The battles of the world

by J. Douglas Borthwick

Our next day led on to Kutta Sang, and of all the roads I had ever seen or traversed, as yet, this was the worst. The route led from hill to hill, the ascents being difficult and stony, and the descents in addition being very dangerous, as a fearful precipice presented itself should you happen to fall. These unwelcome views were many in number, and coupled with the tedious progress of the cattle and baggage, and the difficulty experienced in dragging the guns and loads up these many steep hills, and nothing but a dreary road to travel onward, made the march bad indeed. After the main body reached camp, the rear guard was attacked; a reinforcement was despatched, and a smart skirmish ensued; the Affghans seemed to delight in annoying us, and from their hidden positions most peremptorily carried their plan into effect; we lost few men compared with them, and the whole reached camp about midnight. Still the poor soldier found misery destined for him in every direction. On arriving at a new ground, two regiments had to mount duty on the summits of the hills bordering the route, which had to be ascended after the day’s harassing march, thus forming a second, much more so. The scanty, coarse meal, being nothing more than a quantity of meat and broth made from an allowance of a scarcely lifeless carcass, of the hard-driven, skeletonized bullock, and this of times not prepared before the dead hour of night; and then carried up to the men cold and tasteless. The bread or cake made of coarse, hand-ground flour, full of grit and small straw, half-baked and calculated to produce disease by its use; and ere this was well eaten, the rouse would sound, and the weary instrument of Britain’s safety would be wending his way through the dreary and unknown regions, ’mid almost perpendicular rocks, and perilous tracks. Such was the road of the next day’s march, to Jugdulluk Pass: this is by no means the most difficult one to explore—the sides not being near so high as those already traversed; it had some appearance of fertility, being studded with many small bushes. There were innumerable small caves, or recesses in the rocks, and it was from those dark-dens, forming cover for the enemy, that they succeeded so well in cutting off our unfortunate brethren, whose skeletons here were very numerously strewed about the path, and thus rendered the Pass more horrible than it would have been; for the light shone brighter here than we had it for some time. Nay, so stupendous were the mountains, hemming the ravines we had passed, that it would be often far advanced in the day before the sun would be seen by those beneath.

The unfortunate 44th made a somewhat successful stand in the Jugdulluk Pass, and succeeded, ere they were overpowered, in slaying many of their foes. The pass was narrow, and the Affghans, who had preceded us some hours, with a view to intercept and baffle us, had formed breastworks across the road; and, would it be believed, that these breastworks were formed of skeletons of our own men and horses? Not less than 100 frames could have been here piled up, which had to be removed before we could pass on. About 600 of the enemy made their appearance here, and in the first onset did considerable damage,—but a detachment from the main body soon dislodged them, and put them to the rout; it was common to see, lying on the road, bodies of murdered Sepoys and couriers; and in fact to attempt to enumerate the acts of treachery practised on us, would be next to impossible. We at length reached Soorkab. At this ground was a cluster of fine tall trees, which relieved the eye, and led us to hope we were approaching a land of the living; the camp was bordered by the celebrated Red River, a most beautiful crystal stream, rolling most musically over a stony bottom, and under the ridge of an immense mountain; the continued buzz kept up by the murmuring torrent echoing from the fearful crags, lulled the weary travellers in camp to sleep. Across this river is a most splendid bridge of one gigantic arch, which led by a declivitous route from this Pass to another; on the right of this bridge, which was erected by Alexander, issued a cataract roaring and dashing from the hills, which fed the stream, and formed a most beautiful picture. It was on this bridge that a number of the 44th—from the extreme inclemency of the weather, and the bitterness of the frost—were so benumbed with cold that they were unable to use their arms when attacked on their retreat. Oh! when reflection is but called up, and the miserable condition of these poor, oppressed creatures, considered, it cannot but call forth a sigh of deep regret,—bereft of every chance of escape, or wherewithal to exist,—as they were. When we consider that some of our nearest and dearest relatives or friends were amongst the number—surely, if there is one spark of sympathy left, it will be kindled for those whose last struggle was for their country’s cause.

Our next route led across the bridge through the defile already described, and on the road were lying the bodies of two murdered Sepoys. The ascents and descents were as usual; and from the summit of these intersecting hills, the eye would carry itself upon range after range of never ending cliffs and walls of mountains; the dark aspect of the distant horizon carried with it a volume of thoughts, wondering when the back would be once more turned on such dreariness. The moving mass below would be seen winding its serpentine length along the Pass, which from its narrowness, being obstructed by huge masses of detached rock having fallen from the heights, and impassable by other than taking a circuitous route, were truly harassing to the men and cattle. I may as well here mention the great trials and difficulties experienced in dragging along the heavy portions of the baggage, more particularly the celebrated Somnauth gates, which it will doubtless be remembered, were taken by direction of the Governor General, from the tomb of Sultan Mahomed at Ghuznee. These gates, it will doubtless also be remembered, were the idolatrous trophy of the Hindoos in the Guzerat Peninsula. The General directed a guard of not less than the wing of a regiment to mount over these gates, which were placed upon two platform carts, and drawn by six bullocks each. The other castes of the native Sepoys would not go near them, and the Hindoos were comparatively few, and insufficient to perform the duty, and as these gates were to be taken to the provinces for the purpose of being restored to that race, so great was the care taken of them that they were placed next to the main body of the army on the march, and nothing was permitted to go before them. The consequence was, that oftentimes, owing to the bullocks growing stubborn, the whole in the rear have been delayed; and the gates have had to be dragged by fatigue parties of the Europeans—night has set in—the enemy have taken advantage of our position, and have succeeded in cutting off numbers who otherwise would have been safe in camp. The badness of the roads and darkness of the night, together with the incessant fatigue and consequent loss occasioned by the protection of these idolatrous baubles, have caused much well-grounded controversy, and involved much discredit on the authorities. Many are the lives which have been lost by this—and for what? to restore to a tribe of idolaters, an idol, that they might worship with the greater vehemence, as it had been recaptured for them; and all this, too, by the representative of a Christian people. I need say nothing farther, except that, owing to the great question raised relative to their restoration, in our Parliament in 1843 and 1844, and since the recall of Lord Ellenborough, they remain like so much lumber stored in one of the stations in Bengal.

But to proceed to the march. A short distance from our camp, which was Gundamuck, stands a small hill, where the remnant of the 44th Regiment, about 300, made their last stand, and fought most desperately whilst their ammunition lasted, and were at length annihilated: their skeletons strewed the hill sides and summit; about 250 soldiers, and upwards of 30 officers, I believe, fell on this hill, and a deplorable sight it presented. We soon reached the camp, where Generals Pollock and McCaskill had halted; this place had been formed into a dépôt for grain and forage (only chopped straw), on Pollock’s advance on Cabul; the Passes from Peshawur, as he passed through, had been kept by our troops; thus in a great measure securing our route. We now refreshed ourselves with a day’s rest, and our cattle with a feast of forage, such as it was; and also in comparative confidence, as we were now but a couple of day’s stage from Jellalabad. The mails from Europe for the army were despatched from Calcutta and met us at this place, so that all in all it was quite a day of pleasure, receiving news from that dear place Home, “which never was so sweetly felt as in such times as these,”—conjunction of the Divisions, and recognition of old comrades who had escaped the perils of the few past days, and such like,—made the whole feel refreshed, and filled us with the utmost cheerfulness.”

CAIRO, OR GRAND CAIRO.—Burnt to prevent its occupation by the Crusaders, in 1220. Taken by the Turks from the Egyptian sultans, and their empire subdued, 1517. Taken by the French under Bonaparte, July 23rd, 1798. Taken by the British and Turks, when 6000 French capitulated, June 27th, 1801.

CALAIS.—Taken by Edward III, after a year’s siege, August 4th, 1347, and held by England 210 years. It was retaken by Mary, January 7th, 1558, and the loss of Calais so deeply touched the Queen’s heart, historians say it occasioned her death. Calais was bombarded by the English, 1694.

CALVI, SIEGE OF.—Besieged by the British, June 12th, 1744, and after a close investment of 59 days, surrendered on August 10th following. The garrison then marched out with the honors of war, and were conveyed to Toulon. It surrendered to the French in 1796.

CAMBRAY.—Taken by the Spaniards in 1595. It was invested by the Austrians, August 8th, 1793, and the Republican General Declay replied to the Imperial summons to surrender, that “he knew not how to do that, but his soldiers knew how to fight.” The French here were defeated by the Duke of York, April 23rd, 1794. It was then seized by the British, by Sir Charles Colville, June 24th, 1815. This was one of the fortresses occupied by the allied armies for five years after the fall of Napoleon.