The Story of the Guides

by G. J. Younghusband

For the Guides the great tragedy of 1857 opened with the mutiny of the 55th Native Infantry. When this regiment first showed signs of insubordination it was quartered at the neighbouring cantonment of Nowshera, then slenderly garrisoned by British troops, but with many European women and children. For safety's sake it was therefore thought better to isolate the regiment by sending it over to Mardan. With the news of the outbreak at Meerut the demeanour of the regiment became more sullen and menacing, and it was accordingly decided at once to disarm the sepoys. For this purpose a column was sent from Peshawur, consisting of a wing of the 70th Foot, a portion of the 5th Punjab Infantry under Vaughan, two hundred and fifty sabres of the 10th Irregular Cavalry, and some Mounted Police; the whole under Colonel Chute of the 70th Foot, with John Nicholson as political officer.

The 55th Native Infantry had been warned that the column was coming, and when, from the walls of the fort, they saw it approaching, they broke and fled, taking the Kātlung road, thus hoping to escape across the border into Swat and Buner. Nicholson with the cavalry and mounted police immediately started in pursuit. The cavalry, themselves disaffected, did no execution whatever; but the police behaved with great dash and gallantry, killing one hundred and twenty, and capturing one hundred and fifty of the mutineers. The remainder escaped across the border, but their fate was only postponed. Some were murdered by the tribesmen, some driven back into British territory, captured and hanged, and some were blown from guns before the eyes of the garrison of Peshawur. Of the whole regiment all were destroyed except a few scores who escaped the gallows and the guns to suffer transportation for life. Such was the terrible ending of the 55th Native Infantry; a signal and, as it proved, a most effective warning, the results of which were felt over the whole of the north-west corner of India.

A distressing and pathetic tragedy resulted from the mutiny of this regiment. Colonel Henry Spottiswoode who commanded it, like so many other officers, absolutely refused to believe in the disloyalty of his men. He was one of those who held the view that distrust bred disaffection, which with confidence would never appear. So deeply distressed was this chivalrous officer when his regiment rebelled, that he refused to outlive what to him was an indelible disgrace, and so, going apart, shot himself dead. According to an old soldier, then in the Guides, he fell and was buried under a great mulberry tree at the cross-roads near the fort.

Meanwhile, the Guides, at six hours' notice, fully equipped, horse and foot, had started on their historic march to Delhi. They left Mardan at six in the evening of May 13th, and joined the British force at the siege of Delhi early on June 9th. The distance is five hundred and eighty miles, and the time taken was twenty-six days and fourteen hours; but from this must be deducted five days and nine hours made up as follows: detained forty-two hours at Attock, holding the fort pending the arrival of a reliable garrison; detained forty-one hours at Rawul Pindi, pending the question as to whether the Guides were to be employed to disarm the native artillery; detained forty-six hours at Karnal by the magistrate, in order to attack, capture, and burn a hostile village lying twelve miles off the road. If, therefore, these halts "by order" are deducted, it will be found that the Guides took actually twenty-one days and five hours to march five hundred and eighty miles. This works out to an average of over twenty-seven miles a day. As a contemporary historian remarks, such a feat would be highly creditable to mounted troops, and was doubly so to the infantry portion of the corps. To add to the credit of this high achievement, it may be added that the march took place at the hottest season of the year through the hottest region on earth.

The record of a march along the Grand Trunk Road of India does not lend itself to much picturesque description, but perhaps it may be in this case of some interest to follow the stern resolve and steady endurance which carried the stout-hearted regiment through those never-ending miles along the straight and scorching road to Delhi. And in this endeavour we are singularly fortunate in having for reference a diary written from day to day by Henry Daly, who, in the absence of Lumsden on a special mission, commanded the corps. [1]

[1] Memoirs of General Sir Henry Dermot Daly, G.C.B., C.I.E.; by Major H. Daly. London, 1905.

The first night's march took the Guides sixteen miles to Nowshera, where after barely two hours' rest came orders to push on to Attock, another eighteen miles. To add to the hardships of this march, it so chanced that the Mahomedan fast of Ramzan was in observance, during which no follower of the Prophet may eat or drink between sunrise and sunset. Parched, hungry, and weary, the thirty-four mile march was completed, and the Indus crossed at ten in the morning of the 14th of May.

Halting by order forty-two hours at Attock, to allow of the arrival of a relief garrison, the Guides pushed on thirty-two miles to Burhan, on the night of the 15th—16th, in the midst of a violent dust storm. Many of the men were very footsore from their long march of the previous day, but all were cheerful and light-hearted, making naught of their hardships.

Another thirty-two mile march brought the corps to Jāni-ki-Sang, and took them the next morning fifteen miles in to Rawul Pindi. On the road Herbert Edwardes passed the corps, and drove Daly on into Rawul Pindi, there to meet the great hearts of the Punjab, John Lawrence, Neville Chamberlain, and John Nicholson.

A day was spent here in consultation on the broad aspect of affairs, and locally as to the advisability, or otherwise, of using the Guides to disarm the native artillery in garrison. Finally it was decided not to do so, and thus with the gruff but kindly farewells of John Lawrence, and the light-hearted chaff and high spirits of Herbert Edwardes, Daly and his men again set forth, and on the night of the 19th—20th made a twenty mile march to Mandra. There was no falling off in the cheerful endeavour, nor was any man so tired or footsore that he would be content to be left behind.