An Attack on our Camp Heavy firing was now heard in the direction of our camp, and I hurried back, taking with me a troop of the 5th Punjab Cavalry. I found that during my absence Drew had been attacked on two sides; he had been able to prevent the enemy from coming to close quarters, but they were still hovering about at no great distance, and I thought it advisable to clear them away by moving out against them with all the troops at my disposal. As we approached, they disappeared with their usual rapidity; the 5th Punjab Cavalry, however, got in amongst some of them, and we returned to camp with 100 prisoners, 500 head of cattle, some sheep, and a large quantity of grain.
The tribesmen, however, had not been sufficiently punished to prevent a repetition of the attack, probably with largely increased numbers; so I ordered the destruction of the hamlets nearest us, in which they had been sheltered and some of our camp followers had been murdered.
The next night a most unfortunate occurrence took place, resulting in the death of six of our prisoners; but it was just one of those things which could hardly have been foreseen or guarded against, and for which, however lamentable, no one was to blame. The headmen of the particular Waziri tribe to which the captives belonged had been summoned during the day, and told that the men would be released on payment of a sum of fifty rupees each. The money was paid down at once for a certain number, who were immediately set free; but there was not quite enough for all, and the headmen went off to procure what was required for the ransom of the remainder. Soon after dark, however, some of the [enemy][5] were discovered creeping up the banks of a nulla at the back of the camp, where the unransomed men were detained under a guard; the nearest sentry instantly fired, and the piquets all round took up the firing, thinking that another attack on the camp had commenced. At the sound of the first shot the prisoners all jumped to their feet, and calling to each other to escape, attempted to seize the rifles belonging to the guard, upon which the Native officer in command (a Pathan like themselves) told them that if they persisted in trying to escape, they would be shot. His words had no effect, and to prevent his men being overpowered, he gave the order to fire. Six of the prisoners were killed and thirteen wounded. It was a most regrettable affair, but a Court of Inquiry decided that the Native officer had no option, and completely exonerated the guard from acting with undue severity. The wounded were, of course, taken to our hospital, and well cared for by our [Doctors].[6]
The remainder of our sojourn in Khost was not marked by any incident of particular interest. We marched to the end of the valley, and made a careful survey of it and of the surrounding hills.
An Unsuccessful Experiment The instructions I received with regard to Khost were, to occupy the valley and dislodge the Afghan administration therefrom. To my great chagrin, the smallness of my force made it impossible for me to give effect to these instructions as I could have wished. To have remained in Khost under the circumstances would have been to court disaster; the numbers of the enemy were daily increasing, and it would have been impossible to hold our own. It was, however, of great importance, if practicable, to retain some control over the valley, a peculiarly productive district, which, if left alone by us, I feared would become a centre of dangerous intrigue against any settled government in Kuram. Accordingly I determined to try how placing Khost in charge of one of our own Native officials would answer, and I selected for the position Shahzada Sultan Jan, a Saddozai gentleman of good birth, and a Sunni Mahomedan in religion, who, I thought, would be a persona grata to the Khostwals, and, if supported by some Native levies, and associated in his administrative duties with the chief maliks of Khost, would be more likely to hold his own than anyone else I could place there. This was, however, a mere experiment, and I did not disguise from myself that its success was very doubtful; but it was the only way in which I could attempt to carry out the orders of Government, my hands being so completely tied by paucity of troops. I had no fear for the Shahzada's personal safety, and I felt that, if in the end I should be obliged to abandon Khost altogether for the present, it could later, if necessary, be easily re-occupied with a somewhat larger force.
Having decided on the course to be adopted, I held a durbar, which was numerously attended, and addressed the people of Khost in much the same way I had spoken to the Turis in Kuram, expressing a hope that they would support the Shahzada's authority until a more permanent form of government could be established.
On the 27th January we left Khost and made one march; the next day I halted, so as to be near the Shahzada in case of need. The intelligence brought to me that evening satisfied me that my experiment would not answer, and that without troops (which I could not spare) to support the newly-established authority at first starting off, we could not hope to maintain any hold over the country; for though the Khostwals themselves were perfectly content with the arrangements I had made, they could not resist the tribesmen, who directly our backs were turned began to show their teeth. Accordingly, I decided to bring the Shahzada away while I could do so without trouble. I marched back to Matun the next morning with 1,000 men (Cavalry and Infantry) and four Mountain guns. We found Sultan Jan in anything but a happy frame of mind, and quite ready to come away. So having formally made the place over to the maliks, we started on our return journey. As we departed, a collection of our tribal enemies (about 3,000) who had been watching the proceedings took the opportunity to attack us; but two weak squadrons of Cavalry, skilfully handled by Hugh Gough, kept them in check, and we reached camp without further molestation.
The next day, the last of January, we returned to Hazir Pir in Kuram. There I received a visit from Sirdar Wali Mahomed Khan, brother of Sher Ali, who was accompanied by several leading men of the Logar valley, some of whom were of great assistance to me a few months later. Wali Mahomed was a man of about fifty years of age; he had a pleasing countenance, of the same Jewish type as the majority of the Afghan nation, but he had a weak face and was evidently wanting in character. He told me that he had fled from Kabul to escape the vengeance of his nephew, Yakub Khan, who attributed his long imprisonment by his father to the Sirdar's influence. Sir Samuel Browne and Major Cavagnari, on the Khyber line, were conducting all political negotiations with the Afghans, so I passed Wali Mahomed Khan on to them.
An Unpleasant incident During the month of February my time was chiefly employed in inspecting the roads and the defensive posts which my talented and indefatigable Chief Engineer was constructing, examining the arrangements for housing the troops, and looking after the transport animals and Commissariat depots. No more military demonstrations were necessary, for the people were quietly settling down under British rule. Convoys were no longer molested nor telegraph wires cut; but I had one rather unpleasant incident with regard to a war Correspondent, which, until the true facts of the case were understood, brought me into disrepute with one of the leading London newspapers, the representative of which I felt myself compelled to dismiss from the Kuram Field Force.
Judging from his telegrams, which he brought to me to sign, the nerves of the Correspondent in question must have been somewhat shaken by the few and very distant shots fired at us on the 28th November. These telegrams being in many instances absolutely incorrect and of the most alarming nature, were of course not allowed to be despatched until they had been revised in accordance with truth; but one, evidently altered and added to after I had countersigned it, was brought to me by the telegraph master. I sent for the Correspondent, who confessed to having made the alterations, not apparently realizing that he had done anything at all reprehensible, but he promised that he would never do such a thing again. This promise was not kept; telegrams appeared in his paper which I had not seen before despatch, and which were most misleading to the British public. Moreover, his letters, over which I could have no control, and which I heard of for the first time when the copies of his paper arrived in Kuram, were most subversive of the truth. It was on the receipt of these letters that I felt it to be my duty to send the too imaginative author to the rear.