Lieutenant Chesney, 23rd Pioneers.
The wounds of the last eight officers are not severe.
The death of Colonel Brownlow is a terrible loss to the 72nd Highlanders, and indeed to the army generally. Brave to a fault, he was a model of coolness under fire, and always handled his men with judgment and decision. He was marked for future distinction, his tried ability in the field raising him far above his peers. His untimely death will be felt most keenly by his own officers and men, to whom he had greatly endeared himself.
CHAPTER IV.
Candahar during the Siege—Improvement of the Defences—Sketch Map showing the Disposition of the Garrison—The Attitude of the Enemy—Their Plan of Attack—Deb-i-Khwaja Village occupied in force by the Afghans—The Sortie of August 16th—Determined Defence of the Village—Retirement of the Troops—Death of General Brooke—The Sortie falsely called a “Success”—Description of the Afghan Siege Works—Engineering Skill shown by the Naib Hafizulla Parallels—The Training of Guns upon the Shikarpur Gate—The Afghan Karez Trenches on the South—Attempt to form Breaching Batteries—Explanation of the Engineering Skill shown.
Candahar Cantonments, 9th September, 1880.
Sir Frederick Roberts’s troops were so soon pushed into action after their arrival at Candahar, that the state of the city on the 31st August and the evidence the enemy had left behind of their late uncomfortable closeness to the walls, have been partly forgotten by many of us. When we rode up on the morning of the 31st there was indeed every sign, both within and without the walls, that an enemy had been at the gate. Candahar rises out of the plain quite abruptly; its walls, with their tower-like bastions, obtruding themselves upon one’s notice in rather an unsympathetic way. They shut out from view everything that lies within them, except the tomb of Ahmed Shah and the tower of observation in the citadel. No point of 'vantage enables one to examine what the walls may hide; not until the gates are passed does the character of the city disclose itself. It has been too often described for me to venture to sketch its two broad roads bisecting each other at right angles near the centre of the city; its citadel guarded by a deep ditch; its high walls of a breadth sufficient to make breaching a work of great difficulty even to heavy artillery, and its narrow gates, guarded each by flanking towers which stand out on either hand of the doorway as if the mud-work of the walls had been cut through and folded back to admit of entrance being given. It will be sufficient to say that the defences had been strengthened during the siege by such contrivances as are usually employed to check assaults upon walled towns, and that the gaps and breaks in the bastions and parapet had been filled in with sand-bags, which still remain in all the rough-and-ready state in which they were hastily piled up. On August 31st our first view of Candahar was from near Deh-i-Khwaja, the village against which the sortie of the 16th had been directed. We did not, however, enter by the Cabul Gate, on the eastern face, but by the Shikarpur Gate, facing southwards. It was here that the outer defences had been made strongest, as the enemy’s attack in force was expected from the group of villages lying to the south and south-west, some of the walled vineyards and gardens of which were within 300 yards of the south-west bastion, and less than a mile from the Shikarpur Gate itself. The temporary bazaar outside this gate, established for the benefit of our force marching in from Momand, was formed amidst the abattis, wire entanglements, chevaux-de-frise, and broken-down walls which cumbered the ground and would have impeded the rush of an attacking force. The bastions and parapet bristled with sand-bags, over which the sentries on guard looked down, no doubt with hearty relief as our troops drew up and piled arms preparatory to breakfast. And yet there was no enthusiasm shown at our approach; not a band turned out to play us in, not a cheer was raised to welcome us. Perhaps we had been so near for the last few days that the novelty of being released from a dangerous situation had passed away from the minds of the garrison; perhaps—and I am afraid this is the more likely explanation—the prevailing tone among General Primrose’s troops was one still of depression and want of “heart.”[[50]] The reaction had not set in, and the disastrous defeat at Maiwand and the sad result of the sortie, were still remembered with great vividness. There had been undoubted demoralization existing within the walls during the siege, caused by that unreasoning dread of an enemy which always arises after defeat. How far the demoralization spread only commanding officers could really know; but it was impossible that the remnants of a beaten brigade could be brought once more into contact with the main body without producing some ill-effect. Letters which reached us after we left Khelat-i-Ghilzai spoke of the “long faces drawn,” and the depression of which they were the too visible sign. And yet there were over 4,000 effective soldiers, British and native, under General Primrose’s orders. One panic-stricken man may infect a hundred; one panic-stricken regiment an army; and to judge by the stories told by soldiers of the garrison to our own men of the Cabul force, there was a tendency to foster the “ghazi scare,” and to nurse and nurture it until it grew to formidable proportions. Thus our sowars told of the terrible Aimak horsemen who feed their horses on raw meat and charged with such effect that no one could withstand them; that our cavalry would wither away before the flame and smoke breathed from their horses’ nostrils. Our sepoys, nearly all Sikhs and Ghoorkas, were so self-confident that they made no secret of their desire to meet the much-bepraised ghazi-log: they were warned that they did not know what the local ghazis’ fighting powers were, and there was what in Western life would be called “head-shaking” at our rapid movement towards the Pir Paimal Ridge on the 31st. We seemed to local wiseacres to be going right into the jaws of death, whereas our firm belief was that we were rushing into the arms of victory. Our men were impatient to wipe out the disgrace which had fallen on our arms.
SKELETON PLAN OF KANDAHAR.
[Notes]