The Story of the Guides

by G. J. Younghusband

For the Guides, serving as part of the force under the command of the brave and chivalrous leader of light horse, Lt.-General Sir Sam Browne, K.C.B., V.C., the Afghan War opened with the operations resulting in the capture of the formidable fort of Ali Musjid, which bars the entrance to the far-famed Khyber Pass. Sir Sam Browne was an old Colonel of the Guides, and to meet again in the field was the meeting of old comrades and friends. Like Roberts, he knew how to use them, and how to get the best out of them; and the glowing words of his despatches show they served him well.

In the plan of operations for the capture of Ali Musjid one brigade was to attack in front, one in flank, and one by a wide détour through the mountains was to cut off the retreat. In this operation it fell to the Guides to accompany General Tytler's column, which was the one destined, after a long night march through the mountains, to drop down in rear of the fort. The column was greatly delayed owing to the difficulty of the country, great mountains of eight thousand feet high intervening; but Jenkins with the Guides and 1st Sikhs pushed on, and by their timely arrival broke the back of the desperate resistance met by the frontal attack. No Afghan or Pathan can stand the strain of being taken in rear; a sauve qui peut becomes at once the order of the day. Most of the enemy fled through the mountains, but a regiment of regular infantry took the road through the pass and was captured by Jenkins and his men. Next came a squadron of cavalry, and these bold fellows determined to make a dash for liberty. Scattering therefore and riding at a break-neck gallop many got through, though many lay dead and wounded on the ground; and then, out of the cloud of dust and smoke might be seen, calmly riding at a foot's pace, a solitary trooper. A perfect hailstorm of bullets was falling about him, not the tiny bullets we now use, but great one ounce Snyder bullets, such as would knock over an elephant; but though nearly eight hundred rifles were in action, the serene horseman appeared not the least discomposed, and except for a defiant wave of his sword he rode quietly on.

Then Jenkins, struck with the admiration of one brave man for another, sounded the cease fire; and in the dead stillness that followed the Colonel's orderly shouted down to the horseman to ask him who he was, and why he thus courted death. "Oh, brother," shouted the orderly, "who art thou and whence comest and whither goest?" "I am Bahaud-din Khan," replied the horseman, "and I come from Ali Musjid, which the Feringhis have taken, and I follow those sons of pigs, the Kasilbash Horse, who you saw pass in such a hurry just now."

"The Sahib says," shouted the orderly, "that surely you must be mad thus to walk your horse through a heavy fire like that."

"Not mad, tell the Sahib," replied the Afghan, "but fearing no man; and I shook my sword at you, and your hundreds of rifles, to show that I cared not that much for you."

"By Jove, he's a brave fellow!" said Jenkins; "tell him to come up and have a talk with me."

"By all means," was the cheery reply; and dismounting quietly, the man tied his horse to a bush, slipped his sword into its scabbard, and strolled up the hill.

"Well, now tell me all about yourself," was Jenkins's greeting.

"There is nothing much to tell. I live in Kabul and belong to the Kasilbash Horse, and my father was a soldier before me. But he was a brave fellow like myself; we are no mis-begotten apes, like those sons of perdition who fled just now. They are all cowards and runaways, and no fit company for a warrior."

Jenkins liked the look of the man, and his courage was beyond doubt, so he said cordially: "You're a fine fellow and I like you. Will you take on with the Guides?"