enemy became aware of our presence, and fired into us, when instantly I heard Fitz-Hugh give the word to charge. Brownlow, at the head of his Highlanders, dashed forward in support, and two guns of the Mountain battery coming up at the moment, I ordered its Commandant, Captain Kelso, to come into action as soon as he could find a position.

I was struck by the smile of satisfied pride and pleasure with which he received the order. He was delighted, no doubt, that the opportunity had arrived to prove what the battery—to perfect which he had spared neither time nor labour—could do; but it was the last time that gallant soldier smiled, for a few seconds later he was shot dead.

The Gurkhas, forgetting their fatigue, rapidly climbed the steep side of the mountain, and, swarming into the first entrenchment, quickly cleared it of the enemy; then, guided by the flashes of the Afghan rifles, they pressed on, and, being joined by the leading company of the 72nd, took possession of a second and larger entrenchment 200 yards higher up. Without a perceptible pause, the Highlanders and Gurkhas together rushed a third position, the most important of all, as it commanded the head of the pass.