Recollections of a Military Life

by Sir John Adye

The next morning I paid a visit to Chamberlain. We had been cadets together many years before at Woolwich, but he left the Academy before obtaining a commission, joining the Bengal army, and we had never met since those early days. His wound, however, was severe and his condition serious, so that I was unable to discuss the position of affairs with him, as had been intended, and in a few days he was carried down to the plains. I found a strong and unanimous feeling amongst the officers against any withdrawal. Although the tribes were in great force in the valley, with their standards flying, it was evident that we only required reinforcements; and that a movement in advance would soon scatter the brave but badly armed, undisciplined hosts of our mountain foes. I lost no time in sending day by day, detailed reports, sketches, and plans of the position to Sir Hugh Rose, urging also the necessity for an early forward movement, and in reply received an order by telegraph, to remain with the force until the termination of the war.

The scenery all round us from our elevated camp was very varied, and had many elements of grandeur. Looking back to the south through the dark defiles of the pass, we could see the fertile plain of Eusofzye stretching away to the Indus and Cabul rivers, whilst in front the sheltered Chumla valley and the village of Umbeylah were lying beneath us; and away in the distance to the north, high ranges of mountains, capped by the snowy peaks of the Hindoo Koosh, closed in the horizon. Owing to the success which had been achieved on several occasions by the tribes in capturing our outlying breastworks—due, perhaps, in some cases, to want of vigilance on our part—strict instructions had been given that our pickets were to hold their ground at all hazards; and on one occasion a soldier coming on duty was heard to say to his comrade, 'Well, Jim, what's the orders at this post?' and Jim replied, 'Why, the orders is, you're never to leave it till you're killed, and if you see any other man leaving it, you're to kill him.'

Our life was a very open-air kind of existence, a sort of prolonged picnic, and we lived partly in small tents and partly in caves, always sleeping in our clothes; our dinners such as they were, being cooked and laid out on the rocks. The Afghans perched themselves about, and now and then made long shots at us with their matchlocks. One old fellow took up his position every day on an elevated spot, on the other side of the pass, at a distance, and watched the proceedings. Our men frequently fired at him, but apparently without effect; so at last they gave it up, and nicknamed him 'Oh! Willie, we have missed you.' There was another peculiarity amongst the tribes which is, perhaps, unusual in warfare. Some of our native troops, when on isolated pickets at night, used to pass away the dreary hours by singing some of their national airs; and the enemy, apparently not wishing to be left out, would cheerily join in the chorus.

AFGHAN FRONTIER CAMPAIGN. STORMING THE CONICAL PEAK, DECEMBER 1863

At the end of November General Garvock[66] arrived, taking command of the expedition; and during the next few days considerable reinforcements marched up from the plains, including amongst others the 7th Fusiliers, the 93rd Highlanders, and Probyn's Horse, 400 strong. Our total force was over 8,000 men, with 16 light guns, some carried on elephants and the rest on mules. The men of the tribes, no doubt, were quite aware of these accessions to our strength; and although Guzzhan Khan, from the distant province of Dher, had joined them with 6,000 followers, they hesitated to attack our position, which was now strongly entrenched and vigilantly guarded. Early in December a small deputation of Bonair chiefs came into camp to confer with Major James, the commissioner, with a view to peace; and after a parley withdrew to consult the other tribes as to the terms we offered; which were the destruction of Mulka, and that the fanatics should no longer be harboured and protected by the Afghans. We could hardly demand less. It was understood that there were considerable dissensions amongst the native chiefs, and on the afternoon of December 14 a solitary messenger returned, stating that our proposals were rejected. It was also known that an attack by the combined tribes was imminent on the morrow.

The moment of action had at length arrived. General Garvock, forestalling the intentions of the enemy, assembled a force of 5,000 men, including the 7th and 101st Fusiliers, at daylight near the Crag picket, leaving the remainder to guard the camp, and at 8 A.M. led off his troops along the ridges to the attack. About two miles beyond the Crag stood the small village of Laloo, and a few hundred yards in front of it, one of the great spurs running up from the Chumla valley, terminated in a lofty peak dominating the whole ridge. On this natural stronghold the men of the tribes had established themselves in great force, flying their standards, and prepared to abide the last issues of war. The ordinary difficulties of the ascent had been increased by numerous 'sungas' (breastworks), so that it was a formidable position to take by assault. Our skirmishers, who had easily driven in the outlying mountaineers, then halted about 600 yards in front of and looking up at the conical peak, and, supported by the mountain guns, waited for the arrival of the main body.

These mountain batteries rendered great service during the war. Their light ordnance, carriages, and ammunition being all carried on mule back, they are thus independent of roads, can accompany infantry over any ground, and come into action on the most restricted space. As the several regiments came up they sought a momentary shelter in the broken ground, and when all was ready, General Garvock sounded the 'advance.' At that signal 5,000 men rose from their cover, and with loud cheers and volleys of musketry, rushed to the assault; the regiments of Pathans, Seiks, and Goorkas vieing with the English soldiers as to who should first reach the enemy. From behind every rock and shrub at the foot of the peak small parties of mountaineers jumped up, and fled as the advancing columns approached. It took but a few minutes to cross the open ground, and then the steep ascent began, our men having to climb from rock to rock, and their formation necessarily becoming much broken. Foremost among the many could be distinguished the scarlet uniforms of the 101st Fusiliers, who, led by Colonel Salisbury, steadily swarmed up the mountain and captured the defences in succession at the point of the bayonet, the enemy's standards dropping as their outworks fell; whilst here and there the prostrate figures of our men scattered about the rocks, proved that the hill-men were striking hard to the last. Nothing, however, could withstand the impetuosity of the assault, and ere many minutes had elapsed the conical peak from foot to summit was in the possession of British soldiers. I had the misfortune during the assault to fall over a large rock, seriously injuring my right knee and tearing the ligaments, becoming for the moment incapable of climbing; but by the help of a mule, lent from one of the batteries, managed to reach the crest of the mountain. Our panting troops still pushed on, captured the village of Laloo, and the mountaineers were then driven headlong in thousands, down the steep glades, through the pine forests to the Chumla valley, many hundred feet below.

This was the first general defeat the enemy had experienced, and they were not left long to recover from its effects. At daylight the next morning our troops were again in movement; one brigade marching down direct on Umbeylah, accompanied by Probyn's cavalry, who, however, had to lead their horses down the precipitous slopes until they reached the valley. In the meantime the other brigade descended from Laloo and deployed at the foot. The tribes, although at first they seemed inclined to make a stand, gradually fell back. The brigade from Laloo followed them up, passed the village of Umbeylah, and approached the hills leading to Bonair. The enemy, who had been lying concealed in the ravines and broken ground, suddenly rushed out, sword in hand, wildly attacked one of our Seik regiments, and for the moment even penetrated its ranks. The Seiks, however, were rallied by their officers, and supported by the 7th Fusiliers, and the enemy in a few minutes were driven back with great loss. In the meantime three field guns, under Captain Griffin, R.A., which had been brought down on elephants, got into action and shelled the crowded heights, the tribes withdrawing out of range. Our losses during the two days were: one officer killed,[67] four wounded, and there were 172 casualties amongst the men. As all tents and baggage had been left on the mountain, we bivouacked for the night outside Umbeylah, which was set on fire. The weather unfortunately was wet and cold, so that lying in the open wrapped up in a blanket was not luxurious; and, to add to my discomfort, all at once I felt what seemed to be a snake crawling about my legs. Having with difficulty obtained a lighted match, I suddenly threw aside the blanket, when a huge black rat darted out, but, as I found the next morning, had eaten large holes in my only pair of trousers, so that I presented altogether a somewhat damp and dilapidated appearance. These, however, were but minor incidents in a very interesting campaign.