Meean-Meer, October 15th, 1858.
My Dear, Dear Parents,
Well, dear parents, a number of eventful things have taken place since my last. A wing, that is, half the regiment, have gone into the field, with half the 7th Dragoons, so the two sevens are together after the enemy; the one to lather and the other to shave them. A battery of artillery and a regiment of Ghoorkas are with them. Our wing was near 800 strong. We have had a very near squeak with our nice beauties in front of us. They meant mischief, but we have not been caught napping; traitors often have two faces under one hat. It had been brought to the notice of our commander, General Wyndham, C.B., that these fellows were armed to the teeth, smuggled into their camp, and that as only a slender guard was over them, they would rise and murder all they could lay their hands upon; and, making their way to Lucknow, throw in their lot with their comrades who were fighting the detested Feringhees. All was kept quiet. One of their number had divulged the whole plan. One morning, a short time ago, the cavalry, artillery, and the Sikhs marched upon our parade-ground. We did not know what was up; every man had been ordered for parade. Our recruits were served out with arms. We were ordered to loosen ten rounds of ammunition before we left our bungalows. All sorts of questions were being asked as to who were going to get it. As soon as we fell in, we were ordered to load with ball; but still all was kept quiet. The general rode up to us, and we saluted him. The hero of the Redan called out, “Good morning, Fusiliers; I have a little job for you this morning.” Then turning to Col. Aldsworth, he said, “I think we shall get over it without much trouble.” We then marched off and formed line, with the Sikhs on our left. The cavalry were formed up so that they could act at once if required. The artillery, part with us, loaded with port fires lit and part with the Sikhs. The mutineers were ordered to fall in. The general and his staff rode up to them, and ordered them to remain there, on pain of instant death. Two troops of the Dragoons—about 120 men—dashed in between them and their camp and faced them. A number of carts, with about 100 natives with them, with picks and shovels, were close behind us; but still we did not know what was to be the next move, until the general returned to us. He then informed us with a loud voice, that in every tent in yonder camp there were arms concealed under the soil. A number of sergeants were ordered to go to the left company, I being one of them. That company were at once ordered to advance. The whole camp was struck; that is, all the tents were thrown down as quickly as possible by the natives; the picks and shovels brought into play. And true enough, arms of all descriptions were found, wrapped in paper or cloth, just under the soil. We found pistols, swords, guns, spears, and daggers by wholesale. They were thrown into the carts. Some of our men got a good haul in the shape of rupees and gold mohurs worth about thirty-two rupees each, (£3 4s.); but they did not go into the cart. We found daggers in their bedclothing in many cases. A nice youth from the Green Isle, a stalwart Grenadier belonging to us, found a good shillagh, with lead let into the end of it. He had the whole lot of us laughing enough to break our sides, at his expressions and antics. He flourished his stick over his head, and declared that he would “bate” a squadron of yonder traitors with that bit of a “carbine.” The general was with us, and laughed heartily at him, handing him his flask, when he drank to ould England and ould Ireland, as, one handing the flask back to the general, with a salute, he said he hoped that “his ’oner’s cow would niver run dry.” These weapons had been smuggled in from Wozerabad, the Birmingham of India, about forty miles from here. The disarmed regiment at Mooltan, we found by wire, had bolted, and were coming on to join these gents; but what a surprise it must have been to them when they, many of them, found a strong rope around their necks before the sun set that day, while others were sent flying from the cannon’s mouth. You remember me telling you about a venerable old native officer that had served us for forty years, and was so talkative about his loyalty: that he had fought and would again, as long as he could stand, for the British, and that he would be faithful to death, and got so excited that he even mustered tears. Well, that very old hypocrite has turned out to be the ringleader. His own letter to his friends at Mooltan, with the whole plan, have condemned the old villain and others to a traitor’s death, and he, with nineteen others, were blown to atoms a few days ago. It would have been all up with some of us long ago, but a merciful God has been watching over us.
I have not the slightest doubt that we should have destroyed them to a man, but we must have lost a number of valuable lives. My company’s bungalow is the nearest to their camp, about 500 yards distant; so poor No. 7 would have been in as warm a corner as we had on the 18th June, 1855. But, thank God, it has been ordered otherwise. The Mooltan people, (I mean the runaway mutineers), are being brought in daily; one pound, or ten rupees, is offered by our people for every one, dead or alive. The Sikhs are making a harvest. The mutineers are tried by court-martial, condemned, and executed at once. I think you will say that is sharp work. My dear parents, 400,000 men with arms in their hands are not to be played with; mind, it’s death or victory with us. If our Government were to dilly-dally with them we should have the Sikhs against us, as the following, I think, will prove: “It’s time for Britons to strike home; our men are, so to speak, fighting with halters around their necks. This is a war of extermination. Some three or four regiments of Sikhs are stationed at Dera Ishmal Khan, about 280 miles from here. These gents have struck for the same pay the British soldier gets, and are determined to fight for it, if required. These are the nice allies that our wing, the Dragoons, artillery, and Ghoorkas are gone against: and news by wire has just come in that they have got a little more than they asked for. They were confronted by our people, and ordered to give up their arms; but would not without a fight: so they got it quick and sharp—grape, shot, shell, and musketry, with the cavalry riding through and through them. It has struck terror into the Sikhs all over the country.” So you see that sharp diseases require sharp remedies. It has reminded their brethren all over the country that we are still the conquering race. The regiment of Sikhs here call them at Dera mad fools; but the tables, you must remember, have been turned. I see by the papers it has had the effect of making our friends, the Sikhs, remarkably civil in all parts of the country. Grape is the best dose that could be administered to traitors; those that escape remember it as long as they live, and will hand it down to their children’s children.
Our motto out here must be: “We will surrender India only with our lives.” “Nought shall make us rue, if Britons to themselves will act but true.” Shoulder to shoulder we may die; but so long as India is held in the hands of true Britons, they will never yield. I trust this will find you all quite well. But before I close I have a secret to tell you: before this reaches you I shall most likely have taken a rib to share my joys and sorrows. It will be like all the remainder, “for better for worse.” I feel confident that her sweet temper will cheer me in prosperity, and soothe me in adversity, and that her tender, loving heart will lighten the burden of life. I always look on the bright side, as I think you know. I never go half way to meet troubles; I have learnt by a little rough experience that the best way to surmount difficulties is to face them manfully. This is a world of ups and downs, and I feel I want a helpmate.... I have often thought of your advice to me as a very young man, before I took the Queen’s shilling: “Never to think of taking a wife until I could support one comfortably.” I can now see my way clear before me, although it’s not all gold that glitters. Mine has been love at first sight—our courtship has been short—so we will tie the knot first, and court afterwards. But I must bring this to a close. You may inform Miss H—— that she has played with the mouse until she has lost it. Please tend my kind regards to all old friends,
And believe me,
My Dear Parents,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.
Meean-Meer, (Punjaub),
10th November, 1858.