Recollections of a Military Life

by Sir John Adye

The preceding remarks will be sufficient to give a general idea of the difficulties, both military and political, which had ensued on our crossing the border. The situation was undoubtedly grave. Major James, the commissioner, wrote, that it was a truly formidable and dangerous combination, and that immediate action was necessary to save the Government from a war involving us not only with all the tribes on the border, but also in all probability with Afghanistan. The Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, Sir Robert Montgomery, had doubtless long and anxiously considered the untoward aspect of affairs; and at length, when the telegrams arrived announcing the severe actions just described, he looked upon the matter as so serious, that he was actually prepared to order an immediate withdrawal of the whole force to the plains; and in this view he was supported by some members of the Viceroy's Council; in fact an order to that effect was sent to the Commander-in-Chief. What Sir Hugh Rose thought of the proposition is plain enough. In the first place he remonstrated against the withdrawal, pointing out the danger of such a policy and the loss of prestige which would result. In the next he ordered large reinforcements to proceed by forced marches to the frontier, so that the great northern road from Lahore to Peshawur was crowded with cavalry, artillery, and infantry, all hurrying upwards. At the beginning of December there were five-and-twenty thousand men north of the Jhelum.

Soon after my arrival at Lahore in November, I had written to my old friend Sir William Denison at Madras, giving him a short description of the state of affairs.[61] On November 20 Lord Elgin died, and Sir William, as the senior governor present in India, was summoned by telegraph to Calcutta, and assumed temporarily the functions of Viceroy. His reply to my letter is dated Calcutta, December 7, and is interesting as giving his views on the situation.

It is as follows:—

'My dear Adye,—Thanks for your letter. I got the whole of the papers relating to the business in the North-west on my way up the river, and spent my time in reading them and making notes. It is hardly worth while to say anything about the commencement of the affair beyond this, that if any move was to have been made at all, the plan proposed by Sir H. Rose was clearly that which should have been adopted. With reference, however, to the future, I trust I have been in time to check further evil.... I found an order had been sent to the Commander-in-Chief, telling him that their wish was that the force should be withdrawn, thrusting upon the Commander-in-Chief the responsibility of deciding not only the mode of doing this, and the time, but also that of determining whether such a move would peril our reputation. The first step I took was to press for a modification of the order. I pointed out that it was unfair to the Commander-in-Chief; and that, as we had a sufficient force, it would be decidedly impolitic to withdraw, until we had accomplished the design for which we had made our inroad into the country. After a good deal of talk, I carried with me the majority of the council, and it was decided to bring the Bonairs to terms before withdrawing the troops. To leave without doing this would almost insure another campaign in the spring, and this would be expensive and useless. I trust that our orders may arrive in time to prevent any hasty move to the rear.'[62]

GOING TO THE WAR. CROSSING THE INDUS AT ATTOCK, NOVEMBER 1863

Many days, however, before I received Sir William's letter, circumstances had occurred at Lahore which led to my making a long and rapid journey of several hundred miles northwards, and joining the force in the mountains during the remainder of the war.

On November 19 Sir Hugh spoke to me of his difficulties and of the suggested retreat, which seemed both impolitic and unnecessary. The letters and telegrams received from the front were, however, necessarily somewhat short and hasty, and did not give full details of the position; and I offered my services as a staff officer, to pay a rapid visit to Chamberlain, hear his views, take a personal survey of the country, and then return. The Commander-in-Chief accepted my offer, and also selected Major Roberts,[63] who knew the people and the language, to accompany me. He was a delightful companion. On the evening of the 20th we left Lahore on the mail cart, placing the driver behind, and ourselves driving each stage alternately. We galloped up the trunk road all night, and all the next day, crossing the Ravee, the Chenab, and the Jhelum, and were nearly done up from want of sleep, when we fortunately drove into the camp of a battery of Horse Artillery and obtained a few hours' rest. Before daylight we were off again, passed through Rawul-Pindee, and in the afternoon crossed the Indus by a bridge of boats close under the old Mogul fortress of Attock; and at sunset on the second day our long drive of nearly 300 miles came to an end at Nowshera, on the Cabul river, where the officers of a battery under Captain Nairne, R.A.,[64] hospitably received us. Until our arrival at Nowshera, we had not heard of the latest fight at the Crag Picket, and that Chamberlain and Hope were severely wounded. In the meantime horses had been laid out for our use across the plains of Eusofzye; and, crossing the Cabul river, we galloped about thirty miles, passing numerous detachments of Seiks and Pathans, with elephants and camels, and on the evening of November 23 reached the camp of Major Probyn,[65] in command of a native cavalry regiment at the foot of the mountains. The weather was fine but cold, and altogether the long journey was very enjoyable.

Sir Neville Chamberlain's force was about ten miles distant on the heights of the Mahabun, whose ridges run up to 8,000 feet. Our instructions were urgent, and we were very anxious to be off. Probyn, however, whose troops were patrolling the frontier, pointed out that the communications were uncertain, and that the road, such as it was, was only opened occasionally by armed convoys taking up food and munitions to the front. However, as delay was unadvisable, after considering the matter, he said: 'You can, if you like, go up with the "catch-em-alive-ohs."' I inquired who these interesting people were, and his reply was that they were Afghans—in fact, the same people we were fighting against; but he added that these were friendly and in our pay, and would take care of us. He had them paraded for our inspection. These 'catch-em-alive-ohs' were a rough, handsome, picturesque lot of fellows, armed with old matchlocks, shields, and short knives, and seemed very good-natured and friendly; so, in default of better, we determined on accepting their escort, and away we went, accompanied by the Reverend Mr. Cowie, afterwards Bishop of New Zealand. The mountain was steep and rugged, and the route a mere goat path, so that our progress was slow. After climbing for some miles, we suddenly observed a large number of people on a high, distant ridge, but whether friends or enemies was not so certain. The body of a native just killed was lying in the path. At that moment a messenger ran up bringing me a small note in pencil, and reading it hastily I made it out to be 'the road is now safe, push on as fast as you can.' This was satisfactory, but on looking more carefully we found the message really was, 'the road is not safe, push on,' &c. This rather altered the conditions; but fortunately the men we had observed on the heights were a party of Goorkas, and the note was from the officer in command, who was looking out for us, so that our journey soon came to an end, and we arrived safely in camp.