The Story of the Guides

by G. J. Younghusband

The reception of the Embassy at Kabul was to all seeming perfectly friendly, and even cordial. Every honour was paid to it, and the assembled crowds, though preserving the impassive mien of Asiatics on such occasions, respectfully saluted the British officers as they passed along. It had been arranged that the members of the Embassy and escort should take up their abode in quarters prepared for them in the Bala Hissar, the celebrated fortress which is indelibly connected with the name of Kabul, and which completely dominates the city. Here also were the Amir's palace and the houses of many of his highest nobles.

For a month all went well. Cavignari paid frequent visits to the Amir, and entered into long and friendly converse with him. The Amir's nobles and officials paid frequent return visits of ceremony or friendship. The officers of the Embassy rode out daily, morning and evening, to see the country and surrounding places of interest, accompanied always, however, by escorts of Afghan cavalry as well as of the Guides. To encourage friendly intercourse, they used to practise tent-pegging and lime-cutting, and invited the Afghan horsemen to join them. But, as showing how curious are the workings of the Asiatic mind, it afterwards transpired that this apparently unexceptional proceeding was looked on by many with grave offence. The Afghan officers muttered that this was mere braggadocio on the part of the sahibs; that the sport was only to show how they would spit and cut down the sons of the Prophet, if they had the chance! To fathom such depths of bigotry as this incident reveals is one of the many difficulties which face Englishmen in Asia.

Towards the end of August Sir Louis Cavignari received one or two direct warnings that all was not well. It appears that in the ordinary course of the relief of various garrisons several of the Amir's Herati regiments were ordered from Herat to Kabul, and Kabul regiments took their place. These Herati regiments had seen nothing of the late war: they had never crossed swords with the British; and they were filled with the insensate pride and confidence in their own prowess which abysmal ignorance could alone account for. As they marched through the streets of Kabul they set up, at the instigation of their officers it is said, loud cries of insult and abuse of Cavignari by name, of the British Embassy, and of the whole detested race of Feringhis. When this was told to Cavignari he merely laughed and replied: "Curs only bark, they do not bite." In a broad sense he was right, for if British officers had always lain down wherever stray curs were moved to yelp, the British Empire's outer frontier of to-day would be the cliffs of Dover. But a much more weighty warning came from an undoubted well-wisher, an old retired native officer of our Indian army, and a firm friend of the envoy. His warning said that a plot was afoot; that the cupidity of some had been appealed to by stories of large treasure in the Residency, while the fanatical hatred of others had been secretly fanned; that it was well therefore to be on guard. A warning coming from such a friendly quarter was doubtless duly weighed and duly allowed for; but after all, what could a peaceful Embassy do but trust to the honour and integrity of the friendly Power whose guest it was? To show the smallest sign of distrust by attempting, for instance, to place a merely residential set of buildings, completely commanded all round, into a state of defence, was only to court disaster. What could the British Ambassador in Paris do against a brigade of troops unrestrained by the French Government? What could an escort of seventy-five men, however brave, do against thousands, and tens of thousands, of armed men? Cavignari therefore took the bold course, which British officers, before and since, have taken. He sat quietly, and with good and brave heart faced the coming storm, if come it must; but greatly confident that it might split and roll by on either side.

In the end, by sad mischance, a small matter, and one quite unconnected, directly or indirectly, with the attitude of the British Embassy, caused the storm to burst with sudden and uncontrollable fierceness. The already half-mutinous Herati regiments were, as was not unusual in those days, very much in arrears as regards their pay. For months they had received none, and were, perhaps naturally, in an angry and sullen mood. The finances of the State were in a chaotic condition, the treasury at low ebb, and credit had receded to a vanishing point. After staving off the day of reckoning as long as possible, the welcome news reached the Herati troops that they were to receive their pay in full next morning, September 3rd, at the treasury in the Bala Hissar.

Assembling there early, they soon learnt to their disgust and indignation that they were only to receive one month's pay, a miserable pittance to men long in want. On the smouldering embers of mutiny someone wilfully, or from mere expediency, threw the spark: "Go to the British Embassy and demand pay; there is lots of money there." The idea caught like wildfire, and the whole mass of soldiery dashed off to the Embassy, situated only a few hundred yards away.

Here the ordinary routine of the day was going on. It was eight o'clock, and Cavignari, just returned from his morning ride, had not yet bathed or changed for breakfast. Hamilton and Kelly had been out to see that the grass-cutters were at their work on waste land, and not interfering with private rights, and were now probably strolling down the line of troop-horses seeing to their feeding and grooming. Jenkyns was doubtless within, reading or writing, and waiting for breakfast. The cavalrymen were about amongst their horses, and the infantry either on guard or taking their ease. On this peaceful scene suddenly burst a torrent of infuriated, half-savage soldiery, yelling for Cavignari, yelling for money, shouting curses and threats. At first they acted like mere Yahoos; they hustled and mobbed the Guides, shouting with rough humour, "Well, if we can't get money we'll get something," and then began untying horses to lead them away, stealing saddlery, swords, or anything that lay about. Then came a shot and silence; then another and another, five or six in all, by whom fired no one knows; and then the battle began,—four British officers and some seventy of the Guides, against countless thousands!

Nor was the vantage of position with the British, for they could not possibly have been more unfavourably situated for defence. The Residency consisted of a collection of mud and plaster buildings, of which the principal was the abode of the British officers. The others included the rows of huts that formed the barracks of the escort, servants' houses, and stables; outside, and enclosed by mud walls, were spaces in which were picketed the horses of the cavalry, and which formed courtyards to the Residency and men's barracks. Residential quarters of this description, given time to loop-hole and barricade them, would form fairly good defensive cover, except against artillery; but unprepared for defence they are mere death-traps. To add to the untenable nature of the position the Residency was completely commanded from several directions, and especially from a high flat-roofed house only eighty yards distant. The roofs of the Residency buildings were also flat, but made untenable by these commanding positions, except in one small portion where a low parapet, such as is often found on Eastern roofs, gave some slight protection.

After those first few shots there seems to have been a pause, while the mutinous troops rushed off to their camp to fetch arms and ammunition. During this brief respite Cavignari sent a message to the Amir, who was in his palace only a few hundred yards distant, informing him of the unprovoked attack, and claiming the protection due to a guest of the nation; while Hamilton hastily collected his men, and made such dispositions for defence as were possible. Then above the dust and din and rush of hurrying feet outside rose, clearer and stronger as hundreds of throats joined the swelling sound, Yār Charyār, the war-cry of the great Sunni sect of Mahomedans. They were coming in their thousands frenzied with fanaticism, and thirsting deep for Christian blood. On the other side, in calm and steadfast readiness, stood three score and ten of the Guides, men of an alien race, and some even brethren of the besiegers, but all filled with high resolve and stern determination to stand by their British officers even unto death.