• YJ^LE-WIMIIVEI&SinrY'' " ILHIBISAIET •

BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME
01' THE
Ann S. Farnam Fund
/^?  _

A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE STORY OF THE GUIDES
INDIAN FRONTIER WARFARE
THE RELIEF OF CHITRAL, Etc.

LORD ROBERTS AT KABUL, CHRISTMAS, 1879
From a photograph kindly lent by the Countess Roberts

A
SOLDIER'SMEMORIES
fig IN PEACE AND WAR «

BY
MAJOR-GENERAL
SIR GEORGE YOUNGHUSBAND
K.C.M.C, K.C.I.E., F.R.G.S., ETC.
ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
P. DUTTON & COMPANY
68 1 FIFTH AVENUE

THIRD EDITION

PRINTED BV WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PLYMOUTH ENGLAND

DEDICATED
BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION
TO
HER MAJESTY QUEEN ALEXANDRA

CONTENTS CHAPTER I
A SANDHURST DUEL, AND OTHER LIGHT ADVENTURES
PAGE
Sandhurst in 1877 — Willyum — The Provocation — The Challenge —
Swords or Pistols — Preparations — The Duel — Death of Craw
ford — His Bequests — Flight to France — The Police — Resur
rection — A Matter of Labour — The Plan of Campaign — The
Problem of Exit— Arrived at the Scene of Action — The First
Success — Five more Successes — Consigned to a Watery Grave —
To Bed at Dawn — Why Nothing Happened — Truth Will Out —
My Sister Dolly — Milk in Paper Bags — A Dastardly Attack —
Another Splendid Tea — Dolly Goes Back to Town — Great
Strides in Topography — A Tidy Little Girl — An Eyeglass in
Pursuit — Sherry and Lemonade — The Oak Grove — A Meeting
on Parade .......... 19
CHAPTER II
JOINING
War Clouds in 1878 — Cadets to the Rescue — Eastward Bound' —
A Court Martial — Trial and Sentence — Orderly Room Next
Day — Our Oldest Ally— Invitations to a Dance — The Return
of the Sabines — The Midshipman's Night — And Advice —
India First Impressions — Space and Gorgeousness — Saloon
Carriages — Many Meals — A Short Halt at Allahabad — Another
at Lahore — From the Tropics to Frost — A Tip — A Double Tip
in Return — Rumours of War — A Block at Jhelum — A oth
Lancer Friend — Cold Drives to Peshawar— In the Role of a
Khitmutgar — Bengal Lancers — Join the 17th Foot — Lunch —
At War Three Hours After— Fitted Out for the Fray— To
Death or Glory ......... 32
CHAPTER III
THE KHYBER PASS
Storming Ali-Musjid — The Repulse — Turning Movement of 2nd
Brigade — A Midnight March— A Frosty Night — Adventures
with a Dhooly — Sugar for a. Pillow — On Again at Dawn —
Thpmas Ananias — His Goodness— Great Toil in a Blazing Sun-75?

viii A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
PAGE
Another Cold Night 7000 Feet Up — Seventeen Sheep — Their
Tragic Fate— The Boom of the Guns — The Enemy Cut Off —
Surrenders — The Solitary Horseman — Enlists in The Guides
Cavalry — Pathan Honour — Ali Gul, Subadar — His Home in
Tirah — How to Get There — By Subtlety he Succeeds — His
Return — That Subadar of the 26th Punjabis — The Vendetta—
A Truce in British Territory — Two Soldiers of the King-
Twelve Corpses Ahead — Death of Ali Gul — His Son — His
Youthful Prowess — Enlisted in The Guides 45

CHAPTER IV
A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE
One in Six are Fighting Men— The Soldier's Medal — A Boy in his
First Battle — Reveille — The Colour-Sergeant — Cavalry and
Horse Artillery Move Off — Enemy's Counter-Attack— Arrival
of Infantry — First Casualties — David and Goliath — A Drama
in Seconds — " The Cavalry ! The Cavalry ! " — The Guides
Charge — The 10th Hussars Charge — The Pursuit — Victory —
And After — A Cavalry Subaltern — His First Experience — A
Deadly Ordeal — The War- Horse in the Bible — Manoeuvring for
Position— Charged by a Lancer — A Collision-— Saved by a
Sowar — The Trumpeter's White Horse — Charging with Long
Hair Streaming in the Wind — Single Engagements — The Rally
—Back to Camp— Cheered by the Infantry — " The Green
Curve "  58

CHAPTER V
"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS
Birth and Parentage — A Pup's Tail for a Bottle of Beer — " Made me
'Op and Yell " — A 200 Mile Trek— Cholera — " Judy" in Action
¦ — Her Fatal Bravery — A Wounded Officer — Redivivi Both —
The Bobbery Pack — Under the Orange Tree — " Baz " — Nearly
Ruins a Military Career — The Parting — Searching for Master
— Died Fighting — " Patch " — At the Dog Show — Revenge
Afterwards — Travels First-Class — " Patch " and " Phoongye "
— Rival Drives — "Patch" no Joseph — "Potiphar" — "Romp"
—Some Snake Stpries .,,,.,.. 72
CHAPTER VI
CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT
A Dance at the Mess — Sir John McQueen — Off to Egypt — Five
Special Trains of Camels — A Fire on Board — Another Fire: — The
Arab's Tail Missing — Entering Suakin Harbour — Fine Pilotage
—The Battle of McNeill's Zareba— The First Rush — The 15th
Sikhs — Our Own Adventures — A Shotgun Saves Us — Sudden
End of Battle- — Tamai — " Down into the Deep Sea " — Only a
Bruise — The Water Tanks — The Humane Subaltern and His

CONTENTS ix
PACE
Ho e — He and Sir George Greaves disagree — The Sun Shone
Again — In a Zareba — A Strange Thing — On the Jetty — Un
guarded Malefactors — A Severe Skirmish — A Babu and a Blue
jacket to the Rescue — A Gold Watch and D.S. Medal —
Shooting for the Pot — An Unwelcome Surprise — The Ship of
the Desert — Hasty Return to Camp — Young Kid of the
Goats — A Small Night Alarm — A Chance Shot — A Happy
Escape— *Sir William Gatacre — His Energy — The Sentry — His
Orders .......... 87

CHAPTER VII
A BURMESE ADVENTURE
The Burmah War — A Subaltern's Job — A Six Months' Venture —
An Englishman and a Gurkha alone — Up the Sal ween — Dacoits —
Through Siam — American Missionaries — Their Kindness at
Zimme — Loss of Saddlery and Pack Saddles — A Cigarette Case
Incident — On Again — Healing an Old Lady— Kiang Tung —
Trading — Ponies Confiscated — The Half-Caste Burman — An
Outlaw — His Valuable Service — The Toothbrush — We Escape —
Tracked — A Lost Carbine and nearly a Lost Head — Sunday Rest
— Sapphires at Twopence Apiece — We Secure Sapphires and
Cat's-Eyes — The French Banker's Valuation — The English
Jeweller's — Sapphires Stolen — Mr. Gould the Consul — A Rough
Sapphire for 40 Dollars — Where it Came From — A Very Old
Bird ........... 103

CHAPTER VIII
AT THE STAFF COLLEGE
A Staff Revival — No More a " Mug's " Game — The New Class —
Sir Charles Monro — Sir Spencer Ewart — " The Tyranny of the
Horse " — Sir John Cowans — " The Count " — Sir Francis
Davies — The Artists and Collaborateurs — Bunbury and Offley
Shore — " Boy " Hornby, m.f.h. — Jack Lindley, m.f.h. — " The
Cock Grouse " — And his Moor — The Duke's Day — Sir George
Aston — A £30 Horse — Heavy Haulage — Nearly Won the
Aldershot Point-to-Point — Hon. A. Hardinge, 'Ard 'Ard — A
Souvenir of 1870 — The Staff College Coach — An Upset — A
Nightmare — Sir Francis Clery — The French Professor —
" Marked with Extraordinary Liberality " — The Liberality
Explained — Sir Frederick Maurice — The Waterloo Campaign —
A Remarkable Discovery — Strange Disappearance of No. 64 —
Col. Lonsdale Hale — Col. Cooper King — Col. Henderson of
Stonewall Jackson — " Scotland for Ever " — From the Scottish
Officers — The Battle of Ballybunnion — From the Oirish
Officers — Pork Chops and the Duke , , ,

x A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
CHAPTER IX
SOLDIERING ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER
PAGE
Peace and War — A Prisoner of War — General Sher Af zul — His Escort
— The Modest General — A Matter of Buttons — The Enraged
Soldiery — Diplomacy to the Front — The History of a Greatcoat
— An Irish Stew in June — Handing Over to the Civil — Intense
Agony of the General — The Police Officer Adamant — A Find of
£20,000 — A War Correspondent — The Times First in the Field —
The Times Last in the Field — While the Cat's Away — The
Gambler — " Prepare to Meet thy God " t2(,
CHAPTER X
THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR
Germany's Reward — A Gift from Spain — The War in the Philippines
— On a Spanish Steamer — Running the Blockade — Iloilo —
A Grandee of Spain — His Modest Price — The British Consul —
Following the American Fleet to Manila — The Battle of Cavite
— The Assembly of Neutral Fleets — Admiral Dewey — On the
Olympia — German Bluster — The Irene — More Bluster — The
Way to Deal with Germans — American and English Camaraderie
— Sir Edward Chichester — A British Sailor All Over — The
Bombardment of Manila — Shocked Teutons — An Old Fort —
Gunnery 100 Years Ago and Now — Two Debts — The American
Regulars — Discipline — " Alf " — A Visit to Aguinaldo — A
Spanish Picquet — Their Little Joke . . . . .147
CHAPTER XI
SOME ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR
Sir Hector MacDonald — Stopped by Telegram — Success after many
Endeavours — Arrival in England — Lord George Hamilton — Sir
Dighton Probyn Deus ex machina — Lord Scarbrough — His Un
selfish Patriotism — The 3rd Imperial Yeomanry — Yorkshire and
Nottinghamshire Combine — The Best of Regiments — Trekking
with Lord Methuen — In Pursuit of De Wet — Lindley — A Tight
Corner — Lord Chesham's Brigade — Capture of Villebois de
Mareuil's Commando — Surprising a Boer Commando — Charging
a Kopje — The Two Yeomen — A Wound — The Man Fours —
Lady Galway's Knife — Seventeen Pieces in him and yet Lived —
Sixteen Best Girls — Boer Women — The Comely Daughter —
And the Persuasive Subaltern — A Rider Follows us — The Comely
Daughter Again — Her Information — Her Night March Tied to
the Interpreter — The Surprisers Surprised — The Bird Flown—
The Revenge of Jealousy — We Picket a Farm — Remarkably
Handsome Daughters — The Blood's Attentions — Also the
Major's — The Intercepted Letter — A Reply that Got Through —
Bloodstained Clothes and Frills — A Palatial Farm — We Sit
Heavily On It — A Tall and Bounteous Female — We Meet
Again at a Dinner Party , , . , . , ,160

CONTENTS xi
CHAPTER XII
SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS
PAGE
Lord Methuen — A Sahib of the Deepest Dye — Who is a Sahib ? —
The Column Commander — " Eternal Damnation to Steyn and
De Wet " — A Motley Column — Caton Woodvilie Pictures — And
How They Panned Out — A Treacherous Shot — The Rapscallion
Squadron — The Lord Mayor and Burghers — The Column Com
mander Speaks — The Daily Double Trek — Attacking the Kopjes
— The Red-haired Boer — " Don't Shoot the Poor Devil " — The
Column Commander's Last Trek — Rudyard Kipling — His
Greeting — Cecil Rhodes — His Quest — Rudyard Kipling's Great
Achievement — The Yeomen Cheer Rudyard Kipling and Cecil
Rhodes — Their Modest Departure — Baden-Powell — Some Old
Stories — His Reception in Cape Town — His Buttons Cut Off —
Shot into Government House — An Honest Helper — Far-
reaching Effect of Defence of Mafeking . . . .179
CHAPTER XIII
ON LEAVE IN AMERICA
The Millionaire's Suite on Board — First Shave in America — Travel
ling at Night — With a Stout Lady — We Dress Together —
Staying with the Griscoms — " Tactless " Defined — The British
Way — A Reporter at Dinner — " Borrows " a Photograph —
" The British Fighter is Here " — Mr. Roosevelt at Oyster Bay —
American Individuality — " He Wants to be the Corpse " —
Roosevelt's Rough Riders — A Postal Achievement — " Be
Strong or Git " — My Brother Frank — His Candour — A Relic of
Wolfe — The Heights of Abraham — British Gunners Speak
French — The Races at Toronto — Canadian Hospitality — The
Montreal Choir — A Country House in America — A Bright Throng
— Making a Night of It — An Experience at Bridge — The Flapper
— " You Carry Me " — Wins ^780 — Dividing the Spoil — The
Diamond Bracelet — Poppa Displeased — Bong-bongs or Bouketts
— The Right Way ........ 192
CHAPTER XIV
KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS
King Edward — A Great King — The Rapprochement with France and
Russia— His Tact and Diplomacy — Political Foresight —
Sandringham — Lord Marcus Beresford and the Mare — The
Marquis de Soveral — " The Importance of Being Ernest " — A
Game of Bridge — " Off with his Head " — The Prince's Joke —
" Persimmon " — The Prince and the Medal — Handing Potatoes
to the German Emperor — Lord William Beresford — Some
Anecdotes — Lord and Lady Dufferin — George V as Prince of
Wales in India — The Royal Gift — The Prince's Charger — King
George's Charger — Sir John Woon Twice to the Rescue — The
German Emperor — Salisbury Cathedral — The Policeman's Story
— The Former King of Siam — His 800 Wives — The Fate of an

xii A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
PAGE
Amorous Page — Only 200 Wives on Week-end Visits —
Milliners and Confectioners for 800 Wives — The Mikado — A
Modern Monarch — In French Uniform — The Duke and Duchess
of Connaught — A Divisional General in India — At a Small
Dance--The Duke at Rawal Pindi — A Stanhope Gold Medal —
Another — Mr. Roosevelt — The Boer Delegates — A Great
President .......... 206
CHAPTER XV
LORD ROBERTS, LORD KITCHENER, AND OTHER
GENERALS
Lord Roberts — A Very Great Man — His Courage — 70 Years Old in
the Boer War — His Final and Great Effort — Dies in St. Paul's
with Nelson and Wellington — Contrast between Lord Roberts
and Lord Kitchener— Both Great Soldiers — Dord Roberts's
Kindness and Consideration — -Wonderful Memory — Thought for
the Bereaved — Lord Kitchener's Disapproval — Burying the
Hatchet — First Meeting with Lord Kitchener — His Escape
from the Boers — Egypt his Monument-1— Lord Cromer's Influence
— Lord Kitchener's Power of Intuition — Lord Wolseley in the
Soudan — A Great Reformer — " Political Generals " — Keeping
before the Public — The Shower of Medals — A Pint of 'Arf and
'Arf — The Debt of the Army to Lord Wolseley — Sir Horace
Smith-Dorrien — A Born Leader of Men — Mons and Le Cateau —
SirW. Penn Symons — His Toasts — Sir Douglas Haig — As a Fag at
Clifton — As I.-G. of Cavalry — Sir William Robertson — His First
Commission — Work at Simla — The Staff College — The Brain of
the Army — Two Anonymous Generals — The Flagstaff at
Umballa — The Battle of the Standard — A Pusillanimous Staff
Officer — The Heroic Garrison Engineer — The Triumph of the
Lady — Sir Edmund Barrow — Sir James Willcocks — General
Bannatine-Allason . . . . . . . .227
CHAPTER XVI
THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS
The Frontier Officer — Not Easily Taken Aback in Sudden Emer
gency — A Tragedy of Three — Major Dodd — In Daily Peril —
Capt. Butler of The Guides — The Khattuk Dance — Shot from
Behind — Murderer Hanged — Major Dodd and Capt. Brown
Homeward Bound — Shot by his Orderly — -Pursuit of Murderer
— Lieut. Hickie's Gallantry— Eight Killed or Wounded — A
Snapshot Ends the Fight — The Deputy-Commissioner holds a
Jirgah — Raiders Reported — Ransoms — Their Use and Abuse —
In Hot Pursuit — Skilled Trackers — Cavalry Cover 80 Miles —
Gang Run to Earth — A Night Watch — The Gang Accounted
For — Another Raid — Cavalry and Infantry Start— Terrorised
Villagers — In the Village Mosque — Surrounding the Raiders —
Fierce Fight in the Night — Raiders Break Out — Christmas Eve
— A Midnight Call — The Major's Lady— The Squadron Starts —
Surrounding the Village — A Brief Encounter — A Casualty —
Nearing Home — The Lady and the Dog — A Simple Grave in the
East ,,,,,,,.,, 244

CONTENTS xiii

CHAPTER XVII
INDIA AND THE INDIANS
PAG*
The Indian Problem — Paternal Government — Laws and Lawyers —
The Disturbing Element— Poisonous Polluters of -the Political
Atmosphere — The Frontier Crimes Act — What India Requires
— Ibrahim Khan — His Devotion and Death — The Indian Soldier
—Devotion to his Officers — An Old Retainer — Awaiting the
Baby Sahib — The Best Indians — The Worst — Kadir Dad — His
Devotion to his Master — John of Baghdad — Lord Mayo — " A
King Indeed " — His Liberality- — Sir Pertab Singh— The
Englishman in India — His Qualities — The One Man Present —
Swaraj — An Exhibition — The Deputy-Commissioner to the
Rescue — When India is Ready for Self-Government . .268
CHAPTER XVIII
ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN
My Father's Ride — 700 Miles in Seven Days — The June Heat —
Sukker to Simla — " An Awful Beast " — The Adjutant-General's
Remarks — Lord Lytton's Remark — The Irishman of India —
Some Sample Letters — Catching a Train — " Your Honour
Knows Best " — The Horns of a Dilemma — The Camp of Roaring
Luck — The Old Soldier — " Draw Swords " — " Charge " — The
Queen's Bounty — Sir James Willcocks and the Tactful Sentry —
A Regimental Durbar — The Infuriated Gurkha — Deprived of
his Rope to Heaven — The Judgment — Mr. Keir Hardie in India
— Calls Himself a Coolie — Astonishment of Audience — The
Wano Patriots — Invitation Accepted — Arranging his Reception
— Battles by the Way — A Feast at Mess — A Disappointment —
Micky Doyne — Full Private in the K.O.S.B. — Sir Bindon Blood
Admires the View — Storming of the Malakand — The Return
Journey — A Surprise Visit— A Curious Medallion . . .280
CHAPTER XIX
MESS CUSTOMS
The King's Health — Across the Water— Some Regiments Absolved —
Undoubted Loyalty of Old — Various Customs in Drinking the
King's Health — "Gentlemen, the Vice" — The Regent's Allow
ance — A Backhander — A Naval Tradition — *' A Glass of Wine
with You "¦ — Treating in Messes — Mufti at Dinner — A Sub
altern's Instruction — Ante-room Etiquette — Scotch Regiments
and St. Andrew — A ' ' Quaich " — Pipers at Mess — Irish Regiments
and St. Patrick— Cricket the Day After — The Lost Wicket-
keeper — Welsh Regiments and St. David — Passing the Leek —
The Italian Priest — The Senior Officer at Mess — An Angry
Doctor — Six Months' Discipline — Life in a Mess — Mess Ex
penses — How to Live — Young Officers of To-day — An Old
Soldier to a Young One — Answering Salutes — The King's
Uniform .......... 297

xiv A SOLDIERS MEMORIES
CHAPTER XX
SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES

PAGE

The Victoria Cross — The Royal Warrant— Lieut. R. C. Hart —
Lieut. E. P. Leach — Lieut. Walter Hamilton — Capt. A. G.
Hammond- — Capt. W. J. Vousden — Rev. J. W. Adams —
Major G. White — Lieut. A. K. Wilson, r.n. — Q Battery, R.H.A.
— Lieut.-Col. R. B. Adams — Lt. Lord Fincastle — Lieut. H. Mac-
Lean — Lieut. F. A. Maxwell — Lieut. G. Wylly — Sepoy Lalla . 314
CHAPTER XXI
A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS
A Mighty River — Nine Miles Wide — Its Devastations — Dera-
Ghazi-Khan Swept Away — The Party — The Fleet — Weighing
Anchor — " What's a Log ? " — The Telegraph Operator — Lunch
on Board — The Lady sees 3000 Geese — We Shoot One — The
Fleet Sets Sail — Anchor for the Night — A Few Partridges —
Soulful Music — Set Sail Again — Stalking Duck — More Par
tridges — Struggle with an Alligator — A Night Alarm — " Man
Overboard " — The Telegraph Operator's Use — His Night
Excursion — Shooting, Lazing and Sailing — A Goanese General —
A Scene of Desolation — The Ruined Town — The Church
Stands Amazed — Good-bye — Off to Fight the Germans . . 337

ILLUSTRATIONS

Lord Roberts at Kabul, Christmas, 1879 . . . frontispiece PACING AGE
The Author Dressed as a Shan, 1886—87 • • • .104
Staff College, 1890-91 ........ 114
Caricature of Officers at the Staff College, 1890-91 . . 120
Captain Charles Townshend, Commanding in the Defence of
Chitral, 1895, and as Major-General in the Defence of Kut-
el-amara, 1915-16 ........ 130
Admiral Dewey, Commander of the American Fleet at the
Naval Battle of Cavite, May i, 1898 .... 150
Lieut. -Gen. Sir Robert Baden-Powell, Commanding in the
Defence of Mafeking, 1 899-1 900 . . . . .188
King Edward VII  206
Lord William Beresford in 1886 ...... 210
The Marquess of Dufferin and Ava ..... 212
The Late Lord Kitchener as a Major in Egypt in 1884 . 230
Rev. J. W. Adams, V.C  234
General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, when Commanding a
Brigade in the Boer War, 1899-1902 .... 236
Ibrahim Khan . 270

XV

A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES

A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES

CHAPTER I
A SANDHURST DUEL, AND OTHER LIGHT
ADVENTURES
Sandhurst in 1877 — -Willyum — The Provocation — The Challenge —
Swords or Pistols — Preparations — The Duel — Death of Craw
ford — His Bequests — Flight to France — The Police — Resur
rection — A Matter of Labour — The Plan of Campaign — The
Problem of Exit — Arrived at the Scsne of Action — The First
Success — Five more Successes — Consigned to a Watery Grave-
To Bed at Dawn — Why Nothing Happened— Truth Will Out —
My Sister Dolly — Milk in Paper Bags — A Dastardly Attack —
Another Splendid Tea — Dolly Goes Back to Town— Great
. Strides in Topography — A Tidy Little Girl — An Eyeglass in
Pursuit — Sherry and Lemonade — The Oak Grove — A Meeting
on Parade
THIS is not an autobiography, and there
fore will not deal with the nursery and
early youth. These are merely the memories
of a soldier, and as such cannot perhaps more
appropriately begin than at Sandhurst, in 1877.
If I call to mind the lighter side of Sandhurst life,
it is not because there were no serious aspects ; but
rather because in our lighter moods we may possibly
be of more interest than when portrayed in the hot
pursuit of military lore.
During my time there was at Sandhurst a fellow
cadet who was rather a simple young man, but
withal very good-natured, so he in due course was
taken up by the brighter spirits as a subject on
whom to exercise their wit and fancy. To this end,

20 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
and as the result of a conspiracy, another gentleman-
cadet of mild exterior was invited, and incited, to
call the simple gentleman-cadet aforesaid, — who
went by the name of Willyum, — a Liar, no less, in
the largest type, and with the greatest publicity
and emphasis. This he accordingly did. But
Willyum, to our chagrin, looked at him with great
blandness and condescension, and without the least
annoyance remarked :
" Oh, no, not quite all that, old boy ! "
This was in the days before it was customary to
call our best friends liars, as a term of endearment.
" Yes you are, you are a — let's see — sanguinary
Liar, and I don't mind who hears me say so,"
vociferated the mildly exteriored confederate.
" Well, of course, if you say so, I suppose I am,"
assented Willyum with great amiability.
But this would not do at all, there was distinct
danger of a fiasco ; so the bystanders, gentlemen-
cadets simply pining to wade in someone else's gore,
for the honour of the cloth, exclaimed with one
accord :
" This cannot be, my dear fellow, you simply
cannot allow a fellow to call you a damned liar to
your face."
" Can't I ? " said Willyum, much perplexed. "Then
what the doose am I to do ? "
" Do ! Do ? Great Heavens ! Why, call him out
at once," his mentors advised. " You must re
member that as a gentleman-cadet you are, though
not quite an officer, yet very nearly a gentleman,
and you really must not stand insults of this sort."
" Oh ! Ah ! indeed, um ! Ought to call him
out ? What, to fight ? You don't say so ? I can't
box for nuts," replied Willyum, with a pale and
weary grin ; for the gravity of the situation was
dawning on him.
" Boxing ! Lord love us ! Boxing ! There is,

A SANDHURST DUEL 21
needless to say, only one way to wipe out an insult
like this, and that is with a sabre, or a pistol,"
chorused the onlookers in virtuous indignation.
Never, assuredly, were so many shocked and out
raged people gathered together.
" Must I really ? " asked the now unhappy
Willyum. " I'm sure he didn't mean it." ("Yes, I
did," from the other gentleman.) " And anyway, I
have not the least desire to kill him, and don't
suppose he is particularly desirous of downing me."
(" Not so sure," from the ferocious antagonist.)
" Yes," replied the strictly chivalrous crowd,
" unless he apologises to you, you are bound to call
him out."
" And he has choice of weapons," added a seasoned
old dueller of about seventeen summers.
So friend Willyum was hurried off to the College ;
and thence, by hand of his Second, sent a challenge
to mortal combat to Crawford. Unless, of course,
Crawford would apologise and withdraw the
objectionable epithet.
Crawford returned a scornful reply, and chose
pistols. The Seconds then selected a secluded spot in the
pine woods, up behind the hospital. Where, so
they explained to Willyum, the shots were not
likely to be heard by the Officers ; and where also
the soil was light and easily dug ; or as an alter
native the hospital was near. The hour chosen was
tea-time, which, though not an obligatory meal,
claimed the attention of most gentlemen-cadets,
and all the Officers. Thus too much publicity would
be avoided.
On the fatal afternoon, therefore, by devious
routes, the two parties, accompanied by a medical
student, guest of one of the gentlemen-cadets,
assembled at the selected and secluded spot. It
was not so secluded, however, but that some

22 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
spectators stalked them through the woods and
heather, and lying close were witnesses of the
tragedy. Willyum was pale, but firm. Crawford was
gloomy, but determined.
The Seconds loaded the pistols, and gave one to
each of the combatants. They then placed them
back to back, and instructed them carefully in their
duties. On a given word they were each to take
six paces to their front, turn round, and fire.
" But suppose he goes quicker than I do,"
objected Crawford, " and turns round and plugs
me in the back before I am ready ? "
" That is arranged for," replied the Seconds with
great dignity ; " we shall give the time— one, two,
three, four, five, six — in slow time."
" Are you ready ? " asked both Seconds ; and
the medical student took hasty shelter behind the
nearest tree.
Then : " Slow march ! One, two, three, four,
five, six."
There were two simultaneous bangs, and Craw
ford was seen to stagger, and fall. Indeed, he died
very nicely. He forgave Willyum for having shot
him, and asked to press his hand. He left messages
for his mother, and bequeathed his fox-terrier to
me, and his watch to his soldier servant.
Then we hurried Willyum from the horrid scene.
He was in a distinctly dazed condition, and could
not for the life of him think how he came to make
so deadly a shot. The last that he recollected was
that when he pulled the trigger beyond recall, the
pistol was point-blank on to one of the Seconds.
Well, anyway, there it was, and he was infernally
sorry ; and what on earth was he to do ?
It immediately occurred to all that when one
man killed another in a duel he invariably " flew to
France," or anyway, "fled the country." So we

A SANDHURST DUEL 23
advised Willyum that the best thing he could do
was to fly to France ; and that he had better go and
pack his clothes at once, before the police, like
sleuth-hounds, were on his track. We also magnani
mously agreed that we would make up a purse
between us to assist him in his flight.
We then locked him into his room to pack, leaving
a gentleman-cadet with him to see that he did not
hang himself, or do anything else foolish, and our
selves mounted guard outside.
Just as Willyum had finished packing, and had
been disguised with a corked moustache, there came
a thundering knock at the door.
" My God ! The Police ! " exclaimed Willyum,
and made for the window, with his guardian .gentle
man-cadet hanging on to him in determined manner.
" Don't be an idiot, my good ass ! It is a thirty
feet drop ! "
Another thundering knock at the door, and
imminent signs of its bursting through.
" Who is there ? " asked Willyum, in a voice of
stern despair.
" Why, I am, you old Juggins ! " yelled the loud
and cheerful voice of the corpse.
Perhaps no one in his life was ever so glad to see
a corpse as was Willyum on that historic occasion.
He literally hugged that corpse, and at once took
him off, and the seconds and the guard too, to the
ante-room bar to drink his own health.
True, there was some slight coldness between
Crawford and myself over the fox-terrier which he
had bequeathed to me. He had also considerable
difficulty in extracting his watch from his soldier
servant, to whom it had at once been given with
great and spontaneous magnanimity, to that worthy
fellow's intense- astonishment.
Thus ended the famous Sandhurst duel.

24 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
If there was one thing a gentleman-cadet of those
days loathed more than another, it was what was
called " digging." That is to say, by the sweat of
one's brow, and with picks and shovels, making
earthen entrenchments.
"I'd rather lie starko in the open, and take my
bally chance," was the prevailing sentiment.
That was because it was part of our daily curric
ulum (to use the chaste language of the War Office
regulations), and therefore ipso facto a matter for
severe reprobation. But to get up in the middle of
the night, and at that unseemly hour to undertake
manual labour of the severest type, just because
we were supposed to be asleep in nice warm beds,
that was a different matter. That was fruit from
the forbidden tree, and therefore a source of immense
satisfaction to all concerned.
It matters not who first thought of it, men of the
greatest genius lie in unknown graves ; but his
suggestion was that on the last night of our stay as
guests of Her Majesty, at the Royal Military College,
a select and secret party should rise in the middle
of the night, get out of College (no mean feat), go
down to York Town, dig up one of the lamp-posts,
and throw it into the lake.
The exact object of this feat is not quite apparent
to a maturer intellect. The lamp-posts did not
belong to the War Office, nor to the Instructors or
Professors at the Royal Military College ; all of
whom were, of course, by tradition and custom, our
natural enemies. No, the lamp-posts merely be
longed to the City Fathers of York Town, whom we
did not even know by sight, much less against whom
had we a legitimate cause of complaint. They were
also buried deep in macadam and concrete ; and
the hour selected was midnight, in the not too
sultry month of December. Once, however, the
conspiracy was started there were no lack of volun-

A SANDHURST DUEL 25
teers to man the undertaking, but naturally a very
deadly secrecy had to be observed, or all might
have been discovered and the plot frustrated.
Finally a storming party of eight was chosen to
do the actual work in hand ; whilst any others who
cared to sneak out and see the fun might do so, on
their own.
To get out of the College was the first problem
that faced the strategists. The windows facing the
lake were all too high, and moreover there was the
quarter-guard just inside the main entrance, and
patrols prowling about. The lower windows in all
the back wings faced a broad and deep area, with
spiked railings opposite ; whilst the Sergeant-In
structors and their families slept in the basement
below. That did not seem very promising either,
though a plank was secured and placed handy, and
some stout rope from the bridging stores was also
carefully concealed. However, a scouting party
found a still better way, for on proceeding down to
the kitchen, with great caution and a dark lantern,
they found the whole place absolutely deserted, and
a safe and easy exit from it near the corner of the
old chapel.
So far so good. Next, by a circuitous road through
the Oak Grove, the marauders reached the main and
only street of York Town. Here it was found that
an economical and thoughtful municipality had put
out all the lights after midnight, with the laudable
intention of saving gas. But as a regrettable
sequence, they unfortunately lost a lot of it that
night. The lamp-post selected for attack was in a
secluded corner, just past the end of the Terrace,
where everything was as silent as the grave. But
first picquets were posted up and down the road to
keep a look-out for roaming policemen, or other
undesirable persons.
Then the work began, and it is really extra-

26 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
ordinary what a fearsome noise to guilty ears a
pickaxe makes, on a metalled road, on a still and
frosty night. One would have thought the whole
village, as well as all the Officers riving in the
Terrace, would have been awakened with one
accord ; but they slept like the Seven-and-seventy
Sleepers. " Can't you muffle, or muzzle, the blamed thing ? "
asked the leader of the party in a fierce, hoarse
whisper. " No, I can't, sonny. You just come and try.
Why the blessed thing's set in adamant at least.
I haven't made a scratch yet."
It took many reliefs, and a good deal of honest
sweat, and hard words ; and caused several pairs
of blistered hands, before the lamp-post showed the
least sign of rocking.
" Now then, chuck the rope over the top, and
haul all," ordered the bandit leader.
" I say, shan't we blow up the whole bally town
if we break the pipes like this ? " enquired an
anxious voice. It belonged to the gentleman-cadet
who was an adept at " Stinks," as chemistry was
elegantly called.
" By Jove, there is something in that," agreed
one or two.
" Hang the town," declared the reckless leader ;
" take a haul ! "
In about sixty seconds that lamp-post was lying
low, and the conspirators felt big men.
" Let's have another down," suggested one of the
more adventurous.
" Yes, come on, let's ! " chorused all.
This time a much more prominent and public
lamp-post was selected, and that too after severe
labour came down — plank ! And yet not a mouse
stirred, nor a dog barked.
Finally six lamp-posts lay moribund, and from

A SANDHURST DUEL 27
six pipe ends was escaping, in large quantities, the
precious gas of the citizens.
Everyone was pretty tired, and it was now
getting on towards morning, when someone sug
gested :
" Let's chuck them into the lake ! "
Carried nem. con.
So, after more strenuous labour, all six lamp
posts were put into a flat-bottomed fishing punt
there was on the lake, and this was paddled out to
the island and the lamp-posts were dropped over
board in about six feet, or more, of water.
Then back all, hard as hard could run, for dawn
was perilously close.
Happily cooks are not early birds, so the kitchen
was safely passed, and an hour's hard-earned sleep
was secured before Reveille1 sounded.
Most of us were due to leave by early trains, but
it was really more than could be resisted to go down
to York Town before departing, to see " what was
happening." Happening ! why absolutely nothing ! The gas
in ordinary course had been turned off at the main,
and though passers-by noticed in a casual way that
a lamp-post here and there was absent, it did not
strike them as anything extraordinary. Merely been
taken up for repair, or to be re-sited, they thought.
It wasn't till we were all safe in London that a bit
of a stir began to arise about those lamp-posts.
But after a time we heard that the whole matter
had settled down into a sort of dark and gloomy
mystery, and one which the most cunning police
could not unravel.
That story was frequently told for many years
to one's friends, but always with the secret con
viction that none of them believed it. A bigger-
liar-than-he-looks sort of attitude they assumed.
However, truth will out of the deepest well. Whilst

28 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
we were at the Staff College, years later, the Sand
hurst lake was drained, for some settled purpose ¦
to kill off the pike, or maybe search for a corpse.
And there sure enough, over against the island,
resting peacefully at the bottom of the lake, were
our six lamp-posts !

One of our batch of cadets made up admirably as
a girl, and a very handsome girl to boot, so we had
a good deal of fun with her. Her first female appear
ance in public was as my sister, though as candid
friends remarked, she was a doosed sight too good-
looking to be any relative of mine. By way of trial
run we worked her off first on the Under-Officer of
our Division. Everything went off capitally, and
about four of us got a free and gorgeous tea at the
expense of the Under-Officer.
After tea the Under-Officer most politely took
" my sister," Dolly by name, and showed her round
the lecture-rooms, and ante-rooms, and dining-
rooms, in all of which she showed a most intelligent
and ladylike interest. But the most unfortunate
thing happened towards the end of such a happy
day. In those days gentlemen-cadets used to buy
milk down at the pantry, and carried it up to their
rooms in paper bags. No one has ever before, or
since, seen or heard of milk being carried in paper
bags ; but there, and then, it was a cadet custom.
In the course of our promenade, whilst we were
going along a passage below a flight of stairs, there
chanced to be up the flight of stairs a dastardly
fellow, who had recognised the lady as being a
particular friend and trigonometrical collaborator.
So by way of showing his affection and appreciation
he dropped his paper bag of milk, with extraordinary
precision, straight on top of a very chaste and costly
erection she had on her head. The result was a most

A SANDHURST DUEL 29
unladylike roar, a flow of the most ungentlemanly
abuse, and picking up her skirts she just skipped
up the stairs after that unrighteous fellow like a
lamp-lighter. That blew the gaff, as the vulgar
say, in so far as the Under-Officer was concerned, but
he turned out a valuable ally in our next venture.
This was no lesser prey than the Officer of our
Division ; a bit of a lady's man, bien entendu. Here
we scored a complete success from beginning to end,
and incidentally secured another simply splendid
tea for nothing. True, we nearly had hysterics over
the profuse politeness of our host to a lady, whom
he had that morning told off with great severity for
slackness on parade.
We were again shown all the lecture halls, especi
ally the chief guest's own ; and ante-rooms and
mess rooms. But we took exceeding good care to
keep clear of possible traps and staircases, and
avoided congregations of our fellow cadets with
considerable craft. The chief trouble arose when
the Officer insisted on walking down to the station
with us, for " my sister " Dolly was by way of going
back to Town. Even that difficulty was however
surmounted, and out of our scanty pocket-money
we bought her a return ticket to Woking, and
fervently prayed she would be back before next
roll-call. The Officer evidently thought me rather wanting
in brotherly affection in not kissing my sister
tenderly as we parted, and himself warmly pressed
her hand, and gave her The Queen and other female
fodder to read in the train. All the way back to the
College he kept saying what a nice girl my sister
was ; and we kept changing the subject to football,
or any blamed thing. It was really rather touching
how fond of me that gallant fellow became during
the rest of the term, and what immense strides I
made in the art of topography.

30 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Our last, and perhaps most successful, endeavour,
was at the expense of a fellow-cadet. He was one
of those dashing fellows who loved the ladies, all of
them, with all his heart. And every little bit of
bunting that appeared on his horizon he set sail
after. So we again dressed up our good-looking
comrade, this time as rather a nice, tidy-looking
little girl from — well, anywhere, but not my sister
this time. With mfinite care we smuggled her out,
and about dusk let her slip in York Town. As luck
would have it, she had not walked more than once
up and once down, when the gentleman-cadet with
the large heart espied her, and screwing his eye
glass firm in, gave instant pursuit.
" Good evening," cavalierly.
" Good evening," prudishly.
" Going for a walk ? " ingratiatingly.
" Yes," artlessly.
" May I come too ? " with easy nonchalance.
" You may please yourself," with invitation.
"I say, you are jolly pretty, you know. Let's go
in and have a drink at the ' Swan.' "
" Thanks, I don't mind if I do. Sherry-and-
lemonade, please." This was rather heroic.
After the sherry-and-lemonade they came back
through York Town, and branched off towards the
Oak Grove ; very carefully, and discreetly, stalked
behind hedgerows, by quite a respectable crowd of
indiscreet onlookers.
Arrived at the Oak Grove, the fond couple seated
themselves on the greensward at the foot of an
ancient oak, and the old, old story was told again,
in moving fashion. Though we were all rather
fearful lest our girl's mess trousers might peep out
from the bottom of her skirts ; long skirts happily
in those days, and the exhibition of an ankle an
unpardonable sin.
Still, accidents do happen even in the best managed

A SANDHURST DUEL 31
dramas, in moments of abandon, or carelessness.
However, our girl was a model of careful discretion,
and kept the red stripe tidily below. But even the
most finished actor cannot bear the strain too long,
especially with a lot of idiots giggling behind the
hedge. " Well, I must be going now, duckie," she said
sweetly. " Oh, no, darling, stay a little longer, won't you ?
There is heaps of time."
" Oh, no, there ain't. I've got to mind me p's
and q's and be in early, or mother goes on that, and
so does father. And as for my brother Tom, 'e'd
kill me straight if 'e saw me now, and you too."
" Ferocious fellow, begad. Eh ! What ? Well,
if you must go I suppose you must, but when shall
we meet again, darling ? "
" To-morrow morning on parade," answered
a gruff voice from under the Dolly Varden hat.

CHAPTER II
JOINING
War Clouds in 1878 — Cadets to the Rescue — Eastward Bound —
A Court Martial — Trial and Sentence — Orderly Room Next
Day — Our Oldest Ally — Invitations to a Dance — The Return
of the Sabines — The Midshipman's Night — And Advice —
India First Impressions — Space and Gorgeousness — Saloon
Carriages— Many Meals — A Short Halt at Allahabad — Another
at Lahore — From the Tropics to Frdst — A Tip — A Double Tip
in Return — Rumours of War — A Block at Jhelum — A 9th
Lancer Friend — Cold Drives to Peshawar — In the Role of a
Khitmutgar — Bengal Lancers — Join the 17th Foot — Lunch —
At War Three Hours After— Fitted Out for the Fray— To
Death or Glory
IT was the year when war with Russia, and war
with Afghanistan, were imminent ; when all
Europe was in an electric state, and Indian
troops^ were brought to Malta, that a batch of cadets
were hastily released from Sandhurst, presumably
to stem the tide. History does not appear to be
quite decided whether it was the sudden production
of these five score young gentlemen, or whether it
was the dramatic arrival of the Indian troops, or
whether it was merely the united common sense of
a few leading politicians that saved Europe from a
great war. It was, however, happily saved.
But in Asia, a less sapient potentate, the Amir of
Afghanistan, was injudicious enough to challenge
his old friends and neighbours, the English, to
mortal combat. To this war many of the gentlemen-
cadets of 1878 were drafted, and some of them to
Her Majesty's 17th Foot ; later known as the
32

JOINING 33
Leicestershire Regiment, of undying fame in France
and Mesopotamia.
The voyage to India was much the same then as
it is now, except that we sailed in one of Her Majesty's
troopships, the Crocodile in our case, under the
White Ensign ; and lived like rats in the " Pande
monium," instead of being conveyed in comfortable
ocean liners, as in more modern days.
The " Pandemonium " was a dark and noisome
submarine hole, in which the thirty last-joined sub
alterns lived, and moved, and had their being. No
one would dream of putting even a cow in such a
place nowadays. From its position under the sea
no fresh air could reach it, and in the Red Sea the
heat in these lower regions was like nothing else on
earth. Moreover it was against naval and military
discipline for subalterns to sleep elsewhere than in
this inferno. One still remembers the awful and
appalling headaches which racked the weary waker
in the morning. But one is young at eighteen ; so
that mutton chops, beefsteak, bacon and eggs
— " strong man's breakfast," as it was called —
came nothing amiss, even after nights such as
these. Of course the usual internecine warfare took
place, and occasionally a Subaltern's Court Martial
was held. One of these was, perhaps, sufficiently
quaint to be recorded. A subaltern was tried, by his
peers and brethren of the cloth, for having a face
and features " calculated to spread alarm and
despondency amongst Her Majesty's forces," to use
the picturesque phraseology of the Articles of War.
The court martial was held with due formality,
except that all wore nightshirts instead of uniform,
as more suitable to the place of assembly, and
climate. There were the president and members of
the court, the prosecutor, the prisoner's friend, and
the prisoner himself, guarded by a file of subalterns

34 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
armed with nozzles from the fire-hose — a naval
offence of the first magnitude, had we known it.
After a careful, if not very prolonged trial, during
which eloquent speeches were made both for the
prosecution and defence, the prisoner was found
guilty of the crime set forth. The president then
put on a top hat which some injudicious person had
brought on board, by way of black cap, and pro
nounced sentence. " The prisoner was to be painted
blue and yellow in alternate stripes (like a football
jersey), with a view to distracting the attention of
Her Majesty's forces from the more alarming
features of his personality."
The paint was obtained from the ship's carpenter,
but the execution of the sentence was rather a
tedious job, and it was only with the kind assistance
of the prisoner, who took the keenest interest in the
proceedings, and himself painted his left arm and
right leg, that a satisfactory result was obtained.
He really was a masterpiece, and looked perfectly
awful ! We could do no better, therefore, than let
him loose on the " horse-boxes," armed with a
bolster. In the " horfee-boxes," on the deck above
the Pandemonium, lived the Majors and Captains,
and on these it was our custom to carry out occa
sional midnight assaults, when we ourselves could
not sleep, and did not see why others should. One
portly, and well-nourished Major, really thought
that the devil had come for him this time, and let
forth an awesome and fearful yell-and-squeak com
bined. He required a good deal of soothing down,
did the well-nourished Major ; and some of us had
unfortunately to line up at Orderly Room next
morning over that episode.
Next astern of us in the Suez Canal was tied up a
Portuguese passenger ship, and the thought occurred
to several bright spirits simultaneously that we
might have a dance, and invite the Portuguese

JOINING 35
ladies warmly, and their men coldly, to come on
board and join it. The Captain of our ship and the
Officer commanding the troops gave their consent,
and three of us were sent off with a formal invita
tion card. Why three were sent is not clear, but
probably it was a careful provision on the part of
our seniors to keep us out of mischief.
We went in state in the Captain's gig, and arriving
at the top of the gangway of our oldest Ally, handed
in our invitation card. But unfortunately none of
them could read it, whilst none of us knew Portu
guese. The situation, however, was saved by one of
the envoys, who achieved the brilliant idea of clasp
ing another round the waist and waltzing round,
whilst the third envoy whistled a tune. Light out
of darkness, and laughter, and much chatter ! Then
began Pedro, and Braganza, and De Souza to dash
about after Mrs. Pedro, the Misses Braganza, and
other Donna Marias ; so that finally six ladies,
large and small, but mostly large and well mous-
tached, were collected. These safely tucked into
the boat the bluejackets pushed off, and most
unfortunately left nearly all the men behind. Our
return to H.M.S. Crocodile assumed, therefore, some
what the air of a successful raid ; and one classical
student leaning over the rail made some apparently
amusing remarks, about ancient Roman History
and the Sabines.
The dance was a great success, especially so for a
very juvenile midshipman. That desperate fellow
captured the largest and most liberally moustached
lady — a three-decker he called her — and danced
with her continuously, and rapturously. As he
afterwards confided, neither of them could speak a
word of the other's language. " But, my dear fellow,
that don't matter ; when in doubt you just squeeze
her hand, quietly but firmly, you know. Not too
much though, old son, for one has to be deadly

36 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
careful not to overdo it, or they'll elope with you to
a cert. ; they are regular volcanoes these southern
women, by Aaron's rod they are ! " And he winked
with great solemnity and caution.
I had been in India before, but had left it at the
early age of three. Yet two things came back to me
at once : one was the taste of a mango, and the other
was the smell of the mimosa. I also had a sort of
dim and distant recollection of the smell of a native,
for my old bearer used to carry me pick-a-back
across his thigh, from which coign of vantage one
has an excellent opportunity for gaining an un
dying impression of this bouquet.
One's next impression was of great spaciousness,
and luxury, and clean clothes, and many baths.
None of these stand looking into, especially the
clean clothes or baths ; nor is it advisable to enquire
too closely into the origin and place of manufacture
of the many-coursed meal, or into the corners of the
spacious rooms. But these soured thoughts of
maturer years do not occur to the gay subaltern.
On his first morning he wakes up finding himself
in a great big room, opening by unclosed French
windows on to a broad veranda. On the veranda
are great palms in tubs, and through them he sees
the bright sunshine. A highly obsequious gentle
man in brilliant white raiment places a tray with
tea and toast and butter by his bedside, and asks
when His Royal Highness will take his bath.
The subaltern gives a regal reply and munches
his toast with great relish.
To add to the novelty of his surroundings, a crow
hops in, looks at him cautiously, hops a little nearer,
sees him smiling blandly, and with a quick dash
elopes with the subaltern's second piece of toast.
This is all very good fun, and the subaltern gets
up, shaves off three mysterious hairs which he calls
his beard, and together with another chosen spirit

JOINING 37
goes forth before breakfast to see Abdul Rahman's
celebrated Arab stables.
But he is not allowed many hours for the delights
of Bombay, and towards nightfall, in a very heated
condition, he finds himself in a warm railway
carriage. But here again he notices with gratifica
tion a kind of semi-royal state. At home he generally
travelled third-class, unless his father was paying
the fare, when he went first. But even thus he only
sat up in a comfortably cushioned seat. But here his
pal and he had a saloon to themselves, with a bed
far larger than is supplied by the company of the
wagon-lits, running down each side.
On the floor between, his servant has placed his
deck-chair, with his pyjamas over the back, and his
slippers in front of it. And all free ; or even if he
had to pay for it, only one penny per mile.
A penny a mile reminds me of twopence a mile,
at which rate in those days all Officers in England,
even in mufti, could travel first class. A friend of
mine, Tam Edwards, a very smart and good-looking
young Officer, was travelling from Paddington to
Bath. Going up to the ticket window he demanded
an Officer's ticket. A very pert Cockney voice
from inside snapped out :
" 'Ow am I to know you're an Orficer ? ' '
Tam bent down till his face was framed by the
window, and remarked blandly :
" Look ! deah fellah, look ! "
The ticket came out like a boomerang.
The disillusions come later, but not to our last-
joined subaltern. We were struck with the luxury
of our surroundings — saloon carriages, personal
servants waiting on us, measured and ample stop
pages for prodigious meals, large cigars, fruit at
every wayside station, crowds of picturesque natives.
At Allahabad we made our first stop of twenty-
four hours, and were again struck with the spacious-

38 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
ness of everything. Ground was of no consequence
in this immense continent. Each house stood in a
great compound, some several acres in size. Even
the English shops were not in a row, or street, side by
side ; they also stood separate like baronial halls in
great gardens. The roads looked as broad as the
Thames, and were bordered by avenues of trees,
and outside these trees, and between the road and
the compound walls, were grass rides.
Then we sped on to Lahore, and got our first
experience of the size of India climatically. At
Bombay we had worn the thinnest of Red Sea
clothes, and felt exceedingly hot even in these. At
Allahabad we did not notice much difference by
day, but towards evening put on an extra garment
or two.
Arriving at Lahore in the ruby dawn, we found
hoar frost on the ground, and felt excessively cold.
In later years two friends of ours, who had just
come through Canada in the winter, said they never
felt such intense cold there as they did driving at
dawn fifteen miles in an open dogcart in the
northern corner of the Punjab. And those who
have driven out to a meet of the Peshawar Vale
Hounds, which pack meets habitually at dawn,
because there is no scent after 10 a.m., can cor
roborate this.
At Lahore an old brother Officer of my father
most hospitably received us, and his house being
full, pitched tents for us in the compound. This
was another new and enticing experience which
appealed to us greatly.
An old Indian Officer who had served long under
my father came to see us, and, as is the polite custom
of the country, placed his sword and his wealth at
our feet. The sword is held lengthways, laid across
the palms of his hand, and his wealth is symbolised
by a few rupees in the palm of one hand. One is

JOINING 39
supposed to touch the sword and then the rupees,
thus showing that one has graciously accepted them,
and then remit them.
Being quite ignorant of the etiquette of the East,
and also of its language, I thanked the old gentleman
heartily in English, of which he knew not a word,
and said I already had a sword, but pocketed the
rupees, being too recently from school to refuse a
tip from any elderly gentleman. Our host was
greatly amused at my gaucherie, and at once made
me buy a present costing twice as much as the tip, and
sent it to the old gentleman with my compliments.
When we arrived in India, strong rumours were
afloat that war with Afghanistan was imminent ;
that an ultimatum had been sent to the Amir ; yet
nothing certain was known. Nevertheless our
friends advised us to lose no time in joining our
regiments, especially those which lay at Peshawar,
the very forefront of the coming campaign. In
those days the railway was only constructed as far
north as Jhelum ; thence to Peshawar, 180 miles
of road had to be negotiated, in some sort of
horse-drawn conveyance. The acknowledged means
of transit then was a dak gharry, a sort of large
packing-case on wheels, drawn by two ponies.
Inside this two people could spread their beds, and
slumber, or lie awake, through the many hours
during which the machine rattled night and day.
Every six or eight miles there was a change of ponies,
and the start from each stage was like the start in a
chariot race. Everyone shouted, and yelled, and
cracked whips, and threw stones, and pushed and
shoved ; till finally, with a wild plunge, off dashed
into the darkness the fiery mustangs drawing the
chariot. On the top of the ddk gharry was piled
the passengers' luggage, and in the crevices between
these trunks and bundles squatted and slept the
passengers' servants.

40 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Arrived at Jhelum, we found that the whole
passenger service had been taken over by the
military authorities, and as its carrying capacity
was very limited there was a heavy block. On
reporting our arrival to the Staff Officer, and apply
ing for passage, we were informed that his orders
were to send on officers strictly according to
seniority. As we were mere cadets from Sandhurst,
without any seniority at all, this looked very like
settling down at Jhelum for the rest of our natural
lives. We did indeed sit for two endless days and
nights in the Dak Bungalow, and then an Angel
appeared. It took the form of an Officer of the
9th Lancers, and came in at 9 p.m., and said : " I
say, young feller-me-lad, if you don't mind a dam'
cold ride, and no baggage, I'll take you on top of
my gharry, instead of my servant." Did I mind a
cold ride and no baggage ? What a frightfully
superfluous question ! Any one would have gone
in bathing drawers and slippers, and the thermo
meter below zero, rather than miss such a chance.
But wasn't he a noble fellow ? Fancy starting off
on a campaign, and leaving your only servant
behind, just to oblige an ugly boy from Sandhurst !
With the cheerful inconsequence of youth, and
without another thought, I cast the whole of my
kit, tentage and equipage to the winds, and in five
minutes had usurped the place of Ram Bux on top
of a portmanteau, on the roof of my splendid
friend's dak gharry. A wild blast on the driver's
bugle, a clatter and a dash, and the crack of a whip,
a heavy lurch and another, a perilous surge out of
the gate, and we were off at full gallop up the road
to Peshawar.
It may be confessed now that it was one of the
coldest drives experienced in a long, and at times
very cold and chequered career. Only those whose
pastime it is to search for the North Pole can quite

JOINING 41
appreciate the piercing cold of a Punjab winter
night. And when one is rushing through that
winter night perched on a pile of luggage, at a break
neck pace, with only a thin rug as a mild defence,
one begins to appreciate what the Chinese "No. 1
torture by cold " must be like.
One tried to squeeze down between two boxes,
but they were too tightly packed. One tried to
smoke a pipe, and could not for the wind. Sleep
one could not for the cold, as well as from an immi
nent fear of being shot off from an insecure perch.
All that could be done to pass the time and keep
from freezing, was to jump down at each stage and
help to harness the horses, help to push and shout
and start the team, and then, catching on behind, to
make a wild scramble for one's perch on the roof.
At the age of eighteen there is fun and excitement
enough even in such simple pleasures as these.
As day dawned and the sun arose, one began
to thaw a bit, and shortly after we passed
the nth Bengal Lancers marching to the front.
It was the first Indian regiment I had seen, and
what splendid fellows they looked, and how one
envied the easy swagger with which a young fellow,
not much older than myself, rode at the head of
one of the squadrons ! They did not fail to notice
me too, and were obviously enormously tickled at
the young Officer, his costume, and mode of travel
ling. There was a second night like the last, but at
midday on the second day we joyfully drove into
Peshawar. " Well, what news ? Is there to be a war ? When
does it begin ? Who is going ? " and a dozen more
questions were fired at everyone, and anyone, in
uniform. Nobody apparently knew anything
definitely, but all were more, or less, full of un
reliable information.
" Better run out and join your regiment, young-

42 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
ster," said my 9th Lancer Trojan; "they are en
camped about five miles out towards the Khyber
Pass, and there you will get in touch with what is
going on." And so we parted, never to meet again,
for the good God, who takes all brave warriors into
His keeping, took him. May he rest in peace !
And none the less for having been kind to a friend
less boy.
Having had a wash and a shave, and borrowed a
shirt and a collar, and the use of a brush and comb,
we hired a conveyance, locally known as a tum-
tum," — one wondered why — and pricked forth to
find the regiment.
About five miles out towards the Khyber Pass
we entered a big camp, and were begmning to
wander in our quest, when we came across a large
tent. A pleasant-looking officer in " khaki " was
smoking a cigar near the tent, and to him we
addressed ourselves.
" Can you very kindly tell us where the 17th are
encamped ? "
"Yes I can," he replied with great alacrity;
" that's a conundrum I really can answer. You are
standing bang in the middle of their camp now ! "
" Thank you very much, sir, we have come to
join." " Have you indeed ? That's splendid ! And
what's your name, and yours ? We were expecting
a batch of youngsters—' warts ' you are called, you
know. Come along in, have some lunch. Welcome
to the old 17th."
We were led into a tent full of officers at lunch,
first introduced to the Colonel, and then all round ;
and every officer got up and shook us warmly by
the hand, and said how glad they were to see us. It
was indeed a warm and happy feehng to be taken
straight, a poor dishevelled stranger, into the heart

JOINING 43
of that gallant regiment three hundred years old.
They had nice manners in the Army in those days
— and have still, for that matter, in good regiments.
" Here is a place next me, youngster," said a
grizzled old veteran with Crimean medals, " and as
I am your skipper you must come and lunch with
me. And opposite is your brother subaltern in our
Company; he's got seventeen years' service, so
there's a bit of a gap between you ! "
My skipper himself had twenty-six years' service,
and had been a Captain since the Crimean War.
The Colonel had commanded the regiment for over
twenty years ; the Adjutant, the smartest of the
smart, was a young subaltern of fourteen years'
service, and the men were mostly twenty-one years'
service men. At the time I said in my heart, may I
never see a smarter, or finer regiment, than this old
17th Foot. But I did, for that same regiment
served under me nearly forty years later in Mesopo
tamia, and was, if possible, braver and better than
it had ever been.
In the midst of lunch, someone said : " You are
just in time, youngsters, we are starting at four
o'clock this afternoon."
" Starting where ? " we asked.
" Haven't you heard ? The time of grace allowed
the Amir expires at 4 o'clock to-day, and we start
then to take the Khyber Pass, and storm Ali-
Musjid." That scene and moment have often since come
back to memory, and often since has one wondered
at, and envied, the bright optimism of early youth.
It is hardly an everyday occurrence for anyone to
travel 6000 miles, and arriving in time for lunch,
to discover incidentally in the course of conversa
tion that one is expected to take part in a bloody
battle, shortly after the completion of the meal !
" Hurrah ! . . . but I've got no clothes ! " for

44 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
indeed my sole sartorial possessions were a travel-
soiled tweed suit, and a white sun helmet.
" Oh ! we'll find you clothes," exclaimed half a
dozen ; " don't fret about that."
And so they did. One produced a " khaki " coat,
another a pair of trousers, and a third a pair of
puttees. The Sergeant-Major lent me a sword-belt,
and the Quartermaster produced a sword ; whilst
my skipper's batman deftly ran up a khaki bag to
cover my dazzling helmet.
" We can't afford to lose you our first day," said
the old Colonel, patting me kindly on the back.
And so the lunch party broke up, as gay as gay.
True knights and British Officers, walking brave and
debonair, maybe towards glory, and maybe to
wards the pleasant fields of Heaven, where warriors
rest.

CHAPTER III
THE KHYBER PASS
Storming Ali-Musjid — The Repulse — Turning Movement of 2nd
Brigade — A Midnight March— A Frosty Night — Adventures
with a Dhooly — Sugar for a Pillow — On Again at Dawn —
Thomas Ananias — His Goodness — Great Toil in a Blazing Sun —
Another Cold Night 7000 Feet Up — Seventeen Sheep — Their
Tragic Fate — The Boom of the Guns — The Enemy Cut Off —
Surrenders — The Solitary Horseman — Enlists in The Guides
Cavalry — Pathan Honour — Ali Gul, Subadar — His Home in
Tirah — How to Get There — By Subtlety he Succeeds — His
Return — That Subadar of the 26th Punjabis — The Vendetta —
A Truce in British Territory — Two Soldiers of the King —
Twelve Corpses Ahead — Death of Ali Gul — His Son — His
Youthful Prowess — Enlisted in The Guides
HOW the first attack on Ali-Musjid, on
November 20th, 1878, was beaten back
with bloody slaughter, and how after a
night and a day that Fort, the key of the Khyber
Pass, was taken, is written broad in the history of
the Empire. In that decisive victory the 2nd
Brigade bore no mean part, in fact it went far
towards turning the tide of victory. For by a most
arduous night march through stupendous moun
tains it dropped down on the rear of the Afghans
and completed their discomfiture. The Brigade
consisted of the 17th Foot, The Guides, and the
1st Sikhs, under command of General Tytler, a fine
old General of the best type. Little did I, the last-
joined subaltern, think that I should one day
command The Guides, still less did the dream occur
of commanding, in the Great War, nearly forty years
later, a Brigade in which both the 17th Foot and
the 1st Sikhs1 would be included.
1 Now the 51st Sikhs of immortal memory.
45

46 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
At 4 p.m. on a cold bright evening the 2nd Brigade
pushed off on its venture ; at first across the level
stony plain ; then into the foothills ; and as night
fell, up the great mountain gorges. Here all sem
blance of a road disappeared, and a single file track,
chiefly used by goats, led ever upward. Along this
track for miles the brigade extended, worming its
way steadily along. But oh ! the weariness of it,
especially on a night dark, dark, dark — darker than
the inside of a cow, as they say. Plodding along
half asleep one suddenly loses the man in front, a
dash on to catch him ends abruptly five yards ahead
on the muzzle of a rifle. Then another long stand,
first on one leg, then on the other, till the column
begins to stir again. Then a few more steps forward,
then another halt ; then another spasmodic burst after
a lost leader ; and then the whole thing over again.
The march thus continued till midnight, and by
that time most of us had perhaps had enough of it.
Here we found a small basin in the mountains ;
the brigade was formed up in it, picquets posted,
and all lay down where they were to pass the time
as best they could till dawn. We were now about
5000 feet up, midwinter in the Afghan mountains,
and the cold was intense ; so much so that most of
us spent the night prowling about to try and keep
warm. In the course of one of these excursions I stumbled
across a queer-looking object which on closer
inspection proved to be a dhooly — that is to say,
an ambulance litter, with curtains all round. On
cautiously peering in I discovered a very comfort
able looking bed with several blankets and a
pillow. Here was, in absence of sick and wounded,
manifestly wicked waste of the more decent essen
tials of existence on a freezing night, and seemed
more pronouncedly so in the midst of an ice-bound
brigade. I therefore promptly decided that those

THE KHYBER PASS 47
blankets and that pillow should no longer feel
shunned, and neglected, and short of a bedfellow.
In two seconds, or less, I was securely ensconced
and already fast asleep in this comfortable nest.
Whether that sleep lasted for a few hours or only
a few minutes, or merely a matter of seconds, is not
quite clear. But what is perfectly clear is that in
my distant dreams I felt myself being severely
kicked, whilst seemingly a far off, very hearty voice,
with a rich Irish brogue, was enquiring : " What the
blank, blank, blankety blank d'ye mean by getting
into a hospital bed, meant only for the sick and
wounded, no less ! " The subaltern muttered
sleepily and inconsequently : " Thanks very much,
ole chap," and went off again into a death-like
slumber for several hours, or it may be seconds.
When he really did wake up he was on the ground
outside the dhooly, and the brogue was in his late
warm bed. But anyway he was a kindly brogue,
and was saying: "Well, annyhow, sonny, here's
one o' me blankets for ye, and there's a bag o'
medical comforts for ye pillow." The bag of
medical comforts proved to be a bag of brown
sugar, and not too hard at that, and the blanket
was a blanket and a godsend. So there under the
lee of the doctor's dhooly the last-joined subaltern
slept his first night under the frosty stars.
Before dawn hot tea, without milk, but the most
delicious ever tasted, was served out in tin mugs,
and off we went again. Stumble, bang, halt, run
on, bang, halt, crawl, in varying sequence, till the light
strengthened, and then on once more steadily and
quickly. About 9 o'clock one began to feel as if one
had not had a single meal for several years, and in
reality had not for upwards of eighteen hours' steady
marching. But there are a wonderful number of
kind people in this world, and soldiers and sailors
are the kindest of all.

48 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Beg pardon, sir, but 'ere's a couple of 'ard boils ;
I ain't no use for 'em," muttered a hardened old
Thomas Ananias, with a beard and Crimean medals,
pressing a couple of eggs into my hand.
" I got more 'ard tack than I knows 'ow to
carry," added a second benevolent descendant of
the same patriarch, thrusting a square biscuit on
me in a surreptitious manner. And so I ate and
was thankful, and blessed the kind hearts of my
dear friends, privates of the Line. It, perhaps added
a welcome glamour to the feast that I had left a
small flask of brandy and three cigars, and these we
three shared.
All that day we plodded on in a blazing sun,
which made a queer contrast to the deadly cold of
the night before, and promoted a most unhallowed
thirst with little to assuage it. At dusk we halted,
wet through to our outer coats with perspiration,
7000 feet up in the mountains, freezing hard, with
a bitter wind blowing, and with no food, or great
coats. At this extremely appropriate moment The
Guides captured a flock of sheep and sent along
seventeen, the regimental number, to us. In the
space of a very few minutes these had been killed,
skinned, divided up, and were simmering on ram
rods, or toasting on bayonets. The toughness of
this form of diet passes belief, but anyway it is
something to chew, and heartens one up quite a lot.
Then followed another desperately cold night,
with a biting wind, and the thermometer falling out
of the bottom of itself. A little disturbed sleep
there was, but mostly a weary tramp about the
bivouac to keep warm. In fact we rather envied
the Orderly Officers who had to trudge round the
picquets and sentries all night ; they at any rate had
an object for their walk. Next morning another
glorious pannikin of tea, and then off again on our
tramp.

THE KHYBER PASS 49
And now at length, after two nights and a day, we
were to gather in the fruits of our labours. Far
away we could hear the deep boom of guns ; at
first faintly, and then more clearly, the fierce rattle
of rifle fire. Everyone brightened up wonderfully.
The Guides, as. was their wont, dashed eagerly on,
and we followed at our best pace. One last effort,
and we found ourselves dropping down into the
frowning gorges of the Khyber Pass, and had our
first view of the battle.
The Fort of Ali-Musjid stands on a precipitous
rock completely barring passage through the Khyber
Pass from the direction of India. In days of old it
was held to be impregnable, for neither firearms noi
cannon could range far enough, or hit hard enough,
to injure it. Even in 1878 its defences were proof
against any gun, or rifle fire, we had to bring against
it. Shells from our batteries simply hit the rock
and rolled back into the bed of the Pass, rifle bullets
merely spluttered against stone walls. To scale the
place for assault was like unto scaling St. Paul's
Cathedral, only twice that height. Gun fire was
tried, rifle was tried, and finally an assault was
ordered. But all failed to shake, or move, the
Afghan defenders. Thus it was that when night fell
the remnants of the British attacking columns lay
plastered against the face of the sheer rock, half
way up, and unable to advance, or retire.
But the arrival of the 2nd Brigade, after its
arduous detour, altered all this ; for an Afghan, or
indeed any Asiatic, has an exceedingly delicate
feeling for his rear. " Perchance I shall be bitten
behind," is what he thinks, and immediately looks
around for a means of escape. There were two
means of escape, one over the mountains through
the land of the Afridis, and another along the bed
of the Khyber Pass. Both were fraught with
undesirable dangers, but either was held preferable

50 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
to being slaughtered in front, and rear, at the self
same moment. So a general retreat was ordered,
and some went one way, and some the other.
Those who trusted to the hospitality of the Afridis,
counting them as allies and co-religionists against
the Unbelievers, fared scantily, for they were robbed
of their arms and clothing and then allowed to
escape, thus meagrely clad, into their own country.
Those who chose the Pass route had to count with
the 2nd Brigade.
By this time The Guides and ist Sikhs held
strong positions astride of the Pass, whilst the
17th Foot stood in reserve. Into this cul-de-sac
marched the Afghan infantry, and the action was
short, sharp, and decisive. Practically the whole
force was killed, wounded, or captured ; one
squadron of cavalry alone managing to charge
through, leaving however many casualties in horses
and men. For those were days before machine
guns were invented, and the infantry rifle a single
loader, not accurate much over 400 yards. The
old Snider was, however, a smasher when it did
hit, and cushy wounds were rare as apricots in
April. Slowly following the Afghan cavalry appeared a
solitary horseman, with his sword drawn, and riding
at his leisure. He came perfectly undisturbed
through a tornado of bullets, merely waving his
sword in defiance at those periods when it became
hottest. Probably a thousand men had a shot at
that solitary figure, but he rode on undismayed and
untouched. Here was a brave man indeed ! By
order of the Colonel of The Guides the bugles blared
out the " cease fire," and as the call echoed through
the mountains there succeeded a dead calm. A
child's voice might have been heard. The horse
man rode on calmly, till a voice hailed him :
"Who art thou, O Warrior, and whence comest'

THE KHYBER PASS 51
and whither goest ? The Commander of The Guides
would have speech with thee."
" My name is ' Such-a-one,' I am a warrior of the
sword, and fear no one. What sayest thy Master ? "
" He would speak with thee, as touching thy
bravery. Fear not treachery, thy life is in the
Sahib's keeping. Tether thy horse and come up
and speak with the Colonel Sahib, the great
warrior." " I consent. The Sahibs are clean folk."
So up came " Such-a-one," and the parley
between him and the Colonel of The Guides was
short and to the point.
" By Jove ! you are a brave fellow ! "
" At your Honour's service."
" Will you enlist in The Guides ? I'll make you
a Duffadar1 straight away. Brave men are what I
want." " I accept your Honour's offer, with pleasure."
It brought one back to the days of long ago,
when gallant knights went cruising about the
world spoiling for a fight, it mattered little, seem
ingly, in what cause, or under whose banner.
Fighting was what they were seeking ; and honour,
and glory, and ladies' gloves.
And so it was with " Such-a-one."
Pathan Honour is a curious thing and can best
be illustrated by relating the case of Ali Gul.
Ali Gul, Subadar, was one of the bravest men in
The Guides. He had twice won the Order of Merit,
the highest reward for valour then open to the
Indian soldier, and would have won it a third time
or perished in the attempt, had he been allowed to.
This was on the way to Lhassa, when serving under
my brother Frank. The Expedition had reached
the Brahmaputra River, here 150 yards wide, and
running deep and strong, with icy cold snow water,
1 Sergeant,

52 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
The Thibetans had removed all available boast
to the far bank, and the advance was at a deadlock.
Seeing the dilemma, Ah Gul at once volunteered to
swim across the river in face of the enemy, and
bring back a boat. His Commanding Officer could
not, however, spare so valuable a Native Officer for
so desperate a venture, and forbade him to make
the attempt. Whereupon two more men of The
Guides at once stepped forward, and said that they
would go. Of these one was drowned, or hit by a
bullet, on the way across, and was never seen
again ; whilst the other, Sobat by name, succeeded
in this desperate venture, and alone, naked and
unarmed, cut out a boat from under the enemy's
bank of the river, and brought it back. That was a
well-earned Order of Merit.
This story, however, is not about Ali Gul's
military career, but about Pathan Honour. One
day in August a few years back, Ali Gul came, as
the custom is, to pay his respects, and to say good
bye before he went on three months' leave to his
home. His home being in Tirah, in the land of the
Afridis. I wished him good-bye, and hoped he would
have a pleasant holiday. With a half-sheepish and
half -bashful air, he muttered something about " he
hoped so too." Then shaking hands, and making a
military salute, he gathered on his shoes at the door,
in due sequence, and departed.
To my surprise, about a week after I saw him in
the lines, and hailed him.
" Hullo ! Ali Gul, what are you doing here ?
Why haven't you gone on leave ? "
" Some business, Sahib, some urgent business has
kept me," he said aloud. And then, as we strolled
on, away from listeners, he added in a low murmur :
" I couldn't get through, so came back."
" How do you mean, you couldn't get through ?
Why, it is your own country, and your own home,"

THE KHYBER PASS 53
" Without doubt, Sahib, but unfortunately I have
many enemies in my own country ; and though
they dare not touch me, or molest me in the country
of the British Government, yet the moment I set
foot across the border I carry my life in my hands."
" That seems a singularly rotten state of affairs.
Why don't you settle in British territory then ? "
" Well, Sahib, I have often thought of doing so,
but I have a good deal of land in Tirah, and many
relations there, and I cannot manage it yet."
" What's going to happen now then ? Are you
giving up your leave ? "
" No, Sahib, I have sent scouts round to see
whether I can get to my home by another route."
" Well, may you be fortunate, and may your
Kismet be good."
And we parted.
A few days after that Ali Gul had disappeared
from the lines. So we concluded that he had managed
to elude the vigilance of his enemies, and had reached
his home.
At the end of three months I noticed Ali Gul at
the Commanding Officer's bi-weekly durbar, and
asked him to come up and see me at my house
afterwards. After the usual salutations, and the reiterated
enquiries after each other's health, customary on
these occasions, " Are you well ? " " Are you quite
well ? " " Are you very well indeed ? " " You are
feeling quite strong ? " had been worked through,
I said :
" Well, Ali Gul, what sort of leave did you have ?
Enjoyed yourself ? Had a good rest ? "
" To tell the truth, Sahib, I did not have a very
good time, or a good rest, for I was shut up all the
time in my fortified tower."
" That is very sad ; and what illness were you
suffering from ? "

54 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" None at all, Sahib ; but " (with a broad grin) " I
should have suffered from a very bad one if I had
put my face out of doors."
" How so ? "
" Well, Sahib, it is like this. A Subadar of the
26th Punjabis and myself are deadly enemies. We
have a blood feud. And most unfortunately his
tower is only about two hundred yards away from
mine, and the moment I show my face he has a shot
at me. I also in my turn lose no opportunity of
having a shot at that Subadar. Under these circum
stances neither of us, nor any of our relations, could
go out at all, so all our land lies uncultivated, and
we were unable to sow our autumn crop."
" A Subadar of the 26th Punjabis ! " I exclaimed.
" Why, I have seen you and him at the same winter
manoeuvres, and even quartered together in the same
cantonment, and apparently on quite friendly terms."
" That is so, your Honour. As long as we are
under the British flag we sink our private feuds,
and serve the King faithfully side by side. But when
we go home across the border, there it is otherwise.
There Pathan Honour has to be satisfied."
" Well, I must say you are a pair of donkeys.
Here you are one day, and in one country, on
perfectly friendly terms with each other ; and on
another day, in another country, not only try to
kill each other, but bring ruin to each other's crops
and cattle."
" That is so, Sahib, but it is Pathan Honour."
" Oh, rubbish ! " said I. " Now look here, both
you and the Subadar of the 26th Punjabis are good
soldiers and excellent fellows, and have served the
same King long and faithfully. Why not, like
sensible fellows, make friends, and give up this
highly idiotic feud ? "
Ah Gul simply beamed on me with great warmth,
and replied :

THE KHYBER PASS 55
" That, Sahib, is exactly what I say. That is
exactly the message I have frequently sent to that
Subadar of the 26th Punjabis,. through the medium
of friends ; but he is an obstinate fellow, he will not
consent/' " Well, I'll try and get hold of him and have a
talk with him. I hate to see two fine fellows like
you out against each other."
" Without doubt, your Honour. You speak
words of great wisdom. There is, however, one
obstacle in the way of a settlement. The Subadar
of the 26th Punjabis says I am twelve corpses ahead
of him ; and that he cannot make peace, because
of Pathan Honour, till he is even with me."
" Twelve corpses ! What do you mean ? "
"It is thus true, Sahib," replied Ali Gul with
great frankness, and an open and. engaging smile.
" I and my family have killed forty of his people,
and he and his have killed only twenty-eight of
mine, and so I am twelve corpses ahead of him.
And it would not in the least matter if he, or I, or
both, were killed ; our families would carry on the
feud till one family or the other was wiped out, or
at any rate till our scores were even."
I met the Subadar of the 26th Punjabis shortly
after, for he was under my command in the Derajat,
and had a talk with him about Ali Gul and their
mutual feud.
" Yes," he said, " Ali Gul is a splendid fellow, and
a great warrior, and a deadly shot, and I would like
much to end the feud ; yet Pathan Honour forbids
me to do so, till I am even with him."
But Ali Gul died in his bed after all, poor fellow,
and not at the hands of the Subadar of the 26th
Punjabis ! For one Christmas he sent word for me to
come and see him in hospital, and when I came in
he struggled up to a sitting position in his bed and
gave the military salute, and with the same frank

56 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
smile, but not the same strong voice, he whispered :
" The Subadar of the 26th Punjabis hasn't killed
me after all," and sank back on his pillow. That
night he died of pneumonia.
But before we leave Ali Gul, the bravest of the
brave, let me tell you a story about his son.
Ah Gul was himself a great stalwart fellow, over
six feet in height, and hard as nails all over. When
men are candidates for enlistment into The Guides
it is customary for their relations, or friends, in the
regiment to bring them up in open durbar for the
Colonel's approval. The Colonel then tells them to
strip, and looks them over, and if he approves, sends
them to the doctor to be " vetted," as it is collo
quially called. Usually, however, a Native Officer,
if he is bringing up a friend, or relation, and much
more so a son, will very usuaUy take an opportunity
of showing the candidate privately beforehand to
the Colonel, at his bungalow ; so that he may not
incur the shame, as he calls it, of having his man
rejected in public.
I have known men of the best blood in Asia,
Princes of the blood Royal, commence their mihtary
career as plain troopers in The Guides Cavalry.
When I joined there were two, one Shahzada (that
is, son of a king) Taimus, and the other Shahzada
Jehangir. One was a trooper, and the other had
just worked up to a commission. Both were of
royal blood in the dynasties of Afghanistan. In
later years the Prince of Bokhara joined as a
trooper, but died before he was given a commission.
Amongst the troopers was to be seen, as keen and
eager as any, a young landlord with rich territories
whose rent-roll might be anything up to £20,000 a
year. One day at durbar, Ali Gul appeared with what
we thought rather a weak and undersized youth,
and when other business was over put him forward

THE KHYBER PASS 57
amongst the other recruits for inspection, announc
ing that he was his son. Everyone looked at the
Colonel, and then at the lad, for he was manifestly
not up to the standard of The Guides in physique
and general appearance.
" Quite so, quite so, Ali Gul, a nice boy, I am sure.
Bring him up to my house after, and we'll have a
talk about him."
But Ali Gul was not to be put off.
" I know, Sahib," he proceeded with great blunt-
ness, " what is in your Honour's mind. You think
he is not good enough for The Guides."
" Well, well, I won't say that exactly, but perhaps
in another year, and with lots of good food, he
would fill out and become a man like his father.
Anyway, I won't look at him now, bring him up to
my house later."
" I thought so, your Honour, you don't think
him good enough for you. Now let me tell you a
little story. The lad is only seventeen years old,
and the other day he and another lad were working
their way home from the Khyber Pass into Tirah.
Each of them had a Martini-Henri carbine, which,
as your Honour knows, fires black powder and
makes great smoke. As the two boys were going
along they were attacked by three of my enemies,
full-grown men with beards, and each armed with
a Lee-Metford rifle firing smokeless powder. Well,
they had a regular fight these five, and my boy shot
two of the enemy and brought away their rifles.
Now, is he good enough for you or not ? " And the
proud father looked first at the Colonel and then
round the assembled durbar.
" Good enough for me, Ali Gul ? Yes, certainly
he is. He is enlisted from this moment."
" Shahbash ! " said everyone solemnly.

CHAPTER IV
A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE
One in Six are Fighting Men — The Soldier's Medal — A Boy in his
First Battle — Reveille — The Colour-Sergeant — Cavalry and
Horse Artillery Move Off — Enemy's Counter-Attack — Arrival
of Infantry — First Casualties — David and Goliath — A Drama
in Seconds — " The Cavalry ! The Cavalry ! " — The Guides
Charge — The ioth Hussars Charge — The Pursuit — Victory —
And After — A Cavalry Subaltern — His First Experience — A
Deadly Ordeal — The War-Horse in the Bible — Manoeuvring for
Position — Charged by a Lancer — A Collision — Saved by a.
Sowar — The Trumpeter's White Horse — Charging with Long
Hair Streaming in the Wind — Single Engagements — The Rally
— Back to Camp — Cheered by the Infantry — " The Green
Curve "
NOWADAYS a good many people have been
in battle, though not quite so many as are
imagined. For it is a curious and concrete
fact that five out of every six men we meet in
uniform, and even decorated with medals, have
never seen a shot fired, or been in any great danger
of their lives, from the shot or shell of the enemy.
It is only the one man out of six who has really
been through the fiery furnace, and he perchance
very often.
It may surprise some people to hear that great
muscular fellows who would be a credit to the
Grenadier Guards, of set and deliberate purpose
enlist in corps where the risks of battle are remote.
These fine fellows not infrequently exhibit, by
right, quite an imposing row of medals, and amongst
their female friends possibly pass as the fiercest of
warriors. This is one of the sore points in the
Army ; there is little to distinguish between the
58

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 59
fighting soldier and the soldier who has never
fought, and has no intention whatever of fighting.
What we of the fighting line think is that no man
should wear a medal, or medals, except such as are
earned on the battlefield, and in actual contact
with the enemy. There are numerous other, and
more suitable, methods of rewarding or decorating
those who help the Army in many other useful ways,
but it seems to us old soldiers that there should be
no mistake possible between the battle soldier, and
those who assist from the rear.
It is a stock question, generally propounded at
tea, or other inconvenient occasion, and not infre
quently by an intense but highly well-meaning
lady :
" How did you feel in your first battle ? "
The much embarrassed subaltern will probably
reply : " Oh ! all right, thanks, have another bun,"
and skilfully skates off any further allusions to his
military career.
But in the quiet seclusion of these pages perhaps
one out of many thousands may give a somewhat
more detailed reply.
We had been in several " scraps," as the soldier
calls them — that is, mild skirmishes, night attacks,
attacks on convoys, and the other small fry of
campaigning — and thus were fairly familiar with the
singing and swishing of a few occasional bullets, in
or about our immediate vicinity. Yet we youngsters
had not hitherto been in a stark and straight up
right battle, where two armies are facing each other
and mean fighting. Not a sudden battle either, but
one we know is going to take place next morning.
Of the night before one's chief recollection is that
of praying with great earnestness, and now looking
back on it, with a somewhat naive insistence, to be
spared to live through the day, making perhaps a
slight reservation in favour of a glorious, but not

60 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
fatal, wound. It seemed such a pity to the interested
person, and indeed it is, that a boy of eighteen
should be gathered to his fathers ; and I am not
sure that this point of view was not brought to the
notice of the Almighty !
Thus at peace with ourselves and all the world,
we slept as sound as ever man, or boy, slept, and I
personally was dreaming just before dawn of a
singularly enticing and desperate football match,
when eight buglers standing in a row and blowing
the " Reveille' " brought us back to soldiering, and
the matter in hand. Those, you will notice, were
days before a bugle, or trumpet, on service was
looked on as a deadly snare.
We had all slept in our clothes, and boots, and
belts, so that the morning toilet consisted merely of
getting up, having a stretch, and putting on a much
squashed helmet which had been used as a pillow
during the night. There was burning close by a
rather enticing fire, and on it sat a still more enticing
cauldron. Out of this, Hebe, disguised as our Colour-
Sergeant, shortly extracted tin mugs of hot tea,
and presented them to us.
" Take that, sir, it'll warm ye up." And so it
did, bless him ! He was the kindest fellow on earth,
that Colour-Sergeant ; old enough to be our father,
he always watched over us, in or out of action,
as if our precious lives were specially entrusted to
his stalwart keeping. Perhaps they were.
Soon after daylight we saw the Cavalry, followed
by the Horse Artillery, moving off, whilst we of the
Infantry Brigade also fell in, and received our pre
liminary orders. The enemy held a line of low
ridges about a couple of miles away, and as the light
strengthened his standards could be seen fluttering
clear along the crest line. The Horse Artillery were
to shell this crest whilst the Cavalry moved away
to a flank, and the Infantry made a frontal attack

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 61
so as to drive the enemy into the Cavalry net. The
battle commenced as intended, but did not continue
quite so. For the enemy, being not much hurt or
intimidated by the shell fire, conceived the incon
venient notion of charging down and capturing our
guns before the Infantry could arrive.
Once an Afghan horde is set going in one of these
mad charges, it takes a good deal to stop it. Conse
quently, when the Infantry came up we found a
very critical state of affairs. The guns, run back by
hand and firing reversed shrapnel ; the Cavalry
unable to get home an effective charge owing to a
deep nullah which ran between us and the enemy ;
the enemy yelling and shouting words of abuse and
contempt, and steadily advancing, firing heavily all
the while. We were now well into our first battle,
and to tell the honest truth, I don't remember
thinking about anything in particular, or out of the
way. There were certainly a great number of bullets
swishing past, over, under, and on each side,
but the thought did not in the least occur that
there was anything particularly personal about
them. Perhaps, though young in years, we had got
intuitively the real hang of it, and grasped the fact
that these swishing bullets had long since passed
over, or to one side. The first man knocked over
was a private in our Company, but there was
nothing in the least gruesome or dispiriting about
it. On the contrary, to hear his cheery :
" I'm all right, sir, till the doctor comes up.
Thankee, sir, I'll just take a pipeful," made it
seem like an exciting game.
A few steps on Malony, the comedian and horn
pipe dancer, went down without a sound, but he
did not look dead somehow, only sleeping.
The arrival of the Infantry steadied matters a
bit, and as we formed line and advanced, firing, the

62 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
enemy hesitated, and then halted. We too now lay
down to take breath, not many yards from our
opponents, before fixing bayonets and charging. It
was in this brief moment of respite that we lost a
brother subaltern, and lately my tent comrade. We
were all flattened down as close as we could, and I
remember considering a stone the size of a cocoa-nut,
which was my only shelter, a somewhat meagre
defence against a Snider bullet. Then suddenly to
our right front occurred a drama in seconds.
A very small officer appeared sprinting as hard as
he could, and all alone, straight for a huge giant who,
standard in hand, was leading on a knot of Afghans.
The little Englishman was not unlike David attack
ing Goliath, but his only weapon was a very diminu
tive and light tailor-made sword, such as an officer
wears at State Balls, or Levees. With this child's
weapon he dashed straight at the giant and ran him
through the stomach up to the hilt. Then we saw
him in difficulties, tugging to get his sword out.
This all happened in a flash, and in another flash
all those lying handy were up and after him at
their best speed. How we raced across that rock-
strewn strip, not more than fifty yards or so ! The
men fixed bayonets as they ran, and were yelling
like fury in English and any language, abuse, oaths,
threats. Anything to stay the drama for one
moment. In the next we were into them in a wild
melee ; hitting, thrusting, cursing, kicking, throwing
stones, clubbing rifles, firing pistols. The devil's
own delight !
But alas ! and for ever alas ! too late ! In those
brief seconds, whilst trying to withdraw his sword,
our comrade was cut to pieces, and lay dead on the
ground. Where we had hit it the enemy's line caved in,
which was not to be wondered at, for we had hit it
hard. But to our surprise we saw not only the few

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 63
dozens, or few hundreds, before us begin to fall back,
but a sort of panic seemed to be seizing the rest, and
echoing faintly down the line we heard the dread
cry : " Risalla ! Risalla ! " " The Cavalry ! The
Cavalry ! "
Looking along to our right we saw a brave sight,
the bravest possible — a body of Cavalry charging.
It was none other than the renowned Cavahy of
The Guides, which by a wonderful effort had crossed
the seemingly impassable nullah, and was now
falling with dauntless fury on ten times their
numbers of the enemy. They whirled past us, and
we, cheering like mad, dashed after them.
It is a splendid sight, such as no other perhaps
equals, the wild charge of horsemen. Each man
going for all he is worth, yelling to Allah, or other
deity, to help him ; yelling curses the most blood
curdling on his enemy ; low bent so as almost to be
lying along his horse's neck, and swish after swish,
bringing his keen curved sword on to the head, or
neck, or back, of a flying enemy.
No time here for quarter, given or taken. The
pursued, when overtaken, stops, turns, fires point-
blank at his pursuer, or slashes at him with his long
knife, and next instant either escapes unscathed, or
goes down like a blade of corn. These were separate
single combats, but here and there were little
miniature battles, where clumps of the enemy had
got together, and where clumps of The Guides were
attacking them. These seemed always tough knots,
and we could see many a horse and man go down
before the knot was cut.
Then came the 10th Hussars, charging in more
regular fashion, and doing bravely their share of the
pursuit. Next, with a rattle and clatter and bang,
up came the Horse Artillery, and began planting
shells amongst the larger and more distant groups,
and these too now began to melt away ; and soon

64 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
the whole plain behind the ridge was covered with
flying figures.
Flying much too fast for us on foot to catch them,
but the sun still glittered on the blades of the
Cavalry as they hunted on, till at last man and horse
could do no more. The sword arm was weary, and
could no longer rise to strike ; and the horse, ready
to drop with fatigue, could barely be urged out of a
walk. The Cavalry had shot its bolt, and four
hundred of the enemy, killed with the sword, lay
along that stricken line of flight.
And so ended our first battle, a day full of adven
ture, with some honour and not a little glory ; more
exciting than any of our schoolboy games. Even
the long, weary march back to camp failed to freeze
the tingle down, and it was only late at night when,
dog-tired, stumbling into the tent and lighting the
lantern, we noticed one little camp bed empty,
never to be filled again.
Such is the experience of an Infantry subaltern
in his first battle, but that of the Cavalry subaltern
is perhaps even more exciting.
A Cavalry charge is a Cavalry charge, and there
is nothing on earth to equal it. Bayonet charges
are all very well in their way, and Artillery tornadoes
are most inspiring, especially if it is our own Artillery
shooting. But the whirlwind charge of Cavalry
lifts the soldier's soul above all things.
There were only two British Officers with the
squadron, the Captain and the subaltern, and in
the course of a fairly sanguinary battle they had
been sent out to watch a flank with orders to charge
when they saw a chance of doing so effectively.
All the first part was deadly slow, very cold, and
distinctly dangerous ; in a nerve-trying, cold
blooded, beastly way. They were told not to dis
mount, but just to keep cruising about ; to show
themselves as much as possible, a sort of moving

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 65
menace. Of course, it is evident what that means.
It means that the more you show yourself, the more
every infernal fellow shoots at you. And a squadron
of Cavalry mounted is a fairly big and apparent
target at the best of times, even against inaccurate
short-range weapons. The squadron therefore lost
quite a lot of men and horses during that slow
patrolling up and down.
" Troops right about wheel." " Forward."
" Troops left about wheel." " Forward." Back
wards and forwards for an hour or more — it seemed
more like a year to the squadron, — and then went
another squish, thud, and down went another horse,
or man. There were thirty-eight casualties, men and
horses, during that deadly and eternal promenade.
You can imagine then with what joy they saw a
Staff Officer, lying low down on his horse's neck,
and sprinting for them, as if finishing for the Gold
Cup at Ascot. He did not stop long either, he just
said : " You can charge now," and, wheeling round,
sprinted back to the haven behind the hill. That is
the most joyous moment for the Cavalry soldier, to
be let loose in a glorious charge ! The subaltern
had as a charger a very sporting little bay Arab,
full of blood, very quick and handy, and not to be
daunted by anything. Like the war-horse in the
Bible, he had been sniffing the battle from afar, and
had been stepping about on the very tips of his toes,
with his head in the air, nostrils wide open, snorting
again and again, and again and again giving short
excited squeals. His tail arched up and cocked to
one side, as only can a high-caste Arab. Every time
the troops wheeled about he gave a hilarious dash
round, as much as to say, "Now we're off, any
how ! "
The moment that Staff Officer came in sight he
spotted him, and he knew exactly what he was
coming for, and understood exactly what he said,

66 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
for he gave a wriggle and a squeak of joy. That
Arab's name was " Mars," and he was the joy of his
owner's life. His first charger, and in his eyes
perfection ; never was there such a horse before, or
since. Extraordinarily good friends they were, those
two, horse and man who went out to battle together,
for the master used to sit by the hour by his horse
to see him groomed and fed, and always had a
carrot, or something sweet in his pocket for him.
The rascal knew this, and often at odd times, on
picquet or elsewhere, would poke about his master's
pockets for a scrap.
" Right wheel into line." " Trot." Came from
the Captain. But " Mars " was much too excited
to trot, and was dancing about like a sportive kid,
reaching at his bridle, and throwing his mane and
tail about in the most profligate manner. Mean
while the Captain with his trumpeter had galloped
on to look over a rise in the ground which the
squadron was approaching. It was the subaltern's
job to stay with the squadron and watch his
Captain and interpret the signals which he made,
and in accordance with these to manoeuvre the
squadron into place. The Captain just peeped
over the ridge and blew softly on his whistle to
catch the subaltern's eye ; then signalled for troops
to wheel to the right, and move further down the
valley. The Captain and his trumpeter walked
slowly along just below the sky-line, and the sub
altern dropped behind the squadron to watch him,
and take nis signals. When the squadron had
trotted a few hundred yards the soft whistle was
again heard, and the signal came, " Left wheel into
line." At the same moment the Captain galloped
smartly along, and just got into place in front of
the squadron as it crested the rise.
At first glance it was rather difficult to make out
what was happening in the stony plain beyond.

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 67
There appeared to be a confused mass of men and
horses in the near distance, and further away some
guns firing rapidly. A continuous crackle of rifle
fire split the air on every side. Just in front and a
little below was a body of the enemy's cavalry,
moving at a good hard gallop straight at the
squadron, but most of the men seemed to be looking
behind them. Their leader then suddenly saw what
he was up against, and sheered off to his left at his
best pace, followed by his horsemen. Only one
solitary horseman, armed with a twelve-foot lance,
came straight at the squadron. He was charging at
full gallop, leaning well down on his horse's neck,
yelling like a fiend and brandishing his lance, as is
the custom with the wild horsemen of the East, even
when only tent pegging.
When he got fairly close, a hundred yards or so
away, he steadied his lance, and could be seen now
coming straight for the centre of our squadron.
The squadron also was moving at a smart gallop
towards the solitary horseman, who was evidently
out to die.
Now some people are fond of deprecating the
lance ; they say it is heavy, unwieldy, and hampers
a man. Quite so, but if you ever happen to be
situated as were the British Officers at that moment,
with no weapon of offence or defence but a poky
little sword, perhaps you might take a different
view. Of course, theoretically the gallant swords
man with one turn of the wrist thrusts the lance
aside, and with another deft turn spits the rash
lancer through the waistcoat or other vulnerable
part. In practice, however, if the lancer means
business, he will have two feet of lance through you
before your turn comes. On the present occasion
the subaltern did not exactly know what had
happened till afterwards, his last clear impression
being that of a tremendous crash in which he and

68 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
his horse and several other horses and men seemed
to take part.
Then from very far away in distant halls he heard
a voice say : " Not hurt, youngster ? " And some
one else seemed to answer : " No, I am all right."
Next the subaltern found himself rather mistily and
without a sword clambering on to " Mars' " back.
" Mars " was very dirty, mud and sweat combined,
as if he had been rolling on the ground, which indeed
he had. He was blowing too a good deal, but was
now as eager as ever to be off. Apparently what
had happened previous to the crash was this. A
Sikh trooper in the ranks seeing the approaching
peril, yelled out :
" Fear not, Sahib, I am present."
And so he was manfully and at the right moment,
for dashing forward he got a little more than level
with his Officer, and a horse's length or so to his
right ; so that just before the wild lancer's weapon
reached its goal, which was the subaltern's chest,
the Sikh caught him at an angle, man and horse, on
his disengaged bow. When three horses, and three
riders, thus meet at speed there is naturally a
holocaust on the ground, and over this those who
cannot elude it also stumble and fall. Thus there
was a pretty to-do of horses and men on top of the
subaltern, and there is little wonder that he was a
little dazed for a moment or two. Truth to tell, so
was the enemy lancer, but the Sikh was all right, and
as the lancer rose to his feet he was a dead man, or
a prisoner. I think he chose to be a dead man, for
he was, as I have said, out to die that day.
Meanwhile the squadron had gone on in pursuit,
and the subaltern, with his friend the Sikh and one
or two others who had involuntarily stayed behind,
set off to pick it up. The men of the squadron were
now scattered in pursuit over a broad stony plain ;
some singly and some in couples, mostly couples.

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 69
and some in groups ; but right far ahead could be
recognised the white horse of the Captain's trumpeter,
and that meant the Captain. It was like a panorama,
and when one saw a little figure drop in the plain
one hardly realised it was a man killed, or badly
wounded. Some of our men had lost their pugarees
in the mel£e, and these were fearsome and awe-
inspiring tragedians. A Sikh with hair, long as a
woman's, streaming in the wind, bending low and
hard forward, yelling like a fiend, and bringing his
curved sword down on all and sundry with a soft
whistling drawing cut, is like a demon of dark
dreams. Occasionally to be seen were individuals,
or knots of men, who stood at bay, and these cost
some lives to the pursuers, and many wounds.
Gradually and by hard riding the late arrivals made
their way up to where the white horse marked the
Captain's position, and when they got there they
found everything, as the Captain expressed it,
" pretty stony cold." The men, though greatly
elated, were tired, so tired that only the strongest
could still raise an arm to strike. The horses, in a
muck sweat and greatly blown, could scarcely move
out of a walk. Indeed, one Duffadar might be seen
whose horse had literally come to a standstill, whilst
he and a dismounted enemy were fiercely bandying
words, as is the custom in the East, addressing to
each other most scandalous remarks regarding the
morals and general respectability of the other's
female relations.
" Son of a pig, just wait till I catch thee ! "
" Misbegotten offspring of an ape, thou art
afraid ! Why not spur thy horse forward ? "
Wild endeavour on the part of the Duffadar to
get his horse to move. First heels and spurs,
then the flat of his sword. Each in turn and all
together, brought to bear.
" Wilt thou surrender, son of a burnt father,

70 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
whose mother is no better than she ought to be ?
If not, I will call one of my comrades to kill thee."
" To hell with thee and thy comrades, Kafirs
and sons of Kafirs, I'll fight the ******** »
There is a whirl, and a rush, and a yell, and a
crash ! A Sowar has dashed past. And as he passed,
caught the last speaker fair in the chest, drove his
lance clean through him, turned him a complete
somersault, broke the lance short off, and dis
appeared into the dust beyond.
The Captain now ordered the trumpeter to sound
the rally, and the men slowly collected. A very
dishevelled and heated crowd. With smeared
sword-blades, broken lances, lost head-dresses ;
blood-stains on men, on horses, and on clothes.
Horses wounded and dead beat, but still bravely
holding up. Men in great spirits, recounting their
exploits, and not noticing the chips, and slices, and
grazes. The Captain's cross-belt had been cut in
two across the back. A deft back-hander dealt a
shade too late, but exactly when he could not
remember. Slowly the small remnant of a squadron wended
its way back. And as good luck would have it,
chanced across a stream, and a good drink, and a
long drink, for horse and man. It was rather like
going back, in cold blood, over a country one has
hunted over in hot blood. The fences seem enor
mous ; the brooks little short of broad rivers ; the
distance covered a day's march. Thus on the way
back the soldier saw many an obstacle that looked
impassable, many a sight which was gruesome and
forbidding in cold blood ; it seemed, and was, a
day's march that they had galloped. And in all the
wide plain were dead everywhere, and a few limping
men, and brave horses standing till they died.
As night began to close down they saw a column
of Infantry coming out to meet them. A battalion

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 71
sent to find out what had become of them ; to see
whether support was wanted. A British battalion
it was ; and then much to the surprise of the Cavalry,
for the doers of great deeds often little appreciate
their own heroism, a great British cheer broke forth,
and the Officers came up, and shook the Captain
warmly by the hand, and said :
" Well done, old chap, it was splendid ! "
The first battle of some subalterns is during a
siege, either great or small. He may be one of a
large force shut up in a beleaguered town, or he may
be alone or with one other Officer besieged in an
isolated post. He may be in an entrenchment
receiving an attack ; or it may be " over the top "
and a charge at the enemy's entrenchments. But
whichever it is, the British subaltern is himself, a
brave and true English gentleman.
One I remember was chiefly concerned with the
loss of half a biscuit which he had left at the last
halt, and another slept peacefully till the moment
of attack came.
The story of " The Green Curve " gives in de
lightful form the story of a minor siege, and Chitral,
Ladysmith, and Mafeking stand out as historic
cases of successful defences.

CHAPTER V
"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS
Birth and Parentage — A Pup's Tail for a Bottle of Beer — " Made
me 'Op and Yell" — A200 Mile Trek — Cholera — "Judy" in Action
— Her Fatal Bravery — A Wounded Officer — Redivivi Both —
The Bobbery Pack — Under the Orange Tree — " Baz " — Nearly
Ruins a Military Career — The Parting — Searching for Master —
Died Fighting — " Patch " — At the Dog Show — Revenge
Afterwards — Travels First-Class — " Patch " and " Phoongye "
— Rival Drives—" Patch" no Joseph — " Potiphar" — " Romp" —
Some Snake Stories
JUDY " was my first dog, and I loved her
dearly, more than all that have succeeded
her. She was given me as quite a small
puppy by the Captain of my Company, and made
a long and adventurous journey to join us. But
then all her life was adventurous. We were away
upon active service in Afghanistan when she was
born in Murree. Her parentage was high for those
days, though high or low it didn't matter to me ;
she was my dog, and I didn't really care twopence
about her pedigree, except in so much as it enhanced
her merits in the eyes of other dogs and men and
women. But her pedigree was high, nevertheless.
Her father was a well-known and highly-distin
guished fox-terrier belonging to " Bwab " of the
10th Hussars, that exceedingly popular and delight
ful person, Brabazon, then a subaltern, but now
Sir John, and a distinguished General.
In those days a fox-terrier was a fox-terrier, and
not a long-legged, long-nosed, no-forehead, cowardly
sort of idiot that wins prizes at silly dog shows now
adays. A fox-terrier then was a short, square, dapper
72

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 73
little fellow, with high forehead and short nose ; as
sharp as a needle, and plucky to the death, just
standing on wire all the time ; and ready to dash
in, and at, anything, big or small, like a shot. He
was also small enough and plucky enough to bolt
a fox, which is his real calling in life, as his name
implies. " Judy's " mother too was a pearl, a
regular smart, dashing little dog.
One of the great things in those days was colour
ing. A fox-terrier to be really crime de la crime, in
the very highest realms of subaltern admiration,
must in the first instance have a perfectly evenly
marked black-and-tan head, and also equally im
portant, a black spot at the root of the tail. Which
same tail had to be exactly four inches long, and
must have been bitten off to that length, and not
cut, when the fox-terrier was a tiny puppy. There
was a soldier in my Company, who hied from
Leicestershire, who was an acknowledged expert
in this branch of canine law and operation. His
fee was one bottle of Bass's beer (not Murree, thank
you, sir, kindly) per tail bitten off ; presumably
to wash the taste away. And when there was a
large litter he went away simply loaded with bottles.
His procedure too was most professional.
" Look 'ere, sir, just shut the bitch up, and bring
the box of pups " (a subaltern's puppies always
lived in an old wine case) " along 'ere near the door.
Just 'alf open it, and when I nods me 'ead just bang
it 'ard. Lord bless their little 'earts, the slam gives
them such a start they don't notice I've bit off their
tails same moment."
The precaution about shutting up Mamma, he
informed us, was most important.
" A week come Tuesday," he explained, " I was
nippin' off a tail or two for the Major, and some'ow
the bitch got loose without no one seein' 'er, and
just as the door banged, and I nipped the little

74 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
cuss's tail off, blarmee if the bitch didn't nail me
through the calf. Nasty bite too, and made me 'op
and yell, so I'm keerful now."
Bar unforeseen boomerangs of this description
the whole seance was successful and unharrowing,
and the small victims none the worse, and rarely
even any the wiser. A httle squeak perhaps ; and
being then put back to Mamma, she licked the httle
stumps quite clean and well in a few minutes.
Besides even head marking and a spot on the root
of the tail, it was also necessary, to be strictly cor
rect, to have a small black spot on top of the head
between the ears. The right shades of colouring
ran from a light yellow over the eyes outwards to
a shade of rich brown, and on outwards to inky and
silky black. Both ears must be as black as night.
Down the nose a white parting, starting very broad
on the forehead and fining down to a thin white line
at the nose. That article itself being coal-black.
" Judy " had not all these noble attributes, but
she was an angel nevertheless.
To join us Mamma and daughter had to make a
long march. First they went forty miles in an ekka
from Murree to Rawal Pindi ; then from Rawal
Pindi to Peshawar they travelled eighty miles in a
bullock cart. And from Peshawar onwards, up to
near the Jugdulluk Pass in Afghanistan, they had
to walk nearly a hundred miles. At least " Judy's "
Mamma walked, whilst " Judy " was carried by one
of the men in his haversack.
" Judy " arrived just as the Peace of Gundamuk
was signed, so she had to go all the way back again,
and that summer we stayed at Landi-Kotal in the
Khyber Pass, scourged with cholera, so that for five
nights running we buried an officer, and in five
nights forty men But dogs do not, fortunately,
get cholera ; nor did I, though I had a squeak or two.
" The moment you feel that way, young fellow,"

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 75
our old regimental doctor said to me, " just take a
small wineglass of neat whisky or brandy, drop
fifteen to thirty drops of chlorodyne into it, swallow
off the stuff, and lie down quiet for a couple of hours.
If that don't cure you, send for me." But it always
did, and has many a time since.
Towards autumn the British Embassy at Kabul,
under Sir Louis Cavagnari, was massacred. The war
commenced again, so " Judy " and I again took the
field, with varying fortunes, for another year. She
was now pretty well grown, and went with me every
where — in action or out of action, on outlying
picquet, or in my snug little camp bed. Going round
the sentries on outpost duty she was as good as a
lantern on a dark night, for from sentry to sentry
she would thread her way unerringly, a white spot
about two yards ahead. When I was asleep no one
was allowed to come near me, except one of my own
soldiers, or my servant ; anyone else was driven
fiercely away. Like many a thoughtless subaltern,
I had taught her to "go for niggers," as we called
it, and that was nearly the undoing of poor " Judy,"
and I thought I had lost her for ever.
It happened like this. I was commanding part
of the escort to a convoy which was being conducted
through the Jugdulluk Pass towards Kabul, when
fire was opened on one of our flanking parties, and
shortly after a message came down that a subaltern
in the 51st Foot had been shot, and asking for a
dhooly to be sent up. Taking half a dozen men I
went up too, riding the first part, which was easy
going, on a black pony I had then, to see if any help
was wanted. I had not gone far, however, when I
found that the black pony was a sort of conspicuous
Aunt Sally which everyone had a shot at. They
missed him all right, but got me through the foot ;
a skiff only, just missing the ankle and going out
through the bottom of my boot.

76 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Leaving the black pony to be hustled down under
cover again, I went on, and found my friend bleed
ing much, and looking pretty bad. A large bullet,
probably a Snider, had hit him in the chest ; had
apparently gone right through him, and made an
enormous jagged hole where it came out at the back.
We thought he was a gone coon, but making him as
comfortable as possible in the dhooly we sent him
down to the doctor. Then collecting our men we
prepared to clear out the enemy. There were not
very many of them, but they held a sungar on the
summit of a ridge which commanded us, and effec
tually prevented the convoy proceeding along the
Pass. All this time " Judy " was with me, greatly
excited, and bustling about as if a rat hunt was
going on.
Sending round a few men to the right and a few
men to the left, we kept down the fire from the
sungar till they had made good way, and then fixing
bayonets we charged. Out went the Afghans, and
off they fled with the speed and activity of moun
tain goats, and to my horror off went " Judy,"
iooo miles an hour, after them. I yelled and
whistled and roared, and even used abusive epi
thets, but those fluttering trouserings were too much
for her. She was going to chase them out of my
compound, anyhow. As the Afghans neared the
crest of the next ridge a few hundred yards on,
" Judy " closed on the rearmost, and we heard an
angry shout of " Kure, you dog ! " and saw the man
make a slash with his big knife. Then the whole
crowd, " Judy " and all, disappeared over the crest
line. With a bad foot I had had enough of running,
and sent on some men to the next ridge, but when
they got there not a living thing was in sight, neither
man nor dog. And no amount of wMsthng or call
ing would raise the latter.
We were all greatly distressed. Her gallantry

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 77
had evidently been too great, and she had been cut
down ; and I cursed my folly in having taught her
to "go for niggers."
The convoy moved on, and I was glad to find my
friend fairly easy, and neither dead nor dying as we
had feared. Indeed, when we got into the next
camp, and the doctors had a chance of probing the
wound, they found that the bullet had run right
round, and had done no fatal harm, and my friend
eventually got quite well, and is alive to this day.
Being young and foolish, and fearing I should be
left behind, I said nothing about the scratch on my
foot ; it didn't hurt, and only felt a httle sore. That
was an exceeding grievous mistake, for a bit of my
sock or boot had been carried in, and a few days
after it had become a serious matter, and took
weeks to put straight.
Meanwhile poor " Judy " was mourned for as one
dead, and I felt bitterly desolated at her loss, and
missed her frightfully. It was nearly a fortnight
after, and we were in Kabul, when one day a trans
port driver brought me a note. It was from an
Officer many marches down the line of communica
tions, who wrote that one morning when he woke
up he found a little fox-terrier curled up on the foot
of his bed. She was very thin and very footsore,
and he had kept her and fed her, and now heard
from one of my regiment that my dog wr.s missing.
To my great joy it proved to be the long lost " Judy."
She had evidently hunted Afghans till she missed
her way, and then eventually getting back to the
Jugdulluk Pass, she had back-tracked us, vainly
searching camp after camp down the line of com
munications. I gave her a medal for that battle, and took the
precaution to put my own name and regiment on
the back.
After the best part of two years peace was finally

78 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
signed, and we cleared back to India. There "Judy "
lived the usual cantonment hfe of a subaltern's dog.
She hunted wild cats and pariah dogs, urged thereto
by her master ; and on Sundays, as a treat, very
often came in for a rat hunt as well. She was also
a prominent member of the bobbery pack, which
consisted mostly of fox-terriers and bull-terriers,
with a greyhound or two thrown in. The pack
went out on high days and holidays to hunt jackals ;
first, however, setthng up old scores amongst them
selves. It was also one of the duties of a subaltern's dog
to have htters of puppies, and these, the result of
careful mating, were distributed amongst the most
cherished of one's friends, or given to a dog fancier
amongst the men of one's Company.
India, though not a bad country for some classes
of dogs, especially those with short coats, is rarely
a long-lived country for any. The longest I have
ever had a dog is six years, and poor " Judy " only
lived till she was four. Then she got a chill, or some
thing wrong inside, and gradually sank away. I sat
up with her two nights, giving her spoonfuls of port
wine and strong soup at intervals, but we could
not pull her through. It was my first great grief,
and I remember fairly blubbering as I sat on the
ground, and carved her name and date on the trunk
of an orange tree, beneath which she was buried,
wrapped in my best rug.
Thirty-one years afterwards the orange tree and
its inscription, still legible to me, stood in the garden
of The Guides at Mardan.
Another dog that came to me was a greyhound
named " Baz " from the colour of his eyes, which
were those of a hawk called " Baz " in the East.
He was the property of a brother Officer who died
of wounds, and was sold by auction with his effects.
" Baz " was knocked down to me for Rs.io, equal

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 79
in those days to ten shillings. He was a very fast
and good dog, and slept on my bed, as do most
subalterns' dogs. In fact, sometimes there is scarcely
room for the subaltern at all.
" Baz," however, once very nearly ruined my
military career. The General was down inspecting
us, and being short of quarters a large tent was
pitched for him in the mess compound, just outside
my rooms. I noticed one day some small bits of
coloured wool lying about the floor, but did not take
much notice of them. A few days after the General
had left, he wrote to the Colonel :
" Dear Jenkins,
" Did I leave behind a pair of carpet slippers ?
It is a pair made by a little niece of mine, and I prize
them greatly."
The slippers could nowhere be found, nor had
anyone seen them. On talking confidentially to
" Baz " afterwards, it became apparent that he was
the culprit who had stolen the slippers out of the
General's tent, and some little friends of his, fox-
terrier puppies, had torn them into small pieces
and probably swallowed most of them.
On such slippery slopes does a military career rest.
After we had been together for three years and
had become great friends, " Baz " and I had to
part, for I was invalided home. He was left with
a friend, but was quite inconsolable. First he
roamed all over the cantonment searching for me,
and every night went to my bed to see if I had
returned. Then he thought in his faithful old doggy
heart :
" The master must be at the outposts."
So out he went to the line of outposts, all of
them over twelve miles, and one of them thirty-two
miles distant. To each he went in turn and searched
it carefully over. He said to each Post-Commander :

80 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" How-de-do ? But where's my master ? "
Then he would have a drink of water, but no food,
and plod on in his search.
At length, faint and weary and after many days,
he turned back towards cantonments. As he neared
it he passed a village where dwelt many of his
enemies, great fierce pariah dogs. These in the days
of his prosperity he treated with great disdain. They
ran at the bare sight of him. But now, weak and
thin and weary and worn, he was fair game. They
bore down on him in a pack, bowled him over, and
killed him there and then. Not sorry to die, perhaps,
for earth was a poor place without old master.
All that we got back of poor old " Baz " was his
collar, which a Sepoy, who was staying in the village,
brought back.
" Patch " was another great character, who be
longed to my brother Leslie. He was a rough-
haired fox-terrier and a born fighter, which fights
involved my brother in a constant round of visits
of apology. He was a very intelligent dog, too.
There was a Dog Show at Murree, and " Patch "
was exhibited amongst the rough-haired terriers.
But the judges did not fancy him, and he was one
of the first turned out of the ring. This was a fright
ful insult, and " Patch " sat and watched the more
favoured dogs, especially the prize-winners, with
glowering eyes.
Next day after breakfast he said, " Now I am
off for a bit of business." And, going systematically
round to the houses where the successful competi
tors lived, he fought them all.
" You may wear a beastly old red or blue ribbon,
but I'll jolly well show you which is the best dog,"
he remarked to each, and proceeded to do so.
At lunch he came home bleeding all over and with
one ear nearly bitten off, but highly pleased with
himself. That meant yet another round of apologies.

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 81
At one time my brother was stationed at Now-
shera, about fifteen miles from us by train. When
" Patch " got bored he would trot down to the
station and hop into the train. Not into the dog-
box, if you please, or even into a third-class carriage,
but first-class, no less. And not in the wrong train
either. There he would curl up under the seat, take
no notice of the two intermediate stations, and jump
out at Mardan. Then he would briskly trot to our
house, which was a mile away, and arrive beaming.
Shortly after would come a tense wire from my
brother Leslie :
" Have you seen ' Patch ' ? "
And the answer would go back :
" Yes, he is asleep on the drawing-room sofa."
" Patch " once came to stay with us at Dera-
Ismail-Khan, and we had a black Chow dog named
" Phoongye " who was the apple of. his mistress's
eye. " Patch " did not at all approve of " Phoon
gye," but he was a shrewd dog and liked his new
home, especially on liver nights. So he kept off
" Phoongye," only just sniffing occasionally.
We had a motor-car, and there not being room
for two dogs in it and one of them " Patch," the
mistress decided that only one should go out at a
time, and being a kind, just mistress she gave no
preference to " Phoongye," but took each in turn.
" Patch," who loved driving in a car, soon dis
covered this, and made his plans accordingly. The
motor-house was a good 150 yards away and behin '
the house, but " Patch " cultivated a preternatural
sense of hearing. The moment the engine was
started he would slip out, dash down to the stables,
jump into the box-seat beside the chauffeur, and
arrive at the front door sitting up in it, and saying
as plain as words :
" Now let's see that damn black dog turn me
out."

82 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
The black dog did not, but his mistress did with
great sternness, when it was not " Patch's " turn.
The Judge had a huge dog called " Potiphar," I
believe because his wife had made a scandalous
alliance elsewhere. " Patch " was no Joseph, but
he loathed " Potiphar," and sought diligently for
an opportunity of telling him so. Tout vient d qui
sait attendre, and " Patch's " chance came when we
were all busy talking after church. He went for
" Potiphar " like a small tiger, but he had taken on
too much this time, and would have been eaten alive
if he had not been rescued.
Two years afterwards, at quite a different station
several hundred miles away, " Patch " was walking
down the Mall when suddenly he saw " Potiphar."
" What ho ! my boy. You here ? "
And went for him like a streak.
We had another dog named " Romp," a clumber
spaniel, who was a great character. He was very
greedy, as are most spaniels, and once ate a camel,
or something of that size. With this inside him,
and looking like a boa-constrictor which has swal
lowed a buffalo, he waddled in and flopped down in
the dining-room, and there lay for two days and two
nights without moving. We thought he was dead,
but after two days he got up, had a drink, and
seemed none the worse.
He also bitterly resented any aspersions on his
birth and pedigree. When being exhibited at Simla
he was defeated by two dogs belonging to Mr.
Phelps the tailor, the judge being Padre" Dale, a well-
known sporting parson and dog fancier. " Romp "
was a good deal annoyed about this in his placid
way, and thought he ought to make a protest. And
to do so followed the methods of Mr. Kensit and
Father Black.
Next day was Sunday, and we all, as in duty
bound, went to church, leaving " Romp " ,at home

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 83
as usual. He had never dreamt of going to church
before, but some other dog evidently told him that
Padre Dale was going to preach that day. So
" Romp " slipped away from the house, went to the
church, lay down on the mat at the open door, and
behaved with great decorum. But no sooner had
Padr6 Dale ascended the pulpit than, perhaps re
cognising the voice of the unjust judge, he sat up
and began to bark vociferously. Everyone took
turns to look round, and last of all we also turned.
Thereupon my wife went out to remove " Mr.
Kensit " to a safe distance, and, curiously enough,
the only remark she was heard to make was :
" Good dog, ' Romp.' "
Perhaps most people having seen a snake-charmer
look on his performance as a fake, the snake having
had his fangs drawn and therefore become more
harmless than a dove. Possibly this is the case with
some, but there are genuine snake-charmers as well,
who will charm and capture the most virulent cobra
or hamadryad. One day my syces came to me at
Mardan and said there was a hole in the corner of
the motor-shed, and that they had seen a cobra
come out of it. We lay in wait for him many days,
but could never catch him. So I told the syces to
search for a snake-charmer. They eventually came
across a travelling snake-charmer in the Bazaar,
and we took him to the motor-shed.
He began playing on his flute, which is like an
ordinary flute, but has a round chamber the size of
a small cocoa-nut half-way down. He had only
played a minute or two, a particularly soft and
melodious tune, when out came the cobra, and ad
vanced across the shed towards the player. None
of us having a stick handy, I said to one of the syces :
" Fetch me a stick."
The snake-charmer at once ceased playing, and
the cobra retreated to his hole.

84 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" No, no, Sahib, you must not kill him, or the
gods will be angry. I shall never catch another."
" But what's the good of catching snakes if you
do not kill them ? " we asked.
" Sahib, I will catch him for you, put him in a
basket, and take him five miles out into the country
and let him go. But he must not be killed."
To that we agreed, and the snake-charmer began
to play his flute again.
The cobra immediately came out and almost
danced towards him, as if enchanted with the dulcet
sounds. On the ground the man placed a small
round basket, and led the cobra with his music till
its head was over the basket. The man then deftly
dropped the lid of the basket on the cobra's head,
and, through the crack left, its body quietly followed
its head and curled up in the basket. The man
picked up the basket, tied a rag round it, and
marched off into the country, where he let the cobra
go- To see one of these experts extract the fangs from
a cobra is an interesting sight. A cobra can only
strike when he erects his head and a foot or so of
his body. He can then only strike the exact dis
tance of the standing portion of his body, he cannot
spring, nor can he bite whilst creeping along the
ground. A hair's-breadth outside the radius of his
strike is perfect safety. Nor can he strike back
wards. The expert therefore manoeuvres to get
behind the cobra, preferably when it is wriggling
away, or when it has put its head in a hole on the
way to escape. The man then seizes the cobra's
tail with his left hand firmly, and, as quick as light
ning, runs his right hand up the cobra's body and
gets it safe by the neck. As long as he has nerve
and holds tight the cobra can do no harm. With
great deliberation he then takes out a pocket-knife
and calmly cuts out the cobra's fangs. A squirt of

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 85
deadly poison is seen to spurt out as from a syringe,
and the cobra is harmless. A child might play with
it. As subalterns in search of knowledge, we often
tried to get up a fight between a mongoose and
cobra. A mongoose is a long furry little animal,
rather like a weasel, and is supposed to, and I
believe does, attack and eat a cobra whenever he
wants to. But we could never bring the battle off.
We tried every way to incite either or both to attack,
but neither would. We even starved the mongoose,
and when he was very hungry threw bits of raw
meat close up to the cobra. But the mongoose
knew his business to a hair's-breadth. He would go
up and eat a piece of meat not an inch outside the
cobra's strike. The cobra would strike just that
fraction short, and the mongoose never winked an
eye or stirred in the least, just munched on at the
meat. But inside the deadly circle he would not go.
One of the Native Officers said that a mongoose
was immune from cobra bite because of his fur coat,
and so also was a cat.
" I will fetch mine, Sahib, and you shall see."
Having fetched his cat, he threw it into the room.
Now these scientific researches were being carried
out in an empty room in one of the houses in the
Fort : a ground-floor room with French windows
on two sides. Against these windows had flattened
their noses a lot of the men, whilst we of the elect
sat on the mantelpiece out of harm's way, and a
Native Officer sat half-way up a ladder in the corner,
piously ejaculating : " Perchance I shall, by the
grace of God, not be seized on from behind."
The cat made one wild leap straight on top of
the cobra, and we all exclaimed, " Here is a tiger
indeed." But this was apparently quite uninten
tional valour, for the cobra struck twice and the cat
turned at once and made a wild dash through the

86 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
glass window into the faces of the intelligent ob
servers. She was, unhappily, never seen again,
which proved that fur is not cobra proof.
Undoubtedly, however, fur, or even cloth, will
save a man by absorbing part of the poison, especi
ally if the cobra has recently bitten something else,
and thus weakened, or diminished the virulence, or
volume of the poison.
Captain Hammond of The Guides, the same who
won the Victoria Cross at Kabul, was once out
shooting, when he was bitten in the leg by a cobra.
He had on at the time a pair of puttees, such as
soldiers now wear. He was alone with his servants,
and knowing that the first effect of the poison is to
make one drowsy, before falling into a sleep from
which there is no awakening, he told his servants to
take his arms on each side and walk him up and
down, on no account allowing him to go to sleep.
He also took some raw spirits which act as a partial
remedy. His servants obeyed his orders for a long
time, till at length Captain Hammond could bear
the fatigue no longer, and, being a powerful man,
he capsized the two servants right and left, and went
to sleep on his camp bed. Next morning he woke
up quite well, the folds of his puttee having appar
ently saved him.

CHAPTER VI
CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT
A Dance at the Mess — Sir John McQueen — Off to Egypt — Five
Special Trains of Camels — A Fire on Board — Another Fire — The
Arab's Tail missing — Entering Suakin Harbour — Fine Pilotage
— The Battle of McNeill's Zareba — The First Rush— The 15th
Sikhs — Our Own Adventures — A Shotgun Saves Us — Sudden
End of Battle — Tamai — " Down into the Deep Sea " — Only a
Bruise — The Water Tanks— The Humane Subaltern and His
Horse — He and Sir George Greaves Disagree — The Sun Shone
Again — In a Zareba — A Strange Thing — On the Jetty — Un
guarded Malefactors — A Severe Skirmish — A Babu and a Blue
jacket to the Rescue — A Gold Watch and D.S. Medal —
Shooting for the Pot — An Unwelcome Surprise — The Ship of
the Desert — Hasty Return to Camp — Young Kid of the Goats —
A Small Night Alarm — A Chance Shot — A Happy Escape —
Sir William Gatacre — His Energy — The Sentry — His Orders
WE were having a dance in the Mess one
evening, quite a small affair, in honour
of the Lieutenant-Governor, who had
come to inspect the regiment in the course of his
autumn tour. As one of the hosts of the evening,
and as in duty bound, it came to my turn to make
my best bow to the wife of the Military Secretary,
and to ask her to tread a measure with me.
In the course of treading that measure, the wife
of the Military Secretary, one of the most beautiful
of ladies, remarked :
" John has just got a telegram asking for two
Officers to be sent at once to Egypt for service there."
Now " John " was no less a person than that re
doubtable and splendid soldier, Sir John McQueen,
who formerly commanded The Guides. Being full
of my good fortune as regards a partner, and just
87

88 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
exactly at the right stage as regards moral courage,
I said :
" Then let us at once tackle Sir John on this im
portant point."
" Yes, let us," agreed my kind partner. So up we
sailed to Sir John, my courage perhaps rather in
clined to issue out of my best Wellington boots as
we approached that stalwart warrior.
" I hear, sir, you have had a telegram asking for
two Officers to be sent to the Egyptian War ; do you
think I would do for one ? "
Kind old Sir John beamed down on me, and an
swered in his bluff and hearty way :
" Well, I don't know why you shouldn't, young
fellow." I went away frightfully happy, and danced like
mad all the evening. After supper, or thereabouts,
happening to collide again with Sir John, he patted
me kindly on the shoulder, and said :
" Do you know, young fellow, I have to-night
received no less than thirty-eight applications, by
telegram and otherwise, for those two appointments
to Egypt, so don't be too sanguine, but I'll remem
ber you were the first to apply."
I thanked him, in rather a half-starved manner
I am afraid, and went to bed with my heart in my
boots — the same Wellingtons.
What earthly chance had I, an exceedingly ob
scure subaltern, against thirty-eight, yes, thirty-
eight tremendous fellows ? and in my dreams their
merits enlarged to quite an enormous extent. With
the cold of next morning it was, of course, evident
that my chances were absolutely nowhere ; but,
with the happy tolerance of youth, one hoped for
better luck next time, and then thought no more of
the matter.
Two days after we were out hawking, some eight
or ten miles from cantonments, when in the far dis-

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 89
tance appeared a streak of dust, manifestly a gallop
ing horse ; further, it was apparent the rider was
heading for us ; finally we could distinguish that it
was an orderly in uniform. The moment we dis
covered that, my heart went up with a bound.
" That's my orders for Egypt, I'll bet a goose ! "
And so, sure enough, they were.
" You have been selected for service in Egypt,"
the orders ran, " but will first proceed to Jhelum,
and take over 500 camels which are being sent to
Egypt under your charge." I did not know one
end of a camel from another, nor anything about
him, or his ways ; but the British subaltern is some
what accustomed to these sudden calls on his re
sources, and takes things as they come. Yet it must
be confessed that those 500 camels and their 250
attendants proved to be a tough undertaking. It
took five special trains to carry them 1000 miles to
the sea, and a 6000-ton ship to carry them 2500
miles across the Indian Ocean to Suakin. Why
half of them did not fall out of the trains, or the
whole of them get burnt alive on the ship, is one of
those miraculous coincidences which do occur.
Looking out of the carriage window, at a curve,
one was frozen with horror to see about half the
camels, having broken their knee halters, standing up
in open trucks with only a two-feet freeboard, whilst
the train swished round the corner at twenty miles
an hour. By all the laws of gravity they should have
been shot off, but they were not.
On board ship our narrowest escapes were from
fire. I went round the whole ship myself, every hour
or two day and night, and one night came across a
camel driver, three decks down, who had just
emptied his hookah on to a handy pile of dry hay,
and was placidly warming his hands at the grateful
blaze. He probably concluded that a whirlwind
had struck him and the blazing hay. We got it

90 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
put out just in time to save a general conflagration ;
but the gentleman concerned had reason to sit down
carefully for some days after.
Another escape came also to a near one, my own
syces being the sinners on this occasion. It is the
early morning custom of the Indian syce to collect
a pile of the last night's soiled horse bedding, to
light it, and squat over it warming himself. With
out a shade of humour, or indeed mahce, my syces
followed the usual custom the first cold morning on
board ship. In one second the flames had caught
the awning and there was a blaze all along the deck.
Falling bits of burning canvas set more bedding
alight ; all the horses, about a dozen, broke loose
in terror, and, as the Sergeant expressed it, " there
was 'ell to pay for a few minutes." Happily for
all, at that particular time in the morning the hoses
were ready fixed for swabbing decks, and that saved
the ship and everything in it. As it turned out,
little or no damage was done, except to the awning ;
and to my grey Arab's tail, which had mostly dis
appeared in the conflagration.
Arrived off Suakin, a Naval Officer came on board
and took charge. The entrance to Suakin Harbour
is very narrow and intricate, and the harbour itself
had never before held more than five ships at a
time. That being so, our Naval Officer took us in
slap-dash, and in casual converse informed the
Captain that there were already forty-two vessels
inside. But, bless their hearts, what is that to a British
Naval Officer ? Sure enough a forest of masts and,
later, hulls appeared, and straight ahead a poky
little gap, apparently about large enough to hold a
Thames wherry. At the precise moment when we
appeared to be about to charge several ships all at
once, the Naval Officer said, " Let go your bow
anchor " ; or it may have been sheet anchor, or

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 91
any other anchor, who knows ? Anyway, it was an
anchor, and the Captain understood, and let it go.
At that exact moment the tug Samson nosed into
us on one side, and the tug Hercules on the other,
and before most people had time to wipe their eye
glasses, our 6000-ton ship was in that little crack
meant for a Thames wherry. The Captain came
down to lunch just after, and he was fairly per
spiring with astonishment at this wonderful piece
of pilotage.
Twenty-four hours after we were in the thick of
the thickest battle. It was the battle of McNeill's
zareba. We went out with a convoy, which, heavily
guarded by half a dozen regiments in hollow square,
was depositing stores in a depot a few miles out.
The square convoy duly arrived, and whilst the
camels were being unloaded the troops set to work
to cut down thorn bushes to form a zareba.
Some regiments piled arms and thus went to
work, but the more wary, amongst them the 15th
Sikhs, slung their rifles on their backs. All of a
sudden, from the direction of the sea, our safe side
as was imagined, a great turmoil quickly arose.
First a confused murmur, then shouts, then gallop
ing cavalry scouts ; then stampeding camels and
men ; then dust, and yells, and clamour ; and then
about five thousand Arab spearmen and swordsmen
charging through the bush.
It is a curious bush in those parts — thorny
mimosa, so thin that a column in fours can easily
march through it, but so thick that no clear view
is obtainable for more than fifty yards in any direc
tion. Great hordes of Arabs poured through the
bush exactly like sand through a sieve, and no one
could see to shoot till the enemy was right on him.
The confusion was accentuated by the mass of
soldiers who had no arms dashing back to get them.
By the grace of God, and no one else except per-

92 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
haps the 15th Sikhs, knows quite how, the situation
cleared itself almost as suddenly as it had arisen.
There was a tremendous fusillade for a few minutes,
every man shooting straight before him, regardless
of friends or foes. Then lo and behold ! the attack
was oyer, and gone, and melted away ! And two
thousand corpses, friend and foe, lay around that
bloodstained spot.
Our own adventure was brief and curious. Those
who had no job on hand were off their horses eating
a bit of hard tackle, as we called it, and were talking
to their friends. When the dust and disturbance
arose a Cavahy Officer instinctively mounted, that
being his method of fighting ; whilst his infantry
friends stuck to their feet, whilst syces held their
horses. At this moment there dashed through our httle
knot a cavalry patrol, driven in by the enemy, which
stampeded most of the led horses. One Officer, how
ever, thus bereft, had in his hand a 12-bore shotgun,
which really was about the best weapon anyone
could have for such an occasion, and probably saved
us from adding our number to the slain.
Hot-foot on the tail of our cavalry patrol came
a swarm of Arabs, prancing, yelling, waving their
swords, and coming on at a great rate. The mounted
officers were nearly stampeded, but held their ground
and, steadying up their horses, let fly with their
revolvers. But revolvers will not stop a rush like
this. Happily our friend with the shotgun was a
more formidable defence. Perfectly cool and col
lected, he let drive one barrel straight in the face of
a very unpleasant-looking ruffian who was leading,
and the second barrel into the stomach of a second.
The Arab who was hit in the face, and probably
blinded, clasped his hands over his eyes and melted
away to the left without a word. The man hit in
the stomach fell in a heap. The rest dived away

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 93
each side and passed on. One more shot did our
friend fire, and then no one else came near us, the
tide of battle had passed us, and was raging furiously
behind. This was comforting in a way, but it very soon
seemed to include being shot in the back by our
own people. A hurricane of bullets swept past us,
and we were now off our horses pretty sharp and
lay flat on the ground, and piously wished we were
moles. But happily this hurricane lasted only a
very short time, and neither horse nor man was hit.
Then all seemed to grow quiet and there was a dead
silence, occasionally emphasised by a few stray
shots. That was the end of the battle, a bloody one
whilst it lasted, but short, sharp and to the point.

This campaign consisted mostly of marching along
in huge squares surrounding loaded camels, moving
at the rate of about one mile an hour. It was not a
very interesting campaign, as such, to the ordinary
subaltern, but he usually manages to get some joy
out of most unpromising circumstances.
At the scene of the second battle of Tamai we ar
rived in one huge square, but with no camels inside.
These had been left in a zareba some way behind,
for we were out to fight. This battle followed the
usual course ; the great square was nosed into the
enemy, who, as in duty bound, attacked it with
swords, and spears, and great bravery. They were
met with volleys, and the bayonet ; and after a
moderate fight melted away, leaving the ground
strewn with dead and wounded. In the midst of
the shooting, which was mostly done by us, I was
sent across the square, which was perfectly flat and
sandy, like the desert of Sahara, with a message, and
was riding an Arab, " Mercury " by name, my first
charger. We two were great friends and comrades,

94 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
and had fought together before. We were going at
a walk, for the sand was deep, the distance short,
and there was no great urgency. About the middle
of the square, however, the world disappeared for
the rider, and he sank into a deep sea. At first the
light was bright through the greenish water, but as
he sank it got dimmer and dimmer, and at last went
out. The next thing he remembered was sitting
propped up in the sand, and someone, a long way
off, saying :
" Well, old boy, feeling better ? " I was not in
the least, but did not feel strong enough to tell
a lie. There was a big sandy space in front, and " Mer
cury " was standing by with his reins on the ground,
whilst closer was the Staff Surgeon, and by him an
orderly with a brown canvas bag on which was a
large red cross. Then the brain got somewhat
clear, and I suddenly asked with great fierceness :
" What the devil's up ? "
" Nothing much, sonny," the doctor replied, now
quite close, "only you got a bit of a knockout."
The knockout had apparently come from an ounce
bullet, fired probably from a Snider rifle, and spent
when it hit me. But chancing as it did to strike
exactly over the heart, it had sent me down into
those deep seas, and nearly out into the regions
beyond. But though aching badly, we all had to
laugh that evening.
Bivouacked still in a square, I, as an invalid, was
given a snug and bullet-proof spot behind a large
pile of water tanks. For all the requirements of the
army in the matter of drinking water had to be
carried with it on camels. This pile of water tanks
was guarded as if they were cans of gold and con
tained diamonds ; and in charge of them was a sub
altern named Allen, a Sandhurst comrade. That
subaltern officer had a horse, and the horse was

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 95
very thirsty indeed, and this smote the subaltern
officer to the heart.
Thus communing he with himself :
" Here is this large pile of water cans, and no one
will miss one, and am I not lord of all, and shall I
not give one of them to my poor old gee ? "
And so did he, but by evil venture at this precise
moment up came Sir George Greaves, the Chief of
the Staff, surrounded by a glittering throng with
red tabs, the first campaign in which they were worn.
And these caught that unrighteous subaltern in the
act of doing a moderately righteous thing.
Sir George Greaves was a very popular officer of
the older type, with an old-fashioned vocabulary of
exceptional virulence and potency ; he was also
somewhat annoyed. Standing, therefore, on the
pile of tanks, pulpit-like, he began to give our friend
the subaltern some of his best.
"Do you know, sir," he was continuing, "you
ought to be taken out and shot ! Shot, sir, nothing
short of it. You have been guilty of one of the most
heinous military crimes possible, you  " and so
on for a lot more.
" And now, sir, what have you got to say for
yourself ? "
To anyone observing the culprit it was evident
that his attention was elsewhere. His gaze was fixed
with fascinated anxiety on the pile of tanks. So
that when the point-blank question came, he stam
mered forth :
" Yes, sir ; quite so, sir ; very sorry, sir ; but do
be careful, sir, or the pile will come down with a run."
The Chief of the Staff tried not to smile, and his
staff looked at him to see whether they might laugh
or not, and someone behind sniggered without orders.
Then the sun shone, and the subaltern was not
shot.

96 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
One night we were sleeping in a zareba, a couple
of miles or more from the coast, and during the
night Her Majesty's ship Dolphin from the har
bour threw a searchlight occasionally over us into
the bush beyond. If the bluejackets thought they
saw anything moving out and beyond they would
plump a shell over the zareba into the bush.
We were weary and tired, and most of us slept un
disturbed through this intermittent bombardment.
Next morning, however, two syces were to be seen
approaching, staggering under the weight of an
enormous shell.
" This strange thing," they said, " was found lying
just beside your Honour's horses this morning.
Perchance it was thrown there by the warship."
His Honour's horses were exactly fifteen feet from
his Honour's head, and he felt grateful to the maker
of that shell.

On another occasion there was again a narrow
escape from a premature departure from this vale
of tears. Standing unarmed at the end of a long
jetty, I was watching a steamer being unloaded —
camels, or something equally interesting. It was
midday and very hot, and everything was going
slow and sleepy. Helping in the work of unloading
the ship was a gang of prisoners, lifetimers who had
been tried and condemned for participating too
heartily in the Alexandria massacres. In charge of
these malefactors were a couple of negro policemen
with rifles'. I was the only white man there, and had
just been noticing with impersonal amusement that
both the policemen on guard were fast asleep in the
shade, when I felt an exceedingly hard welt on top
of my head. Happily an Indian helmet is fairly
thick, and whipping round I found myself face to
face with a large and evil-looking scoundrel, armed

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 97
With a crowbar ; while the rest of the gang were
crowding up looking ugly.
I had learnt something of boxing at school and at
Sandhurst j and was fairly stiff on the legs. So I
dashed for the crowbar assailant like a tornado, and
fortunately knocked him over into the water. There
upon the rest of the gang closed up and commenced
to wage war. With my back to a truck I was having
a decidedly thin time of it, which in a few seconds
could only have ended one way, when a welcome
diversion came from the ship.
An Indian Mohammedan clerk or overseer, who
was engaged in the clerical portion of unloading the
cargo, happened to hear the scuffle, and, looking
over, saw the Sahib's dilemma. With great promp
titude and braveness, for he was entirely unarmed,
he dashed down the gangway on to the rear of the
gang, shouting abuse and shouting for help. At the
same moment a British bluejacket, who was stand
ing at the shore end of the jetty, saw the disturbance
also, and he too, unarmed, charged to the rescue and
used his fist with splendid effect.
The turmoil thus raised woke the policemen, and
they also tumbled up, and between us we secured
and disarmed the gang, for all had got hold of some
offensive article. For his prompt bravery on this
occasion the Mohammedan clerk was presented by
Government with a gold watch, suitably inscribed,
and Rs.200 ; and the sailor was given the Distin
guished Service Medal.
The Mohammedan clerk unfortunately lost his eye
later from a bursting soda-water bottle, and from
henceforth promoted me to be his father and mother
with financial rights as such, for the rest of his days.
Subalterns sometimes do dreadfully rotten things.
One day out at Otao, a zareba about forty miles
from Suakin, finding time heavy on my hands, and
being heartily sick of bully beef and hard tackle, I,

98 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
as one of the brotherhood, determined to sally forth
on a camel to see if it were not possible to pick up
a gazelle or two, or some wild guinea-fowls to help
the pot. Now the bush around was swarming, off
and on, with Arabs, and though none had been seen
for some days no one could be sure about the matter,
and certainly no one should have gone out, as this
graceless person did, at that particular time.
I had not gone more than a mile when, with
two easy shots, a couple of gazelle were bagged.
These loaded up on the camel, we were returning to
camp well pleased ; I sitting on the front seat of the
saddle, and the syce on the rear. Wending our way
back through the thick bush, noiselessly as a camel
goes, we came quite suddenly on five Arabs sitting
under a mimosa bush. Both parties were greatly
startled by the sudden encounter, and, having a
Martini-Henry carbine at full cock across my knees,
instantly had it up and blazed point-blank into the
brown of those five Arabs — and idiotically enough
missed the lot !
The discharge of a carbine just past his ear was,
however, too much for the nerves of the ship of the
desert, and he whipped round, very nearly unseat
ing both his riders, and made a clean bolt of it. The
Arabs, who also had Martini-Henry rifles, and also
apparently at full cock, ran after the fugitives,
blazing away with great persistency and sufficient
accuracy. The syce, being in the back seat, naturally
was in a post of honour and danger which he was
the last to appreciate ; and he could be heard piously
and continuously praying that "perchance he might
not be hit in the hinder parts."
The Arabs, being nearly as bad shots as I was,
missed both me and the syce with comforting fre
quency, but a chance shot happened to graze the
old camel, and that sent him skipping along faster
than ever. FinaUy we fetched up, very hot and

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 99
not at all proud of ourselves, at the zareba. I have
a dim recollection of nothing being said at the time
about this adventure, and of those gazelles being
passed off on an unsuspecting mess as young kids
of the goat.
That syce had a curious after-career. Having
field rations and nothing to spend his money on he
asked me to keep his wages and give him a lump
sum at the end of the war. It was a matter of
Rs.ioo, and this he received when we returned to
India. This sum he thought he could not better
expend than in the purchase of a wife. With this
intent he opened negotiations with an elderly lady
who had a daughter for disposal at that price or
thereabouts. After a good deal of haggling the
bargain was concluded and the syce paid down the
money. Unfortunately, however, not being a busi
ness man he did not at once take delivery of the
goods, nor did he demand, a receipt. The elderly
lady, therefore, bestowed her daughter on another
possibly at a higher price and swore she had never
received a rupee from my syce.
Whilst we were at Mess that night the syce went
to my bearer and said the Sahib wanted his sword.
The bearer handed out an ordinary blunt parade
sword. But the syce said that was not the sword ;
the Sahib wanted his sharp sword, the one he took
on service, to show to one of his guests. Thus armed
the syce went off and slew the elderly lady and her
daughter. He then pranced down the bazaar,
saying he would kill anyone who prevented his
escaping across the Border. Passing through the
Mess compound he was held up by the guard, Who
formed a ring round him and there he stood at
bay. The Havildar sent in word to the Colonel, who
evidently not quite catching what was said, remarked
rather testily across the table :

ioo A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" There is a damn syce of yours making a row.
Go out and see what it is about."
I also, not knowing what had happened, walked
out of the bright Mess into the pitch darkness out
side, and also perhaps having caught some testiness
from the Colonel, exclaimed :
" What the deuce are you up to ? Come here."
Out of the darkness a sword was thrust into my
hand, and the syce's voice said :
" I will surrender to my own Sahib, but to no
one else." *
As he had served me faithfully and well, I secured
the services of a good lawyer from Lahore, who got
him off with ten years' transportation to the Anda-
mans. Doing duty with a Company of Mounted Infantry
the skipper had, one night, the escape of his life.
Some of us had been dining, or rather taking pot-
luck, bully beef and the like, with a friend over the
other side of the zareba, and were going home to
bed, when a few Arabs started shooting from a bluff
not far off, on which by rights should have been a
picket. We had often discussed this point, and had
come to the conclusion that we had better chance
it, for a small picket might have been swamped and
a large one could not be afforded. Moreover, the
Arab is a poor shot at best. Indeed, the Arabs of
those days shot exceedingly badly ; and not with
out cause, for one of their cherished notions was
that if a musketeer wanted to hit and kill an enemy,
the more he raised his back sight the harder he hit
him. This, at one hundred yards' range, was a
priceless advantage to an antagonist whom the Arab
wished to hit very hard indeed.
But to resume, two or three of us were collected
at the side of the zareba towards the bluff, listening
to the bullets singing high overhead, and watching
the moon rise from behind the bluff, hoping to get

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 101
a shot back when we could see something to shoot
at. Our skipper, who had gone to bed, got up and
joined us, and we were all chatting together for five
or ten minutes. Then the moon rose, and we had a
blaze at the brow of the bluff. After that all shoot
ing ceased, probably for good and sufficient reasons,
and we all tumbled off to bed.
Next morning, when the skipper's servant came
to wake him, he noticed a small hole through the
roof of the little tent, and drew his master's atten
tion to it. His master gazed at the hole, and thought
that it looked uncommonly like a bullet hole. Fur
ther, it occurred to him that a bullet coming from
the bluff and dropping at that angle could not well
have missed the occupant of the bed. This made
him think a little, and thereupon he made diligent
search, lest peradventure he also had got a hole
through him unbeknownst in his sleep. The skipper,
however, proved to be whole and hearty and with
out a blemish. But what they did discover was
that the bullet had gone through the camp bed on
which he had slept, had cut a furrow in the ground,
and thence ricocheted out low through the opposite
wall of the tent. This looked like a miracle, till the
skipper recollected that for five or ten minutes
during the night he had been out chatting with us
by the zareba side. During that most fortunate
absence the messenger of Death had passed him by,
but only for atime. Three months afterwards he joined
his fallen comrades in the great and happy Beyond.
Sir Wilham Gatacre used to tell a rather enter
taining story about himself. As we all remember,
he was in later life a man of intense energy, though,
curiously enough, in his earlier days he was just the
opposite. He used to teach us Topography at the
Royal Military College, as far back as 1877, and our
recollection of him was far from that of a strenuous
officer.

102 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
As a young subaltern once sagely remarked,
speaking to my cousin Arthur, not with reference
to Sir William Gatacre :
" Do you know, sir, I notice that when a General
takes to serious soldiering late in life, he is rather
apt to make a hobby of it ! "
He had just been serving under a very strenuous
General, who had started late in life.
Sir William Gatacre commenced to show his
greatest energy after he had thirty years' service,
and the soldiers nicknamed him " Backacher."
It was about the time of the battle of Atbara,
before or after, that the General was paying a sur
prise visit by night, d la Napoleon, to his sentries.
Accosting one of them, he demanded :
" Well, my man, what are your orders ? "
" Sir, my orders is to keep a sharp look out for
the enemy and for General Gatacre."
" Oh, indeed ! " said the General, smiling to him
self. " And do you know General Gatacre by
sight ? "
" No, sir, I don't."
" Then, pray," with cold displeasure, " how are
you going to keep a sharp look out for him ? "
" Well, sir, it's like this. The Sergeant says, ' If
you sees an Officer a-fussin' and a-worryin' around,
that's General Gatacre.' "

CHAPTER VII
A BURMESE ADVENTURE
The Burmah War — A Subaltern's Job — A Six Months' Venture —
An Englishman and a Gurkha alone — Up the Salween — Dacoits —
Through Siam — American Missionaries — Their Kindness at
Zimme — Loss of Saddlery and Pack Saddles — A Cigarette Case
Incident — On Again — Healing an Old Lady — Kiang Tung —
Trading — Ponies Confiscated — The Half-Caste Burman — An
Outlaw — His Valuable Service — The Toothbrush — We Escape —
Tracked — A Lost Carbine and nearly a Lost Head — Sunday Rest
— Sapphires at Twopence Apiece — We Secure Sapphires and
Cat's-Eyes — The French Banker's Valuation — The English
Jeweller's — Sapphires Stolen — Mr. Gould the Consul — A Rough
Sapphire for 40 Dollars — Where it Came From — A Very Old
Bird
IT was after the Burmah War had been running
for some months, and whilst Sir George White
was working eastwards towards the trans-
Salween Shan States, that those responsible for the
strategy of the campaign decided to find out whether
there was not some easier way. All the chains of
mountains and rivers in Burmah run roughly north
and south, and therefore a direct move eastwards
entailed crossing all of these at right angles ; whereas
a route leading up convenient river valleys might
lighten the task. I was then a subaltern in the
Intelligence Branch, and was summoned one day by
Colonel Bell, the head of that department, and
asked if I knew of any officer who could sketch well,
and would take on rather an arduous job.
Two or three names were mentioned, and Colonel
Bell grunted at each.
" I suppose you wouldn't care to take it on your
self ? " <°3

104 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Indeed I would," with great alacrity.
For to tell the truth, sitting in an office tent col
lating other people's information, was not much
in my line. To be strictly truthful, I loathed it.
To be out and about, travelling through new and
dangerous countries, that would indeed appeal to
any subaltern. The outcome of these deliberations
was that I was directed to undertake the work. I
was to go accompanied only by a Gurkha orderly,
who, with his Tartar features and dressed as a
Shan, would pass as one of the many Tartar tribes
to be found in that part of Asia. I also was to wear
Shan dress, not with any hope of being mistaken for
a Shan, or Chinaman, but to avoid attracting undue
attention by the way.
It was calculated that it would take about six
months to work round, and to get back with the
information required. A considerable portion of
the route to be followed ran through hostile
countries ; and not a single word of any of the
languages or dialects of those parts did either of
us know. But mere details of this sort do not
necessarily trouble the British subaltern, he gets
through somehow. The risks of the venture were
only lightly and incidentally touched upon, and
merely took the form of being advised to make a
Will before starting. But it was very carefully
impressed on us that it was very important to get
back the information, even if we could not get back
ourselves. So off we went, the Gurkha and myself,
with £200 in gold leaf in a tobacco pouch, and
with rolls of new two-anna bits stowed away in
our pockets and bundles. First we went down to
Moulmein by steamer, and thence worked up the
Salween River for some hundreds of miles, but could
not get through that way, or see the road for an
army. Moreover, the country was swarming with

fcftfiif*

MV^Kll' l*RK-<Kl> An \ S|l\\. lSSl> S"

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 105
bands of dacoits, and that we managed not to fall
in with these was a piece of great good fortune.
Retracing our steps, therefore, we made a dash
eastwards across the Burmese border into Siam.
Here we were again amongst peaceful and peace-
loving people, but slightly on the avaricious side.
However, new two-anna bits go a long way in a
country where coin is scarce, so without much
trouble or difficulty we worked up to Zimme in the
north of Siam.
There, much to our surprise, we came across an
American missionary and his family, in reality half
traders and half missionaries. Good people who
carried a large and imposing Bible in the one hand,
' and with the other dealt in merchandise. A retail
shop full of general wares, tinned provisions,
saddlery, and every conceivable saleable article.
The Siamese might take either the stores or the
Bible, or both ; or for that matter might take
neither. The Americans were most kind to us,
and what was still more important gave us valuable
information about the routes ahead, and how best
to attain our goal.
At Zimme, for some unknown reason, a deter
mined effort was made by the Siamese officials to
prevent the further journey northwards. Indeed,
every obstacle was placed in the way, and finally,
the night before the contemplated departure, the
whole of our saddlery and pack saddles were stolen.
It was very apparent that this was a Govern
ment affair, for the penalty for theft in those days,
in the northern provinces of Siam, was death,
and numerous instances of the scrupulous honesty
of the people in consequence of this law had been
experienced. Time out of number would a villager come
running after a wayfarer to restore an abandoned
tin or bottle, for fear he should be accused of having

106 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
stolen it. And even at Zimme, two days before, a
striking example of this universal horror of stealing
had occurred. We had been sitting out late one
night by the side of one of the main roads into the
town, and in the darkness had dropped a silver
cigarette case, and left it. The loss was not dis
covered till midday next day, when on search being
made it was discovered, shining brightly, and lying
in the middle of the road. Hundreds of Siamese,
men, women, and children, must have passed that
cigarette case, but not one would touch it.
It was in this dilemma that the Americans came
in strong and kind. They fitted us out completely
with a new stock of saddlery, and sent us on
our way rejoicing. Curiously enough they unwit
tingly conferred a further benefit ; for knowing
the country and the dangers ahead, they arranged
for us to travel with a caravan of traders, who
were returning empty, along the very route we
wanted to follow. These traders, who were Chinese
Mohammedans from Yunnan, from this introduction
jumped to the conclusion that at any rate one was
an American missionary, that he was out in search
of souls ; and possibly, and more reasonably, in
search of dollars also.
The caravan was now entering again the Shan
States, and as the British were then at war with
these very States, that little misunderstanding
made a very sensible difference to a British Officer.
The caravan of ponies travelled at a great rate.
Starting at dawn, it pushed along at a good jog-trot
pace, till about noon. Then off-saddle and rest,
a paddy feed for the ponies, and a graze round.
After a couple of hours the caravan loaded up again,
and pushed on till evening. Sometimes it stopped
at villages, and sometimes bivouacked in the forest,
as occasion offered. At night the ponies were turned
loose to graze about at will till dawn.

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 107
Every white man, and especially an Englishman, is
ipso facto a skilled medical practitioner, wherever in
the by-ways he wanders ! Only one white man,
and he not a doctor, had been in this country,
fifty years before ; yet his fame survived. On the
present occasion only some quinine, a few Cockle's
pills, a bottle of chlorodyne, and a pot of vaseline,
composed our medical outfit, so we could not spare
much for stray patients. This httle medical store
was, however, saved in a curious and effective
manner. At one village there was an old woman with very
bad fever, who asked to see the white wise-man.
It was explained that there were no medicines to
spare. But one of those present, who was a traveller
and had been in Burmah, said that this did not
matter in the least. He had himself been ill at
Moulmein, and went to an English doctor ; and
the English doptor wrote some charms on a piece
of paper, and that made him quite well. In proof
whereof he produced a prescription written out by
the English doctor, which he had put in a little bag,
and worn ever since round his neck. At his earnest
solicitation therefore a charm on similar lines was
written for the old lady. It read, however, " May
God make you well soon " ; instead of Ac. Ros. iii. T,
Cal. praep. gr. xxx., and the like. To the great sur
prise of the amateur doctor, but apparently to no
one else's, the old lady turned up next morning
before the caravan started, and said she now felt
quite well !
Travelling on, after many days, the caravan came
to Kiang-Tung, the capital of the Eastern Shan
States. I and my orderly had now been some
months travelling, and during that time had had
no news from our own people, nor did we know
how the British forces were now disposed. As
far as could be judged we had arrived at about

io8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
the right latitude, so that if we turned westward
we should eventually hit off Mandalay, or one of
our columns.
At Kiang Tung, in spite of the spurious reputation
earned as American missionaries, we found our
selves in considerable peril. Our only friends, the
caravan traders, had gone on, and left us ; and we
two were alone in a large city full of bands of armed
desperadoes. To disarm suspicion we opened a
small stall in the market, and sold cloth and odds
and ends of trade goods which we had brought with
us ; partly as presents, and partly to trade our way
along, where money was not current. We tried
several times to get away, but the ponies were con
fiscated and we were kept virtually as prisoners in
a small serai. It might leak out at any moment
that one was an Englishman, and that, of course,
very probably would mean death, and of the linger
ing sort.
In this dilemma came to us a curious looking
person dressed as a Burman. He spoke very good
English, and said he was a half-caste, the son of an
Englishman named Macgregor. He was born in
Rangoon, but had long left those parts, and now
traded with Yunnan. He evidently guessed that
one was an Englishman ; but the blood told, and
he kept his knowledge to himself. At first we
thought he was a spy, as indeed he was, sent
by the Chief to find out who we were. We were
therefore very careful with him, and maintained
stoutly the role of traders, and one an American
at that. Bestowing on him a handsome present —
to wit, two yards of scarlet tunic cloth, out of which
he made a startling waistcoat — he was asked to help
to get back the ponies, so that the journey might be
continued. Next day he returned, and said the Chief would
let us go if we would consent to give up our

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 109
arms. We had two Martini-Henry carbines, one
double-barrelled shotgun, and one revolver ; but
to part with these meant a short shrift either here,
or on the first march out. Giving the Burman
another handsome present, some dazzling buttons
this time, he was asked to use his influence to get
better terms, for it was impossible for a merchant
to travel in the present disturbed state of the
country without arms. It was further added that
we were not without influence amongst the British,
and could perhaps some day do the Burman a
good turn.
By sheer good luck that hit the right nail pre
cisely on the head. Out it all came. The Burman
was an outlaw ! He wished most ardently to get
back to Rangoon, but could not because of this
ban. The exact yarn he spun proved later to be
far from the truth, but these were unnecessary lies ;
for in reward for the services he presently rendered
it required no great effort later to get the ban re
moved. Anyway, the bargain was struck; and it
speaks well for the English name throughout the
world, that a stray criminal a thousand miles from
anywhere would do a signal service to an English
man on the bare promise that he would repay that
service, at a distant and mystical date, somewhere at
the other end of the world.
The further negotiations took the Oriental form
of procrastination and bargaining. The Chief
would let us go, but we must give him one
rifle and the best riding pony — rather a pearl, by
the way. As the result of the negotiation of days,
those demands were at length discharged in full.
A good fat wad of gold leaf, worth about £50 ; a
rich Cashmere robe, one of the job lot Thought for
trading; and, with a touch of tragic humour, the
one and only toothbrush! This last item took a
lot of negotiation, for Kiang Tung was 1000 miles

no A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
from the nearest chemist's shop. What the Chief
wanted with this precious article, unless it was to
be worn as an aigrette in his turban, it is difficult
to understand. Finally, after many days, the three
ponies were handed back late one night. Before
dawn next morning we were trekking westward in
exceeding haste towards Mandalay.
The first intimation that we were being tracked
and followed came in a sudden and curious way.
All through the journey I had, as part of my duties,
made a rough survey of the route ; sometimes very
rough, and sometimes fairly accurate. We were
now going along a single file track through thick
forest, and the only way to get a fairly accurate
bearing was to let the ponies get a little ahead, and
then to take a compass bearing on to the sound of the
bells. On the present occasion I had lagged behind
alone, as usual, to take the bearing. My carbine at
full cock was resting against a tree trunk, to the
right rear. At this time it happened that both my
eyes were very bad from dirt and glare, and what
not ; and as it was not feasible to bandage up both
on the march, each was bandaged in turn for a
spell, to give each an even chance. It so happened,
at this moment, that the right eye was bandaged.
Having taken the bearing, I was jotting it down in
the book when the bells of another caravan sounded.
Hastily slipping the book and compass into a
pocket, I turned round to pick up my carbine. It
was gone !
Here was a nice state of affairs ! In thick forest,
an enemy's country, unarmed, and a loaded carbine
at full cock in somebody else's hands close by !
I at once blew a whistle for the Gurkha, who was
not far ahead, and meanwhile, with a considerable
want of discretion, but moved thereto by wrath and
indignation, went back along the path. The next
thing I remembered was looking, point-blank, down

A BURMESE ADVENTURE in
the muzzle of a Martini-Henry carbine, at very short
range. Then a loud report, and then oblivion.
And that was the end of the adventure, but I
heard a good deal about that carbine for many
months, indeed years afterwards. The Gurkha
would say :
" I am, of course, a mere soldier in the ranks, but
one thing I do not lose, and that is my carbine.
Your Honour, on the contrary, belonging to a nation
of Princes, can do so without being tried by court
martial ! "»
Resting at a village one Sunday, for we found
that in this long and arduous trekking the observ
ance of the Mosaic law was a very sound piece of
legislation, a small boy appeared, and squatting
down began to unroll some unclean rags. Unfolding
the innermost rag he produced a bright blue stone,
one side cut and the others polished. A sapphire
without a doubt.
We asked him where he got it from. He pointed
to the river bed, and by signs replied that it was
dug up there, only higher up. Also by signs we
enquired how much he wanted for it, and by way
of demonstration held out a handful of loose cash.
After gazing longingly at this, he chose out a new
and glittering two-anna piece (twopence) and handed
over the sapphire in exchange.
This was interesting, a place on this terrestrial
globe where sapphires could be dug up out of a dry
river bed and gladly sold for twopence. This was
a youth to be cultivated, and we invited him to
break the Sabbath still further and dig up more
sapphires, and for each of these he would receive
the handsome guerdon of a new two-anna piece.
For, as before mentioned, we had rolls of these,
fresh from the bank, for use by the way, but never
1 An Indian soldier if he loses his carbine or rifle is invariably tried
by court martial, like a^Naval Officer who loses his ship.

112 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
before had contemplated buying more than a small
chicken, or a dozen eggs with each.
Towards evening the urchin returned with eighteen
more sapphires and two cat's-eyes, each wrapped up
in a separate rag. For each and all, including the
cat's-eyes, he received one new two-anna bit. We
took the precaution of taking the latitude and
longitude of this village, never visited before by
white man, and made plans for raising a company
to exploit this rich river.
Many months afterwards, at Bangkok, I was talk
ing to a French banker who was by way of being
knowledgable about stones, and it occurred to me
that, without saying where they came from, I would
get his opinion on the sapphires. He looked at
them, and admired them, and handed them back.
" What do you think they are worth, Monsieur ? "
" On my parole, almost 1250 francs each on an
average." This was good news, an average of £50 apiece,
and the cost of each a bright two-anna piece.
Visions of a palace in Park Lane and a coach and
four flashed across the subaltern's eyes.
Some months later, on return to civilisation, I took
them to a well-known jeweller for valuation. He
looked at them with some curiosity, and then got
a magnifying glass. Then he called another expert,
and they both looked at the stones one by one.
Still they seemed puzzled, and looked at me rather
suspiciously. I told them very indefinitely where
I had bought them, but not the price paid. Taking
up another sapphire they tried to scratch mine but
failed; next they took a diamond and made a
scratch. Then they both smiled discreetly.
" We are afraid these are not genuine," they said.
" Dash my wig ! Not genuine ! Why I bought
them in a little village a thousand miles from any
where."

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 113
" That may be so, sir, but they are not genuine.
And if we are not greatly mistaken they came from
England, and possibly Birmingham."
My great and good Country ! Faked sapphires
in the heart of Asia ! But anyway they were cheap.
Just as I was going out of the shop I remembered
the two cat's-eyes, and went back.
" These two are also fakes, I imagine ? "
They examined them carefully, and their verdict
was :
" No, they are not fakes. They are not very
good, but might be worth a couple of sovereigns
each." Oh ! why had we not brought away a cartload of
these !
The cat's-eyes were set in rings and disappeared,
probably on fair damsels' fingers. The sapphires
also disappeared. They were stolen when I was
stopping in a country house, and I hope proved as
great a shock to the thief as to me.
But I was not the only victim in those far lands.
Mr. Gould, our Consul at Bangkok, was touring in
the vicinity of the Chantaboung sapphire mines,
and in the evening, in the course of his walk, strolled
down towards them. The miners, mostly Shans,
were returning from their day's labour, and accost
ing one he asked him what luck he had had that
day. The Shan produced half a dozen dirty-looking
stones covered with mud.
" What do you want for them ? " asked the Con
sul. "You may take your pick for forty dollars,"
replied the Shan.
" Forty dollars ! Go to blazes," said the Consul,
and walked on. He had only gone a few yards,
however, when he changed his mind. Anyway, forty
dollars was not much one way or the other, and he
might by chance pick up something good.

114 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Hi ! Hullo ! Come back," he shouted. " All
right, I'll give you forty dollars for my pick."
The Shan held out his hand and Mr. Gould chose
.one stone, more or less at a venture, for all were
covered with mud.
A year or so after he took the stone to a well-
known jeweller in London, and asked him to have
it cut.
A few days later he received a note from the
jeweller, asking him to go and see him. And the
purport of the jeweller's communication was that
the stone was a fake, and made in Europe !
This was a champion effort ! To salt a real
sapphire mine with faked stones ! Or was the Shan
a very old bird indeed ?

STAFF COI.Um, ,|
Top, row from left to right : Lieut. Laffan, R.E.(r); Capt. Blood, R.I.F.; Lt. Pinney, R.F.<2); Capt. H«.n
Cam. Highldrs.(5) ; Capt. Taylor, R.A.
Second row from left to right : Lt. Dunn, Norfolks; Lt. Count Gleichen, G.G.(6); Lt. Watters, R.LF.Rapt, [
R.FU.o); Major Peters, 4th Hussars ; CapL Stewar^ R.A.; Capt. Knight, Buffs; Lt. Crawford, R.A.
Third row from left to right: Capt. Hudson ; Capt. Aston, R.M.A.(u); Capt. Vivian. Buffs ; Capt. Cam*,],;
Fourth row from left to right: Capt. Allen, W.I.R.; Capt. Crombie, Hants; Major Wintour, K.W.K.'m: ll.N
Now : (i)Colonel H. D. Laffan. C.M.G. (retired); (2) Major-General R T Pinnev C B • (i) Mainr-Oenera .(),,. ,
£e"' <$»* « *<*«¦ •VC-V.a.C B C.M.G., D S 0., Equery ; (7, Gen. Sir ^fuce Ham^oi ij CB.. K.C.V'O :;,'
K.C.I.E.,C.B., (io)Lt..C,en. Sir John Cowans, K.C.B., M.V.O.; (n) Brig-Gen. Sir George Aston, K.C.H.; 112) 'i: :jL

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CHAPTER VIII
AT THE STAFF COLLEGE
A Staff Revival — No More a " Mug's " Game — The New Class —
Sir Charles Monro — Sir Spencer Ewart — " The Tyranny of the
Horse " — Sir John Cowans — " The Count " — Sir Francis
Davies — The Artists and Collaborateurs — Bunbury and Offley
Shore — " Boy " Hornby, m.f.h. — Jack Lindley, m.f.h. — " The
Cock Grouse " — And his Moor — The Duke's Day — Sir George
Aston — A £30 Horse — Heavy Haulage — Nearly Won the
Aldershot Point-to-Point — Hon. A. Hardinge, 'Ard 'Ard — A
Souvenir of 1870 — The Staff College' Coach — An Upset — A
Nightmare — Sir Francis Clery — The French Professor —
" Marked with Extraordinary Liberality " — The Liberality
Explained — Sir Frederick Maurice — The Waterloo Campaign —
A Remarkable Discovery — Strange Disappearance of No. 6+ —
Col. Lonsdale Hale — Col. Cooper King — Col. Henderson of
Stonewall Jackson — " Scotland for Ever " — From the Scot
tish Officers — The Battle of Ballybunnion — From the Oirish
Officers — Pork Chops and the Duke
A T the time when we joined the Staff College
A-\ it was just beginning to become popular
-*¦-*• in the Army. By popular is meant that
there was a keen competition to get there. Vacancies
were few and candidates many. For a considerable
number of years after it was opened the Staff College
was looked on with some disfavour, by the old officers
because it was a new-fangled notion, and by the
young officers as a " mug's game." By " mug " being
understood a brother officer, who neither rode nor
shot, nor played any games, who drank water at
Mess, went to bed early, and " swatted " at algebra,
fortification, and French as a recreation.
But when officers in general, and young officers
in particular, grasped the fact that the " mug "
before long blossomed forth into a brass hat, a
"5

116 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
frock-coat, and shiny boots, and was the official
fidus Achates of the General, and one to whom the
Colonel was exceedingly civil, they began to take
notice. They began to say :
" Darn my skin ! If old Smuggins is good enough
to be a Staff Officer, dashed if I'm not too."
The Staff College had caught on, and instead of
those only who were held in least esteem coming
forward, the best bloods, and the best all-round men,
began to compete. Indeed, it was now ordained
that both the Colonel of the regiment, and the
General, had to swear strange oaths that the com
petitor was of the very best quality. And further
the General had to take him on his staff for a month,
to make quite sure before swearing. Mistakes were
doubtless made, but taken as a whole a very good
all-round class of officer began to filter into the
Staff College.
There were consequently a very happily selected
body of officers at the Staff College in 1 890-1.
Not only bright and sporting, but most of them
hard-working good soldiers, and of these many have
since performed great services to the State.
Amongst others was Charlie Monro,1 one of the
most cheery, best souls that ever stepped. Always
laughing and chaffing, but a hard worker, and one
of the stoutest and best soldiers and Generals now
serving the King. It was he who performed the
military miracle of evacuating the Gallipoli Penin
sula without loss, and who has now gone to India
as Commander-in-Chief.
Spencer Ewart, then a subaltern in the Cameron
Highlanders, was one of the bright particular wits
of our time. He afterwards rose to be Adjutant-
General and a Member of the Army Council, and is
now holding a high command. It was Spencer
Ewart who had the courage of his opinions as regards
1 General Sir Charles Monro, g.c.m.g., k.c.b.

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 117
horses, and other obsolete modes of progression.
In those days, when Sir Francis Clery was Comman
dant of the Staff College, himself a great horseman
and rider to hounds, it got about amongst us that
no one could hope to get a good report from the
Staff College, or any chance of a Staff appointment
in the future, unless he rode regularly with the
Staff College Drag Hounds. Spencer Ewart would
have none of this. He used to screw up his mouth
to one side, in a way which made us all laugh, and
say: " I am a Highlander, and always have been a
Highlander, and intend to go on being a High
lander. I hate the sight of a horse, and absolutely
refuse to bow down to the tyranny of the horse."
Incidentally this did me a good turn, for he had
to keep up a charger, which possibly he did not
know by sight. This noble steed he used to lend
to me, and together we won several little cups and
things. Spencer Ewart was a very clever fellow and a
hard worker, with the soundest judgment, and
rapidly worked his way to the front.
Jack Cowans,1 too, was a friend we all loved. I
don't suppose he has an enemy in the world. A
wonderful flow of good humour, and always with
a good story to tell. There never was a kinder
man, except Lord Roberts. In the midst of the
most tremendous work he finds time for everybody,
great or small. He will answer at once a most
trivial note from an old friend, and do his best to
help him in his small trouble, whatever it may be.
Jack Cowans at the Staff College was one of those
men who seemed to have nothing to do except
enjoy himself, and make others happy. Yet he was
an exceedingly able and clever fellow, who really
worked as hard as any one. This characteristic he
1 Lieut.-General Sir John Cowans, k.c.b., m.v.o.

118 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
has carried through life ; he can work like lightning,
sound good work too. He is a born organiser of
the highest stamp. It was he who, during the
South African War, organised and managed the
transport of some half a million soldiers to a cam
paign 6000 miles across the ocean, and maintained
them there for nearly three years. As Quarter
master-General in the Great War he has exceeded
all his previous records, and has earned in history
a very great name.
" The Count," as we called Count Gleichen,1 then
a subaltern in the Grenadier Guards, was also a
great favourite. He was a very quiet, unassuming
fellow, but with a very ready dry humour, more
often expressed in pictorial guise. He was a cousin
of Queen Victoria. The Count, Bunbury,2 and
Offley Shore8 were the chief artists ; and Charlie
Monro, Spencer Ewaft, and Jack Cowans mostly
supplied the witticisms to be perpetrated with pen
and ink. Some of these were really works of art,
and most amusing to boot. They probably lie in
the archives of the Staff College, though some, I
hear, have disappeared.
Frank Davies4 was in our lot. A burly Guards
man, and a very hard and keen soldier. He also
has greatly distinguished himself in the Great War
in command of a Division, and is now Military
Secretary at the War Office.
Master of the Hounds, our first year, was " Boy "
Hornby, of the Rifle Brigade. Boy Hornby was a
most cheerful soul and permeated perennial cheerful
ness round. He had already had the distinction of
twice reading his own obituary notice in the news
paper, which possibly added to his cheerful outlook.
Once he was killed by the Press of cholera, and the
1 Major-General Count Gleichen, k.c.v.o., c.b., c.m.g.
2 Major-General W. E. Bunbury, c.b.
8 Major-General O. B. F. Shore, c.b., c.i.e., d.s.o.
* Lieut.-General Sir Francis Davies, k.c.b., k. c.m.g.

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 119
second time slaughtered by the same deadly agency
on the field of battle. Nevertheless he is still alive
and hearty. Boy Hornby was one of the pioneers
of polo, and was one of the very best players in the
eighties. He left the service soon after, and I last
met him at Hurlingham a few years ago, sitting with
two remarkably good-looking ladies, his grown-up
daughters, whom I had last seen before they were
born, so to speak. I sat down with them, and
then Boy Hornby began to expatiate, in a loud and
cheerful voice, on the sorrows of a man who had
ugly daughters.
" Look at those two," pointing at the two beauti
ful ladies. " What's the good of being a dam' good-
looking fellow like I am, and then to have daughters
like that ? "
They both smiled at him quite serenely, and one
of them patted him on the arm and said, " Never
mind, Daddy. At any rate, we are good."
Jack Lindley1 was Master of the Hounds our
second year, and as popular as his predecessor.
His was really a most genial and sanguine tempera
ment, but it amused him, and us, to give a mildly
pessimistic tone to his converse. So he was dubbed
the " Cock Grouse."
One of the tests by which the students were
supposed to demonstrate their extraordinary acu
men, as well as extreme accuracy in topography,
was for each separately to go out and survey so
many square miles of country ; and on their return
these portions were joined together and mounted
for exhibition. Our term did our map, and it was
mounted, and gingered up, if one may use such a
term in so solemn a connection, by an expert, and
laid out on the billiard table for the old Duke to
inspect and, we hoped, admire, when he came down
a few days hence, to say what good boys we were.
1 Major-General the Hon. J. Lindley.

120 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
On the morning of the Duke's arrival I went in to
look at the map, just to see that my bit was all
right, and happened to notice just above it, on the
left edge of the map, Lindley 's effort.
Gazing at it, I observed that it was mostly moor
land, and was thinking what a lucky dog he had
been to have so easy a piece of country to sketch,
when a golden thought occurred to me. I nipped
off and got a pen and some Indian ink, and very
neatly printed on the margin, To the Grouse Moor — >¦
By great good fortune, these being the only words
on the broad margin, at once caught the Duke's eye.
" Grouse Moor ? By Jove, you are lucky dogs
having grouse shooting at your very doors. Didn't
know you had grouse in these parts."
This was Greek to everyone present except my
self. But after the Duke had gone, everyone dashed
in to see what the mysterious words on the margin
were. I think Jack Cowans, or Spencer Ewart, got
the credit for that mild jeu d' esprit.
Amongst others learning to be Staff Officers with
us was George Aston,1 known as " Brackish Jack,"
because he was in the Marines. He was very
desirous of winning the Aldershot Point-to-Point
Race, and asked me to ride for him. He had bought
a horse for £30, or perchance guineas, which when
he had been quite himself might have looked like a
Derby winner. At this period in his career he was,
however, decidedly unsound in three legs out of
four, and roared like a bull. But he was a fizzer
to go all the same, and jumped like a bird literally,
for he just skimmed over everything like a great
bird. His legs, however, were naturally a dehcate
point, and it took a good deal of anxious endeavour
to get him to the post sound. On all four legs he
1 Brigadier-General Sir George Aston, k.c.b.

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AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 121
had cotton-wool bandages, and at the starting-post
might be observed several of the Aldershot Cavalry
bloods on 200-guinea horses, covertly smiling at
him. Off we went, a 3^-mile course in South Berk
shire, and to this day I believe that gallant old
horse would have won, but for one serious defect
in the course. He was such a big, free-going horse
that jumping into an ordinary narrow country
road, in clearing the near bank he arrived with his
chest almost up against the opposite bank. Certainly
no room was left for any but a cobby, active horse
to hop over the next fence. So I nipped off, hauled
him up and through the hedge, up and on again.
As bad luck would have it, we had to cross five such
roads, and at each one I had to haul him out the
other side. Yet when we entered the straight there
was not a hundred yards between him and the
winning horse. Our little lot from the Staff College
that day were not a little proud of themselves, for,
as far as I remember, we had five out of the first
six in, against the whole Aldershot Division.
One of the five that day was Hardinge, a brother
of the late Viceroy of India, and of "Punch"
Hardinge, " The Viscount," also of our term, and
a beautiful rider. I had been at Sandhurst too
with Hardinge — 'Ard, 'Ard, we used to call him, after
one of his own pet expressions, and had known him
all my life. We always thought he was an object
lesson to all those young bloods who find that they
cannot live in a good regiment without a thumping
allowance. I don't know what Hardinge had by
way of private means, but it must have been very
little, yet he kept up two or three horses, and
hunted and raced with the best. But to do this
he had to live a very simple life indeed. We used to
wonder how he lived at all. A couple of eggs for
breakfast, perhaps a little cold meat at lunch, and

122 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
a diminutive dinner, nothing to drink but tea or
water, and no smokes. His mufti clothes and uni
form too had to serve a very long time. This fine
rider and sportsman met his death riding out of
Hyde Park. His horse shpped up on the road and
he was instantly killed.
In my room, No. 21 at the Staff College, was a
square block of lead about 6 in. by 4 in. by
1 in., made out of bullets picked up on the battle
field of Worth by a former occupant of the room.
He had scratched his initials on it, and each suc
cessor in the room had done the same. I scratched
mine when I left the Staff College, and left the
block on the mantelpiece where I had found it.
Apparently some years later some collector of
souvenirs walked off with it, for it has now dis
appeared. It became one of my duties to drive the Staff
College coach. I am no whip, but no one else cared
for the job. So I took many lessons from Courtney
of the 13th Hussars, a first-class whip, who was
leaving, and hoped to be of some use. But unfortu
nately, early in my reign I upset the coach driving
up to the grand entrance by night, and after that only
my most devoted friends would sit behind me.
For years afterwards my form of nightmare, after
Welsh rarebit and that sort of thing, was having to
drive a coach, through heavy traffic, from inside,
and leaning out of the right-hand window. I
have had some shocking drives that way.
Colonel A'Court was another Staff College man
of our time who has made a great name for himself,
writing under the name of Colonel Repinton for
The Times. He is probably the best known and
most able writer on military subjects in Europe,
and The Times made a good find when they dis
covered him.
Another writer of our time at the Staff College

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 123
was Colonel Maude, r.e., a very clever man with
a ready gift for the pen. As far as I remember, he
and the College parted company for a period owing
to a little difference of opinion. Maude was very
direct at thinking and direct at acting, and hated
what children call " let's pretend " : in other
words, elaborate schemes wherein all sorts of things
were " pretended." One day we were given a
billeting scheme. That is, we were each told off
to represent a Staff Officer in an advancing army,
and were sent on to various towns and villages to
prepare billets, and tell them off on paper to our
imaginary troops. Maude was sent to Reading,
I think. To commit the whole scheme to paper
was a long day's job ; but he returned by the next
train, and his billeting scheme when sent in con
sisted of one paragraph.
" The day was fine and the barometer rising.
I therefore ordered the troops to bivouac instead of
putting them into billets."
The professor did not like that. Probably he
thought it was meant for what the soldier calls " lip."
Sir Francis Clery was Commandant of the College,
and we rarely saw him ; but he seemed to know
all about us and our smallest doings. My first
interview with him was over a little matter of my
knowledge of the French language. Much to the
surprise of all, on passing into the Staff College it
was noticed that the examiners had conceived a very
exaggerated opinion of my knowledge of French and
had marked me very high. The French Professor
at the Staff College soon found this out and reported
my deficiency to the Commandant, evidently think
ing I had been cribbing at the examination. So up
went a report to the War Office, and my papers and
those of the candidates seated on each side, in front
and behind, were re-examined. The result was that
an answer came back :

124 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" This Officer has evidently not used unfair means
by gaining assistance from his neighbours, but it
appears that owing to an oversight he has been
marked with extraordinary liberality " !
I had a shrewd notion how the liberality occurred.
My French tutor gave me three essays to learn off
by heart, and assured me that we were bound to
have one or other set in the examination. One was
about Napoleon. To my horror, when the examina
tion came none of my three certainties were amongst
the subjects for an essay. The nearest approach
was an essay on the Volunteer Force. That being
so, after careful thought, I wrote :
" M. l'Examinateur, it is with regret the most
profound that I have to inform you that having
only just returned to England after many years
in India, I do not know anything about the Volun
teers, but  "
And then I ground off our old friend Napoleon.
Another who was favoured by fortune in the
entrance examination was Bruce Hamilton,1 but
this was told me under seal of secrecy one day when
we were walking out together. Bruce Hamilton
was a most charming and nice fellow, and was, I
believe, with Pomeroy Colley at Majuba Hill. He
and his brother Hubert Hamilton, who was killed
in France, both worked their way to the front in
a manner which did credit to their Staff College
training. Amongst the professors was Sir Frederick Maurice,
the well-known writer on military subjects. We
were given a Memoire, as it was called, to write for
him, on the Waterloo campaign. One of the knotty
points, for three-quarters of a century, had ap
parently been, why the British did not blow up the
bridge at Charleroi, when they retreated before the
French to Quatre-Bras. Naturally neither had I
1 General Sir Bruce Hamilton, g.c.b., k.c.v.o.

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 125
the foggiest notion, but as I was writing the Memoire
it occurred to me in a casual way that possibly the
reason why the British had not blown up the afore
said bridge was because they had no gunpowder
wherewith to do so.
That was merely an idle and tentative suggestion,
but it raised quite a respectable furore in the mili
tary epistolary world. When the time came for
giving us back our Memoires, Sir Frederick gave
us a lecture on their general merits, and demerits ;
naturally as a matter of discipline, chiefly the
latter. But he reserved one point for special com
ment. He said :
" One interesting and very important point, new
to most of us students of military history, has been
brought forward by one of you — No. 64 (that was
my number). He mentions that probably the reason
why the bridge of Charleroi was not blown up was
because the British had not at the moment sufficient
powder to effect this hitherto unexplained omission.
That is a very interesting discovery indeed, and I
should like to confer with No. 64 after the lecture
as to the source from which he obtained this most
important military detail."
Needless to say that No. 64 was the very first
to escape from the lecture hall, and avoided Sir
Frederick Maurice with great cunning for several
weeks after.
Amongst those who came in to lecture us occa
sionally were Colonel Lonsdale-Hale, Colonel Cooper-
King, and Colonel Henderson. All first-class lec
turers, who taught one more in an hour than could
be acquired in days of undirected study.
Colonel J. R. Henderson, the world-renowned author
of Stonewall Jackson, was a very fine fellow, as well
as lecturer and writer. We had been cadets together,
and again met here in a higher scholastic atmo
sphere. He was one who impressed you as a great

126 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
man, and had he lived would have been invaluable
to England in this Great War, for he had a Napo
leonic grasp of strategy.
Just before he died I met him in the United
Service Club, in rather a bad light, and at once
chaffed him on getting back his figure, for when we
last met he was on the burly side.
" Yes, old boy, hard work, I expect," he answered
quite cheerily.
A few weeks after I saw the death of this truly
great man in the newspaper.
Filled with generous impulse, the Scottish Officers
put their purses together and presented the Mess
with a large engraving of Miss Thompson's cele
brated picture, " Scotland for Ever," which depicts
the Scots Greys at the Battle of Waterloo on their
grey horses, headed by one particularly fierce
animal, charging straight at the observer. Under
it was inscribed on a brass plate, " From the Scottish
Officers." This picture was hung in a place of
honour at the end of the ante-room, and grateful
thanks given to the donors.
At the end of the year, when the Duke came
down to inspect us he would usually take up his
position with his back to the fire, whilst we were all
gracefully grouped in the offing, and the professors
filled the middle distance on each side. The Com
mandant then read out his report, and the number
of marks obtained by each student, in each subject,
and so forth. During this, to any but the victim,
somewhat tedious ordeal, the Duke was to be
observed gazing fixedly over our heads, as we thought
at " Scotland for Ever," and all the Scottish Officers
felt a glow of conscious merit, whilst we mere
English wished we had eclipsed it with "St. George
and the Dragon."
So interested in the picture did the Duke become
that he pulled out his glasses and looked still more

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 127
fixedly at it. In spite of the tenseness of the occa
sion, when at any moment one might hear one's
doom, some of us began to look round, and then for
the first time discovered something new. Beneath
" Scotland for Ever," which, as before mentioned,
was a very large picture, appeared a very small
one indeed in a massive gold frame. From where
we were we could not see what the subject was, and
turned our attention once again to the business in
hand. When this was all over, and the Duke had
given us his blessing, he advanced on " Scotland for
Ever," and the heavily framed picture beneath it.
We heard him laughing heartily, and when we
could decently approach discovered the cause of
this merriment.
The very small picture in the heavy gold frame
depicted an Irishman on a donkey charging down
the village street, thereby stampeding a pig which
had upset an Irish peasant woman, and on the other
hand frightened all the ducks and geese into mad
flight. The picture was named " The Battle of
Ballybunnion," and underneath, on a neat brass
plate, was inscribed " From the Oirish Officers." The
artist and perpetrator of this pleasantry was Captain
Bunbury. There was a prevailing notion in the seventies
and eighties of last century, a notion which had
almost been confirmed into a tradition, that above
all things the Duke liked pork chops for lunch.
Doubtless he had once eaten pork chops at a mess,
and expressed his approval of them. Yet it is true,
" a little is a good thing, but too much is enoff," as
our Gallic friends say. However, there was the
tradition, so that wherever the Duke went, and at
whatever Mess he lunched, pork chops confronted
him ; whilst the Mess President smiled complacently
to himself at his own exceeding tact and forethought.
The Duke, who was a kind and courteous Prince,

128 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
bore up against this infliction for many years, and
one of the leading mathematicians of the day calcu
lated up exactly how many pigs H.R.H. had been
compelled to eat in that period.
At last, however, in desperation, he confided to
one of his staff, with a certain old-fashioned wealth
of language, that if he ever again saw a pork chop
in a regimental Mess it would go hard with that
regiment. Our Mess President happily had heard
of this, and carefully excluded pork chops from the
lunch menu, with the happiest results. The Duke
said it was the best Mess he had ever been in, and
went away in his most genial mood.
As I have said, in the days when we went to the
Staff College it was just emerging from the times
when it was considered a " mug's game " to go
there. And perhaps it helped the Staff College a
good deal to get through the fog, when the Staff
College XI could handsomely beat the Aldershot
Division at cricket ; and could place five out of the
first six in the Aldershot Divisional Light-weight
Point-to-Point Race.

CHAPTER IX
SOLDIERING ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER
Peace and War — A Prisoner of War — General Sher Af zul — His Escort
— The Modest General — A Matter of Buttons — The Enraged
Soldiery — Diplomacy to the Front — The History of a Greatcoat
— An Irish Stew in June — Handing Over to the Civil — Intense
Agony of the General — The Police Officer Adamant — A Find of
^20,000 — A War Correspondent — The Times First in the Field —
The Times Last in the Field — While the Cat's Away — The
Gambler — " Prepare to Meet thy God "
IN India it is one day peace and next day war,
and the two glide into each other, without
much fuss, and out again at the other end.
It was so with the Relief of Chitral, about which my
brother Frank and I have already written in
sufficient detail.1 At one moment we were
sitting in profound peace at the Mess 01 the King's
Royal Rifles, and the next we were mobilizing to
rescue a garrison 250 miles distant through a
practically unmapped region of stupendous moun
tains, inhabited by hostile warriors of considerable
ferocity. After the Relief of Chitral in 1895, it was decided
to send the opposing General, Sirdar Sher Afzul,
whom we had captured, to India, as a prisoner of
war. He was placed in my charge, and I was given
a company of British Infantry and a small Cavalry
escort to guard him through two hundred miles of
mountainous country that lay between us and the
Indian railway. The party was to move down
1 The Relief of Chitral, by Capt. G. J. Younghusband and Capt. F. E.
Younghusband. I 129

130 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
slowly, march by march, and at each halting-place
would find a camp pitched, and a relief escort ready.
The prisoner was most amenable, and gave no
trouble. His only complaint was that he found it
" difficult and embarrassing to dress and undress,
and to say his prayers, with a Highlander's bayonet
within eighteen inches of his back." This legitimate
grievance being removed, the march continued
pleasantly, day by day, till the cavalcade reached
a place called Khar in the Swat Valley. Here, whilst
taking a short rest under some trees during the heat
of the day, a mixed deputation approached.
This consisted of the Adjutant, some other Officers,
the Sergeant-Major, and some Sergeants of one of
the oldest of His Majesty's regiments, which chanced
to be encamped close by. They had a complaint to
make. It was that the prisoner of war, Sher Afzul,
was wearing their regimental buttons, and they
wished to flay him alive, or otherwise horribly dis
pose of him, for so doing. Sher Afzul's costume,
when we took him in the cold heights near Chitral,
was an Astrakhan fur cap, a double-breasted Russian
greatcoat of the warmest description, thick breeches,
and long Russian boots. We had certainly mildly
wondered why he retained this exceedingly inappro
priate costume in the extreme June heat nearing the
borders of the plains of India. But, beyond noticing
that he had brass buttons on his greatcoat, no one
had appreciated that they were British, and belonged
to the old and gallant Bedfordshire regiment.
This fact, however, being verified, the enraged
soldiery were pacified with soothing words, and it
was promised to retrieve the buttons in a possibly
less sanguinary manner. As we rode on, therefore,
I ranged up alongside Sher Afzul, and explained to
him that the English were a quaint and curious
nation, with some quite unexplainable habits and
customs, and that one of these was to adorn certain

Photo Elliott &- Fry
¦CAPTAIN CHARLES TOWNSHEND, COMMANDING IN THE DEFENCE OF CHITRAL,
1895, AND AS MAJOR-GENERAL IN THE DEFENCE OF KUT-EL-AMARA, 1915 — 16

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 131
regiments with buttons of divers metals and devices.
Further, that they bitterly and hotly resented any
one who did not belong to that particular regiment
wearing the peculiar buttons it affected.
Sher Afzul looked sideways in a somewhat furtive
and fearful manner, as if he suspected that this par
able concealed some deep and horrible design. Then
getting very pale, and dropping great beads of
sweat, partly doubtless attributable to the heavy
Russian coat, he replied with caution :
" Without doubt, the English are a nation of
princes ! " which, however polite, did not seem very
relevant. " Yes, quite so ; but to get to the matter in hand.
On that greatcoat of yours you have the buttons of
the regiment we have just passed through, and they
are somewhat displeased, and would be obliged if
you would return them to the regiment."
A look of immense relief came over the General's
face, and he beamed on me ; a smile which implied,
" Is that all ? " Yet with Oriental gravity, he
merely said :
" Your Honour has only to give the order, and
they shall be yours to do as you will."
" Thank you ; you shall have another set to re
place them. May it be asked where you got them ?
They probably have a curious history, for you come
from Central Asia, far from where that British regi
ment has ever been quartered."
" I bought them in Kabul, and know nothing
more about them," he replied, with a slight return
of anxiety.
Afterwards we traced out the story. They proved
to be buttons off a British Officer's greatcoat. Two
years before such a coat had been stolen near Pesha
war, and had never been recovered. This coat had
been sold by the thief, possibly the Officer's own
servant, and had since been traded through to

132 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Kabul ; then gradually descended in social and in
trinsic value, till the buttons became too good for
the coat. They were then transferred to a new
Russian greatcoat, and this General Sher Afzul had
bought as we saw it.
At the next halting-place, before five minutes had
elapsed, the buttons came over in a curiously prompt
manner, and were in due course returned to the regi
ment that owned them.
Next day the General appeared in the same great
coat, though the weather was now excessively hot ;
its glory perhaps somewhat dimmed by the hasty
substitution of tin trouser buttons of the most im
poverished description, in place of their gorgeous
predecessors. " Surely you are rather hot in that coat ? " I ven
tured to remark. " Can I lend you, or buy you,
some cooler garment ? " Again the General looked
at the British Officer furtively and with great sus
picion, and answering somewhat shortly :
" No, I prefer this."
Everyone to his own tastes. If he liked to be
turned into an Irish stew, inside a double-breasted
Russian greatcoat, by a June sun, that was his
affair. The following day the prisoner and his escort
arrived at their journey's end, where it had been
arranged to hand General Sher Afzul over to the
Civil authorities. Under their arrangements he
would be conducted to his future place of residence,
a salubrious station in the Himalayas. On taking
over a State prisoner it is apparently the custom
of the Civil authorities to fill in an identification
paper, giving his height, appearance, and any par
ticular marks or crosses he may have ; a swivel eye,
or what not. Also an exact hst is taken of the clothes
he has on, or off, and of his other possessions. This
seemed an ordinary, and not too obnoxious a pro-

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 133
cedure, but the querulous objection raised to it by
the General was quite pathetic. He implored and
beseeched that he might be saved this indignity ;
he even went down on his knees and wept bitterly,
and implored the military to intervene, adding that
they were his father and also his mother. They had
been very kind indeed to him, and had exercised
no tyranny — except, possibly, in the matter of the
buttons. Being a guileless soldier, not very deeply versed
in Oriental subterfuges, I put in a good word for
him to the head of the Police. But that official was
adamant. He knew the Oriental, and he knew his
business. He added in English :
" Very sorry, but I must obey orders. After all
this fuss I shall be exceedingly surprised if there is
not something very important concealed about his
person." As I could do no more, I took my leave, first hand
ing over to my late charge a new and gorgeous and un
exceptionable set of buttons, procured by telegram ;
at the same time bidding him be of good cheer, and
wishing him better fortune in the future.
That evening the Police Officer came to me,
grinning broadly.
" I told you so. I knew all that fuss meant some
thing. We found nearly £20,000 worth on him, in
money and stones, besides some most important
papers ! "
It had not been therefore entirely native modesty,
or even piety, that made the close proximity of a
British bayonet so unwelcome. Nor apparently was
it sheer love of warmth that made our prisoner wear
a thick coat on an Indian June day.

It was during this campaign that I was for a
short, and on the whole inglorious, period a War

134 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Correspondent, and to no less a paper than The
Times. On one occasion, however, I was lucky
enough to do that paper a good turn.
It was during the storming of the Malakand Pass,
and Sir Robert Low, on whose staff I was serving,
found that he had used up all his reserves and the
Pass was not yet taken. He therefore told me to
hop on to my horse, and ride back nine miles to
Dargai, to order up another regiment. There I
found General Gatacre and his Brigade, and gave
Sir Robert Low's order. In the course of the day
my horse had been shot through the foreleg, and I
was looking round for another horse to take me back
when I noticed some British soldiers putting up a
telegraph post.
" Hullo ! What are you doing ? "
" Just putting up the head of the wire, sir," re
plied the man. An inspiration struck the temporary
War Correspondent.
" Will you take a telegram, a long one for the
Press ? "
" Yes, sir, certainly ; the wire is quite free at
present." So whilst an Orderly searched for a fresh horse,
the temporary War Correspondent sat down and
wrote a brief account of the storming of the Malakand
up to the time he had left the scene. This telegram
naturally got home hours before other correspond
ents' telegrams ; indeed, The Times was the only
paper that had an account of the battle next morn
ing. More curious still, the first intimation the
Viceroy or the Commander-in-Chief at Simla received
of the battle was via London.
This was an undeserved but lucky chance, and
The Times was duly pleased. But luck turns, and
so it did next time. A long account about the battle
on the Panjkora River, where The Guides were cut
off and made such a splendid fight of it, took thir-

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 135
teen days getting home, because for twelve of those
it had lain peacefully in the pocket of a telegraph
orderly. After the trip to India with Sher Afzul I returned
to headquarters, and there found my tent standing,
and everything as I had left it. My Indian servant
came forth beaming to meet me.
" Hullo I Luckoo, how goes it ? "
" Very well, Sahib ; all is well. Save only your
Honour's money, which I have had the misfortune
to lose."
" Lost my money, you scoundrel ; what do you
mean ? I left ninety rupees with you."
" Without doubt, Sahib, you did ; but, owing to
misfortune, I have lost it all in gambling. This is a
very shameful fact, and I place dust on my head in
obeisance. Nevertheless let not the Lord be angry,
he shall cut it from my pay to the last coin.
" Tea is now ready," and he waived the matter
aside. On the camp table, possibly as a peace-offering,
reposed an important -looking cake. This, with
much guile and some bribery, he had induced a
friendly cook to make, asking that suitable words
might be inscribed on it in pink sugar. The cook
was a Christian, and scratched his head a good deal
over a suitable inscription. Finally, after consult
ing his Bible and taking into consideration the
general situation, it occurred to him that he could
not do better than
" Prepare to meet thy God."
Possibly that cook had no sense of humour.
But apart from campaigns, there is much march
ing to and fro in India in the ordinary course of

136 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
rehef. It is roughly a thousand miles from Lucknow
to Peshawar. A perfectly straight road, running
through lines of trees for about one thousand miles,
though here and there are breaks in the trees which
last for a few yards, or a few miles. But to all in
tents and purposes it is an avenue a thousand miles
long. The avenue does not, however, commence at
Lucknow, it has already run five hundred miles or
so from Calcutta. .
Along this Grand Trunk Road, as it is called,
yearly march north-west or south-east troops
moving in rehef from cantonment to cantonment.
Formerly regiments often moved by route march
the whole way from Calcutta to Peshawar, and such
minor marches as from Peshawar to Lucknow, or
from Jhansi to Rawal Pindi, were of frequent occur
rence. These lengthy marches were on the whole
very pleasant, except perhaps on the days when the
subaltern's turn came round to carry the Colours.
It is a great honour to carry the Colours, especially
in a battle ; but to be strictly truthful, they are
exceedingly heavy, especially the King's Colour.
And to march with them fifteen miles in a hot sun,
along a very dusty road, in the middle of eight
hundred soldiers, all rather hot too, is a somewhat
exhausting operation. All subalterns in their turn
share in this honour, and we used to look days
ahead, and calculate whether we should fall in for
a long march or a short one.
The average march is twelve miles, but sometimes
it is fourteen or fifteen, and sometimes only ten or
eleven. Those extra few miles make a lot of differ
ence when carrying the Colours.
Soldiers are early birds in India, so as to get the
march over before the day stokes up, for even in the
coldest weather there is a great rise of temperature
between midday and three o'clock. Reveille usually
would sound an hour before dawn, and by dawn the

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 137
camp had been struck, the baggage loaded up, and
the regiment formed up ready to start. Then the
band broke forth into " A Life on the Ocean Wave,"
or other appropriate effort, and off we went. Each
company by roster led the regiment, for it is easier
marching at the head of a regiment than at the tail,
as all soldiers know.
After each hour's march a halt of five minutes was
made ; and half-way through the march we came to
" Coffee House." Not, be it observed, a Coffee House
or the Coffee House, but plain " Coffee House." This
is one of those shibboleths in the soldier's language
which, doubtless, had some obscure original connec
tion with coffee. " Coffee House " was the roadside
spot to which breakfast had been sent on the night
before. Tea was there, cocoa there might be, whisky
and soda certainly gleamed in the back shades, beer
was obtainable, but coffee was conspicuous by its
absence. These were very pleasant alfresco breakfasts ; a
steaming hot stew, poached eggs, cold hunter's beef.
" Iron istew," " Unda-poach," and " Hunter," ac
cording to the Eastern potentate who ministered to
our wants.
During the half-hour allowed for thus unbending
from the military yoke, all our baggage streamed
past us, to be met on arrival at the next camp by the
Quartermaster and Camp Colour party, who had
made a yet earlier start. Thus, when the regiment
arrived it found the camp marked out, the baggage
all up and ready to be unloaded. The pitching and
striking of a camp was in those days a matter of some
little ceremony. All tents were spread on the ground
in their exact places, whilst the men stood by. A
single note of the bugle rang out, and, as if by magic,
a camp of mathematical exactness stood pitched.
It disappeared in a similarly magic manner at the
blast of a bugle next morning.

138 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
A march would be over, and all snug in camp by
lunch time. Then those who had guns might sally
forth to feed the pot with such game as could be
found ; usually partridges, quail, duck, snipe, or
wild pigeon. Whilst one or two, taking service
rifles, might get a little useful exercise in stalking a
black buck or ravine deer. Sometimes, if there were
pig about, three or four would make up a party and
go out pig-sticking.
After an early dinner there would be, as hkely as
not, a big camp fire ; songs and stories, pipes and
grog. And so early to bed, for there was the early
worm again to be caught before dawn. On the way
sometimes great cantonments were passed, and here
old comrades were to be met ; and regiments again
encountered alongside which we had lain years
before at the Curragh, or Aldershot, or had fought
alongside of in some old campaign. Great was the
hospitality of these, and many the friendly matches
of cricket or polo played with them as we passed
along. There was no soldier football or hockey in
those days.
After a month or six weeks these marches un
doubtedly grew stale. The same straight and end
less dusty road before us, the same old halts, the
same old camp ; till at length we began to count the
marches left, and eagerly to tick off one more daily
trudge. But at last the goal is in sight, the last
march near its end. And there, as a sign and token,
by the roadside stands our new General and his Staff.
There too are the Officers deputed by each of the
regiments, and batteries, in garrison to meet and
welcome us, and with them all their bands. Led by
the General, and the bands playing in turn, we finish
our last march ; putting, be assured, a httle extra
spring and swagger into it ; just to show that a httle
matter of a thousand miles or so is nothing to the
old Lily Whites.

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 139
With Cavalry and Artillery these long marches are
made on similar lines, but each march is sooner ac
complished, though there is more to do for the
Cavalry or Artillery soldier, both before and after
the march. A Cavalry regiment will trot and walk
a march in half the time it will take an Infantry regi
ment to cover the same distance. But before start
ing, besides striking his tents and packing his own
and his horse's kit, the Cavalry or Artillery man has
to give his horse his morning feed, a rub down and
polish over, and to saddle and harness up. So also,
when the Cavalry and Artillery arrive at the new
camp, they have to water and feed their horses,
groom them, and make them comfortable, before
they can begin thinking of pitching their camp or
getting their own food. And after a hasty snack,
there are " stables " and cleaning up of saddlery and
harness. Sometimes regiments are called upon to make
forced marches, and this is where the grit and stam
ina and discipline of a regiment comes out. Some
of these marches are historic, such as that of The
Guides to Delhi in the Mutiny, when they covered,
horse and foot, a distance of 580 miles in 20^ march
ing days, an average of about 27 miles a day, " at
the hottest time of year through the hottest region
on earth." But often the most noble marches have
been made unheard of, and unsung.

It is not only, however, during campaigns, or when
marching in relief, that adventures befall one in the
land of too much perpetual sunshine.
One day the Padre, the Sapper Officer, and a
native clerk, were driving up the Frontier road in
a tonga. The road is long and weary, and at every
six or eight miles comes a change of ponies, and a
short respite from the tortures of the way.

140 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
The Padre had his seat beside the driver in front,
and the Sapper sat with the clerk, back to back with
him, and looking astern. As they were leaving one
of the stages, after changing ponies, the Padr6 in
front noticed that a man tried to jump on to the step,
but missed his foothold and fell on the road. Think
ing it was the syce, who thus often jumps on at the
last moment, he expected the driver to stop ; but
that official, apparently not having noticed the in
cident, was driving on. Looking back the Padre
saw the man pick himself up and commence run
ning after the tonga. He then thought that the
man must be a ganger or workman on the road, who
wanted to make some petition. So he told the driver
to stop, and wait for him to come up.
As the running man came close, however, he sud
denly whipped out a large knife and went straight
for the Sapper, who occupied one of the back seats.
This Officer at once reached for his revolver, it being
an order for all to go armed on this road ; but
before he could get at it, the assassin was on him.
On the spur of the moment, with the instinct of self-
preservation, and to gain time to get out his revolver,
the Officer suddenly kicked out, and caught the
assailant under the chin with his heavy boot. This
sturdy rebuff knocked the ghazi over backwards ;
and the native clerk, who was sitting beside the
Officer, tumbled out, and falling straight on to the
fanatic, pinned him to the ground.
Both Officers had now extricated themselves from
the tonga, and running up to the struggling pair,
shouted to the clerk :
" All right, hold on ; we have got him now."
And so they had, for they easily overpowered the
fanatic ; but the clerk was dead, stabbed through
the heart.
This was one of the hired assassins whom the
Mullah Powindah, a fanatical Mohammedan priest

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 141
of great local influence, used to send across the
British border to murder British Officers. Unfor
tunately for his propaganda, on this occasion a native
and co-religionist was the victim.
At one period, only a few years ago, this priestly
ruffian had no less than thirty-four parties out,
singly, or by twos and threes, watching their chances
on the road, in cantonments, at fairs, on railway
platforms, or wherever occasion offered, to kill a
British Officer unawares. The Mullah himself was
a fugitive from justice, and an outlaw ; for whilst
in a British prison serving a sentence for some grave
offence, he murdered his jailer and escaped across
the border.
There are countless stories of these fanatical en
deavours, and here is another.
It was a hot Sunday night in one of the Frontier
stations, and a lady and two Officers were sitting at
dinner. It was a dull dinner, tough and tasteless
and short of vegetables, for nothing will keep, and
nothing will grow, at this time of year in that fierce
desert. But at last it came to its languid conclusion,
the servants withdrew, and the lady went across the
hall to the drawing-room. Both the drawing-room
and the dining-room gave out on to the same veran
da, and from these two doors bright shafts of light
fell across the veranda, leaving the rest in inky
darkness. The lady sank listlessly into a chair
under the punkah, facing the veranda, and took
up a half-read book. She had been reading for some
minutes when, glancing over the top of her book,
she saw a white figure crossing the shaft of light.
At first glance she thought it was a punkah coolie,
for the clothing was not clean enough for a house
servant. But why should a punkah coolie be hold
ing a long Afghan knife ? Thoughts come quick,
and action quicker, to those who live amidst the
ever-present dangers of a Frontier station. She

142 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
jumped up immediately, and dashing across the hall
to the dining-room, burst in on the two Officers.
" There is a man with a knife on the veranda ;
he has just passed the drawing-room door coming
this way."
Both were in evening clothes, but both had their
revolvers handy, for several attempts had recently
been made on Officers' lives, and all went armed at
night. Seizing these they dashed into the veranda,
and were at once confronted by a wall of darkness.
Moving cautiously to right and left they swept the
veranda, and the lady bringing a light they saw it
was empty.
On the opposite side of the road was the Cavalry
Mess, where I was dining, and one of the Officers ran
across to ask for assistance, whilst the other roused
all the servants and searched the compound. Very
soon patrols of horse and foot were on the move, and
the whole surroundings carefully searched, whilst
Cavalry patrols trotted out to stop the roads leading
to the border. But no suspicious persons were found.
" A case of overwrought nerves," muttered the
Doctor. " Imagined the whole thing ; or else perhaps it
was really a punkah coolie, and the knife a stick."
Such was perhaps the unexpressed thought of many.
Yet a week afterwards, in the written report of one
of our spies, occurred the following : —
" I was to-day talking to a Ghazi who told this
narrative. Perad venture he spoke the truth, but
more probably his mouth was full of lies. ' I had de
termined,' said he, ' to kill a Sahib, by the grace of
God, and thus gain a place in Paradise. But this is
a difficult undertaking, for the Sahibs are very brave
and also closely guarded, so that even when they are
asleep their men watch over them. And every road
is guarded by armed soldiers who prowl about
quietly, and are not like fixed sentries. However,

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 143
by the help of God and by choosing dark nights, and
avoiding the roads, I made a plan. I worked from
garden to garden, for each house stands alone in a
large garden, and thus spied out the land without
detection. " ' I noticed too that it is the custom of the Sahibs
to have their evening meal about eight or nine o'clock,-
and in some houses only one or two sat down to
gether, whilst at others nine or ten. So I chose a
house where only one or two sat down, and where
there was a very large garden, and bushes for con
cealment close to the house. There I sat down
silently and watched the Sahibs eat their dinner.
There were two Sahibs and one Mem-Sahib. At
first there were a good many servants about, but
after a time these left the room, and the Mem-Sahib
also got up, and went out, I could not see where.
" ' Then I said, " God willing, now my time has
come. I will kill one or both of the Sahibs whilst
they sit unarmed." So I drew my sword, and
quickly crossing the path, entered the veranda.
There was no one there. Barefooted I crept noise
lessly along to where a bright light came from a door.
I thought it was another door of the same room the
Sahibs were in, but when I cautiously peeped, I saw
only a Mem-Sahib reading a book. This was un
fortunate, for no Ghazi slays a woman, yet I had to
cross the light to reach the Sahibs, for a punkah
coolie made approach from the other side difficult.
Waiting a second I shpped quietly across, but the
woman saw me — may she perish childless ! — and very
quickly warned the Sahibs. So I fled, and escaped
easily owing to the darkness, but I shall try again
before long, so that I may fulfil my vow.' "
But he never did, for his turn came first — a -303
through the head.
Another happy escape occurred to an Officer at a
railway station on the Frontier, It was about four

144 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
o'clock in the afternoon, and he was waiting for his
train to start ; meanwhile passing the time by look
ing through the literature on the bookstall. Seeing
him thus absorbed with his back turned, one of
these fanatical assassins who was out for a short road
to Paradise by killing a British Officer, thought
that this was his chance. Working therefore quietly
and unostentatiously through the mixed throng on
the platform, he got close to his prey.
Then suddenly whipping out a pistol he pressed
it against the back of the Officer's neck and pulled
the trigger ! By the merciful intervention of Provi
dence the pistol missed fire, and the Officer escaped !
The would-be assassin was at once seized, tried that
afternoon, and by eight o'clock next morning was
hanging as high as Haman. Such is swift justice on
the Frontier, a prompt and effective method of
dealing with outrages of all sorts ; a method which
might with great advantage be introduced into other
parts of India when the necessities of the situation
are such as to demand straight justice.
It is curious how little accidents or irregularities
may save a man's life. On the other hand, how a
trivial matter, such as stopping to light a pipe, may
end his career. Mohammedans say it is Kismet,
and fatalists say it is Fate, whilst others say it is
Providence. You must take your choice, but any
way here are a couple of cases out of many.
Duty took the writer to Sheikh-Budin, a little
station perched on a lofty rock on a spur which runs
from the Suleiman range. It is close to the Mahsud-
Waziri border, and during certain years has been
openly threatened by raiding gangs. We drove
thirty-six miles one blazing evening to Pezu, which
is supposed to be the hottest place on earth ; stayed
there the night, and preparations were made for
the onward journey to commence in the cool of
morning at 6 a,m, The distance up the hill is four-

ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 145
teen miles, and it is generally negotiated by riding
a mule. The night at Pezu, however, was poisonously hot,
and every sort of stinging beast swarmed around.
Sleep was impossible, and the tired traveller merely
tossed about and waited for dawn. Directly it was
light enough I got up, put on my clothes, ordered my
mule, and started off, telling the escort and baggage
to follow on as soon as they were ready. I rode
through without adventure, and remember hugely
enjoying a cold drink on the Club veranda, and
then sleeping like a log for four hours.
It was a week later that we learnt that a small
gang of Mahsuds had planned to waylay and shoot
me that very morning. But, thanks to the hot night
and the mosquitoes, I had passed before they ex
pected me. And shortly after the daily pickets and
patrols came out, and they escaped into hiding.
A friend of mine on the same road had an almost
similar experience, only he overslept himself, so much
so that he decided to wait, and go up in the even
ing. Thus also he escaped another gang, which was
out after him.
There was grave suspicion against the Dak Bun
galow Khansama at Pezu, of being in league with
these gangs. Otherwise it was not apparent how
they got to know when Officers were travelling.
However, it could never be quite brought home to
him, and he grew richer and fatter year by year, till
in due course he retired and settled on his estate.
Unfortunately he chose the site for the rich and re
poseful afternoon of life rather too close to the
border, and his quondam friends. These, knowing
his wealth, and shrewdly suspecting that he sat and
slept on a good portion of it, made a midnight raid
on his house, and were under the painful necessity
of shooting him dead before they eased him of his
ill-gotten gains.

146 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
So perish the unrighteous — sometimes.
Stopping to light a pipe saved the life of another
officer. He was walking down the Gomal Pass with
an escort. These small escorts generally move with
two men in front, then an interval of from one
hundred to two hundred yards ; then two more
men, then another interval. Next comes the main
body of the escort, behind that pairs of men at
intervals as a rearguard. The officer was walking
with the second pair of men from the front, and as
he went started lighting a pipe. The match went
out, and so did another, and another, before he got
a light. Meanwhile both the first pair of soldiers,
and the second pair, had disappeared round a spur
which here ran into the Gomal river. Owing to the
roar of the river not a sound was heard, but when
the officer and the main body rounded the corner,
they found that the first pair of soldiers had been
shot dead ; one of the second pair was also shot dead,
and his companion badly wounded. If the officer
had not stopped to light his pipe he would have
been with the second pair, and almost certainly
killed. There is no lack of excitement on the North- West
Frontier of India.

CHAPTER X
THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR
Germany's Reward — A Gift from Spain — The War in the Philippines
— On a Spanish Steamer — Running the Blockade — Iloilo —
A Grandee of Spain — His Modest Price — The British Consul— -
Following the American Fleet to Manila — The Battle of Cavite
— The Assembly of Neutral Fleets — Admiral Dewey — On the
Olympia — German Bluster — The Irene — More Bluster — The
Way to Deal with Germans — American and English Camaraderie
— Sir Edward Chichester — A British Sailor All Over — The
Bombardment of Manila — Shocked Teutons — An Old Fort —
Gunnery ioo Years Ago and Now — Two Debts — The American
Regulars — Discipline — " Alf " — A Visit to Aguinaldo — A
Spanish Picquet — Their Little Joke
THOUGH this war took place nearly twenty
years ago, a good deal of light has fallen
recently on certain side issues connected
with it. At the time most people looked on it as
merely an accidental quarrel between America and
Spain, which had something to do with Cuba. The
rights and wrongs of the quarrel may have been,
and probably were what they seemed, but it is
curious to recall the fact now that the chief bene
ficiary, and that without firing a shot, was Germany.
We who were on the spot were somewhat puzzled
at the attitude taken up by Germany. She had
very slender ties with Spain, and had probably
never given her a thought before. On the other
hand, there was a very big German population in
America and, as the Great War has since shown,
one passionately attached to the Fatherland. The
truculence of the Germans, and especially of the
German Fleet, rather amused us than otherwise ; it
was so very nouveau riche, so vulgarly rblatant. As
H7

148 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
we have since discovered, this was to impress "other
neutrals, especially the British, an effort which
signally failed. It was at the same time intended
to impress the Spaniards with a feeling of gratitude.
Here they were more successful, and as a result,
whether from gratitude or pressure, it need not now
be enquired, they received a handsome guerdon.
The Caroline Islands were ceded by Spain to
Germany. The whole incident was part of the
German push for territorial acquisition, the raising
of German prestige in the East, and incidentally the
formation of coaling stations whence cruiser war
fare could be waged on an enemy shipping, and
especially on British.
Having, by the sweat of some years, accumulated
three or four months' leave, the inspiration came
that this period might be usefully and profitably
employed in taking part in the Spanish-American
War which was being waged in the Philippines.
Equipped therefore with credentials for both bel
ligerents, which it was not intended to use except
in case of necessity, we set forth. When one is a
recognised military attache with either side, one is
apt to be hunted and herded about under the cloak
of courtesy and kindness, so that one sees little, or
nothing, of the War. This was apparently the
experience of officers in the Russo-Japanese War.
So we went as plain travellers, and to heighten the
delusion went en famille. The papers of recom
mendation and identification were kept in reserve.
Just to avoid being hanged, or shot, by some hasty
or impetuous person.
At Singapore we took ship in a small fast Spanish
steamer, which, brimful of contraband, was going
to run the blockade of the American Fleet, and land
her stores at Iloilo, one of the main islands of the
Philippine group. Before we started the American
Consul at Singapore raised an objection to the ship

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 149
and her cargo ; and we had to lie by for a couple
of days whilst the whole ship was unloaded, and
then loaded up quickly again, with apparently
precisely the same cargo. Then we slipped off.
Of course we expected some excitement on the
way, for the American Consul had naturally noti
fied the American Fleet. But our skipper took us
by devious ways, and hid about behind islands,
and other places of concealment ; and finally
steamed safely into Iloilo harbour without sighting
any of the enemy's cruisers. Round Iloilo a good
deal of fighting was going on, but not of a very
important or sanguinary nature. The chief centre of
interest was up Manila way, so we determined to
go there. To this end we craved an interview with
a very magnificent person, a Hidalgo or Grandee of
Spain at the least, but temporarily so far debasing
himself as to be holding the menial post of Governor
of the Island.
To him, through an interpreter, was preferred our
request. It was a mercy he did not blow up !
Never was seen anyone so outraged, and so near an
untimely end, from wrathful apoplexy. A very
hot day too. The apoplectic fit translated into
language, and thence into English, read :
" Assuredly this Englishman is somewhat more
mad than all the rest of his nation. He must needs
leave a comfortable home, and come to this god
forsaken hole, in the middle of a war. And, mark
you, brings his wife with him ! Was there ever such
insanity ? " (Great shrugging of shoulders and spread
ing of hands.) " But this is not all. Having learnt
all our secrets and modes of defence, he now wishes
to go over and betray us to the accursed Americans.
Great God ! and the Blessed Virgin ! "
We let him run on for quite a long time, and then
made our apologies for so foolish a request, and
retired.

150 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
On the way down the street the interpreter
enquired insinuatingly :
" How much present master will give ? "
" Present ? How much ? Great Heavens ! Bribe
that great and good man, that magnificent patriot,
that gorgeous hidalgo, that priceless prince ! Per
chance we misheard you, friend Sancho Panzo ; be
kind enough to repeat that remark."
" I only saying, Governor wanting present from
English gentleman, and then English gentleman
going quickly to Manila," replied Sancho.
" If you are speaking words of truth, my friend,
what in your estimation would be a suitable present
to make to His Excellency ? I should be sorry to
insult him with too small a libation, nor, on the
other hand, do I wish to spoil the market."
" Fifty rupees is plenty, Sar."
Fifty rupees ! That is to say, three pounds six
shillings and eightpence. It seemed a very moderate
price for a Governor, a Grandee of Spain, or even
a Hidalgo, and we prepared to spend it royally.
But we were saved even this modest outlay, for
the British Consul, hearing that there were English
people about, came to see us ; and by a great and
glorious piece of good fortune he proved to be a
brother of our own regimental doctor. From that
time forth our difficulties disappeared ; and we
shortly found ourselves on a small coasting steamer,
which, directly she got to sea, discreetly hoisted the
British flag, steaming in hot pursuit of Admiral
Dewey's fleet. When we reached the vicinity of
Manila Bay we heard the fleet had gone in, and
that so far as anyone knew there were no mines,
floating or otherwise ; and no sunken ships in the
fairway. So our httle cockleshell made bold to
enter. The entrance to the Bay is quite narrow, and a
large Island, named Corregidor, divides even that

Al'MlliM I'lsU'l-N. I'oMMANlH-'R
AT THE NAVAI ISA I'l'l.K OF

11 THE \MI-.Rli \\ II 1-1. T
'.WITF, MAV I, LSilS

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 151
restricted channel. Both on Corregidor and on the
mainland, were forts heavily armed. There was
a half moon, and as the fleet crept slowly
through in single file, there must have been many
an anxious moment on the leading ship. But not
a cat stirred, and the fleet passed through safely.
As day strengthened, the Spanish Fleet was to be
seen at anchor away to the south-east towards
Cavite\ Eleven ships in all. How they went to
the bottom, at their anchorage, and with only a
feeble show of resistance, is a matter of history.
Everyone now began to send squadrons to Manila
Bay, just to demonstrate against each other ; to
brag and bluster, and pretend they had vital in
terests of some sort. England only was unrepre
sented, except by a little 1st class cruiser, the
Immortaliti, under Sir Edward Chichester. Yet,
as Admiral Dewey said, " that httle cruiser saved
a European War in this Bay."
Admiral Dewey very courteously invited us on
board his flagship and sent his pinnace to fetch us.
A most pleasant, courteous host of great modesty
and bearing. Wearing a moustache, to British eyes
he looked more like a General than an Admiral, such
is the effect of hirsute environment. The Admiral's
cabin was in war trim — that is to say, dismantled
and all woodwork removed, and was mostly occu
pied by a large gun. He told us how he had fought
the battle of Cavite, and from where we stood on the
decks of the Olympia the Spanish ships were visible
quite close, mostly sunk in shallow water. On the
side of the Olympia was painted a white circle,
showing where the only shot had hit her. It was
probably a light shell from a field battery on shore,
for it had hardly made a dent. We were con
gratulating Admiral Dewey on his victory, and
in chaff condoled with him for not belonging to a
monarchy, because then he might have received

152 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
a peerage, as did Admiral Beauchamp. With
great simplicity the Admiral waived the peerage
aside. " Oh ! but the people at home are very kind and
good to me. Look at all these little presents."
The httle presents consisted of nothing more
than could be bought with a few shillings or a few
pence. But the kind-hearted old sailor appreciated
them just as much as if they had been made of gold
and silver, and set with precious stones. Later he
was to receive more substantial proofs of the grati
tude of his fellow-citizens.
The first international incident occurred when
the German Fleet came sailing in with neither a
" with-your-leave " nor " by-your-leave." This did
not seem to Admiral Dewey a very correct procedure
in a blockaded port ; but, as he said, he was
not very well up in the etiquette of the ocean,
so he asked his friend, Sir Edward Chichester,
for advice. Sir Edward, a stout old sailor of
the best old stock, immediately replied that un
doubtedly the German Fleet had no right to be
there, except by courtesy of the blockading fleet.
The Germans had no sea manners, he added.
" What ought I to do ? " asked Admiral Dewey.
" Fire across his bows,'' replied Sir Edward
Chichester with great bluntness.
In the course of two minutes whizz — z — z, bang,
went a shot across the German's bows, and in an
incredibly short space of time her fleet anchored
hastily. Next was seen a steam pinnace, evidently
in a great hurry, pushing off from the German
Admiral's flagship, and scurrying towards the
Olympia. In the pinnace were seated some very
angry Germans. They were escorted courteously
on board the Olympia, simply bursting with wrath,
and with their feathers flying anyhow.
" Do you know, sir," exclaimed the infuriated

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 153
German emissary, " that this action of yours might
entail war with the great German Empire ? "
" I am perfectly aware of the fact," replied
Admiral Dewey with great coolness and courtesy.
Then hospitably invited his guests to assuage their
wrath with a cocktail, or a mint julep.
But the German was not to be pacified with a
cocktail, or even with a mint julep, and flounced
himself off to report the matter to Wilhelm II.
" And do you know," said Admiral Dewey to us,
" I'd never have risked it, if it hadn't been for that
little British cruiser representing the British Fleet
at my back."
The next incident was equally inflammatory.
A few Spaniards remained on a small island, just
off the town of Manila, and their surrender only
being a matter of time and terms, the Americans
did not trouble much about them. One morning,
however, it was noticed that a German cruiser, the
Irene, had shifted her berth, and was now anchored
down alongside this island, as a sort of moral sup
port to the Spaniards, and menace to the Americans.
" What ought I to do ? " asked Admiral Dewey
of his friend the English captain.
" Do ? " replied Sir Edward. " Why just clear
two of your battleships for action, and bear down
on the Irene, and tell her that if she isn't out of that
in five minutes you'll sink her."
" And I acted like that," Admiral Dewey remarked
with great relish.
" I cleared the Boston and the Raleigh for action,
and bore down on the Irene, and would you believe
it, she was in such an all-fired hurry to clear away
that she slipped her cable ! He is a fine fellow that
Captain Chichester of yours."
Sir Edward Chichester, tenth Baronet, was a
great burly man who looked like a typical English
squire, and was possessed of most of the best quali-

154 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
ties of a naval officer. He knew his job from A to
Z ; he had unbounded belief in the power of the
British Navy, and looked on with perfectly calm,
mixed with amused tolerance, at the impassioned
antics of the " Dagos." He died as a Rear-Admiral
in 1906, leaving behind the record of a stout sea
man, who knew how to act when confronted by
great responsibilities, where any mistake might
have had world-wide consequences.
There was yet one other occasion on which the
spirit of comradeship between the British and the
American fleets was shown. Admiral Dewey gave
the Spaniards up to eleven o'clock on a certain
morning to surrender the town of Manila ; and if
not surrendered at that hour and on the date
settled, he would bombard the town. A lot of busy
neutrals, led by the Germans, thereupon began
fussing and fuming around, trying to formulate
language to express his baseness. This makes
curious reading nowadays ! Finally, these neutrals
had a meeting, and, headed by the German Admiral,
went to interview Sir Edward Chichester with a
view to ascertaining his views on the subject, and
further, to enquire what the British intended to do..
Sir Edward listened to them with great patience
and affability, and heard unmoved the blood
curdling story of the atrocities which the Americans
were about to commit. With the help of his steward
he even soothed them with his national drinks. But
when pressed as to his views and intentions, he
blandly rephed :
" Those, sirs, are known only to Admiral Dewey
and myself. Good morning, gentlemen, good morn
ing." The final touch came when the fatal morn had
arrived. All foreign fleets were ordered to weigh,
and clear to the north'ard out of the line of fire,
before 10 a.m. Each in their turn up-anchored and

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 155
cleared away ; till last of all, and alone, was left
H.M.S. Immortalit'e. Very slowly, and with great
deliberation, the ImmortalitS, every glass in every
fleet on her, hauled up her anchor. Dead slow she
followed the foreign fleets for a short and calculated
distance ; then slowly turned, and making a wide
deliberate sweep, came back and anchored alongside
the American Fleet. Could the highest diplomacy
do more ? The Americans evidently thought not,
for as the little Immortalite passed along, one huge
cheer went up from every American ship.
As the appointed hour arrived, Admiral Dewey
began to get anxious ; he had no wish and probably
no intention of bombarding the town of Manila,
but the Spanish flag still flew and there was no sign
of surrender. So by way of hastening the Spaniards
a little in their deliberations, he opened fire on an
old fort which lay some distance outside the town.
It was then discovered that the Spaniards had raised
the white flag as directed, but as the wind was blow
ing straight away from the fleet, it had not been
earlier distinguished.
Examining that old fort afterwards, a curious
development in the science of gunnery and the
penetration of shells was observable. In the old
days, more than a century before, the British had
attacked that fort with the guns of the day, and the
marks could clearly be seen. They had just made
a dent in the wall, crumbled the stone a little, and
then had fallen back harmless into the ditch. The
modern shell had not only penetrated the near
wall, but had crossed the fort and gone clean
through the far wall.
As a matter of history, Manila and the Philippine
Islands, probably according to the strict letter of
the law, still belong to Great Britain. For at the
general settling up after the Napoleonic Wars, we
sold the Philippines to Spain for some small sum of

156 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
money, £2,500,000 I believe, and that sum has
never been paid.
It is much the same with a Portuguese Debt.
Portugal owes us £8,000,000 for sums advanced
during the Peninsular War. On April ist of each
year that debt is solemnly acknowledged to the
British Government, and as solemnly acknowledged
and carried to next year. It has thus carried on for
a century, and it occurred to us soldiers during the
South African War that the Portuguese might very
handsomely have wiped off the debt in exchange for
Delagoa Bay.
There were a great number of British sailors, and
especially stokers, in the American Fleet, and these
put on an extra strong Yankee accent when speak
ing to us. One who had a specially strong accent,
however, privately dropped it when we were alone,
and told us that he had been at Rugby School, and
had only recently taken on at Hong Kong " just to
see a bit of fun."
On shore there was a very great difference between
the regulars of the American Army and the Volun
teers. The former were very good indeed, very
smart and well trained, and with the strictest dis
cipline. All old soldiers of the best type. The
Volunteers were mostly hastily raised citizens who
could just march decently in fours, but to whom
the word discipline had little meaning. When a
colonel, a sergeant, and a bugler may be seen sitting
down to dinner together at an hotel it must be
difficult, though perhaps not impossible, to keep
the slender but very strong chain of discipline taut.
Our own Colonial troops suffered from the same
trouble at the beginning of the Great War, and per
haps is illustrated by a little story I sent home at
the time, and which was with variations quoted and
illustrated in several papers.
A Colonial regiment was about to be inspected

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 157
by the General, and previously the Colonel did
earnestly enjoin and beseech his men to turn out
in a smart and soldier-like manner, and to behave
as such. And he added :
" For God's sake, boys, don't call me Alf before
the General."

After the occupation of Manila we went to live in
the town, and had rather a thin time as far as food
and accommodation went ; and both of us came back
looking like scarecrows ; at least so our friends told
us. However, we had not finished yet, for directly
peace had been made between the Americans and
the Spaniards, a new war broke out between the
Americans and the Filippinos, as the Philippine
Islanders are called. We thought we might as well
see a little of this new development. One day,
therefore, Admiral Dewey was asked if it was per
missible to go over to the enemy. Somewhat to
our surprise he raised no difficulties whatever; he,
merely said :
" Go, right away, if they'll let you."
So two of us Englishmen, one of whom could
speak the language, sallied forth unarmed to try
their luck. We got out of the American lines with
out anyone taking much notice, and then bumped
into a Filippino picquet, which happily did not
shoot first and make enquiries afterwards. On the
contrary, they said : " Are you Americano or
Inglis ? " The reply was given with great prompti
tude and truth, " Inglis." Then a long palaver
between the Enghshmen and the Filippino com
mandant, wherein, by the courtesy of one of them,
the other was described as a British Officer of com
manding rank and merit, who was so impressed
with the military genius of Aguinaldo, the insurgent
leader, that he wished to lay the tribute of his

158 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
admiration at his feet, and had travelled all the
way from India to do so. They possibly concluded
he had come to place his sword and military genius
at their service, and they were consequently most
civil to the adventurers.
Henceforth no obstacles were placed in our way,
and we were sent by train, without even the formality
of taking tickets, to Malolos, where lay Aguinaldo's
headquarters. No guard was placed on us, though
a soldier or two kept an eye on the carriage at each
station. At Malolos we were received with every
courtesy, and were introduced to Aguinaldo. A
young half-breed of twenty-nine, who for years
had headed the rebellion against the Spaniards,
and frequently defeated them ; and who was now
trying to expel the Americans from the Island.
The Englishmen were allowed to roam about per
fectly freely, and no one took much notice of them,
except to be exceedingly civil. Perhaps one re
mark made by Aguinaldo may account in part, or
wholly, for this liberal treatment. One day in con
versation he said : "I would surrender to the
British to-morrow, and hand over the Government
of these Islands to them, for I have been to Singa
pore and Hong Kong and seen how good and clean
their Government is. They know how to govern
Asiatics, but I would not come under the Spaniards,
and won't submit to the Americanos."
Nor did he, though after years of guerilla warfare
he was captured through a ruse by the Americans,
and deported to the United States on a liberal
pension. One more story may perhaps be told about the
Philippine War. On a certain day, by way of im
proving their military minds, two Englishmen were
strolling round the Spanish outpost line, and
happened to chance across a small picquet, consist
ing of a Sergeant and three men, At the moment

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 159
of their arrival the men were having their midday
meal, to wash which down the sergeant was issuing
to each a ration of red wine. He very hospitably
offered the Enghshmen a drink, which was gladly
accepted ; though as it was a very hot day they
asked that a little water might be added. This was
evidently considered a capital joke, for all four
burst into roars of laughter.
" Wherefore this merriment ? " asked the Enghsh
men in some bewilderment.
" Pardon us, sir," said the Sergeant, " but I will ex
plain. That wine is a very good wine, and comes from
Barcelona. It starts off in large casks addressed
to the Adjutant-General. Out of each cask the
Adjutant-General makes two, and hands it on to
our Colonel. Our Colonel out of these two diluted
casks makes three. Next the Company Commander
has to make his profit, and I also have to make mine.
So you see, sir, there is not much need to add any
more water ! No doubt it is better thus in a warm
climate ! "x
The three privates listened with broad grins to
this recital. One could not help picturing the look
of horror and indignation which would have come
over the face of Thomas Atkins and Jack Tar if he
had heard of similar liberties being taken with his
liquor.
1 The Philippines and Round About, by Major G. J. Younghusband.

CHAPTER XI
SOME ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR
Sir Hector MacDonald — Stopped by Telegram — Success after many
Endeavours — Arrival in England — Lord George Hamilton — Sir
Dighton Probyn Deus ex machina — Lord Scarbrough — His Un
selfish Patriotism — The 3rd Imperial Yeomanry — Yorkshire and
Nottinghamshire Combine — The Best of Regiments — Trekking
with Lord Methuen — In Pursuit of De Wet — Lindley — A Tight
Corner — Lord Chesham's Brigade — Capture of Villebois de
Mareuil's Commando — Surprising a Boer Commando — Charging
a Kopje — The Two Yeomen — A Wound — The Man Fours —
Lady Galway's Knife — Seventeen Pieces in him and yet Lived —
Sixteen Best Girls — Boer Women — The Comely Daughter—
And the Persuasive Subaltern — A Rider Follows us — The Comely
Daughter Again — Her Information — Her Night March Tied to
the Interpreter — The Surprisers Surprised — The Bird Flown —
The Revenge of Jealousy — We Picket a Farm — Remarkably
Handsome Daughters — The Blood's Attentions — Also the
Major's — The Intercepted Letter — A Reply that Got Through —
Bloodstained Clothes and Frills — A Palatial Farm — We Sit
Heavily On It — A Tall and Bounteous Female — We Meet
Again at a Dinner Party
IT is exceedingly difficult to be allowed to take
part in some wars, and such was my experi
ence with regard to the Boer War. Whilst
serving on the Staff of Sir Hector MacDonald, at
Umballa, in the autumn of 1899, a telegram arrived
appointing Sir Hector to command the Highland
Brigade in South Africa, in succession to General
Wauchope, who had been killed in action. The
telegram added that he might take one Officer with
him. Sir Hector, with the telegram in his hand,
asked :
" Would you care to come ? "
An answer was almost superfluous, and we set to
work to sell our goods and pack our kits.
1 60

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 161
At the very last moment, at the railway station,
came a telegram :
" Major Younghusband is not to go."
So that famous fellow and old friend, Watty Ross,
took the vacant place, and he and Sir Hector departed
for South Africa.
Wearily wending my way back to the hotel, I sent
a wire enquiring why I was not allowed to go.
The reply came :
" By Indian Army Regulations, Vol. XXIII, para.
743 (or thereabouts), an Officer holding a Staff ap
pointment may not volunteer for service."
To this went the rejoinder :
" I respectfully beg to be allowed to resign my
Staff appointment."
Back came the shuttlecock :
" By Indian Army Regulations, Vol. XXIV, para.
1065, you are not allowed to resign a Staff appoint r
ment." The situation clearly required different handling.
I had had no furlough for nine years, ever since leav
ing the Staff College, so the next telegram was
worded :
" Shall be grateful for one year's furlough. Official
application follows by post."
On the heels of this went a private wire to every
single Officer, and there were many, through whom
the application would pass, asking them most kindly
to expedite it.
Next day the welcome wire arrived :
" Leave sanctioned."
So off we started for England.

i62 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
At Port Said a telegram from my father met us :
" Come on sharp. Appointment awaiting you."
On we went, therefore, as sharp as the P. and O.
mail could take us, but on arriving at Charing Cross
were met by long faces.
" Very sorry, the Indian Government won't let
you go to South Africa."
Clearly the next thing was to tackle the Indian
Government. This was late Sunday night, but the
first thing on Monday morning I went and called at
the India Office on Lord George Hamilton, then
Secretary of State for India.
Lord George was exceedingly kind and nice and
sympathetic, but he said that though Lord Roberts
himself had applied for fifty Cavalry Officers of the
Indian Army by name, the Indian Government
could not spare them.
This did not look very promising, but it is wise to
never say die.
The next step was to Marlborough House to see
Sir Dighton Probyn. Sir Dighton was an old friend
of my father, and had always been more than kind
to me. To him the situation was explained. Here
was an Officer on a year's furlough, and he might
just as well be fighting Boers as kicking his heels
about in London. Sir Dighton fully agreed, and said
he would do what he could. And he succeeded,
though, as he told me years afterwards, he had a
severe tussle with Lord Wolseley, who was then
Commander-in-Chief. Needless to say, my gratitude
was unbounded. I accordingly went to South Africa,
the envied of hundreds of Indian Army Officers.
When after the Black Week, as it was called, owing
to some minor reverses in South Africa, it was de
cided to raise 10,000 Yeomen for service against the
Boers, amongst others selected to raise and com
mand a regiment was Lord Scarbrough. He ac-

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 163
cepted the honour and responsibility with much
dimdence, at the same time giving it as his opinion
that no one but a professional soldier ought to be
entrusted with the lives of five hundred of his fellows
in battle. As a matter of .fact, Lord Scarbrough had
been a regular himself, and had until recently served
in the 7th Hussars.
" Quite so," said the War Office, " but there are
no regular Officers to spare. They are all employed."
At that exact moment I happened to arrive home
from India, on a year's leave. Lord Scarbrough
saw my name in the paper, and at once went to the
War Office and said :
" Well, anyway, here is one spare man."
So I was appointed to command the regiment,
and Lord Scarbrough then said :
" Will you take me out as second-in-command ? "
That was as patriotic and noble an act as man
could perform. It contrasts nicely with the pro
fessional parvenu, who will down his best friend to
what he calls " get on."
The regiment was the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry,
and was composed of picked squadrons from the
Yorkshire Hussars, Yorkshire Dragoons, South Notts
Hussars, and Sherwood Rangers,
That was one of the best regiments and the nicest
lot of officers I have ever commanded. A regiment
in which, besides Lord Scarbrough, were dear old
Dick Gascoigne, Beresford-Peirse, the two Birkins,
Bertie Wilson, Bertie Sheriffe, and 518 other fine
fellows, was bound to be a good one.
In writing of the South African War let us eschew
the big battles ; we have all read about them, and
let us just trek along with a column, and see what
adventures we may chance across.
One day as we were trekking with Lord Methuen,
a despatch rider arrived from Lord Roberts saying,
that one of the newly-raised Yeomanry regiments,

164 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
the " Millionaires' Own " as it was called, was in
great straits at Lindley in the Orange River Colony,
and that we were to do our best to extricate it. We
were then forty-two miles from Lindley, and setting
off at once, covered the distance in one trek. But
alas ! on nearing Lindley we were met with the un
fortunate news that the regiment had already been
captured by greatly superior numbers.
HoweVer, we pushed on to see what we could do,
and found De Wet with his captives, in full retreat
towards Bethlehem, through very hilly country.
Our regiment, the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, was sent
in pursuit, and an excessively warm time we had of it.
A few miles beyond Lindley we came up with
De Wet's rearguard with two guns, which held us
off for a time. Then we made a detour round to our
left, and taking ridge after ridge, found ourselves on
the flank of the retreating Boers. The Boer force
was about 3000 strong, and at the point of impact
we counted on cutting off sixteen wagons, two guns,
and, we hoped, the prisoners. Just, however, as we
were turning inwards to make our charge, we sud
denly came across a precipice, about twenty-five
feet drop, down which was apparently no path, and
the face of which was fully exposed to the Boer fire.
Our blood was up, and somehow or other thirty-
six of us scrambled down the sheer wall on foot, and
had our horses shoo-ed down after us. At the bottom
was a nullah which gave us welcome shelter for a
moment's breather ; then mounting our horses we
formed in single rank with a good interval, and
issuing from the nullah, charged four hundred yards
across the open, cut off the convoy and guns, and
took the kopje beyond. All our captures sneaked
down into a nullah between us and Lindley, and we
hoped that we had cut in far enough up to rescue the
prisoners too. At this moment, however, one of
them came running back on foot and said :

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 165
" They are all just on there, on carts, not a hundred
yards beyond where you cut in."
" Go and tell them to clear. We'll hold on here to
cover them," we told him.
The man went, but shortly came back to say they
had all gone, and just round the corner was a com
mando of Boers who had now intervened.
That being so it was now about time to think of
ourselves. Qn top of a forty-two mile march we
had been fighting all day,. we had lost three out of
four of our squadron-commanders, forty odd men,
and seventy-two horses, killed or wounded ; and we
stood at this extreme point, only thirty-six all told,
in the midst of a perfect hornets' nest of Boers. At
this moment I was just having a chat with the
Adjutant on the subject, and he was giving me a
light from his cigarette, when a bullet tipped the
Kafir kraal wall we were leaning against, and passed
between his face and mine, and certainly not three
inches from either.
" Well, unless we want to go home in an ambu
lance, we had better be shifting," we both agreed.
And a nice ticklish job that was ! The way it was
done was for one half to race back to occupy a kopje
in rear, and then for the other half to clear out fast,
so as to get under shelter before the Boers were up
on the vacated hill. We laid an ambush or two as
well. That is, we left a stout-hearted pair on the
rear kopje, whilst the rest galloped away. Up came
Johnny Boer, and got it in the face. Then quickly
to "horse the pair, and off.
One infernal fellow, with a yellow cat's skin round
his hat, had a captured Yeoman with him, whom he
used as a shield and stalking-horse, pushing him on
in front, and firing from behind him. A sovereign
was offered by some sportsman to anyone who would
shoot the yellow-banded ruffian, and the poor
Yeoman had an extraordinarily bad time of it

166 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
whilst competition for this sovereign was going on.
At the very last moment, however, we got the yellow
gent. He was squatting on the ground shooting,
making the Yeoman stand in front and hold his
horse. Unfortunately for him he was slightly side
ways on to where we were, and we got him through
the head at 400 yards ; and the Yeoman nipped on
to the horse, and came in to us.
Eventually we got out of the fight all right, but
a bit war-worn. There was one mare, the Sergeant-
Major's, with seven bullets through her, fourteen
holes counting in and out. The Sergeant-Major was
a great burly fellow, but she carried him home all
right, and only died at her standings that night.
Brave and gallant charger !
We were rather amused at an Orderly who came
from Lord Chesham, who was commanding the
Brigade, with a message. He was exceedingly
heated, and somewhat agitated, when he arrived,
and exclaimed :
" My God ! I have come through hell to bring
this message ! "
" All right, sonny ; stop here, arid have a bit of
a rest." " Not I ! " said he. " Not much, this is worse
than hell ! Got any answer ? I'm off back to Lord
Chesham."

On another occasion, when we were lying at
Boshoff, a Kafir came in to say that a Boer com
mando was resting at a farm about nine miles off.
So out went the Brigade under Lord Chesham to
round it up. But when it got there, no signs of
brother Boer were to be seen. The force was there
fore about to turn round and go home, thinking it
was yet another false scent, when someone noticed
a few loose ponies grazing. Lord Methuen ordered

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 167
these to be rounded up before marching home, and
then the fun began ! For the kopje beyond was full
of the enemy, and suddenly a furious fusillade burst
out from it. Lord Methuen at once made his dis
positions for attack, sending some of the Yeomen
round to the right, and some to the left, whilst the
rest went straight in at the centre, and the guns
played on the crest.
The Yeomen dashed across about 800 yards of
open, on foot, stormed the position with fixed
bayonets, and great gallantry, losing several officers
and a good many men. But the whole of the enemy
commando was killed, wounded, or captured. This
accomplished, what was everybody's surprise to
find that this was a French commando, under the
celebrated Villebois de Mareuil, on its way to wreck
the railway between Cape Colony and Kimberley.
Villebois de Mareuil was amongst the slain, and
Lord Methuen ordered his body to be taken in to
Boshoff, and buried there with full military honours.
We were all devoted to Lord Methuen.
There was a curious story connected with Villebois
de Mareuil's signet ring. It was noticed by several
people on his finger, and the intention, of course,
was that it should be buried with him. Some days
afterwards, however, one of our officers, Colonel
Lance Rolleston, happened to be in Kimberley, and
was poking about buying odds and ends, when in a
sort of jeweller's shop he was offered a signet ring
for sale. It looked to him singularly like the ring
Villebois de Mareuil was wearing when killed, so out
of curiosity he bought it. Enquiries were then made
regarding the crest of this distinguished French
family, and this proved to be the crest on the ring.
It was thus definitely identified as the property of
the dead French Officer, but how it got out of his
grave into a pawnshop is a mystery still unsolved.
After the War a deputation from the regiment, under

168 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Colonel Lance Rolleston, went over to Paris, and
handed back the ring to the family of Villebois de
Mareuil, as a token of regard for a brave enemy.

One more little scrap. We had made an early
start, and, just as we crested a rise, a sight met our
eyes which they had long thirsted for. A Boer com
mando surprised, and hastily breaking up laager.
It was some miles away, but in the clear South
African air looked quite close, especially with field-
glasses. One could almost hear the men swearing
as they thrust their bullocks under the yokes. Our
orders were to go in and " freeze on to them " until
the other columns could come up. So off we went,
two weak squadrons only, to freeze on to the re
doubtable De Wet with a couple of thousand pretty
tough birds under his command. We made straight
for him at a good steady trot, and all the small
parties he sent out to meet and stay us fell back
without dismounting or shooting. There was not time.
At length we reached a particularly forbidding
line of kopjes, behind which the departing laager lay.
We had been so long at that war by now that we knew
almost instinctively exactly what points the Boers
would be holding. We therefore singled out the most
prominent kopje, which, if taken, broke his line of
defence. We were closing up on this, still at a trot,
and were scarce three hundred yards from it, when
we espied that well-known and oft-accursed obstacle,
a barbed wire fence. But by this time we were
pretty slippy at overcoming that sort of thing ; the
advance scouts with wire cutters had it down in a
minute, so that we scarcely had to check.
Still not a shot or sound from that forbidding
kopje. Checking the squadrons momentarily to a
walk, a troop was sent at a gallop round to the left,
and another round to the right. Then the tornado

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 169
burst. We saw the left-hand troop at once in diffi
culties, having struck a bog at the same moment
that the enemy opened on it, at close range. The
right troop for one flash we saw against the skyline,
and then it seemed to meet a blizzard, and withered
away, and died mostly. They had done their work
nobly, these two, and now it was up to us, and up
the slope we went as hard as God would let us ; and
just at the ridge, and not thirty yards from the
enemy y we came on a pocket made for us, a piece
of dead ground just big enough to hold us. In five
seconds we were off our horses, over the ridge, and
at them with the bayonet, for we had no swords or
lances which we could have u^sed on horseback. That
cleared up that lot.
But straight ahead was another kopje which com
manded ours, and which it was imperative to take,
so we doubled on and took it ; but the Boers were
getting thicker and thicker and stronger and stronger,
and we thinner and thinner and weaker and weaker.
Before we could dig on further we wanted more men,
so the Adjutant wrote a note, and a Yeoman was
sent off with it, whilst we kept his rifle for an Officer
to use. No signs of more men. So another Yeoman
was sent with another note. Still no result. Then
went the Adjutant, and he also disappeared as if the
earth had swallowed him ; and still no reinforce
ments. Then I thought I had better go myself, and
see what was up.
As I strolled across the neck between the two
kopjes I suddenly came across the corpse of a
Yeoman, and was just thinking, " That accounts for
it, poor devil," when the corpse's eyes suddenly
turned towards me.
" Hullo ! hit, are you ? Badly ? "
" No, sir, I ain't 'it, but the fire across this neck
is that awful I thought I'd better wait a bit." He
was a recruit, and it was his first fight.

170 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Oh ! it isn't so bad as all that ; you come along
with me and see."
So on we went, we two, with many a duck and
bob on the part of the Yeoman ; when lo and
behold ! we came across a second Yeoman corpse.
And he, curiously enough, said exactly the same as
the first. However, we gathered him in, and all
three went on and talked about Yorkshire, bobbing
and bowing a good deal on the way. Then one of
the Yeomen got a bullet through his hat, whilst the
wire fence alongside got cut in two with a whang by
another bullet ; and so we gratefully arrived under
shelter. There I found my friend the Adjutant, and
hailed him :
" Hullo ! what became of you ? "
" Became of me ? Nothing. I have been twenty
minutes trying to get these blamed led horses round
the corner, and each time we are met by a hurricane,
and half a dozen horses down."
" Never mind the horses, push up all the men you
can on foot, like a good lad." And up they went.
Meanwhile I sauntered over to see what the
machine-gun fellow was up to, as a deadly silence
reigned from that direction. I understood him to
say that " it was too hot " for him, and was just pro
ceeding to point out the extreme opposite, when
suddenly I felt as if someone had kicked me very
hard on the shin.
" A splinter of stone on the shin, I think," turning
to the Adjutant.
" You may perhaps have a stone on the shin," he
replied judiciously, " but you are certainly bleeding
like a bullock in the thigh."
And so I was ; and a long and troublous story
that was, which lasted me four years.
However, I got shelter under a wall, and lit a
pipe, and carried on as best I could, though I was
rather immobile for a Cavalry Officer. After some

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 171
time the doctor came and bound me up, and then
they poked me into a shelf in an Ambulance wagon,
with about a dozen other wounded, and we were
carted to a neighbouring farm and there left ; for
the columns were moving quickly and could not
carry wounded with them. They couldn't get me
into the door without hurting me a lot, so they un
shipped the window, and poked me in that way,
right on to a splendid bed, quite clean and with
brass posts. The men were put into another room
and along the veranda ; whilst our unwilling hosts,
a Boer woman with a lot of children, varying from
eighteen to six, occupied the two remaining rooms.
The only one who made a fuss was a Boer, not at all
badly hit, who groaned, and moaned, and cried all
night j whilst my men, some pretty badly wounded,
never uttered a sound.
There was one man particularly I made enquiries
after next morning. He had one of those big knives
which contain every conceivable thing from a cork
screw to a pair of scissors, which Lady Galway had
given to all the men before they started. This he
carried on a chain attached to his trouser button.
Just as we were galloping into the Boers this knife
got adrift from his pocket and was banging his thigh.
So, as we went, he picked it up, and poked it into the
top of his trousers. Almost immediately after a
bullet hit it at about twenty yards' range, and
carried the whole thing into him, all that was left
outside being the chain and the hoof-picker. The
doctor didn't give him till the morning to live. I
was therefore greatly surprised, as well as pleased,
to get my batman's report :
" Well, sir, he says he feels a bit stiff, but he slept
very well indeed, and feels very hungry ! "
A month after, when we had all got well enough
to make a shift, we bribed a Boer with a £5 note to
get us an ox wagon, and in this we bumped un-

172 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
easily, by easy stages, forty miles into Vereeniging,
where we appeared as ghosts from the dead. There
they put the Rontgen rays on to our friend with the
knife, and found it split up into no less than seven
teen pieces, embedded in him. After the end of the
war we were staying with Lady Scarborough in
Yorkshire, and a bazaar was being held at the house
for the church steeple, or some other charity. My
job was to beat the big drum outside the fortune
teller's tent to attract customers. Amongst others
attracted was an old woman who looked very hard
at me, and said :
" You're Colonel Younghusband, ain't you ? "
I said I was.
" My son wants to see you, he's got something for
you." " That's very nice ; tell him to roll up."
The old woman went off, and shortly returned
tugging along — Who d6 you think ? Yeoman Fours,
the man with the seventeen pieces of a knife in him !
" Yes, sir, I've got a photograph of myself with
them all there. But the doctors got 'em all out ;
and I've given sixteen of 'em away as souvenLs —
to girls and that like " (with some bashfulness),
" but I kep' one for you, sir."
He had ridden over eighteen miles on a bicycle
to see me, and was strong and well again, and the
overseer in some neighbouring works.

The Boer women hated us with a pure and un
alloyed, albeit carefully-concealed, hatred, and only
once did we come across a case where other feelings
overruled this passion. We were hot-foot after a
man named Conyers, who, with a small commando,
had been giving a good deal of trouble. One day we
came to a farm where we outspanned for our midday
halt. There was the old dopper, his old frau, and a

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 173
decidedly comely daughter. So we put our best-
looking and most persuasive subaltern on to the
comely daughter ; whilst the Intelligence Officer
took on the old dopper, and our tidy Major the
mamma. But all were equally unsuccessful, and
more especially so the good-looking subaltern. He
said he had never come up against such a blank
wall ; and as to Conyers and his commando, it got
blanker than ever when he came to that. So, after
a couple of hours, we trekked on and hoped for the
best. It was getting on towards evening, and we were
getting near the end of our day's trek, when we
espied in the far distance a streak of dust, and a
single horseman riding after us. As it got nearer we
were. surprised to see the rider wearing a sun-bonnet,
and discovered it was a woman, and finally recog
nised the comely daughter of the last farm.
" I want to see the Commandant of this com
mando." " Yes, here I am ; what do you want ? "
" Conyers is expected at our farm to-night, and
if you come back before dawn you will catch him."
" And you ? "
" I must hasten back, or they'll miss me."
Here was rather a ticklish question. The whole
affair might be a plant, and the good lady trying to
entice us back into an ambush. On the other hand,
if her story was true, and we kept her, her absence
might put all on the alert and defeat our plans that
way. However, on the whole we thought we had
better keep her, and most unladylike remarks she
made on hearing this. We waited till dark, and then
turned on our tracks ; the lady's horse firmly tied
to that of the Interpreter, with the good-looking
subaltern as escort on the other side. After some
hours we got back to the farm and silently sur
rounded it, and awaited the dawn. The girl was fast

174 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
asleep, but had evidently been weeping bitterly.
Poor dear.
Dawn was heralded by the crack of a rifle, a bullet
missing us by an extraordinarily few inches, and
flattened itself with a crack against a rock in front.
" Some infernal careless fellow letting off his rifle by
mistake," and we cursed him inwardly. But quite
a httle hail of bullets followed, all from the rear,
and a man was hit. It did not want a very intelli
gent person to grasp what was up. Conyers was out
side the net, and we had one foot in it ! A nasty few
minutes ensued before we got some men together
and shpped them round to turn the kopje the shots
came from. The firing now ceased, and we shortly
saw our men on top. Then we took the farm, but
not a soul was in or near it except the old dopper
and his frau. They went at us like furies for having
abducted their daughter. But we could not stop to
wrangle, and left the girl to tell such lies as seemed
good unto her. Then, tired though our horses were
after twenty-four hours on end, we pushed on after
the Boers.
Later the whole story came out. Conyers appar
ently had been courting the comely girl, and she
loved him fiercely. It came, however, to her ears
that he had thrown her over, and was now sitting up
by candle-light with another girl. So, not unlike
Jael, the wife of our old and valued friend Heber the
Kenite, she determined to sacrifice him. That we
did not succeed in furthering her wishes was due to
the young Boer's astuteness. For instead of staying
at the farm he lay a mile off, camped in a snug
hollow. At dawn he was making off when he saw
us, and fired a few shots into our backs from bravado.
We never saw the girl again, though we passed that
way often.

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 175
On the other hand, we had several experiences
with Boer women of quite another character, notably
at a certain farm not a thousand miles from Cape
Town. Here we had to halt for some days awaiting
events ; and meanwhile, with the country swarm
ing with Boers and their spies, a weak column had
to be particularly careful, lest its numbers and dis
positions should get known. To this end we care
fully picketed the farm to ensure that no news should
get out ; and we also kept a sharp look-out on the
Kafir kraal close by, to prevent any of the Kafirs
getting away with a message. All the Boer men
folk of the farm were out fighting against us, and at
the farm remained only mamma and, to our jaded
and war-worn eyes, what looked like, and perhaps
were, two remarkably handsome daughters. Possi
bly the illusion was heightened by pink sun-bonnets,
a very becoming headpiece for the plainest old horse.
Directly these girls were discovered, it was most in
teresting to notice what much more frequent visits
to the farm had to be paid, on various pretexts, by
all our most beautiful bloods.
At breakfast might be heard one artless young
man addressing the Mess President :
" I say, Major, didn't I hear you say we were
short of eggs ? I'll just run up to the farm and see
if they have got any."
When he returned at 12 noon, the Mess President
hailed him : " Well, how about those eggs ? "
"Oh 1 sorry, I clean forgot all about them." Pink
sun-bonnets. At lunch another bright star would discover that
we had no butter, or that it was not good, and the
only thing was to go up to the farm and see about it.
Even quite a respectable Field Officer with an eye
glass, and a family at home, might be seen carrying
up buckets of water from the pond, a good 400 yards,
to the farm.

176 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Two of the bloods were apparently specially
favoured, and went up very often. They said the
girls were jolly glad to see them ; it was so deadly
dull up there all alone ; they hoped they would come
often ; and, funnily enough, added that they had an
intense love and admiration for British Officers.
A few days after, one of the men on picket round
the Kafir kraal brought in a note, which he had
found on a Kafir who was sneaking off with it. It
read as follows : —
" Dear Piet,
" I love you very much. I hope you love me
still. The Rooineks are still camped here, but there
are very few of them, and only one gun. I have
counted not more than 200 horses down at water.
I think there are not more than 150 Rooineks. The
English Officers often come up to the farm to buy
milk and eggs, which we have to sell them, but they
don't mind what they pay. A shilling for a bottle
of milk. There are two that come more regularly ;
we feel inclined to spit in their faces, the loathsome
cowards and murderers of our kinsfolk, but we hope
to get information out of them, etc. etc. etc.
" Karoline."
When our two pet bloods saw that letter they
were, for a time, feeling a little discomposed. But
the British subaltern is not easily defeated, and,
between them, they concocted a gem from Piet to
Karoline, which they smuggled, with extraordinary
cunning, through the Kafir kraal into the farm. It
ran :
" Dear Karoline,
" Thou accursed woman ! Thou hast read
the story of Rahab, and like her, made friends with
the enemies of the Lord. Have I not heard how thou

ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 177
hast taken as thy lover the rich Major with the glass
eye, that thou mayest live in his palace in London,
and scoff at us poor Boers. And now thou attempt-
est to betray us into the hands of the accursed
Rooineks by falsely telling us they are weak and
leading us into an ambush. But our Commandant
is too slim for that. May the curse of God be on you.
" Piet."
The next day we went on trek, and never saw
Karoline again, or, to our knowledge, Piet.

War and peace, bloodstained clothes and silks and
frills, got strangely mixed at times. Towards the end
of the war we were working, as one of a chain of
columns under Sir John French, clearing Cape Colony
of Boers and rebels. We were given a list of farms
whose owners had turned rebels, and told to sit
heavily on them. In other words, clear them of all
stock and supplies, which helped to support and keep
going the enemy, both rebels and Boers. One day
we reached a large farm at the hour of the midday
halt, and the Intelligence Officer informed us that
this was one of the proscribed farms ; that the
owner and his two brothers were out with a rebel
commando, whilst the wife remained at home, and
sent them out supplies and information. It was
quite a big place, more like a good-sized English
country house than a colonial farm, with English
furniture, a ball-room, and conservatories.
We outspanned close by, and a polite invitation
to breakfast came from our unwilling hostess. How
ever, it is difficult to breakfast first with a lady and
then lay her waste. So we politely declined, and,
setting a guard on the house to protect her and her
household goods, we set to work to clear up the crops
and cattle. Time was short, and we really inflicted
M

178 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
no great loss, but, such as it was, it was doubtless
highly annoying to the lady of the house. Anyway,
as we marched away we saw a tall and bounteous
female, arrayed in a black dress, with a large and
opulent hat, standing in the veranda, and gloomily
watching us. In reality, she was probably counting
the exact number of men, guns, and wagons in the
column !
We were trekking for about a month or more, on
and off, before working in to Beaufort- West again.
There one night the General asked me to dinner, and
who should be my partner, but the very same mag
nificent lady whose farm had been harried ! She
recognised me at once, and I her, and we learnt after
wards that she had come in, during a lull in her
activities, to make a bitter and heart-rending com
plaint against our column, and to demand a liberal
compensation ! We got on perfectly well at dinner,
and she told me her boy had been at Eton, but was
withdrawn when the war began ; that she herself
used to go nearly every year to London and Paris.
A very pleasant lady, but with a somewhat perverted
idea as to what a lady, and a subject of His Most
Gracious Majesty, may, or may not do, in time of war.
Next morning, as in duty bound, we went off on
trek to try to kill or capture the husband and two
brothers of the bounteous lady in the large hat, they
being rebels against the King's Most Excellent
Majesty.

CHAPTER XII
SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS
Lord Methuen — A Sahib of the Deepest Dye — Who is a Sahib ? —
The Column Commander — " Eternal Damnation to Steyn and
De Wet " — A Motley Column — Caton Woodville Pictures — And
How They Panned Out — A Treacherous Shot — The Rapscallion
Squadron — The Lord Mayor and Burghers — The Column Com
mander Speaks — The Daily Double Trek — Attacking the Kopjes
— The Red-haired Boer — " Don't Shoot the Poor Devil " — The
Column Commander's Last Trek — Rudyard Kipling — His
Greeting — Cecil Rhodes — His Quest — Rudyard Kipling's Great
Achievement — The Yeomen Cheer Rudyard Kipling and Cecil
Rhodes — Their Modest Departure — Baden-Powell — Some Old
Stories — His Reception ia Cape Town — His Buttons Cut Off —
Shot into Government House — An Honest Helper — Far-
reaching Effect of Defence of Mafeking
LORD METHUEN was once described as "A
Sahib of the deepest dye," and all we
-«^ who served under him in South Africa
heartily agree with that verdict. It perhaps does
not convey so much to people in England as to
those who have served out and about the world,
and in India. One of the greatest tributes to the
English character, and to the cleanness of British
rule in India, is found in that simple small word
" Sahib," which originally meant little different to
"Esquire." All Enghshmen in India for genera
tions have been called "Sahibs," and yet though
there are, as elsewhere, good, bad, and indifferent
Enghshmen, that word has not deteriorated. On
the other hand, it has greatly increased in honour
and value. You will hear an Indian say of some
exceptionally good Officer :
" Ah, yes, he is a true Sahib."
7?

180 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
You will hear an Englishman say of another
whom he likes and respects :
" He's a Sahib."
Incidentally inferring in that brief sentence that
he possesses all the best qualities of a British Officer
and English gentleman. To describe, therefore, an
Officer as was Lord Methuen as "a Sahib of the
deepest dye " means a very great deal.
It has nothing to do with rank or wealth. A
peer of the realm is not necessarily a " Sahib " ; nor
is a great warrior, or even a bishop. The right
class of subaltern may hold the title before them.
There were many new types evolved in South
Africa, and one was the Column Commander.
A short, spare little man with a brick-red face,
close-cropped hair, and a three days' beard. His
dust-coloured uniform stained and creased, and
worn and torn ; a boot on one foot, and a veldt
shoe, to make easy a wound, on the other. The
inevitable puttee gaiters, a scratched and ragged
Sam Browne belt, with a revolver thrust into the
sword frog ; a sjambok in one hand, a pipe in his
mouth, and a venerable slouch hat tipped over his
right eye — such was our Column Commander.
For 3000 miles had we followed him over the
endless veldt, and though deadly weary, deadly
home-sick, we were ready to double that record.
Somebody said :
" We have fought together in eighty-four
' scraps,' " but nobody answered yea or nay.
We had given up counting, and only knew we were
prepared to fight as many more, rather than leave
the job unfinished.
" And eternal damnation on Steyn and De Wet
for keeping us out ! "
Scattered up and down through the length and
breadth of South Africa are little mounds, and
sometimes little crosses, which serve as landmarks

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 181
of our wanderings, and mark the places where one
by one, by twos and threes, by tens and twenties,
our comrades have entered into the soldier's im
mortal rest — but the column marched on for ever.
Looking back upon the birth of our column in
the dim past, one is filled with mild surprise that it
ever reached maturity. Hastily thrown together,
a medley of irregular squadrons, all ignorant of
war or even a soldier's elementary duties. Mounted
on green hoises straight from the sea ; one gun,
under a garrison gunner ; 350 mules and 35 carts
under no one in particular, and with drivers who
had never seen a mule before ; the sole Staff Officer
a child from Sandhurst, ^ but — saving clause — a
Column Commander in whom, down to the boy
trumpeter, who was paid a shilling a day not to
trump, we had implicit confidence.
That was our side of the question, but one often
wondered what were the feelings of the Column
Commander, as he led forth this motley array of
amateurs to cross swords with De Wet, Delarey, or
Botha !
Whatever he thought, however, he never let it
be seen that he had any but the blindest confidence
in our prowess, and we in our ignorance were per
fectly pleased with ourselves.
War against the Boers was in our imagination a
series of Caton Woodville pictures. The three
most prominent being —
" The Race for the Kopje," in which we always
got there first and triumphantly received a Boer
commando at twenty yards' range with a withering
volley. "Saving the guns" (we only had one, but we
all meant to save it). The gunners and team being
shot down.we were to dash in on foot, seize the gun,
run it down the hill, harness our horses to it with

182 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
bits of string, and gallop wildly away, all eyes
looking as if they were going to pop out of their
respective heads, whilst those of the horses shot out
great flashes as well. Lastly, but chiefly,
" A V.C. Episode," according to the sealed
pattern, wherein it is first necessary to find a dis
mounted person — an Officer for choice — to then
quietly but firmly insist that he shall jeopardise
his life and future prospects by mounting behind
the V.C. man, thus to be conveyed as expeditiously
as possible within view of a General, or other
superior Officer. In accordance with precedent and
the custom of the Service, this General or other
superior Officer would then fall on the V.C. man's
neck, call him a gallant fellow, and producing a
Victoria Cross from his hip pocket, firmly pin him
thereto. The kopje episode we frequently experienced,
especially in our early days; with this difference
only, that the Boers generally got there first, and
gave us an exceedingly warm welcome. The gun
to the end got along famously without being once
saved, which was perhaps a httle disappointing for
all, except the gunners, who would have had to be
killed to complete the episode. And the only occa
sion on which anyone tried the V.C. tableau, he
was merely met with the mild enquiry from our
Column Commander, "Well, and what d — d tom
foolery are you up to now ? " I think our Com
mander was one of the first to discover that as long
as the ground is rideable, and a wide extended
formation is used, it is possible with httle loss to
gallop an enemy out of his position. Times out of
number have we done this to the Boers, till they
also learnt the lesson and took to galloping our
people out of convoys. The only drawback to this
evolution was that swords and lances having been

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 183
relegated to the museum, we had nothing wherewith
to smite the foe when we got there.
Perhaps one of the most silent men In South
Africa was our Column Commander, except only
when he came across a rebel, and then the glacier
melted, and there was a fine flow of the politest and
bitterest English. I remember one day, as we were
marching past the outskirts of a small town in Cape
Colony, a shot was fired from one of the houses
which badly wounded one of our men. The Colonel
promptly dropped into the town a squadron of
some pretty lively Colonial birds we then had with
the column, with orders to thoroughly search it for
arms and ammunition , and also to bring ten of the
chief inhabitants on foot five miles out to his camp.
An ordinary squadron, searching for arms and
ammunition in an ordinary town, does not cause
much inconvenience, but the Lord preserve the town
that on an extraordinary occasion had to be searched
by our Rapscallion squadron. I happened to go
back with some orders whilst the search was pro
ceeding, and was equally struck with the thorough
ness with which it was carried out, and the vitupera
tive vocabulary of the Dutch ladies. That is to say,
of the old Dutch ladies and the very young ones,
fat old vraus of fifty and little chickens of fifteen ;
whilst the ladies of an intermediate age were philo
sophically civil, and even obliging. There was only
one Englishman in the place, and he was the doctor ;
the rest were Dutch, and rank rebels at that. Am
munition was found in four houses, and the owners
thereof were at once tried by court-martial and
sentenced to various terms of imprisonment and
fines of varying amounts.
But the most inspiring part of the incident was
when the ten chief residents, headed by the Lord
Mayor, arrived exceedingly hot in camp. The
Lord Mayor started on the high-horse game, to which

184 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
our Column Commander listened quietly for a few
minutes, and then the dam broke ! A torrent of
seething invective poured forth, which I remember
ended, " This is a King's Colony, and if a shot is
ever again fired from your town on the King's
troops, I will burn down one house for every shot
fired, and if by chance any of my men are killed,
I shall hang you man for man, commencing with
you, sir," pointing at the Lord Mayor ! Never was
seen such a mean crowd as those ten elders as they
footed it back to town. Needless to say that not
a mouse stirred again in that place. There is only
one thing the Dutchman understood in the war,
and that was the fist, the almighty fist, and an
exceedingly heavy fist. So also is it with the
Germans. " Where are you, and what have you been do
ing ? " was the burden of our letters from home. And
echo answered " where " and " what " indeed ?
Perhaps Lord Kitchener knew, though I doubt it ;
possibly the Column Commander, after deep thought,
could give a faint outline, but to the rank-and-file
the past was merely an endless vista of double
treks. Reveille at 3.30 a.m., trek from dawn till
noon ; grazing the horses in the blazing sun or
driving rain till 2 p.m. ; up saddle and then trek
on till dark. Now and again a " scrap " with
brother Boer, and now and again a small town
passed. But on the whole a weary, dreary night
mare, and not worth writing about.
The Boer War produced many things good and
bad. It produced, amongst others, Mounted In
fantry, and Dr. Leyds and Mount Nelson warriors
and slouch-hat soldiering. But perhaps one of the
most useful products of the war was the Column
Commander. Here we had fifty or sixty young
officers who for months and years together had
borne the burden of independent command and

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 185
independent responsibility. That training was in
valuable, and out of the ranks of these tried and
gallant young leaders we had no difficulty for the
next ten or fifteen years in finding the right class
of Generals which the growing responsibilities of
the Empire required.
But amongst them will not be found our Column
Commander ; for God gave him rest at last. It
happened in this way. We had been marching for
about a couple of hours one day in August, when
riding over a great roll in the veldt we came into
sudden view of the Boer laager, hastily breaking up,
about five miles off. It was a strong commando,
we knew, and could see for ourselves, but that is
just where our little man came in. " When people
are in a hurry to go it takes very little persuasion
to make them go faster," he said, so, without a
moment's hesitation, our three weak squadrons,
say two hundred men all told, were hurled against
more than ten times that number of war-beaten
burghers. With one squadron leading and the other
two lying back a bit on each flank, we made a steady
sling trot straight for that laager ; the little man
leading a good hundred yards in front with his old
pipe, and older hat well cocked. First we met a
shell or two, then rode into a belt of pompoms ;
and then came on to the double ring, and bullet
swish, of the Mauser. But we took no heed or
notice, and just slogged on quietly on our tired
horses. Parties of horsemen sent out hastily to
check and stay us fell back, broken and dismayed,
and still we jogged on. And now we had arrived at
a grassy ridge on the summit of which was a deserted
Kafir kraal, about half a mile short of the retreating
enemy. It did not want a year's fighting in South
Africa to know that that grassy ridge and kraal
was stiff with Boers ; and so they were, and that
was what we had come for. The centre squadrons

186 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
slackened pace a bit, and the two flank squadrons,
digging a canter out of their horses, swept out and
round, and then wheehng inwards pushed right up
the grassy slopes. Stark against the sky they
stood to us, and then came a rattle and crash of
rifle fire.
It was a Caton Woodville picture this time all right!
The right squadron cheeked, wavered, and melted
away. The left squadron pushed on with hardy reso
lution ; perhaps it was not noticed at first, or was
hidden by a fold — and then its turn came. It was,
as it seemed almost petulantly, swept from the
earth, and the ground lay thick with men and
horses. In front of us of the centre squadrons was a
rock-strewn gentle slope, and our next lucid recollec
tion was charging madly up the gentle rock-strewn
slope straight at the Kafir kraal, apparently through
a driving hailstorm, though we have since learnt it
was bullets. In a few seconds we were over and into
them, and there in the midst of a deadly hand-to-
hand strife came our Column Commander's call to
that land where they say there is Eternal Peace.
As we rushed at the Boers, the Adjutant hap
pened to be a little to his left rear. There were,
perhaps, seventy or eighty of the enemy at this
spot ; some shooting, some struggling on to their
horses, and some in full flight. About twenty
yards to the Commander's right front was a red-
haired, grizzly-bearded burgher, who evidently
meant dying. The Adjutant raised his pistol and
covered him, but the flash of the barrel caught the
Commander's eye, and he turned round and said
in his gentle way, " Don't shoot the poor devil ! "
And that was the last order our Column Com
mander gave in this world. He lived on till evening,
suffering greatly, but patient ever, and towards sun
down a great peace fell on him, and with the sun his
quiet smile died gently away.

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 187
One soft sigh, and another great heart had gone
on its last trek.
Rudyard Kipling was at Simla for brief periods
of leave during the middle eighties. He was then
sub-editor of the Civil and Military Gazette of Lahore.
His " Plain Tales from the Hills " used to appear on
the front page of that newspaper, over the initials
R.K, We thought he was never in Simla long
enough at a time to get the intimate knowledge of
the social atmosphere which his writings portrayed.
And we concluded, rightly or wrongly, that he was
greatly helped in this respect by his clever little
sister, who spent several seasons running at Simla.
It was she, I think, who- told us that her brother
used to walk down the road to Jutogh, where was
stationed a British Battery of Mountain Artillery
and a Company of British Infantry, and that on the
road he used to stop and converse with the British
soldiers, and thus got many of his quaint soldier
expressions and turns of language. He used to do
the same at Lahore, going down to the fort to meet
soldiers. And now for a curious thing. I myself had
served for many years with soldiers, but had never
once heard the words or expressions that Rudyard
Kipling's soldiers used. Many a time did I ask my
brother Officers whether they had ever heard them.
No, never. But sure enough, a few years after the
soldiers thought, and talked, and expressed them
selves exactly like Rudyard Kipling had taught
them in his stories ! He would get a stray word
here, or a stray expression there, and weave them
into general soldier talk„ in his priceless stories.
Rudyard Kipling made the modern soldier.
Other writers have gone on with the good work,
and they have between them manufactured the
cheery, devil-may-care, lovable person enshrined
ha our hearts as Thomas Atkins. Before he had

188 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
learnt from reading stories about himself that he, as
an individual, also possessed the above attributes,
he was mostly ignorant of the fact. My early
recollections of the British soldier are of a bluff,
rather surly person, never the least jocose or light-
hearted, except perhaps when he had too much
beer. He was brave always, but with a sullen,
stubborn bravery. No Tipperary or kicking foot
balls about it.
To Rudyard Kipling and his fellow-writers the
Army owes a great debt of gratitude for having
produced the splendid type of soldier who now
stands as the English type.
It was during the Boer War that I met Rudyard
Kipling again. I was out of camp at the time, and
on my return was met by Beresford-Peirse, my
Adjutant, who said :
"Two fellows have come to see you. One is a
very big fellow, and the other very small. Don't
know who they are."
By the Mess cart were standing two gentlemen,
both in mufti. One I at once recognised as Rudyard
Kipling. His greeting was quite characteristic. He
wore divided glasses, the top half for landscapes,
and the bottom half for reading and writing.
He was peering through the top halves, and as we
approached, and without further prelude, he burst
out :
" I say, who were the other two living in Kashmir
House, Lahore ? One was Younghusband. Who
were the other two ? "
" Woon and Maude," I replied, and offered them
some tea, I am afraid without sugar or milk.
"So it was. Let me introduce my friend, Mr,
Cecil Rhodes."
Cecil Rhodes had come on business, and broke in
at once :
" You have five hundred English horses here, and

I.IKUT.-GEN. SIR ROBERT KADKN LOWELL, COM M AN' 1 1 1 NT. IN THE
IV--. I KM !¦• OF MAFEK1NC, I Sill) OO

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 189
amongst them a lot of mares. What will you take
for the mares ? "
He was told that we had bought them under
regimental arrangements in England, at an average
price of £35. That they were Government property,
and probably stood the Government in about £60
apiece landed in S. Africa.
" Well, after the War is over " (Cecil Rhodes and
many others thought it would be over in a few
weeks, or at most months), " if my stud groom, Mr.
Collins, may come down and take his pick, I will
give £120 apiece for them. I want them for stud
purposes." We said we thought that this arrangement would
suit the Government very well.
But long before the War was over the great Cecil
Rhodes was dead, and probably not one of those
five hundred horses remained.
As the two great men were leaving the camp, the
gallant Yeomen of the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry,
hearing that two such celebrated persons were in
camp, gathered together to see them, and raised a
hearty cheer.
Said Cecil Rhodes hastily :
" Take off your cap, they are cheering you."
Said Rudyard Kipling :
" No they are not. They are cheering you. Take
off your cap." {
Then Solomon at their elbow suggested :
" I think they are cheering you both."
Whereupon both, clinging close together for sup
port, shyly took off their caps.
Sir Robert Baden-Powell, whose name is most
honourably connected with S. Africa, in his own
book1 has told the story of how he passed himself
off as a foreign newspaper correspondent at Simla.
* Indian Memories.

190 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
I was there at the time, and he was described to me
as an Italian Count, and none of us certainly had
any notion that he was a British Colonel, so good
was his get up and acting of the part of a foreigner.
Indeed, at the supper on the stage after the per
formance, the mother of the leading lady in the
play, next which beautiful damsel Sir Robert sat
at supper, was filled with fury that a "dam' Dago"
should pay such marked attention to her daughter,
and tried to incite a British Officer to go and punch
his head.
" It's only their foreign way, dear lady," he
replied, and soothed her down.
Another episode which does not appear in Sir
Robert's book was ascribed, rightly or wrongly, to
him. A campaign was in progress against the
Afridis in Tirah, a mountainous country unsuitable
for Cavalry. Thus the 5th Dragoon Guards, of which
Sir Robert was colonel, remained behind at Meerut.
But curiously coincident with the absence of the
Colonel on ten days' leave appeared a mysterious
postal Babu, or native clerk, at one of the advance
field post offices in Tirah. The said Babu dis
appeared, after a few days, as mysteriously as he
appeared, and the rumour went round that, thus
disguised, Colonel Baden-Powell had seen a bit of
the fighting.
After the relief of Mafeking, the gallant defender
of that historic spot went down to Cape Colony for
a few weeks' rest and was invited to stay with Mr.
Cecil Rhodes at "Grootschur." To get to Mr. Cecil
Rhodes' house one left the main line at a small
junction named Five Rivers just short of Cape
Town, and went up a side line. Sir Robert was
preparing to change trains when a deputation
approached him, and said that the people of Cape
Town had prepared a great reception for him, and
would be very much disappointed if he did not turn

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 191
up. So Sir Robert got into the train again, and went
on the few miles to Cape Town. There, to his
horror, he found the whole platform from end to
end filled with a seething mass of cheering people.
Directly he stepped from the door of his carriage,
those nearest seized him forcibly and hoisted him
on their shoulders. Others crowded round to help
with such enthusiasm that as often as not his legs
were in the air and his head down. Certain nefarious
persons also commenced cutting the buttons off his
coat as souvenirs.
He was thus borne into the street where more
huge crowds awaited him. It was tacitly assumed
that he was going to stay at Government House, so
up the hill the enthusiastic crowd carried him, hat-
less, dishevelled, and with all his buttons gone.
In this condition he was hurled into the front door of
the house of a complete stranger, and to which he
had not been invited, to the intense astonishment
of his host.
During this tremendous melee, one careful and kind
fellow, noticing the generally upside-down position
in which the returned warrior was carried, cleverly
picked his pockets, and tying up the contents in a
pocket-handkerchief threw it through the door after
him. The heroic and prolonged defence of Mafeking
was not only an isolated achievement, however
gallant and memorable, but we have since learnt
that the fall of Mafeking was to be the signal for
a general rising of the Dutch in Cape Colony. Had
this happened, it would have very materially affected
Lord Roberts' great advance on Pretoria.

CHAPTER XIII
ON LEAVE IN AMERICA
The Millionaire's Suite on Board — First Shave in America — Travel
ling at Night — With a Stout Lady — We Dress Together —
Staying with the Griscoms — >" Tactless " Denned — The British
Way — A Reporter at Dinner — " Borrows " a Photograph —
" The British Fighter is Here " — Mr. Roosevelt at Oyster Bay-1-
American Individuality — " He Wants to be the Corpse " —
Roosevelt's Rough Riders — A Postal Achievement — " Be
Strong or Git " — My Brother Frank — His Candour — A Relic of
Wolfe — The Heights of Abraham — British Gunners Speak
French — The Races at Toronto — Canadian Hospitality — The
Montreal Choir — A Country House in America — A Bright Throng
— Making a Night of It — An Experience at Bridge — The Flapper
— " You Carry Me " — Wins £780 — Dividing the Spoil — The
Diamond Bracelet — Poppa Displeased — Bong-bongs or Bouketts
— The Right Way
WHILST recovering from a long-standing
wound, after the Boer War, and bored
with having been shut up for some
months, the brilliant suggestion was made that I
should go to the United States and Canada, partly
professionally and partly for the sake of my health.
We were staying with some friends in Yorkshire
at the time, and amongst our fellow-guests was
Lloyd Griscom, a young American attache at their
Embassy in London.
" What line do you intend travelling by ? " We
had calculated to go by the Cunard Line, and told
him so.
" Say ! You go by the American Line, and I'll
see you're well looked after. My father's boss of
that line."
So on his advice we took the lowest priced first-
192

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 193
class tickets, and he enclosed a note, asking the
management to do their best for us.
On arrival at Southampton we were met by an
exceedingly polite gentleman with his hat in his
hand, who said he had received our American
friend's note, and hoped he would succeed in making
us comfortable. Whereupon we were shown Up
with great pomp and ceremony into the million
aire's suite, which happened to be empty that
voyage, and travelled therein in great luxury across
the Atlantic.
The first intimate touch we had of that great and
surprising country across the water was during
the first morning shave in New York. I generally
shave myself, but thought I would try the native
talent. Not, however, being accustomed to be
shaved by another, I was contorting my face about
as one does, to stretch the skin probably, when
shaving oneself. The gentleman who was honouring
me with his attentions stopped, razor in hand, and
gazing sternly at me, gave out this ultimatum :
" If you make faces at me, I'll cut yer ! "
Travelling by night train we were advised to
book lower berths in advance : this we did. The
lower and upper berths by day make two seats
facing each other, and facing me was an exceedingly
stout female. I was wondering languidly how she
was going to get into the top berth, no mean feat for
even a young and active man, when the nigger
conductor came round to make up the beds. So
I went off to have a smoke, and on my return found
the problem very easily solved, for the stout lady
had gone to sleep in my bed. And it was I who,
with a game leg, had to climb up through her and
undress in bed, putting my boots under my pillow,
there apparently being nowhere else to put them.
Next morning the stout lady and I dressed as best
we could, partly in our beds and partly out, and as

194 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
far as publicity went we might have been in the
street. And what is more, she never thanked me
for my bed !
I was telling this not very interesting story to
some American friends.
"That was vurry tactless of the woman," re
marked Momma.
"What's tactless ? " asked Virginia.
" Tactless, Virginia ? " drawled Poppa. " Wal,
I guess it would be tactless of you, when you go to
Heaven and meet St. Peter, to start right in talk
ing about cocks."
One evening we arrived just before dinner to
stay with Lloyd Griscom's people in their country
house near Philadelphia . It was pouring with rain, and
we skipped out hastily into the hall, where a butler
and footman received us, and also our host, Mr.
Clem Griscom, and Lloyd Griscom. They welcomed
us most kindly and hospitably.
" You're just in time. Run right away up and
change your clothes, and it'll be dinner-time. Have
a cocktail ? No ? Well, run away up."
So up we went and waited for our hand baggage,
grip-bags they call them, to be brought up. For
it is the custom of the country to express your
larger baggage through from place to place. This,
though it sounds very nice and convenient, is very
expensive, half a dollar a piece, and means that you
do not, as a rule, get your trunks till several hours,
perhaps days, after your own arrival. After waiting
some time we rang the bell. No response. Rang it
again. No response. So I went on a cruise of dis
covery, and at last found Lloyd. To him I confided
our predicament. He at once burst into a roar of
laughter. " Wal ! now if that ain't a Britisher all over !
Why, if you'd been an American you'd a held on
to those grip-bags even if you hadn't a spare

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 195
hand for your host. Why like as not they've gone
off in the carriage, a quarter-mile down to the
stables." Which proved to be the case. Of course, the way
it struck us was that it was not much good keeping
a butler and a footman if they didn't do their own
work !
Cocktails all round in the drawing-room, and then
to dinner. We had scarcely sat down when the
butler came to me and said : " There's a gentleman
wants to see you — a reporter, I think, sir."
" Tell him I'm very sorry, I am at dinner."
" Oh ! give him a chance," laughed our host,
good-humouredly. " It is probably some poor devil
to whom the five dollars he'll get for copy will mean
a lot." So out I went and found a very apologetic and
polite gentleman, who was greatly distressed at
disturbing us, and to whom I talked for about five
minutes, mostly about himself and his family.
Next morning the papers had huge headlines,
THE BRITISH FIGHTER IS HERE,
accompanied by my photograph, which, by the way,
the reporter had unofficially borrowed, whilst wait
ing, off my hostess's mantelpiece. There were about
two columns, describing with a wealth of detail an
interview, mostly imaginary, with the British Fighter.
Before dinner was over another newspaper called
us up from New York on the telephone, but I
suborned the butler to work him off. What puzzled
us most was how the reporters got to know where
we were, and whom we were staying with, all over the
States.

196 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Amongst other friends we stayed with was Mr.
Roosevelt at Oyster Bay, a most genial and interest
ing host, with strong views on many subjects. One
of these was that you spoilt a boy's individuality if
you interfered with him too much, and he and Mrs.
Roosevelt had quite an amiable argument at break
fast as to whether Kermit was to be allowed to wade
in the sea with his clothes on or not. Mrs. Roose
velt said " No," because he not only spoilt his
clothes, but caught cold. Mr. Roosevelt, on the
other hand, said " Yes," because it was interfering
with his individuality if you did not so allow
him. Kermit had a sly hit back at his father, in quite
a dispassionate and guileless manner.
" You know father likes to be top dog, the most
prominent person wherever he is. If he's at a
wedding he wants to be the bride, and if he's at a
funeral he wants to be the corpse."
We were looking at an enlarged photograph of
a group of horsemen, under which was inscribed
" Roosevelt's Rough Riders." In rather idle
curiosity it occurred to me to ask where they got
their horses from.
"Horses!" exclaimed Mr. Roosevelt, "we hadn't
any. We went through the campaign on foot, and
only got those to be photographed on when we got
back." He also told us most amusing stories of how he
commandeered a passenger train in New York to
take his regiment to Key West, and how at Key
West he captured the transport assigned to some
other regiment, and set sail for Cuba.
In his scrap-book Mr. Roosevelt showed us an
example of remarkable intelligence on the part of
the postal department. Some facetious person had
drawn a pair of pince-nez and a set of teeth on an
envelope, put a stamp on it, and dropped it into

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 197
a pillar-box in New York. By the very first delivery
it was handed to Mr. Roosevelt. Those who have
seen Mr. Roosevelt making a speech, or even a
photograph of him doing so, will at once appreciate
the pleasantry.
That reminds me of another Roosevelt story.
When Mr. Roosevelt was in Egypt, he' made a
speech the drift of which was : "If you British
mean to stay in Egypt, be strong ; and if you don't,
git ! " Shortly after a brother officer, who had
just retired from His Majesty's Service, and was
thinking of going into Parliament, was making a
political speech somewhere. In the course of his
remarks he said that he thoroughly agreed with Mr.
Roosevelt, and added that the same line of argu
ment applied to India. He then went on to point
out that this principle was not being acted upon
by the Government of the day. Next morning he
received a peremptory order to at once go and see
a certain Cabinet Minister, the fact having been
overlooked that he was now a gentleman at large.
He was in due course ushered into the great man's
study, and there received with considerable cold
ness. " Do you know, sir, this is not only an attack
on the Government, but a personal attack on
me! " exclaimed the Cabinet Minister with some
warmth. " Well, sir, I am sorry you take it so, but " —
in a burst of candour — "to tell you the truth, I
meant it to be ! "
When we were in Quebec rather a curious thing
happened. Seeing my name in the Chateau Fron-
tenac Hotel register, an old retired officer of the
18th Royal Irish, as far as I remember, came to call
on us, dehghted to meet again a brother Officer.
A few days later he asked us up to lunch, his house
being on the Heights of Abraham, on the site of the

198 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
battle in which Wolfe died. Whilst we were at
lunch some men, who were digging a hole for a
telegraph post not far from the house, about three
feet down, came across a grape shot, evidently a
rehc of the battle. This our host insisted on giving
me, as my old regiment, the 17th Foot, served
under Wolfe in that very war.
We were also granted a pass to see over the
Citadel. At the gate, in the uniform of the British
Royal Artillery, were a couple of non-commissioned
officers and half a dozen men, two being on sentry.
I handed my pass to the Sergeant, who took it with
finished politeness, and after looking at it, to our
great astonishment, said in excellent French : " Par-
faitement, monsieur, par ici." And not one word
of English could that Sergeant in the English Royal
Artillery uniform speak !
Canadian hospitality to the travelling soldier is
unbounded, and we had not been an hour in Toronto
when the call-boy came to say that a gentleman
wanted to speak to me on the telephone. " I am
Major Dawson of the Royal Canadian Dragoons,"
the voice said, " and saw your name on the hotel
register. To-morrow is the first day of the races.
May our coach call for you on the way down ? Also
I propose securing free passes for you and your
wife to the grand stand and paddock." All very
nice and friendly ; and a most enjoyable afternoon
we had. The racing lasted for nine days on end :
six days one week, Sunday rest ; and three days
next week !
On the day we were leaving Montreal for Quebec
we found we had a lot to do at the last moment,
so I calculated out roughly what the tickets would
cost, and told the hotel porter to get them, register
our baggage, take our seats, and await our arrival
on the platform. We just caught the train, and the
porter handed over our tickets and a considerably

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 199
larger amount of change than we had anticipated.
However, we thought we must have made a mistake,
gave the porter his tip, and jumped into the train.
When we got into the Pullman we thought our
fellow-passengers were looking at us with some
curiosity, but put that down to gossip on the part
of the hotel porter, who as likely as not had given a
biographical sketch of us. After a time, however,
the ticket collector came round, and we noticed
great consultations going on, and covert looks of
a deeply suspicious type being cast in our direction.
We were beginning to feel like fugitives from justice,
when the conductor at last came across and said,
" Say, mister, let's see your ticket," in about the
tone a righteous conductor would use towards a
fugitive from justice. I produced the tickets, and
the conductor, after scrutinizing them, remarked:
" That's all right," and went back to console and
reassure the other passengers. Suspicious looks
were now turned to those of mere curiosity, and we
had almost forgotten the incident when, in passing
half an hour later, the conductor remarked :
" You've got a nice night for your show " ; and
passed on.
A nice night for our show ! A nice night, no doubt,
but we had so far made no plans for seeing any
show. When he passed back, I asked, " What show ? "
" Your show, of course," he replied, staring hard.
" Haven't got a show. What do you mean ? "
" Why, don't you belong to that lot up there ? "
" No, never seen them in my life. Who are
they ? "
" Well, I am jiggered ! " said the conductor.
" That's the celebrated Choir from Montreal going
down to sing at Quebec Cathedral. And they was
two tickets out when I went to collect, and you've
got 'em. So they thought you was two new hands

200 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
come in at the last moment. How did you get the
tickets ? "
I told him.
" Suppose he charged you full price for 'em ? "
" No, he didn't."
" Lorgoramighty, one honest Injun ! "
So we travelled in great state and comfort, accom
panied by a very sensible economy, as a portion of
the celebrated Montreal Choir, on its way to perform
in the Cathedral at Quebec.

Staying in a country house in America is great
fun, and everyone is perfectly delightful to one, and
everything is charmingly unconventional. No one
seems to know exactly who, or how many, will come
to lunch, or dinner, or even breakfast.
" Well, what brought you, Pansie ? "
" Oh ! I happened along."
" And you, Elsie ? "
" Oh ! I happened along too."
One night at the Griscoms' six or eight, mostly
girls, turned up suddenly, just before dinner.
" The Silas P. Tokers are giving a hop over here,
so we've come to dine and liven ourselves up a bit
before," they announced.
After dinner off th'ey all went, taking some of
our party too, but in less than an hour we heard
great laughing and talking, and in they all burst
again. " It was so deadly dull over there we've come
back ; just to liven you all up again, 'fore going
home," they explained.
Our host and hostess invited them to stay as long
as they liked, but they were going to bed ; the
daughter of the house also retired, and so did all the
servants. But this did not in the least disturb the
festivities. Led by Lloyd, first we danced, and then

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA „ 201
we played games, and then drew pigs with our toes,
and wrote limericks about each other.
"My, I do feel hungry!" exclaimed Pansie at
about 1 a.m.
" Here too, and thirsty as well," chorused Dixie
and Mamie.
" Let's go sample the larder," suggested someone.
So we each took a bedroom candle and, headed
by Elsie, made a descent into the regions below, and
after careful search returned with quite a lot of
provender. To wit, half a ham, some bread, two
tins of sardines, a piece of cheese, some biscuits,
several bottles of beer, and a jug of water. With
these simple aids we made an excellent supper, and
blessed our sleeping hostess.
This put new spirits into the party, and it was
3 a.m. before Pansie remarked, " Well, girls, it's
about time we vamoosed." And off they went, as
mightily pleased as we were with the livening up
they had given us.
An acquaintance of mine, not a very rich man,
was staying in New York, and one night was asked
out to dinner. After dinner, tables were laid for
bridge, and he was asked if he would cut in.
" Oh ! yes, certainly."
But he little knew what was before him !
The first shock he got was when he heard the
points mentioned. They were very much higher
than he had ever played, or could afford to play.
However, he was in for it now. His second shock
came when he drew as his partner a girl of sixteen,
just past the flapper stage. And his third and final
shock came when the girl of sixteen leaned across to
him, and said :
"Say! Poppa don't allow me to play bridge.
Will you carry me ? "
Of course he had to smile and say he would ; but
he was feeling particularly unwell. However, before

202 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
he had been playing five minutes he discovered that
the girl of sixteen was an absolute professor at
bridge ; he had never seen such play, and con
fidently and thankfully left everything he possibly
could to her. They played together practically the
whole evening, and when accounts were made up
at the end, the plump and comfortable sum of £780
sterling was pushed across to the Englishman. He
carefully divided the money into two portions and
pushed one across to the girl of sixteen.
" No ! No ! " she exclaimed, " that's all yours.
You carried me. My Poppa don't allow me to play
bridge, an' what'd he say if I came home with all
that money. Snakes ! he'd beat me good. No, no,
you keep it all."
And nothing would change her determination.
So the Englishman took the money home, and next
morning went down to Tiffany's, and buying a nice
diamond bracelet for about £400, had it sent up
with his compliments to his partner of the night
before. And congratulated himself on having neatly
and gallantly met the situation. He received no
acknowledgment of his little souvenir, but a couple
of mornings after, as he was dressing, the hotel
valet came in and said a gentleman wanted to see
him, and without further prelude in walked the
gentleman. It was the goatee-bearded American father to the
life !
" Say, Mr. What'syername, I wanter know what
you mean by sendin' valerable presents to my
dorter," and he produced the fatal bracelet.
" Indeed, I am very sorry " — and then the
Englishman, in spite of the old man's veto on bridge,
thought he had better tell him the whole story.
Poppa listened carefully.
" That's so ? I'll let that gurl have it good when
I get home. Why, she's as much chance of winnin'

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 203
bye and large, with that lot, as a celluloid dog'd have
of catching an asbestos cat, chasing through hell."
" Well, if I may say so, your charming little
daughter was, I think, the asbestos one last night,"
smiled the Englishman.
Poppa was evidently somewhat mollified at the
praise of his little girl, but he was adamant about
the bracelet.
" No, I won't have valerable presents made my
dorter. If it was a box of bong-bongs now, or a
boukett, that's another story. I wish you good
morning, sir."
And he made his departure, leaving the unhappy
bracelet on the table.
The Englishman was rather puzzled what to do,
and was smiling over the celluloid dog, and the bong-
bongs, and the boukett, when a happy inspiration
came to him. He finished dressing, had his break
fast, and then made for the nearest bong-bong shop.
There he' bought the largest box of sweets — candies,
the girl would have called them — obtainable, tucked
the bracelet away at the bottom of them, and in
due course sent the box up to his late partner.
Evidently that was the right way to do things,
for the girl, when they next met, thanked him sweetly
for the candies, but said not one word about the
bracelet. We stayed at another country house, this time in
New England, with Mrs. Roosevelt-Cole, a sister of
the President, a most charming hostess. Lloyd
Griscom was there, and also a very pretty Miss
Roosevelt, who was a very rich girl, having inherited
a good deal of the Astor money. I was chaffing her
one day, and said she must go over to England and
marry a Duke. She pretended to be very angry
indeed, and said she didn't hold at all with American
girls marrying Englishmen, or indeed any but
Americans.

204 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Several years afterwards, at a crush in London,
I saw Helen Roosevelt sitting on a sofa some way
off. Working through the crowd I went up to her,
and one of the first things she said was :
" Do you remember what I said about not marry
ing an Englishman? Allow me to introduce my
fiance," and she presented a young American.
That was a bad loss for England, for she was a
remarkably nice girl.
Not far from the Roosevelt-Coles' house was a
large girls' boarding school, where all the best
families in the States, if they could afford it, sent
their girls. And an exceedingly good time they must
have had. It is not at many schools in England
that the girls are allowed to keep dog-carts of their
own (now probably replaced by motor-cars) as they
did there.
Noticing some large nursery gardens with long
rows of greenhouses, we asked how they could
possibly make it pay in a little village like this.
" Pay ! " was the reply. " Why, it is supported
almost entirely by the girls' school, they buy the
lot." That must have been another handsome little
item in Poppa's bill.
Apparently the custom at the school was for the
small girls to " bunch " the big ones, and the more
they loved them the more they bunched them.
The daily habit of presenting flowers to one's
lady friends, very prevalent in America, is a very
pretty one, though very expensive and perhaps a
little overdone. On board the ship, when leaving
New York, sheaves and baskets of flowers came for
some of the girls. But there were so many that they
did not in the least appreciate them. We saw lying
about on the saloon tables the most beautiful and
costly flowers, with the lady's and the sender's
names on them, which were never even picked up,

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 205
but left for the stewards to decorate the tables
with. The first thing a reporter asks the traveller on
landing are his impressions of America ; occasionally
one asks the same question of the departing tourist.
Our chief impression was of the exceeding kindness
and hospitality of our American friends. They take
endless trouble to make one happy and comfortable,
and give one a good time. And, above all, they hope
and wish you to go away with a good impression of
America — and you do.

CHAPTER XIV
KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS
King Edward — A Great King — The Rapprochement with France and
Russia — His Tact and Diplomacy — Political Foresight —
Sandringham — Lord Marcus Beresford and the Mare — The
Marquis de Soveral — The Importance of Being Earnest — A
Game of Bridge — " Off with his Head " — The Prince's Joke —
" Persimmon " — The Prince and the Medal — Handing Potatoes
to the German Emperor — Lord William Beresford — Some
Anecdotes — Lord and Lady Dufierin — George V as Prince of
Wales in India — The Royal Gift — The Prince's Charger — King
George's Charger — Sir John Woon Twice to the Rescue — The
German Emperor — Salisbury Cathedral — The Policeman's Story
— The Former King of Siam — His 800 Wives — The Fate of an
Amorous Page — Only 200 Wives on Week-end Visits —
Milliners and Confectioners for 800 Wives — The Mikado — A
Modern Monarch — In French Uniform — The Duke and Duchess
of Connaught — A Divisional General in India — At a Small
Dance — The Duke at Rawal Pindi — A Stanhope Gold Medal
— Another — Mr. Roosevelt — The Boer Delegates — A Great
President
KING EDWARD VII, though his reign was
short, will go down in history as one of the
great Kings of England. For he had not
only the personal charm which made him popular
with all his subjects, but he was a great ruler.
Keeping well within the bounds of the British Con
stitution, he became a power in Europe and the
world. Before King Edward came to the throne the
leading royal personality in Europe was William II,
the German Emperor. But in a very short time
William II receded into the background, and the
leading monarch in Europe, as well as the world,
was King Edward.
Two of his great personal achievements were the
rapprochement he initiated and secured between
206

KING EDWARD VII

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 207
Great Britain and France on the one hand, and Great
Britain and Russia on the other. For centuries
we had been off and on at enmity with France,
and many a campaign have we fought against the
gallant French. During the Boer War, and for some
time after, it was not pleasant, and sometimes
scarcely safe, for an Englishman to travel in France.
Porters at the station would not carry one's hand
baggage, and hotel-keepers refused to take one in.
Some even went so far as to change the names of
their hotels from Angleterre to Russie, so unpopular
was England. From this attitude of intense dislike,
even of hatred, King Edward by his personal charm
and diplomacy turned the French nation into our
firmest friends and admirers.
With Russia for generations we had been on the
point of war over differences of opinion on Asiatic
pohcy. The Russians did not perhaps dislike us
as much as did the French, but there was open
enmity between us, and both nations sat on a
powder cask which any spark might explode. By
King Edward's efforts that attitude on both sides
was completely changed, and Russia and England
became firm friends.
What that political foresight did for humanity this
Great War has demonstrated. But for King Edward,
Europe might now be under the iron heel of Prussia.
There were merry days at Sandringham when
King Edward was Prince of Wales, and many bright
souls were brought together there for week-end
parties. Amongst these was Lord Marcus Beres
ford, a man of very ready wit.
One day a mare belonging to Sir E. Cassel came
down to be served by " Persimmon," a grand horse
which the Prince had bred himself and which won
the Derby. She came in a private horse-box, and
outside was painted the owner's name, E. Cassel.
Lord Marcus was looking on at the unboxing of the

208 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
mare, and happened to glance at the name on the
box. To the stud groom standing by, Lord Marcus re
marked :
" You ought to have Sir E. Cassel on the box,
now your master has become a K.C.M.G."
" Ought I to, my lord ? And ought I to put the
K.C.M.G. too ? "
" Yes," replied Lord Marcus promptly. " You
put the K.C.M. outside and the Gee inside."
There was another merry quip at the time in
which Sir Ernest Cassel figured. Someone asked
the Marquis de Soveral if he had seen The Importance
of being Earnest, a play which was then having a
good run.
" No, I have not," replied the Marquis, " but I
have seen the great importance of being Ernest
Cassel." The Princess of Wales, Princess Maud, Lord
Marcus Beresford, and a young member of the
Household were playing bridge together. In the
course of the game the Princess of Wales apparently
played a card that was not approved of by the
young member.
" You ought to have played the ace of spades,
ma'am," he remarked rather abruptly. Bridge was
in its infancy then. Lord Marcus looked sadly at
the ceiling and soliloquised :
" Why were we not born three hundred years
ago ? "
" Why so ? " asked everyone, puzzled.
" Because then, ma'am, you would have said,
' Off with his head.' "
The Prince of Wales was fond of his httle joke,
and on one occasion two or three of us, out-dis
tancing the others, arrived with H.R.H. at the
stable yard, on one side of which was " Persimmon's "
box. In the middle of the yard, standing loose, was

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 209
a very fine, well-groomed cart mare. The chance
was too good to be lost, and as the rest came through
the doorway the Prince, with great affability, not
unmixed with a tone of pride, introduced them to
" Persimmon," standing in the middle of the yard.
They can hardly have been very knowledgable
about horses, or else perchance they were courtiers
of the richest dye, for the remarks to be heard were :
" What a beauty 1 "
" No wonder he won the Derby ! "
And a male voice : "By Jove, a regular fizzer I "
A slight pause, and then a quiet lady's drawl :
" She's rather fat, isn't she ? " And that broke the
spell. Then we really were introduced to " Persimmon."
It was customary before leaving Sandringham
for guests to write their names in the Prince of
Wales's book. The Princess of Wales and Princess
Victoria also asked some of the guests to write in
their books. It was after dinner in the billiard-room,
whilst writing my name in the Prince's book, that
an extraordinary instance of his minute knowledge
of the smallest affairs occurred. The Prince was
sitting to my left, and suddenly remarked : " Why
have you not got on such-and-such a medal ? "
mentioning one that had been granted by a foreign
Power. The said medal was reposing peacefully in
some forgotten box ; nor had it occurred to me
that it was meant to be worn. On the spur of the
moment I made some blundering reply to this
effect. " Well, I always look on the wearing of a medal
like that as a matter of international courtesy,"
said His Royal Highness. " I believe, however, that
there is some damned red tape to be gone through
at the War Office."
The present King of Norway was also one of that
party. A very good-looking, fine sailor.

210 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
One evening, in thoughtful accents, and gazing
sadly at a soldier, Lord Marcus Beresford remarked :
" I can't think why you soldiers go worrying
about the world, getting into all sorts of untidy
wars, just to coUect a few medals. Why, I know a
fellow who has got nine medals and he has never
been out of the dining-room."
" Nine medals ! And never been out of the
dining-room ? What did he get them for ? "
" Get them for ? " with much deliberation. " Why,
handing potatoes to the German Emperor."
Writing of Lord Marcus Beresford reminds me
of his brother, Lord William, Lord " Bill," as he was
called by bis intimates.
He was not only a courteous and able Military
Secretary to three successive Viceroys, but he knew
how to keep people in order. At a dance one night
at the Viceregal Lodge a Medical Officer took his
partner to the buffet to give her nourishment. The
khitmutgar behind the buffet did not at once comply
with the order given ; whereupon the Medical
Officer got angry, and called him several bad names
in Hindustani. Lord William happened to be
standing near, and overheard the remarks. He
went up to the Officer, touched him on the shoulder,
and led him apart from his lady.
" Look here, So-and-so, this is the Viceroy's
house and not a pub, and that is one of his private
servants. This is evidently no place for you, and if
you are not out of it in five minutes I'll damn well
kick you out."
And out he went ; and off the Viceregal Lodge
list he came.
One of the A.D.C.'s was dining out with friends
one night, and in the course of conversation his
hostess remarked that she had found great trouble
in getting flowers for the table.
" Oh ! I'll get you lots," said the A.D.C. Accord-

LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD IN l886
Rcfroditmi 'from "Lord William fiircs/ord" ir kind permission of Mrs. Stuart Maizies

KING EDWARD AND .OTHER RULERS 211
ingly next morning he went down into the Viceregal
Lodge garden and sent for the gardener. To him
he gave the commandment that he was to make up
a nice large basket of roses, and send them up
with his compliments to Mrs. This-or-That. Lord
William, who had eyes and ears everywhere, heard
of this, and after lunch took the A.D.C. by the arm
and marched him quietly but firmly into his room.
" Look here, young feller-me-lad, I hear you sent
up some flowers to a lady to-day."
" Yes, sir, I did."
" Did you by any chance send them with His
Excellency's compliments ? "
"No, sir, I sent them with my own."
" Thought so. May I ask is this His Excellency's
garden or yours ? "
" His Excellency's, of course. I thought there
was no harm, there are lots of roses."
" Well, sonny, next time you send flowers to your
lady friends from other people's gardens, perhaps
you'll ask their consent first. Just a matter of
civility, you know."
At a ball at Benmore one rather hot night, the
contriver of the festival had arranged a lot of seats
in pairs in the adjoining racquet court, which was
pitch dark. So that those fond couples, who could
not say all they had to say to each other in the ball
room, might do so more freely in this grateful
shade. During one of the dance intervals, Lord
William took his partner there to talk politics or
what not, and whilst there she dropped a small
brooch. Groping about in the dark they could not
find it.
" Light a match, will you, Lord William, and then
we can see," said the lady.
"Why not a bull's-eye lantern whilst we are
about it ? No, no, let's play fair." Then he stood
up, and in a loud and clear voice announced :

212 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to light a
match." And after a tactful pause he did so.
Lord William was no respecter of persons, and
one night at a ball at the Viceregal Lodge, by
some mistake such as rarely occurred, nobody had
been told off to take Lady Roberts in to
supper, so that when all had gone in she
was left sitting alone on a sofa in the drawing-
room. Lord William immediately discovered Her
Ladyship's absence from the supper-room, and at
once dashed out in hot pursuit. Standing against
the door-post, and curiously gazing through his eye
glass at the forlorn lady on the sofa, was a very nice
and popular A.D.C., the present Duke of Bedford,
then on the Viceroy's staff.
Perhaps no past, present, or future Duke has
heard so much information regarding his duties
compressed into a few seconds as did His Grace.
Lord Bill was always a great favourite, particu
larly with the Viceroys and Vicereines of India under
whom he served.
Probably no Viceroy and his wife have been more
popular in India than Lord and Lady Dufferin.
Both were perfectly charming to everyone, and
each one was made to feel that he or she was a wel
come guest.
One night at a ball, during one of the dances,
Lord Dufferin, who was prowling about, if one may
use such a phrase of a Viceroy, espied a young and
beauteous damsel sitting all by herself in the drawing-
room, with no attendant swains, and no one to dance
with. Screwing his eyeglass firmly in, Lord Dufferin
crossed the room and accosted the damsel :
" Well, my dear, why are you not dancing ? You
are looking rather sad, and I want everyone to be
enjoying themselves."

THE MAROUESS OF DUFFERIN AND AVA

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 213
The damsel was a sister of Rudyard Kipling, and
of ready wit.
" Well, sir, you see I am quite young. I am only
eighteen. Perhaps when I am forty I shall get some
partners." Lord Dufferin beamed on her in his quiet way, and
said :
" No, my dear, you shall not wait till you are
forty. You shall dance with me now and at once,
if you will so far honour me."
That incident Rudyard Kipling brings into one
of his poems. For it was a matter of some remark
in those days that married women, up to any age,
danced, whilst their daughters sat out.
Lady Dufferin, besides being most charming, was
full of common sense and savoir faire. At Simla
was a lady who had been divorced several times —
well, once or twice at least — and consequently was
not eligible to be on the Viceregal Lodge list. The
United Service Club was giving a ball to which the
Viceroy and Lady Dufferin were invited, and
according to the code no lady or gentleman not on
the Viceregal Lodge list could be asked to meet
them. Now the lady aforesaid, who perhaps merely
suffered from too large a heart, had many friends
who were members of the Club, and who absolutely
and entirely refused to support or attend the ball
unless she was invited. This was rather a dilemma,
and so determined was the feeling that it bid fair
to wreck the ball, which was really a complimentary
one to their Excellencies, in return for their many
hospitalities. In this quandary a meeting of the Ball Committee
was convened, and it was decided that an emissary
should be sent to the Viceregal Lodge to negotiate.
Diplomacy is not my line, but in default of a better
I was sent on this mission. With extraordinary
craft and subtlety, instead of attacking the main

214 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
fort out of hand, I laid siege to an outlying picquet,
and as a result was asked to breakfast with Lady
Dufferin's sister-in-law, Mrs. Rowan Hamilton. After
breakfast I disclosed our sad dilemma, and asked
the kind assistance of my hostess.
" I'll do what I can. Come back to lunch," she
said. s
So I came back to lunch and was told privily, and
for my own information, that Lady Dufferin could
not possibly see or know all the five hundred guests
at a ball, and that as long as the lady in question
did not thrust herself into prominence by entering
the State Quadrille or something of that sort, there
was no earthly reason why Her Excellency should
know whether she was there or not.
That was a diplomatic decision which was worthy
of her noble husband, the most distinguished and
successful Ambassador of his day.
When George V as Prince of Wales was making
a tour of India with the Princess, he gave an illus
tration that he possesses the great gift of kings, the
faculty of remembering people's faces.
Amongst other places, the Royal party visited '
Peshawar. As in duty bound, all the head officials,
Civil and Military, paraded on the station platform
to receive their Royal Highnesses. I had nothing
to do with Peshawar, and was away on manoeuvres
with my regiment, when I received a wire from
Sir Harold Deane, a friend of mine and then Chief
Commissioner of the North- West Frontier, asking
me to come with my wife to meet their Royal High
nesses at dinner at his house.
Arriving at Peshawar just before the Royal train,
I was told that I had better stay on the platform
with the officials, who were there to receive the
Prince and Princess. There were probably twenty
of them formed up in a semicircle opposite the strip
of red carpet, and I was pushed in anywhere.

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 215
The train came in, and preceded by one or two
of their staff, the Prince and Princess stepped out
of the carriage. They commenced going round the
circle from the right, shaking hands with the various
officials. Then I saw the Prince of Wales glance
across to the other wing, and as his eye ran along it,
I heard him say :
" There is Younghusband over there." For one
catches one's own name very easily.
The Princess said, " Where ? "
" Third from the end," replied H.R.H. And
when they came round to me, they were most kind.
Enquired after my wound ; remembered exactly
where and how it had been received, and, in fact,
knew more about me than probably half the officials
on the platform.
That was really a very marked triumph for even
a Royal memory, for neither their Royal High
nesses, nor anyone in the Royal train, could possibly
have known that I would be amongst those on the
Peshawar platform. Nor am I seven feet high, nor
seven feet round the waist.
Apropos of this visit to Peshawar, which city is
known historically as the most turbulent in Upper
India, in the densely thronged bazaars may be
seen cut-throats from all Asia : from the trans-
border tribes, from Kabul, and from all parts of
Central Asia. Desperate-looking ruffians, many of
them. The Inspector-General of Police was taking
no risks, so before their Royal Highnesses arrived
he, with his police, made a round up of all the
known desperate criminals, and popped them tem
porarily, out of harm's way, into the local gaol.
Explaining to them with much geniality, that they
would have free food and lodging there, and would
also be granted a sumptuary allowance of a shilling
a day for the few days they were thus resting from
their labours. The said criminals made no objec-

216 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
tions j indeed, the more needy hoped that H.R.H.
would make a prolonged stay in Peshawar. There
were about two hundred in this round up. H.R.H.
somehow got wind of this, and one day asked the
Inspector-General of Police how many bad charac
ters he had shut up.
The Inspector-General of Police pondered deeply
for some seconds. Then looking straight at H.R.H.,
replied with great dehberation :
" One, I think, sir."
The other day, going round the King's stables,
we came across an old friend, " Delhi," the King's
charger. When George V came to India as Prince
of Wales, preparations were made a full year before
hand to provide him with a suitable charger. The
head of the Remount Department in India was
entrusted with the matter, and no money was to be
spared. Two really good horses were at length
obtained and for a year broken in and put through
a suitable course of training, for it is a nuisance
when one wants to be doing something, to have
a horse " arsin' about," as the trooper terms it.
Just before the Prince arrived, however, a shocking
catastrophe occurred : one horse died, and the other
went lame.
The Indian Government was stirred to its depths,
and naturally considerably annoyed at this scurvy
trick on the part of Fate. Telegrams flew from end
to end of India, searching for a suitable horse ; every
Rajah's stable was sampled. At the last, out of the
length and breadth of India, and out of tens of
thousands of horses, two were selected. One belonged
to the Viceroy's Bodyguard, and one belonged to
General Sir John Woon. His Royal Highness liked
Sir John Woon's horse very much, rode him all the
time he was in India, and took him home.
Five or six years later, when George V was King
and made another visit to India, exactly the same

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 217
catastrophe, as regards horses, occurred. The
selected and trained chargers again failed the
Indian Government, death or disease claiming them
before His Majesty arrived. India was again
scoured, and at last in desperation a telegram was
sent to Sir John Woon.
" Have you by any chance another horse that
would suit the King as a charger ? "
Sir John Woon wired back that he had a charger
which suited him very well, and would gladly send
it up for trial. Sir John Woon was then stationed
a thousand miles from Delhi. In due course the
horse arrived, and proved to be the exact charger
the King wanted. So he too was ridden by His
Majesty all the time he was in India, and he too was
brought home and named " Delhi," and now stands
in the King's stable, and is constantly ridden by
him. Both these horses were Australians.
I have never met the German Emperor to speak
to, but once came across his tracks in rather a
curious way, which gave a small instance of a very
curious and complex character. We were attend
ing some Cavalry manoeuvres on Salisbury Plain,
partly for instruction, and partly to give our small
boy a taste for Cavalry.
On an off day, having nothing particular to do,
we decided to go and visit Salisbury Cathedral.
Driving up close to it we saw a very old arch on
which was a notice board forbidding motor-cars
to drive through the arch. We therefore drew up
outside, and walked in to inspect the Cathedral.
Having completed our visit we came out, and to
our horror noticed that during our absence the
chauffeur had driven the car through the arch and
drawn it up close to the railings. We also noticed
he was talking to a policeman ; visions floated
before us of heavy fines, and we inwardly cursed

218 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
that froward chauffeur. As we approached, how
ever, we noticed that the two were in amicable con
verse, and grinning broadly. I at once apologised
to the policeman for the stupidity of our chauffeur.
" Oh ! that notice don't apply to you, sir ; it's
only to prevent its being made a thoroughfare : an
occasional motor like yours don't matter. I was
just telling your man, the last motor that came
through that arch was the German Emperor's.
Hearing who he was from his chauffeur, of course I
let him through, and the car was drawn up just where
yours is. Well, the Emperor went in and visited
the Cathedral, and whilst he was in, it got about
that the German Emperor was here. So a small
crowd, mostly boys, collected round the car to see
him when he came out. After the Emperor had got
into the car, someone in the crowd said :
" ' Three cheers for the German Emperor.'
"So a few boys cheered ; boys is ready to cheer
anything. " The Emperor stood up in the car and took off
his hat and bowed, and then he made a speech
something like this :
" ' Citizens of the town of Sahsbury, I have just
visited your beautiful and ancient cathedral, and
my only sorrow is that I am not an Englishman that
I might claim to be a part owner of it.'
" And, sir," he continued, " the Emperor got so
moved with his own words that the tears poured
down his face. So the boys cheered again, and off
he drove. Thank you, sir, thank you kindly."
The old King of Siam was one of the old-fashioned
sort. He had eight hundred wives, but I am not
sure whether he followed King Solomon in having
also eight hundred of the other sort — porcupines, I
believe schoolboys call them. Nor was any light-
heartedness permitted unto the eight hundred.
When I was in Bangkok a page of the palace laid

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 219
siege to one of the outlying wives, and promptly had
his head cut off, to discourage him from further
efforts. The lady, too, it was reported, ended her
days in a sack at the bottom of the Mekong River.
Rowing up the river, some miles above Bangkok,
we came to an island on which was built a palace.
We asked the boatman what it was.
" That is one of the King's Palaces," he replied,
" to which His Majesty comes for a few days now
and then. But it is somewhat wanting in accommo
dation, for he can bring only two hundred of his
wives with him."
And he sighed gloomily at the unhappy fate of
the six hundred thus temporarily separated from the
Sun and Moon and all the Stars of Heaven.
The eight hundred wives were considered part of
the King's state, and many of the alliances were
dynastic, and not very closely connected with the
beauty or attractions of the lady. Some, too, were
more hostages than love-birds. Thus the Governor
of a great province like Zimme would voluntarily,
or by special request, send one of his daughters to
be married to the King, as an additional bond of
allegiance. They said the King did not know half his wives
by sight, but he had undoubtedly to clothe and
feed them, and it is really rather a terrible thought,
eight hundred wives running loose at Woolland's, or
Benoist's, or all wanting stalls at the Opera on the
same, or even different, nights.
The Mikado had, I think, just descended to earth
when we were in Tokio. In ancient days his feet
were not allowed to touch the earth. But we cer
tainly saw him dressed in a French uniform and
driving in a carriage. He may possibly have been
lifted into the carriage, but I think the dynasty had
become so far absolved from ancient regulations as
to allow of his walking, anyway thus far. The old

220 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
dual monarchy had just been abolished where the
Mikado was the spiritual head and the Shogun the
de facto ruler. In those days the Mikado was in
reality a prisoner in his own palace, hedged about
with spiritual ordinances, such as the one mentioned
above, that set him up as too holy to put foot on
this sinful earth. The Shogun, who was a soldier
and generally a very able one, meanwhile practically
ruled the country.
A characteristic of our Royal Family is its natural
ness and simplicity. When the Duke and Duchess
of Connaught were in India they thoroughly enjoyed
their tour of military service there.
It was to them an entirely new life, away from
many of the irksome duties of Royalty in Europe.
The Duke lived as a plain General of Division, and
the Duchess as the General's wife.
This was brought home to me one night when
passing through Delhi. There was that night one of
the weekly, or fortnightly, subscription dances. The
subscription was only Rs.2 (2s. 8d.) a head, and
ladies free. Only the keenest dancers generally go
to these, and my hostess being one carried me off in
her train. Arrived there, we found the dance taking
place in a large badly lit room, but with a first-class
small band, and excellent floor.
There were not more than fifteen couples all told,
but amongst these, and evidently enjoying them
selves greatly, were the Duke and Duchess of
Connaught. The only difference between the Duke
and any other General, was that his A.D.C.
negotiated with the blushing and delighted damsel,
who was next to have the honour of dancing
with H.R.H.
I was standing at the door when the A.D.C. came
up to a lady next me and said :
" H.R.H. will have much pleasure in dancing the
next dance with you."

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 221
" Oh ! but I have got a partner already, and I
couldn't possibly throw him over. Could I ? "
" Try," said the A.D.C. with his best smile.
And she did.
Whilst the Duke of Connaught was commanding
the Rawal Pindi Division, an Officer under his com
mand earned the Stanhope Gold Medal for saving
life, the highest distinction the Humane Society can
award. One dark night, walking home from Mess, were
two Officers of the 45th Sikhs, Captain H. N. McRae
and Captain H. Holmes. Captain McRae was a
light-built, wiry Officer, Captain Holmes was a giant,
of great strength and muscle. As they were walking
up the road they heard mysterious calls for help,
and could not at first imagine where they came
from. Then one of them had a brain wave and exclaimed :
" I believe there is someone down that well."
Proceeding to the well, which was close to the road
side, and leaning over, no doubt was left as to whence
the calls came. It was the lusty voice of a British
soldier shouting for succour.
On every Indian well is a light windlass, by means
of which an Indian rope, of precarious construction,
lets down buckets and such-like light articles, where
with water is drawn.
The two Officers consulted together, and as a result
it was decided that Captain McRae, who was the
light weight, should be let down into the well by
means of the aforesaid precarious rope, lowered
hand over hand by the stalwart Captain Holmes.
It being quite rightly decided that the windlass,
being of highly inefficient Indian workmanship
and material, would undoubtedly break under the
strain. Handsomely Captain McRae was let down, and
reached the water level safely. There he found a

222 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
trumpeter of the Royal Artillery clinging on for dear
life to a protruding brick.
Sustaining and encouraging the trumpeter, who
apparently dropped into the well whilst making a
short cut across the compound and had had therein a
long and painful experience, Captain McRae shouted
up to his friend :
" Do you think you can draw us both up ? The
man's insensible."
" Yes, I think so," was the cheery reply of the
giant on top, " if the bally old rope will stand it.
Anyway, let's try."
So Captain McRae bound and clasped the trum
peter to his bosom, and shouted :
"Righto! heave all."
Captain Holmes was a very powerful man indeed,
a hero amongst the Sikhs on account of his magnifi
cent physique and herculean strength. But he had
several things against him, the most potent being
a rotten rope meant only for buckets of water, and
further, having no pulley or even smooth surface
to pull it over. Only the rough brick edge of the
well. As far as strength went he was equal to the task,
and by colossal effort pulled two full-grown English
men, and one a trumpeter in the Royal Artillery,
some way up. The well was eighty-eight feet deep,
with twelve feet of water in it. Then unfortunately
came a weak part of a weak rope against the sharp
edge of the well, with the result that it snapped.
A resounding smack on the water announced the
fact, whilst Captain Holmes naturally took a somer
sault backwards.
Nothing discouraged, the broken end was let down,
and Captain McRae, fishing up his broken end, tied
the two together, and another strenuous effort was
made by Captain Holmes. But again the rope
broke, and the two soused down again into the

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 223
water. I forget how many times the effort was re
newed, and with one man at a time, but even then
the rope broke. Captain Holmes, therefore, first
shouting words of encouragement down the well,
dashed off to find another rope. Ropes and bits of
string and other necessaries of life are easily to
hand when not wanted. But in the middle of
the night in a large Cantonment, one may find
the right article at once, or not do so till next
morning. Captain Holmes' luck, like that of most brave
men, was in, and he found the rope. Some say it
was the tug-of-war rope lying on a neighbouring
parade ground, and some say it was a twisted com
bination of neighbouring tent ropes. Anyway, he
got it in time, and let it down.
" All right below there ? " he shouted.
" Yes, old boy, but be quick. The gunner is
heavy as lead. I think he has fainted."
By this time servants from the neighbouring
house, and stray passers-by, had collected, so the
haulage power was safe.
" Tie the gunner on first. Sailor knot and no
damn granny, and we'll have him up in a jiffy, and
then you too."
But Captain McRae, in the deep dark of that well,
finding the trumpeter insensible, could not manage
this. The only way was again to support the
trumpeter and go up together.
Thus at last they were drawn to the surface, an
insensible trumpeter and a very gallant Officer and
gentleman. The Duke of Connaught recommended both Officers
for the Humane Society's Medal, which in due course
they received.
At the end of the year the Royal Humane Society
decides which is the most gallant act of the year,
and for it bestows the Stanhope Gold Medal. The

224 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Gold Medal for that year went most rightly to Captain
McRae. Another Gold Medal won by a soldier was that of
Captain Scrase-Dickins of the Highland Light In
fantry. He was voyaging home from India on sick leave
on board the P. and 0. mailboat. And besides
being an invalid, he was feeling not very well owing
to the roughness of the sea. The ship was then
running up the Red Sea, and Captain Scrase-
Dickins was lying more or less hors de combat on a
long chair on deck.
A cry arose, " Man overboard," and weak and ill
as he was, Scrase-Dickins at once rose and dived
overboard into a very nasty sea. Talking to the
captain of the ship afterwards, he said that there
was really little more than a dog's chance of picking
up a man in a sea like that. It was not a sea moun
tains high, but a nasty choppy sea, bad for boats,
and wherein it was exceedingly difficult to distinguish
a man's head. Moreover, the mailboat was running
at full speed, and a big ship gets a lot of way on her
and takes a lot of stopping.
But once again fortune favoured the brave, and
both Captain Scrase-Dickins and the man he rescued
were picked up, to the great relief and joy of the
passengers. For this signal act of bravery and devotion Cap
tain Scrase-Dickins received the Silver Medal of the
Royal Humane Society, and later the Gold Medal
for the bravest act of the year.
However, we have rather wandered away from
the rulers of the world, and will return via Mr.
Roosevelt. We had a good many opportunities of
meeting the late President of the United States and of
hearing him speak, and he most kindly asked us to
stay with him at Oyster Bay. We were greatly and
favourably impressed with Mr. Roosevelt, an honest,

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 225
strenuous man, with the eyes and views of a world
wide statesman. He could look beyond the coasts
of America. For, curiously enough, though America
is territorially a large country, the views of a very
large section are distinctly limited. As an instance of
Mr. Roosevelt's wide views ; he was telling us that
during the Boer War a Boer delegation came to
America to ask for mediation.
The delegates came to see him and ask for his
support, and his answer was in some such words as
these :
" Though I am a Dutchman myself, for my ances
tors only came to America eighty-three years ago,
as such you have my sympathy. And also because
one always from a sporting feehng backs the httle
one against the big one, yet I consider that it is
for the good of South Africa that Anglo-Saxon rule
should predominate there. Therefore I myself
would not raise a finger to prevent it."
Mr. Roosevelt is a great believer in the Anglo-
Saxon race, and the English language, as most
wholesome factors in the government of the world.
He is equally averse to the Germans and to Teu
tonic influences. At one of his big public meetings
at Buffalo he took as his text the Monroe Doctrine,
and was very emphatic and eloquent on the point
that no European Power should have a footing on
the American Continent. Our American friends
kept nudging us during the speech, and whispering
facetious remarks in all good humour.
That evening, talking to Mr. Roosevelt with
reference to his great speech, I mentioned that the
British already owned as much or more territory on
the American Continent as the United States them
selves. " Quite so," said Mr. Roosevelt. " I wasn't
talking about the past, I was talking about the
future. I was talking at the Germans, and I was

226 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
talking straight. They are trying to get a footing
over here and we won't have it. Now, Wilham is a
very worthy young man, but he is too hot-headed.
That is about the size of it, and we want to put
a stop at once, and firmly, to any of his projects over
on this Continent."
Mr. Roosevelt was a great President and worthy
ruler of a great nation, and many of us who are
friends of America regret that he is not their ruler
now. There would have been no submarine out
rages or Belgian atrocities, we think, if he had been.
America need not have gone to war, but as head of
a great confederacy of neutral countries she could
have taken a strong and commanding position, and
insisted that the ordinary rules of civilised warfare
were observed. The Germans would have climbed
down to that at once.

CHAPTER XV
LORD ROBERTS, LORD KITCHENER, AND OTHER
GENERALS
Lord Roberts — A Very Great Man — His Courage — 70 Years" Old in
the Boer War — His Final and Great Effort — Lies in St. Paul's
with Nelson and Wellington — Contrast between Lord Roberts
and Lord Kitchener — Both Great Soldiers — Lord Roberts's
Kindness and Consideration — Wonderful Memory — Thought for
the Bereaved — Lord Kitchener's Disapproval — Burying the
Hatchet — First Meeting with Lord Kitchener — His Escape
from the Boers — Egypt his Monument — Lord Cromer's Influence
— Lord Kitchener's Power of Intuition — Lord Wolseley in the
Soudan — A Great Reformer — " Political Generals " — Keeping
before the Public — The Shower of Medals — A Pint of 'Arf and
'Arf — The Debt of the Army to Lord Wolseley — Sir Horace
Smith-Dorrien — A Born Leader of Men — Mons and Le Cateau —
Sir W. Perm Symons — His Toasts — Sir Douglas Haig — As a Fag at
Clifton — As I.-G. of Cavalry — Sir William Robertson — His First
Commission — Work at Simla — The Staff College — The Brain of
the Army — Two Anonymous Generals — The Flagstaff at
Umballa — The Battle of the Standard — A Pusillanimous Staff
Officer — The Heroic Garrison Engineer — The Triumph of the
Lady — Sir Edmund Barrow — Sir James Willcocks — General
Bannatine-Allason
LORD ROBERTS was a very great soldier,
who will in history be placed alongside
Ji Marlborough and Wellington. He was
one of the bravest and most stout-hearted Generals
Great Britain has produced, possessing also a
personal magnetism which, by securing the devoted
attachment of the soldiers, added greatly to his
military value. His march to Kabul in 1879 and
the battle of Charasiah was one of the finest feats
of his career, or in history, and far eclipsed his
better-known march from Kabul to Kandahar.
Again shut up in Sherpur in deep snow, surrounded
227

228 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
by immensely superior numbers of Afghans, cut
off from India 170 miles distant, his heart never
failed for a moment. He was as brave and strong
as ever, and, defeating the encircling hordes, emerged
victorious. At the age of seventy and when most men are
past activity, when the horizon was darkest in
South Africa, he took command, and at once the
sun shone and the tide turned. His strategy and
tactics were of the highest, and had it been possible
to drop the curtain, and leave the War to Lord
Roberts and the soldiers, it would have been over
in a year. But political considerations of the very
weightiest description, and which have since proved
most sound, intervened, and thus the war became
a lengthy one of attrition. In his later life, reheved
of active command, Lord Roberts spent those years
of rest he had so nobly earned in a strenuous and
unremitting effort to rouse his countrymen to the
German danger, endeavouring with all the weight
of his great name to induce the politicians of both
Parties to sink their parochial differences and to
unite in an effort of foresight and preparation. Per
haps that was the noblest effort of a noble life.
Had Lord Kitchener, when he returned from
India, joined Lord Roberts in this patriotic crusade
there is little doubt that success would have crowned
the strenuous and prolonged efforts of the National
Service League.
In St. Paul's Cathedral Lord Roberts now hes
in the sublime company of England's greatest sons.
And beside are Nelson and Wellington, making thus
an heroic trio who have deserved well of the Empire
which they served so well.
There could be no greater contrast between two
men than between Lord Roberts and Lord Kitchener.
Their personality, methods, and manners were en
tirely dissimilar. Yet they both rose to be great

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 229
soldiers. Lord Roberts was the modern Bayard,
Chevalier sans peur et sans riproche. Lord Kitchener
was fashioned more on the lines of Bismarck. Both
were born British, but one developed into the
highest type of English gentleman, the other
acquired more Teutonic characteristics. It would
therefore be somewhat difficult for an honest
admirer of Lord Roberts to be an equally honest
admirer of Lord Kitchener.
Of Lord Roberts everyone who came in contact
with him has delightful reminiscences. He had the
kindest and largest heart in the world and never
forgot anybody ; but at the same time he was the
hardest and flintiest of disciplinarians when occasion
required. We who served with him in Kabul, and
in India, can well recall that essential trait. It is
nearly forty years ago, but I remember exactly first
meeting Lord Roberts.
The garrison at Kabul after the siege of Sherpur
was paraded for the distribution of rewards for
gallantry to the soldiers. I was then in The Guides,
and the Infantry of that Corps was drawn up in
quarter column, and right behind the rearmost line
the last joined subaltern was standing. Lord
Roberts came along the front of the regiment, stood
a few seconds and glanced over it, and in rear of
those eight hundred men at once noticed a new
Officer. " Who is that new Officer ? " he asked the Colonel.
" That's Younghusband, just joined from the 17th
Foot." " Call him up, I should like to make his acquaint
ance." So I was hustled forth by the Adjutant, and
stood before the great man.
" How do you do ? Glad to meet you. You are
a lucky young fellow to have joined such a splendid
regiment. Good-bye, good luck."

230 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
And from that day forth he never failed to recog
nise me under the most unlikely conditions. Here
is one instance. One day, not long before the Great
War, I was standing looking into Asprey's window.
Reflected in the glass I noticed passing me a gentle
man in a top-hat. I did not look round, and was
continuing to gaze at the enticing and opulent things
in the window, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
" Hullo ! Younghusband. How are you ? "
It was Lord Roberts, and he had not seen me for
seven years, and had not a notion I was in England !
But he went one better than that.
" How are the old Guides ? Going strong as
ever ? By the way, did you win the Regimental
Tournament ? I saw you got through the semi
finals." Lord Roberts not only recognised an officer in
the street after seven years, but recollected his
regiment, and even that it had recently been playing
in a Polo Tournament !
Another instance of Lord Roberts's wonderful
memory and kindness of heart occurred during the
Boer War. My brother-in-law, Gordon Wood, was
killed in action. How Lord Roberts remembered
that my wife's maiden name was Wood, and that
Gordon was her brother, was wonderful ; but that
he should, amidst the enormous work and responsi
bilities of a great campaign, have found time to
think of the bereaved, was even a greater tribute to
his marvellous kindness and sympathy. I happened
to be in England at the time mending up a wound,
and Lord Roberts sent me a personal wire conveying
the sad intelligence, and asking me to break it to his
old father before he could see it in the papers.
Lord Roberts's telegram arrived in time, just
beating the newspapers by an hour, and not only
softened the blow, but was a wonderful consolation
to Gordon Wood's father and sisters.

THE LAI F. LORD KITCHENER AS A MAJOR IN KGV1T

hlli.'ti i
1 N I SS4

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 231
Of Lord Kitchener there are many anecdotes,
but these may well be left to his biographer. For
many years he highly disapproved of me, probably
because I did not see eye to eye with him in India,
and he could not tolerate anyone disagreeing with
him. But the hatchet was completely buried one
day just before the Great War, at Welbeck. The
Duke of Portland was giving a big lunch at which
Lord Kitchener was present and so was I. Before
lunch, Lord Kitchener was seen pushing his way
through a crowd of distinguished guests, and every
one looked to see what he was aiming at. I was
at the moment looking the other way, talking to a
lady, when I heard someone say, " How do you do,
Younghusband ? "
I turned round, and there was Lord Kitchener
with his hand out.
What he said is not the least concern to any
one else ; but it buried the hatchet there and
then. My first meeting with Lord Kitchener was on
the field of battle in South Africa. De Wet had
captured the best part of a Militia regiment at
Roodeval, and Lord Methuen was trying to retrieve
the prisoners. The Infantry of the pursuit came
up against a long line of kopjes strongly held, and
Lord Methuen told me to take my regiment, the
3rd Imperial Yeomanry, and see what could be done.
Finding the Infantry still held up, we trotted round
the left flank, and after going through a pretty
heavy fire found ourselves in flank and rear of the
kopjes, and with the Boer ponies in full view.
We had just dismounted to fire on the Boers,
when several shrapnel fell amongst us, one shell
alone accounting for eleven casualties. Thinking
perhaps the shells might be from our own gunners,
I sent the Adjutant off to warn our Artillery of our
position. On his way back he was hailed by " a

232 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
big red-faced man, don't know who he is," who
asked him who he was.
"Tell your CO. to go and take those wagons
lying out there."
Being under Lord Methuen's orders I sent the
Adjutant back to ask who the big red-faced man was.
He returned to say it was Lord Kitchener, who was
looking on at the battle.
Our next meeting with Lord Kitchener was on
the occasion when he was very nearly taken prisoner
by the Boers. This also was near Roodeval on the
Rhenoster River. We were in laager near the rail
way line, and Lord Kitchener's special train was
halted for the night on the line not very far off.
In the night the Boers, seeing a seemingly unpro
tected train on the line, attacked it, little knowing
who was in it. The train was riddled with bullets,
but Lord Kitchener and his Staff happily escaped,
and came back along the hne on foot to the nearest
laager. Lord Kitchener's name and fame will in history
not be mainly connected with South Africa or
India or even the Great War, but with Egypt.
There he was undoubtedly a great man, a great
administrator, ruler, and soldier. He had been there
the greater part of his career, knew the people and
local conditions thoroughly, and had learnt from
his great predecessor, Lord Cromer, how to govern
and deal with them.
Lord Kitchener had a power of intuition pos
sessed by few men, but by many women. A woman
will express a decided opinion on some subject, or
concerning some person. She can give no reason for
her verdict and perhaps has no special knowledge,
but she intuitively feels she is right, and very often
is. In the same way Lord Kitchener would order a
thing to be done, which might appear quite im
possible ; he could not perhaps explain how it was

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 233
to be done, but intuitively he seemed to see the job
accomphshed, and it generally was. Whether his
mtuition was always rightly directed is another
matter. As illustrating this faculty Sir George Gorringe,
who had served much under Lord Kitchener in
Egypt, gave me one of his experiences.
Lord Kitchener sent for him one day, and open
ing out a map, said : " You are to make a railway
(or it may have been a canal) from here to here,"
pointing at the map.
Sir George took the map away, and, after study
ing the question carefully, came to the conclusion
that the project was not feasible. Knowing Lord
Kitchener he did not, however, raise difficulties, but
went back to him and asked his advice, as a brother
sapper, as to how the scheme was to be executed.
" I haven't the remotest notion," replied His
Lordship ; " that's your job. Get along and
do it."
And curiously enough, though Lord Kitchener
was a Royal Engineer himself of much experience,
and did not know himself how to execute the
order, yet it proved to be possible, and Sir George
Gorringe, after overcoming great difficulties, accom
phshed the task.
Lord Wolseley was another great soldier of the
Victorian era, under whom we had the honour of
serving in the Soudan. In those days there was
supposed to be great rivalry between Lord Wolseley
and Lord Roberts. Lord Wolseley had long been
dubbed by the Press as " our only General," but
when Lord Roberts emerged triumphant from the
Afghan War he came to be known as " our only
other General." The Wolseleyites, as they were
called, did not like this ; and we who had served
under Lord Roberts did not like the Wolseleyites.
There seemed to be too much writing and pro-

234 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
fessional pushing about it to appeal to the modest
soldier ; and some people were inclined quite wrongly
to dub Lord Wolseley as a " political General."
That was a new phrase in those days. As rather a
cynical gentleman put it : " Once you become a
General, never care a dam' about the War Office,
or Selection Boards. Keep in with the politicians
and you will be all right."
The last fifteen years have perhaps been not
altogether without examples of the mundane wisdom
of this advice. But it does not seem quite right
somehow. I only met Lord Wolseley once or twice during
the campaign, and generally there was a newspaper
correspondent on the near horizon. For Lord
Wolseley was quite frank about keeping before the
public. One day he overtook a convoy of which I
had charge.
" Who is in command here ? " with a smart snap.
" I am, sir."
" How many camels have you ? "
" Five hundred, sir."
" Why do you marshal them like that ? "
" Because it is the best way of getting through
the bush, sir."
And so on for five or ten minutes. All of which
appeared under one of those painful headings, which
the Press uses to tickle the pubhc.
Lord Wolseley was the man who first started
the shower of modern medals. He used to say that
lots of medals made a man feel brave, though he
may never have seen a shot fired ; and, moreover,
impressed others, made the Service popular, and
attracted recruits.
Consequently for the Egyptian War of 1882 two
medals were issued, and so wide and generous was
the distribution that even the stewards on the
ships, and soldiers who had never set foot in Egypt

fm

Hi/iott &¦ Fry

Photo REV. J. \V. ADAMS, V.C,
From a photograph taken when he had fust needed the I'ictona Cross, Kabul, 1S7Q

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 235
received both. Indeed, one Officer who though
originally ordered to Egypt, had never left Rawal
Pindi in India, got two medals, two Orders, and a
brevet ! Naturally he returned these, but that was
the spirit of the new era.
This profusion led incidentally to a somewhat
serious riot at Gibraltar, where there were stationed
together two regiments, one of which was covered
with Egyptian medals, earned on board ship in
Alexandria harbour, a hundred miles from any
fighting, whilst the other had none.
One night into the canteen of the be-medalled
regiment came a full private of the non-medalled
regiment. Tapping the counter smartly, he, in a loud and
commanding voice, ordered :
" Here, barman ! A pint of 'arf and 'arf. Egyptian
Medals an' Stars."
" Belts off and give 'im 'ell," shouted someone.
So off came the belts, which were used in those
days as a very hefty offensive weapon in a street
row, and the battle began. From small beginnings
it grew to greater, till at last the best part of the
two regiments were engaged in deadly strife over
that pint of 'arf and 'arf.
Lord Wolseley's great claim to distinction lies
in his initiation of the principle that hard study
and hard work are absolutely essential for a modern
Officer. And that it is quite possible to be good at
polo, or cricket, and also to pass through the Staff
College. Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien is a stage senior to me,
but we have often met, and served together. We
just overlapped on the Staff at Umballa under Sir W.
Penn Symons, and next trekked together under
Lord Methuen in South Africa. He always im
pressed one, not only as a scientific Staff College
trained soldier, but as a born leader of men. There

236 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
are many exceedingly clever and exceedingly well-
read soldiers, but they' are no leaders of men. They
lack an indefinable attribute which curiously enough
no man seems to be able to acquire. It is born with
some, through perhaps many generations of ances
tors ; others are born without it, and never acquire
it. Sir Horace is one of the few happy possessors of
this invaluable asset to a Commander. It was
noticeable when he commanded his Brigade in South
Africa, his Division in India, and still more markedly
in the great retreat from Mons, and the battle of
Le Cateau.
I forget whether Sir Horace was on Sir W. Penn
Symons's Staff when he was given a little cup by
the Staff. Every night of his life he used to
drink a toast. These were :
Monday — Our Men.
Tuesday — Our Women.
Wednesday — Our Swords.
Thursday — Ourselves.
Friday — Our Religions.
Saturday — Sweethearts and Wives (and he would
add gravely, " May they never meet ").
Sunday — Absent Friends.
On the little cup these toasts were inscribed.
Sir Penn told us that these were the toasts always
drunk nightly, after "The King," by the Duke of
Wellington, during the Peninsular War.
Here are one or two early recollections of Sir
Douglas Haig. Firstly, a nice-looking, clean little
boy, in an Eton jacket and collar, walking up the
aisle of the Chapel at Clifton College. Next, the
same boy, standing with his back to the chapel wall
as a cricket fag, whilst one of the XI was having
his practice at the XI net. From that day forth
we never met till Sir Douglas was a Major-General
and Inspector-General of Cavalry in India. And

GENERAL SIR HORACE SMITH-DORRIEN, COMMANDED A BRIGADE IN THE
BOER WAR, 1S99 — 02

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 237
there the roles were reversed, for whereas in old
days it was open to me to kick a fag if he didn't do
his job properly, it was now open to Sir Douglas to
kick me, being only the Colonel of a regiment ! As
he came forward to meet me, even after all those
years, at once to be recognised was the clean, nice-
looking boy, in the Eton jacket and collar.
I have often wondered since whether I ever really
did kick Sir Douglas when he was a fag at Clifton,
but certainly cannot remember having done so.
Working in the office of the Intelligence Branch
at Simla, I first met Sir Wilham Robertson. He
had recently been promoted from the ranks, and
was then a Second Lieutenant. An extraordinarily
hard-working and zealous Officer, he struck one
then, but never in the wildest imaginings of anyone,
certainly not in Sir William's own "modest dreams,
did we see before us the great brain that was to
direct a European War. One day in office he
remarked :
" I have no friends or interest, and not a bob in
the world ; .and what becomes of me after this job
is over God only knows."
For many years I neither heard of him, nor saw
him, but one day in the Mess picked up an official
magazine and therein read his opening, or closing,
address to the students at the Staff College. It was
one of the finest pieces of instructional oratory that
has ever been delivered.
That stamped the man. One who could educate
himself up to delivering a lecture like that, before
undoubtedly the most critical mihtary audience in
England, must be a great man.
But there is a considerable gulf between a great
lecturer and the man who can perform what he
lectures. And that gulf Sir William Robertson has
bridged. I have never met Sir William to speak to since

238 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
early Simla days, but happened to sit behind him
in the Distinguished Strangers' Gallery when Mr.
Lloyd George was making his great speech on
taking up the Premiership. Sir William's back looked,
as of old, a strong and strenuous back, and set on it
is a good, square, honest, British head, such as is
wanted to see us through the Great War.
Rather a shocking affair occurred at Umballa a
year or so before the Boer War. The General was
ordered off to command a Division in the Tirah
Campaign, and another General was sent to take
his place at Umballa. Both Generals were married.
At Umballa, as in most Indian stations which are
the headquarters of Divisions or Brigades, there is
one house which is ear-marked as the General's
house, and has been occupied by one after another
for generations. In front of the General's house is
a flagstaff on which flies the Union Jack, when the
General is in residence. At Umballa this was a
particularly imposing affair, not a single mast, but
one with a platform about twelve feet up and then
another mast on up from that ; the whole thing
having the appearance of the mainmast of a large
sailing ship.
When the General went to Tirah he left his wife
in the General's house. And when the new General
arrived with his wife they went to an hotel, and
waited for the lady in possession to turn out. After
a week or so it became perfectly evident that the
former General's wife had no intention whatever of
turning out, for she had not even commenced to
pack or remove her furniture. The flagstaff stood
before the door, but, of course, no Union Jack could
fly from it, and no sentry paced up and down outside.
So the new General told the C.R.E. to put up a
small pole before his door, and flew the Union Jack
from that. Then he came to me who happened to
be one of his Staff Officers and said :

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 239
" You must turn that woman out. That's my
house, and she has no right to keep me out of it."
Now I am fairly brave, as men go, but the bare
thought of tackling my late General's wife made me
feel exceedingly unwell.
" She must be out by the end of the week," added
the new General.
Having lunched carefully and well, and topped it
up with a large glass of No. 1 Port, I took the
remnants of my courage in one hand and a large
bunch of roses (the only ones in the place) in the
other, marched heroically over to the General's
house, and found Her Ladyship in. Smoothing the
way a little with the roses, we got insensibly on to
the subject of vases to put them in ; and so on from
one thing to another, till we arrived at the size of
rooms and of houses ; and then of this room, and
this house.
" You must feel quite lost in a huge drawing-
room like this," solicitously.
" Oh ! No. I love big rooms. I just roam about
in them. I like feehng spacious."
" Yes, quite so. Just a nice drawing-room, and
dining-room, and bedroom. But this huge house
and all these spare rooms ? "
" I know exactly what you are at," smiled the lady
sweetly. " You've come from those people to try
and turn me out. Not if I know it, dear boy, and
you may tell them so flat. Here I am, and here I
am going to remain."
It was an exceedingly sad-faced Staff-Officer who
went back with this ultimatum to his new General.
" Won't turn out, won't she, damn her ? Paid
the rent, and can't be ? Well, anyway, I'll have
that flagstaff. Have it dug up and planted opposite
my quarters."
This was indeed terrible ; but even the greatest
coward has to obey orders, I thought, however, I

240 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
would break the matter gently, and, happening to
dance with Her Ladyship that evening, I mentioned
artlessly that a great bare flagstaff in front of her
door was a terrible eyesore ; and, besides, with its
guy ropes and stays it took up a lot of room. Might
almost make another lawn-tennis lawn if it is
removed. " I'll just have it taken down for you, and put
my mali on to turf the place over and make quite a
nice lawn of it."
" If you dare touch that flagstaff I'll never speak
to you again," said the lady with much emphasis.
It was then that the craft they inculcate into you
at the Staff College, tact they call it, came in.
Next day I sent for the Garrison Engineer, and
said unto him :
" Look here, Appletart, my boy, you know that
flagstaff on the General's lawn. Well, it's got to be
removed, and it's your job as Garrison Engineer to
do so."
He also was a brave man, but he turned pale.
" Those are the General's orders, my son, and
you've jolly well got to obey them. But, look here,
don't make a fuss and worry in the daytime, with
ah your beastly coolies yelling and shouting. Just
go in the middle of the night and dig up the blessed
thing. And if you or your men make a sound to
disturb Her Ladyship, I'll kill the lot of you."
The Garrison Engineer went off like the young
man who once had great possessions.
My house was next door, but not a sound did I
hear all night, and was feehng rather afraid that the
Garrison Engineer's heart had failed him. But it
was all right in the morning, the flagstaff was gone.
Then I went on three days' leave, just to soften
the blow.
On my return the very first person I ran into was
Her Ladyship, simply beaming.

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 241
" I am awfully sorry  " I began.
"Sorry? Rot! Haven't you heard ? "
My heart sank within me, but not before it had
heartily cursed the Garrison Engineer. He had
evidently made a mess of it.
" No. What ? " in a faint, far voice.
" Why it's simply splendid ! Some horrible
person, the General himself probably, came in the
middle of the night and dug up the flagstaff, but it
was rotten with age and broke off short ! But they
have planted it, as it is, before the new General's
door, and it looks too funny for words. I drive
round that way every day of my life, and laugh till.
I cry. You are really not such a bad old thing after
all. Come to lunch."
Driving past the transplanted flagstaff it really
was a sad affair. It looked like the jurymast on a
wreck, with a signal of distress flying from it.
Sir Edmund Barrow was one of those who, in
very good company, fell under Lord Kitchener's
displeasure. There is little doubt that Lord
Kitchener at one time was a little spoilt by the
Press and Public, and could brook no views or
opinions, however sound, opposed to his own. He
used to openly remark that apparently he could do
no wrong, and that he meant to take advantage of
this excellent state of affairs as long as it lasted.
But he always added, I know they will round on
me some day like they did on Lord Roberts. Lord
Kitchener commenced his campaign in India by
objecting to the powers which the Military Depart
ment had gradually usurped, at the expense of the
Commander-in-Chief. There was a good deal in this
argument, and he gained his point.
Encouraged by this success he next attacked the
Military Member of Council, and succeeded in
getting him abolished, and his Department reduced,
and recast, and placed under the Commander-in-

242 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Chief — instead of being independent, and under the
Viceroy. Having got so far Lord Kitchener looked
for the next stronghold to attack, which happened
to be the Viceroy himself. It soon, then, became a
plain question for the Government at home to
decide, whether the Viceroy or Lord Kitchener was
to be supported. The Government supported Lord
Kitchener, and consequently the Viceroy, Lord
Curzon, resigned.
Sir Edmund Barrow was one of the high officials
in the crumbling Military Department, whose allegi
ance was directly due to the Viceroy. Lord
Kitchener offered to make him Chief-of-the-Staff,
Lord Curzon offered to make him head of the
reconstructed Military Department. Sir Edmund
Barrow never received either appointment. Lord
Kitchener appointed another Chief-of-the-Staff and
insisted himself on nominating the head of the
reconstructed Military Department, though that
official had always been designedly not under the
Commander-in-Chief's patronage, or in his gift.
However, Sir Edmund Barrow, being a soldier of
high attainments and much experience, weathered
the storm and afterwards, in due course, commanded
a Division and an Army with conspicuous ability,
and is now a member of the India Council.
Sir James Willcocks is one of those who has made
his way to the front in a remarkable manner. We
were at Sandhurst at the same time and have
done much soldiering together in many parts of
the world. Sir James was a very bright, good-looking
boy, and " caught on " at once. He always took
great care from the very beginning that any job
he was put to was well done. He put his whole
heart into it. Most of his earlier campaigns were
served in the Transport Department, and his great
pride in the turn out and condition of his mules was
a revelation, in days when pack transport was

LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 243
rather a hand-to-mouth affair. As a commander
of troops Sir James first came to notice in the
successful Ashantee Campaign, which was being
carried on at the same time as the Boer War.
Later he was made famous by Punch with a
cartoon entitled " Willcocks' Week-end Wars."
This was in compliment to the manner in which
two very quickly and well-managed expeditions
across the Indian Frontier, which Sir James
Willcocks commanded, were brought to a speedy
and successful conclusion.
I was negotiating once with General Bannatine-
Allason about the purchase of a horse for my wife,
and wrote to ask him whether it carried a lady. To
this he replied :
" I bought the horse from Major Smith (nom de
plume), and I saw his wife riding it frequently.
I know nothing about Mrs. Smith — except that
Major Smith dishkes her intensely."
General Bannatine-Allason, as a Major, taught me
my work as an amateur gunner when attached to
his Battery. He was the smartest of Battery-Com
manders, and a real good soldier, as he proved
in South Africa.
In concluding this chapter it may perhaps be
mentioned that it does not profess to be a treatise
on British Generals, but merely some casual remarks
about those whom the writer has been privileged to
meet, and many of whom have been his friends.

CHAPTER XVI
THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS
The Frontier Officer — Not Easily Taken Aback in Sudden Emer
gency — A Tragedy of Three — Major Dodd — In Daily Peril —
Capt. Butler of The Guides — The Khattuk Dance — Shot from
Behind-^-Murderer Hanged — Major Dodd and Capt. Brown
Homeward Bound — Shot by his Orderly — Pursuit of Murderer
— Lieut. Hickie's Gallantry — Eight Killed or Wounded — A
Snapshot Ends the Fight — The Deputy-Commissioner holds a
Jirgah — Raiders Reported — Ransoms — Their Use and Abuse —
In Hot Pursuit— Skilled Trackers — Cavalry Cover 80 Miles —
Gang Run to Earth — A Night Watch — The Gang Accounted
For — Another Raid — Cavalry and Infantry Start — Terrorised
Villagers — In the Village Mosque — Surrounding the Raiders —
Fierce Fight in the Night — Raiders Break Out — Christmas Eve —
A Midnight Call — The Major's Lady — The Squadron Starts
— Surrounding the Village — A Brief Encounter — A Casualty —
Nearing Home — The Lady and the Dog — A Simple Grave in the
East
IN the course of a long life on the Frontiers of
India one learns much and sees much. There
on the confines of our Empire is to be found
at his best the Englishman who has built it and
guards it. He has not the least self-consciousness,
he poses neither as a hero, a martyr, nor a swash
buckler. He is just the simple gentleman, brave,
honest, and cheerful, taking things as they come,
such as we like to picture the British Officer.
Year in and year out they live in a constant
state of war, or preparation for war. Their vigilance
must never relax, and in time grows into a habit of
life. " They are not easily taken aback in sudden
emergency," as Sir Harry Lumsden expressed it.
On one part of the Frontier on which the writer
244

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 245
was recently stationed there were 165 raids made
into British territory in the course of the year by
the trans-border tribesmen ; and each and all of
these had to be met and dealt with. They were
mostly small cattle-lifting raids, or to loot travellers
or open villages, but they were made by armed
marauders of desperate character and great hardi
hood, and required hard fighting and tremendous
marching to deal with them.
Yet rarely do we hear of these outside the little
circle on the Frontier, and medals and rewards
rarely reach these hardy warriors. It is possible to
serve for thirty years on the Frontier, it is possible
to be in a dozen fights in as many months, and
yet to leave the service without a single medal.
But, apart from open fighting, the British Officer
on the Frontier runs a perennial risk in other ways,
as may be gathered from an incident which occurred
on the Mahsud-Waziri border, just before the Great
War broke out.
My first encounter with Major Dodd was the
result of a message from which it appeared that he
and Captain Butler were closely besieged in Sarwekai
Fort in Waziristan, and that a speedy relief was
essential. The rehef took place with due celerity after
a sixty-mile march, and I was sitting by the road
side whilst the leading regiment completed the
work in hand, when a great burly figure came riding
by on a small pony.
" Hullo, Dodd ! " shouted someone.
" Hullo there 1 " replied Dodd, and came over
to us.
This was none other than the redoubtable Major
G. Dodd of the 27th Punjabis, who for several years
now had kept the fierce Mahsud-Waziri tribe in the
cup of his hand.
He was not the least perturbed, or excited, or
elated ; he was just as calm and serene as if he

246 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
were walking in to breakfast at home. Yet he had
had a narrow escape — a great tribe, which counts
14,000 well-armed warriors, up and out against,
him. Besieged in an inadequate enclosure com
manded at close range from neighbouring heights :
the nearest relief sixty miles or more away. But he
took it all quite serenely and in the day's work ;
and was only full of half-bashful apologies at
having, as he put it, " dug the brigade out in such
infernal hot weather."
Day and night Dodd lived with his life in his
hands ; threatened by open enemies, or lurking
assassins. It was not long after that he had
another narrow escape.
It had been so arranged that he should reach his
headquarters at Wano by a certain date, in order
to be present at an evening entertainment which
was to be given in honour of a departing Native
Officer. Owing to some unforeseen duty calling him
elsewhere, he was unable to arrive on the promised
date, and his place at the festivities was taken by
Captain H. Butler, of The Guides.
Amongst other entertainments was a Khattuk
dance, a wild affair round a camp fire, accompanied
by much brandishing of keen-edged swords. Captain
Butler was seated in the place of honour watching
this performance, with Major Bond, R.E., on one
side, and the Subadar-Major on the other. The
dancers and spectators work themselves up to a
great state of excitement over these dances ; and
when this excitement was at its highest, a recruit,
who had enlisted in the Militia with the express
intention of killing a British Officer, decided that his
opportunity had arrived.
He had counted on Major Dodd being present, and
had intended to kill him ; but not being able to find
him he took Captain Butler as the aext most
prominent person, and walking up behind fired

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 247
through the back of his chair and instantly killed
him. The murderer then took refuge behind some
water cisterns, but after firing a few more rounds
was taken unhurt, and in due course hanged.
In this connection Major Dodd, a few weeks
before in conversation, disclosed a very curious
feature in the character of some of the wilder spirits
who enlist on the Frontier. A predecessor of his,
Colonel Harman, had a few years before been shot
dead whilst at dinner in the Mess, by a fanatical
sepoy. The sepoy was overpowered and duly
hanged. To the memory of Colonel Harman, the
Officers and men of the regiment erected a monu
ment in the middle of the fort. It was a plain
pillar of grey stone, about the height and shape of
Cleopatra's Needle on the Thames Embankment.
On the base was engraved the usual memorial
tablet to the deceased Officer. To ordinary eyes it
was, what it was intended to be, a simple monument
to a brave and honoured Commanding Officer. Not
so to the ignorant recruit from the wild tribes across
the border.
As Major Dodd explained, the first thing the
recruit asks on seeing this prominent pillar is :
" What is that ? "
" That is a monument to the Colonel Sahib who
was shot dead by a sepoy," is the reply.
"Wah! Wah!"hesays. But what he thinks is :
" What a great hero that sepoy was to have so
magnificent a monument erected to commemorate his
having killed the Colonel Sahib."
" So," added Major Dodd, " I have given strict
orders that no monument of that sort is to be
erected here to me, should I share the same fate.
For it only stands as a perpetual sign and reminder
that if one Sahib can be kiUed so can another, and in
that case he too who fired the shot will have a
perpetual monument, which all recruits will see.

248 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
And what they see they talk about at their homes,
and fed by the pernicious preaching of their mullah,
go out and do likewise."
In that Fort at Wano in Waziristan live at most
seven British Officers, and sometimes when the
others are on tour only two or three, in the midst of
a regiment 1500 strong, in the ranks of which may
be many past and potential murderers. The nearest
British soldier is at Mooltan, 200 miles distant as
the crow flies.
Nothing disturbed, Dodd went on his way as usual,
till a couple of months after came a welcome chance
of a short run home, a much-needed rest, after
years of hard and trying work.
Together with a friend and comrade, Captain
Brown of the 58th Rifles, Dodd journeyed down the
Gomal Pass, and was staying a few days at Tank,
where lies a small border garrison, to settle up
affairs before he went home. It was Easter Sunday,
and next day he was starting off to catch the mail
steamer. He had spent most of the day in arranging
various matters, both great and small, connected
with his work, and amongst others a case in which
his own orderly, a Mahsud-Waziri, was concerned.
This man had originally been in one of the Mihtia
regiments on this border, and on his discharge Dodd,
having belief in his integrity, took him on as a
private orderly, and treated him with the greatest
confidence and kindness. His main duty was at all
times to keep a watchful guard over the safety of
his master, and especially to guard him against the
fanatical attacks of his own tribesmen. That he
should be completely and effectively armed for this
purpose he was not only provided with a revolver,
out Dodd gave him his own sporting rifle, which
threw a bullet that would knock down an elephant,
and which no charging fanatic could ever get past.
The brother, or other near relation, of this orderly,

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 249
had undertaken a small piece of contract work on
the new railway which was being built in the
vicinity ; and for this work a small sum, about £20,
was due to him. The same gentleman had, however,
been implicated in a cattle-lifting raid just shortly
before, and Dodd told the orderly that before the
cheque could be made over the matter of the stolen
cattle must be enquired into. This is a recognised
form of patriarchal procedure on the Frontier, where
crimes and misdemeanours are totalled up against
rupees, and a rough balance struck one way or the
other. Having thus settled the case, as he had hundreds
before, Major Dodd went out into the garden, and
with Captain Brown sat down in basket chairs on
the lawn for half an hour or so, awaiting the first
Mess bugle, before going to bathe and change for
dinner. About twenty yards from where the two
Officers were sitting was a low mud wall which
divided their compound from the next ; and beyond
the wall, running close alongside it, was a privet
hedge about 4! feet high with a gap in one place
made by servants clambering over the wall and
through the hedge.
Captain Brown was sitting with his back to the
hedge, and Major Dodd was nearly facing him ;
both of them close together. Suddenly a shot rang
out, and Captain Brown was shot through the back,
the bullet passing through the back of his chair, and
immediately sank down. Major Dodd at once
started up to confront the danger, but was instan
taneously shot down with a bullet high up in the
thigh. At this moment two or three officers were in a
neighbouring bungalow about fifty yards off, stand
ing in a separate compound. They also were just
about to dress for dinner when they heard the
shots. They were wondering what they meant,

250 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
when Major Dodd's servants came running in to say
that their master, and another Sahib, had been
shot by a gang of Mahsuds.
Amongst those who heard this was G. W. C.
Hickie, a subaltern in the Royal Artillery, stationed
at Tank. This gallant young Officer at once seized
a revolver, and dashed off in hot pursuit. It also
so happened that just at this time the night guard
of Frontier Constabulary was mounting outside the
very house occupied by Major Dodd. The men of
the guard also at once joined in the pursuit, the
general impression being that a gang of from seven
to nine Mahsuds had to be dealt with.
At the same time two British Officers of the
Frontier Constabulary, a Native Officer, and some
men turned out from the compound of the Sessions
House, which lay close by. Outside the line of
compound walls and hedges was an open space,
extending for some hundreds of yards towards the
native city of Tank. This open space was dotted
about with clumps of palm trees, and there were
on it also a few buildings recently erected in connec
tion with the railway.
Directly the pursuit, headed by the gallant Hickie,
appeared in the open, a brisk and accurate fire was
opened on it. So brisk that the idea was confirmed
that a strong gang had to be faced. But the powder
being smokeless, in the dusk of the evening it was
difficult to locate the exact position of the party.
First one man was hit in the hand and then another
killed, then two more were shot dead, but, nothing
daunted, Hickie charged across the open determined
to round up the gang, but when about fifty yards
from his goal, which was a clump of palm trees, he
was shot down never to rise again.
With deadly precision shots poured from the
clump insomuch that there were now eight casual
ties, six of them fatal. Happily at this moment a

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 251
Jemadar of the Constabulary in the waning light
just caught sight of a head. He took an instan
taneous snapshot ; the head disappeared, and the
firing from the clump ceased. The whole in
cident had only lasted a few minutes, and the
gang of Mahsuds turned out to be Major Dodd's
orderly alone, armed with his master's sporting
rifle. Before he was killed himself he had taken the
lives of three British Officers and three men, and
wounded two others. Captain Brown lasted, till
next day, and Major Dodd for a couple of days,
before they joined the gallant throng of soldiers who
have died for their King and country. One likes to
think of them, that brave and gallant company,
looking over the battlements of Heaven, with kindly
eyes watching us as we struggle along in the path
they have so nobly trod before us.
But one wonders what Major Dodd said to his
orderly. This story has been told not because of its tragic
end, but because Major Dodd was such a fine typical
Englishman, whose example every boy, or man,
might well try to follow. He had a great com
manding figure, though it is character, not neces
sarily height, that gives command ; but he had
both, and with it a remarkably calm and imper
turbable manner. He never was to be seen in the
least perturbed by the most astounding, or most
unwelcome, news. He took it without a sign, and
issued his orders at once and briefly, and in a
manner which showed that he was a man of action
who knew his own mind, and whose word was
instant law.
In addition to commanding 1500 border soldiers, he
held control, on behalf of His Majesty the King, over
one of the most turbulent and warlike tribes on our
Frontiers. A tribe in which every male is a born

252 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
fighter and freelance, and which, as I have said, owns
14,000 trained warriors.
This is one of those tribes which by treaty lies
within the British area of control ; self-governed,
but under a broad and enhghtened British control.
The language and character of these wild high-
landers Major Dodd knew as none other, and by the
sheer force of his individuality he was the uncrowned
king of those territories. Knowledge, straight and
direct dealing, absolute fearlessness, and a charming
personality. These combined to make Dodd the
great man he was. We may place him alongside
Nicholson, Edwardes, and Cavagnari as one of the
great men of the Frontier.
I hope also you will not forget the gallant Hickie,
who without a single thought dashed out to the
rescue and died pistol in hand like a brave English
gentleman. His ship, too, was awaiting him in
Bombay ; but twelve hours later, instead of saying
cheery good-byes to his friends, we were follow
ing his gun carriage and mourning charger, with
muffled drums and soft sad music, to a soldier's
grave.

The Deputy-Commissioner was holding a jirgah.
It was the month of May and very hot, and the
members of the jirgah smelt very high, and the
matter under discussion was trivial and wearisome.
From under the shade of the shamiana the Deputy-
Commissioner cast a tired and bleared gaze at the
fierce-blazing rocks, the sand, and stones which
were his horizon. He lighted another cigarette.
Gently under his breath he cursed the jirgah and
longed for England. England the green, and cool,
and fresh, and beautiful ! As he threw away the
burnt match he looked up, and straight in front,
on a far ridge, he caught the flash of a helio.

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 253
" Hai ! Hullo ! Mullah Baksh ! Give a shout
for the signallers, there is someone calling us up."
But the signallers had seen the call too ; and
presently, winking and blinking, came through the
following message :
" Strong body of raiders held up near Musa Kheyl
village. Please requisition troops to capture them."
It did not take Mr. Bill, the Deputy-Commissioner
and a man of action, ten minutes to get his horse,
and meanwhile he sent a message to the General
Commanding the troops at the nearest Cantonment,
asking for help.
What had occurred was this. A strong band of
raiders had penetrated some fifty miles within our
borders, held up a village in the good old border
fashion, and, besides taking any loose cash and
gold ornaments that they could find, had kidnapped
four Hindu boys. These were sons of rich shop
keepers, whom they hoped to get across the border,
and there hold up to ransom by their fond parents.
Formerly Government, taking a fatherly attitude,
used to pay the whole or part of the ransom de
manded. But taking example from the gentlemen
who used to breed snakes with a view to getting the
Government reward for killing them, a regular trade
in ransoms began to grow up.
Thus one ruffian, who lived in British territory,
would arrange with another ruffian, who lived
across the border, to come across and kidnap him.
Having accomphshed the fell deed, with much
hullaballoo and blunderbuss discharge, he with
blood-curdling threats, carried off his friend to the
mountains and there held him up to ransom. When,
after much negotiation, further threats, and further
bargaining, the ransom had been paid, the two
ruffians divided the spoil and each went his way
rejoicing. So the payment of ransoms by Govern
ment was stopped,

254 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
But to get back to our story. The Deputy-Com
missioner got to horse and, accompanied by the
Constabulary Officer, galloped fifteen miles across
country to the metalled road, where his car had
been left. The car took them both another fifteen
miles, till they again came to unmetalled tracks, and
had to take to horses again. Another ten miles and
they came to the village where the raiders had been
reported as held up. Here they met a mounted
police constable who told them that they had been
misinformed, and that the raiders had passed
onwards and were making for the hills, hotly
pursued by armed bands of villagers.
The track of the raiders had been cleverly picked
up by skilled trackers in the Police ; and these made
out the footmarks of seven men and two children.
These had been followed with great skill up stream
beds, over rocky plains, and through stubble and
scrub. The Cavalry from the Cantonment had also
joined in. The trail was now some six or eight hours'
old, which meant a long start. The pursuit was
continued until nightfall, and on starting again at
crack of dawn the Hindu children were found
abandoned in a nullah, none the worse for their
adventure. The trackers again took up the trail, which now
ran into exceedingly rocky and difficult ground.
The village gun-men took up the scent, and the
Cavalry scoured the country far ahead, blocking
all likely paths to the mountains. And thus the
hunt went on all day, till at last towards evening
certain news came in that the gang had been located
in a dry watercourse with high banks.
The Cavahy had covered from seventy-five to
eighty miles, and were now up against a small but
desperate gang at bay. All outlaws, each with a
price on his head, and led by one of the most
desperate characters on the Frontier. Having

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 255
exactly located the gang, a close cordon was
gradually and carefully drawn round their lair so
that there should be no chance of escape during the
night. So close was the cordon that some of the
soldiers were only thirty yards off the raiders.
The position taken up by the gang was in a deep
narrow ditch at the foot of one of the steep sides of
a nullah, here only about thirty yards wide. In this
ditch the desperadoes were quite invisible from
anywhere, and the greatest care had to be taken by
the surrounding party to escape being shot on sight
if they moved.
Things being thus at a deadlock, the Deputy-
Commissioner shouted down to the gang, calling on
them to surrender. At first they seemed inclined
to do so, but probably, on second thoughts, knowing
that a halter was their eventual fate, they decided to
fight on.
It was now quite dark and chances of escape
increased ; but the cordon was puUed still closer
together, and the soldiers were now almost shoulder
to shoulder, and had orders to remain so, awake and
alert, all night. Still with the fear that this desperate
gang might charge out, the Deputy-Commissioner
thought of a new device. He ordered brushwood to
be collected which, when lighted, was thrown over
the edge of the bank on to the gang in the ditch at
foot. Partly hoping to smoke them out and partly
to give light to the soldiers, who were only thirty
yards away on the opposite bank, to get a chance
shot. The raiders were heard moving about in the
ditch to avoid the falling firebrands, and a few shots
were fired into them from opposite, but still they
refused to surrender. Just at this time a firebrand,
instead of rolling down into the ditch, stuck half
way, and then suddenly flared up. Unhappily at
this very moment the British Officer in command
of the Cavalry, who with his men was lining the

256 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
opposite bank, looked over his entrenchment. The
glare lit up his face and with one swift shot passed
away another gallant Officer in the service of his
King. A sharp fusillade was now opened on the
raiders' ditch, and finding it too hot the remnant
made a dash for hberty. One man even had the
calm deliberation to stop and pick up a dead man's
rifle. Even at death's door a trans-border raider
could not resist the temptation to steal a rifle.
After a brisk encounter the whole gang were shot
down except one man, who broke his way out, badly
wounded, and was captured next day.
At first a feehng of pity, or admiration, may be
felt for a gang of freelances who put up such a stout
fight against superior numbers. But as a matter of
fact this class of freebooter is entitled to little pity,
and no admiration. He is usually a criminal of the
deepest dye, steeped to the lips in murder, and
crimes the most atrocious. He will kill at sight out
of sheer wantonness, and theft and rapine are his
daily pleasure. He is, however, undoubtedly bold
and resourceful, of iron frame, impervious to fatigue,
hardy and abstemious. No less a man could make
the immense treks that he makes, invariably on foot ;
whilst on the return journey he is also often heavily
laden with loot.
His methods are generally to travel by night, and
to lie up by day, till he gets near his objective. This
may be thirty or forty miles inside the British
frontier. Having got close up the night before, and
rested all day, he makes his final dash on the
selected village at about nine o'clock on the second
night. His objective in the village is generally a
rich shopkeeper or banker. Arrived there, part of
his gang holds the streets with swords drawn and
rifles at full cock, ready to cut down or shoot anyone
who moves. Meanwhile the rest pounce on the
destined victims and rob them, This accomplished,

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 257
the whole gang quickly clears off at a great pace ;
moving half at a run and half at a quick walk. They
will thus, using httle frequented by-paths and cross
country cuts, cover fifteen to twenty miles, and
sometimes more, before dawn. Arrived at home
the spoil is divided, and the gang disperses till the
next time they begin to feel poor, when the operation
is repeated.

Lunch was just on the table when a telegram was
handed to the General Commanding at an Indian
Frontier Station. It was from the Deputy-Com
missioner, and stated that a raiding party of thirty-
two outlaws was located in a village distant about
thirty miles. He asked that a squadron of Cavalry
might be sent to help the Border Military Police,
and others, to capture them.
The General sent for the Officer Commanding the
Cavalry, and was giving him his instructions when
in walked the Deputy-Commissioner himself. He
explained that he had now learnt that the gang was
one of the most desperate on the Frontier ; and he
added that a strong force would be required, and
tough fighting might be expected before they were
captured. He had therefore taken the precaution
to commandeer all the local horse-drawn convey
ances, which here take the form of two-wheeled
dog-carts, so that some Infantry might keep up
with the Cavalry. These he placed at the disposal
of the General for carrying as many Infantry men
as they would hold. Off, then, went two squadrons
of Cavalry followed by a string of forty-eight tum-
tums and two tongas full of Infantry soldiers.
This was one of those rare cases in which the
villagers, or rather one stout fellow who was a
village elder, dared to give the authorities timely
information. Generally, so terrorised had they

258 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
become by these bloodthirsty and relentless raiders
from across the border, that they dared not give
information for fear of future reprisals. Nay, this
headman had gone further, he had actually en
trapped the gang. They had been apparently bent
on raiding a still more distant village, and
demanded from our friend food and concealment
for the day before proceeding further. The head
man, complying with their request, put them into
a mosque, gave them food and drink and tobacco,
and bade them lie quiet till the evening. He then
immediately sent news to the police and civil
authorities, and these passed it on to the military.
The first to arrive on the scene were some Border
Military Police and Civil Police, who happened to
be handy, and these kept a sharp look-out on the
mosque throughout the day. Owing to delay in
passing on the news, the Cavalry did not start till
3.5 p.m., and therefore could not be up till late.
It was indeed getting quite dusk when the first of
the troops began to arrive.
On arrival, accompanied by the Assistant-Com
missioner, the Cavalry Commander climbed on to
the roof of a house and took a bird's-eye view of the
situation. From here it was seen that the raiders
were still in the village mosque, surrounded by the
Military Police, and heavy firing was going on. The
mosque was a building about twenty feet square,
with one door opening on to the compound. In the
compound were two or three trees, and round it
a mud wall about three feet high. Outside the wall
on one side was open ground, on another uneven
ground with more trees, and on the two other sides
the village buildings commenced. The Commander,
seeing that this was a hard nut to crack, immediately
sent off for guns, and meanwhile disposed his men
so as to hold the raiders in.
The Assistant-Commissioner asked for the Border

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 259
Military Police to be relieved, as they had had a
very strenuous day and required rest. A dis
mounted troop of Cavalry was consequently sent
to line the south wall of the compound, whilst four
men were placed on the roof of an adjacent building
to command the roof of the mosque, lest the raiders
should break out that way. Another party of dis
mounted Cavalry was sent to cover with fire the
open ground in front of the mosque. And one troop
was kept in rear, ready to mount and charge, or
pursue the enemy, if they broke through the inner
cordon. Scarcely had these arrangements been
made when sounds of digging were heard in the
mosque. Either the raiders were making loopholes
or a hole or tunnel by which to escape. The inner
cordon was therefore strengthened with a few police
bayonets. At about 7.30 p.m. the first of the Infantry began
to arrive, twenty men under Captain Stirling of the
57th Rifles. To him the Cavalry Commander, Major
Swanston, 14th Lancers, explained the situation
and the plans already made, and directed him with
his men to strengthen the inner cordon round the
compound wall and with fixed bayonets to hold on
stoutly. It was now practically dark, but in taking
up their position one of the 57th Rifles was shot.
Some twenty minutes later arrived Major Swifte of
the 57th Rifles, followed by forty more rifles of his
regiment. An attempt was now made by the
soldiers to get on to the roof of the mosque, but they
had to retreat hurriedly as it was found that the
roof was not bullet proof, and the raiders could
shoot them at leisure through it. On the other
hand, it was now sufficiently apparent that the side
walls of the mosque were so thick as to be bullet
proof. So the raiders were safe except from bullets
which might pierce the door.
More Infantry having now arrived, Major Swans-

260 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
ton rode with an escort to inspect the Cavalry
dispositions. He first hit off the right picquet N.E.
of the mosque and worked his way round to the S.E.,
and found the picquet line well placed and about
350 yards from the mosque. There had been no
time to reconnoitre the ground by daylight, so
the physical features had to be guessed. Having
completed his inspection, Major Swanston returned
to his central position in the village. He had just
dismounted and was giving his horse a feed, when
he heard the firing, which up to this time had been
spasmodic, sometimes more intense than at others,
suddenly become furious. Whistles began to blow,
and orders to cease fire were shouted.
Major Swanston ran to the S.W. corner of the
Musjid, only to hear a shout from his right that the
raiders had escaped. A bugle sounded the rally on
another side. The report was only too true; the
raiders had charged out and made a dash for liberty,
killing Captain Stirling as well as several men and
wounding others as they pushed through.
But, as it was not known how many of the raiders
had charged out and how many remained, the mosque
was still closely invested, whilst the Cavalry went off
in pitch darkness in pursuit. In about an hour they
returned, having with great difficulty accounted for
four raiders, for the pursuit was mostly through
high green standing wheat, where concealment was
easy. For the rest of the night one troop was kept
always mounted and a constant patrol was main
tained round the village, furnished by another
troop. Shortly after 10.30 p.m. voices were heard in the
mosque, and the Assistant-Commissioner opened a
parley. The inmates said they were wounded and
wanted water. The reply given was that before any
assistance could be given they must throw out their
rifles ; for these people, wounded or unwounded,

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 261
are the most treacherous dogs on earth ; bar
perhaps the Germans. They refused the offer and
negotiations ceased.
About midnight a telegram arrived to say that
two guns and another company of Infantry were on
their way. Necessity is the mother of invention,
and it is wonderful how quick the Mountain Gunners
get their guns along ; sometimes on mules, some
times towed behind a tonga at full gallop, and
sometimes loaded up in a vehicle of any sort.
Later in the night one of the inmates of the
mosque crawled out with his rifle, and towards
morning another got as far as the doorway with his
rifle, which was then taken from him.
By 6 a.m. it was sufficiently light for the cavalry
to search the country for escaped raiders and rifles,
whilst the Infantry were employed on the same
duty in the closer vicinity. It was still not known
how many remained in the mosque, but as all was
silent it was decided to dig a hole in the roof so as
to get a view inside. On arriving on the roof it was
found that the raiders had already dug a hole,
though whether any of them escaped this way was
not quite clear. Digging another hole nearer the
centre a lantern was let down by a rope and it was
then discovered that there remained only two dead
raiders. This was a very tight and desperate little fight,
typical of many that take place on the Frontier. Out
of thirty-two men the raiders lost eight killed and
four wounded, amongst the killed being two
celebrated leaders of outlaw gangs. The loss on our
side was one British Officer and six men killed, and
seven wounded.

It was Christmas Eve in a Frontier Station, and
at a Frontier Mess. There were few officers present,

262 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
for the regimental polo team was away playing in a
Tournament ; whilst others had gone out for
Christmas shoots in various parts. But amongst
those left behind were the Major, old Long Tom as
we called him, and the Boy, so called for obvious
reasons. After dinner some played bridge and some
snooker, but all went to bed soon after eleven
o'clock. Barely an hour later, as the Boy was sleeping very
soundly, he had a sort of distant notion that it was
time to get up, and that his bearer was worrying him
with morning tea.
" Sahib ! Sahib ! " murmured the bearer. " A
note, a very urgent note, from the Major Sahib."
The Boy stirred a little and muttered, " Oh ! go
to  " and the rest died in mumbles.
" It is very, very urgent, Sahib, it is most neces
sary to awake."
"Heh! What! What the blazes? Hulloa !
Luckoo, what's up ? "
" Your Honour, an urgent letter from the Major
Sahib, and his orderly awaits without."
The Boy, half-awake, fumbled the note open and
read :
Dear Boy,
I hear they are raiding a village thirty miles
from here, and I am off with a squadron to try and
catch them. You are to come too. We start in
three-quarters of an hour. Come over and have a
snack first. Yrs. v.s., T. B. T.
The Boy hastily dressed, whilst his bearer went
to order his charger ; and then walked across the
hundred yards or so to the Major's bungalow.
Now the Major's lady was always beautiful, but the

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 263
Boy thought she had never looked so handsome or
lovely as she did in the hasty toilet of that midnight
meal. Hot coffee, and toast, and fried eggs, and
cold ham ! And to take in their holsters the Major's
wife made two little packets, one little packet for
the Major, and one for the Boy.
Outside, the faint jingle of bits and clank of
stirrups could be heard, and the Major said :
" Now, Boy, we must be off."
" Very good, sir, I'll see that the horses are
ready," for the Boy knew the Major and his lady
loved each other very much, and would rather say
" good-bye " alone.
To be sure, when he came back the beautiful
lady's eyes were just brimming, but not quite over,
and she said bravely enough, " Good-bye, Boy, and
bring my Tom back safe and sound."
And he felt cool soft lips on his forehead, and a tear
on his cheek.
" Yes, rather," blundered the Boy ; " and good
bye and good luck ; we'll be back to tea all right,
or anyway for Christmas dinner at the Mess. Oh !
hang it, here's Rip turned up ! Will you keep him
till I come back ? Thanks awfully. Good-bye."
So Rip the terrier and the lady stood at the
window, whilst the soldiers rode away into the
bitter dark night and driving rain.
" And now we must go to bed again, dear Rip,"
said the lady. " You on a nice warm rug by the
fire, and I in my nice warm bed." She was a brave
lady. Meanwhile into the biting wind, through the inky
darkness, along a scarce visible track, at the head of
their squadron, that Christmas morn trotted the
Major and the Boy. At first they talked about polo,
and then about last Christmas, and from that
naturally to Christmas at home ; and then about
horses— a lot about horses. But, strangely enough,

264 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
little about the work on hand ; and yet not strangely,
for that was all simply cut and dried, and wanted no
talking about. They were trotting out hard so as
to arrive before dawn and interpose an ambush
between the raiders and the defenceless village
which they hoped to sack or hold to ransom. The
last six miles they trotted in silence, and every voice
and sound was hushed, and pipe and cigarette stowed
away. When quite close to the village they slowed down,
and assisted by one of the troopers whose home it
was, they circled silently round it, and took post on
the threatened side.
There were two ravines and three footpaths that
approached the village from this direction, and up
one or other of these the raiders would come. At
each point as they came to it the Major left a squad of
men, with orders to hide their horses and to take
post on foot with their rifles. Three of these
picquets had been placed in position, and it was still
inky dark and drizzling slightly as the Major and
the Boy groped their way along towards the fourth.
Then there came suddenly a short, sharp call in
Pushtu, as of one surprised :
" Who goes there ? "
For one second everything stood still ; then came
a blinding flash, followed by a loud report. Then
in quick succession three more.
Silence for another second, and then the answering
shots, five, six, seven, a dozen.
Then again dead silence, and then a moan, and a
voice whispered :
" They have hit the Sahib ! "
" Not me," said the Boy cheerfully. " I am all
right, and got one of the devils with my revolver as
he ran."
" Then it must be the Major Sahib," said the
voice.

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 265
The Boy groped his way along a few yards to
where the words were spoken ; and there saw,
kneeling beside a long drab figure on the ground, the
grey-bearded old Native Officer.
Not the Major really ? Not dear old Long Tom,
whom everyone loved ?
But so it was.
The Boy took off his cloak and rolled it into a
pillow. " Not badly hit, Major, are you ? Have
a little whisky ? "
But there was no answer, and no movement.
Then there came a faint whisper, and the Boy
bent low to catch it. " My dear — love to her —
poor Christmas  " and then a soft sobbing sigh,
and the Major had gone on to the land of eternal
peace.

" They must be nearing home by now," said the
Major's lady to the orderly.
" Get my horse, and come with me, and we will
take Rip and meet them. They said they would be
back by teatime."
Now the Boy had sent a messenger to break the
dreadful news to the poor lady ; but taking a short
cut, he had just missed the lady, and the orderly,
and the dog.
So these three rode gaily out, laughing and
chatting. And Rip chased some sheep, and was
severely reprimanded ; and the orderly's horse
shied at a buffalo and the buffalo shied at the horse ;
and both made the lady laugh, as indeed would any
thing, for it was a bright and lovely Christmas Day,
and she was riding out to meet dear old Tom.
A little further on the orderly said, "I see the
dust of the squadron over there, about three miles
distant, where the road passes round that spur."
" You have sharp eyes, Zarif, I cannot see any-

266 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
thing ; but let us canter on, so as to meet them
sooner." So they cantered on for some miles, and then, at
the end of the long straight avenue that lined the
road, they saw the squadron.
First came two troopers, the point of the Advance
Guard ; then a few hundred yards back five or six
men under a Duffadar, as a support. And both
these parties looked with sorrow on the lady, and
one old soldier muttered low :
" Alas ! how sad the day."
But the lady nodded gaily to them, and passed on.
The slight dust made by these small parties of
horsemen cleared away, and there was plainly
visible the main body of the squadron advancing
about three hundred yards off.
" Hullo ! Zarif, I only see one Sahib riding at the
head of the squadron. I do hope nothing has hap
pened to the Chota Sahib."
" The Chota Sahib is doubtless in the rear, seeing
that there is no straggling."
" But, I say, Zarif, that is the Chota Sahib in front.
I know his horse. The Major Sahib must be in the
rear." " Assuredly so, Your Excellency."
At this moment the Boy saw the gladly advancing
pair, and Rip, and knew his messenger must have
missed them.
" Here, Jowalla Sing, take the squadron home.
I will lead the Mem-Sahib apart, and break the
dreadful news to her."
" Hullo ! Boy, welcome back ! Gracious ! you
do look tired ! And where is my Tom ? "
" Let us get out of the dust a bit," said the Boy.
" Boy ! Boy ! Where is Tom ? You don't dare
say you have allowed anything to happen to him ! "
" Come out beyond the trees, dear lady, and let's
talk a little."

It

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 267
Dear God ! Not dead, Boy ? Only wounded
—badly — say so quick, Boy ! "
Just then came in sight, along the road, a little
cavalcade of six, and in the midst of it was a
curtained litter, borne by four men.
" The last words he whispered to me, dear lady,
were, ' My dear love to her.' "
And so another simple grave marks the Borders
of our Empire in the East.

CHAPTER XVII
INDIA AND THE INDIANS
The Indian Problem — Paternal Government — Laws and Lawyers —
The Disturbing Element — Poisonous Polluters of the Political
Atmosphere — The Frontier Crimes Act— What India Requires
— Ibrahim Khan — His Devotion and Death — The Indian Soldier
— Devotion to his Officers — An Old Retainer — Awaiting the
Baby Sahib — The Best Indians — The Worst — Kadir Dad — His
Devotion to his Master — John of Baghdad — Lord Mayo — " A
King Indeed " — His Liberality — Sir Pertab Singh — The
Englishman in India — His Qualities — The One Man Present —
Swaraj — An Exhibition — The Deputy-Commissioner to the
Rescue — When India is Ready for Self-Government
THAT there is an Indian problem is perhaps
due to allowing one hand of the clock to
run on a little faster than it proportionately
should. There are upwards of 300,000,000 people in
India, and probably 298,000,000 of those are best
and most suitably governed on the paternal system.
The paternal system consists of one clean-bred,
perfectly honest and unbribable Englishman, stand
ing under a tree and, according to his lights, without
law or legal procedure, deciding cases on common-
sense lines, and to the best of his ability. That is
the system which suits those vast millions of the
majority. It still obtains in country regions where
the Deputy-Commissioner can still find time to
travel amongst his people. Single-handed honest
justice is at the villagers' doors, and the verdict,
whatever it may be, is accepted at once and unani
mously ; such a thing as an appeal is unknown.
In the development of this patriarchal system
came centres for the trial of cases, law courts,
268

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 269
lawyers, and a multiplication of laws. The Indian
generically is not a litigious person, but once he takes
to drink at the legal fountain he becomes a con
firmed drunkard. He faces resignedly all the
bribery and corruption that bars his way to justice,
and becomes a confirmed litigant. He will ruin
himself over appeals and counter-appeals, in a case
that his Deputy-Commissioner, under the purely
patriarchal system, would have settled in half an
hour, and at no cost whatever.
With law and law courts came lawyers, Europeans
out to make money and charging big fees. Indians,
often of the lowest class, out to bleed their brethren,
and wax fat on the proceeds.
Law is an excellent thing and every land must
have it. But the law and procedure which suits
England does not necessarily suit India.
That is one example of one hand of the clock
going faster than it should. Possibly fifty or a
hundred years hence India may have arrived at the
stage when undiluted English law will be suitable
to it.
The successful Indian lawyers make modest
fortunes. The unsuccessful are at the root of what
is called sometimes the unrest in India. They are
the disturbing element, and assuming the role of the
representative voice of India, sometimes write and
preach rank treason. They represent nobody but
themselves, and a few thousand similar malcontents,
and have no mandate whatever from the millions of
their faithful fellow-subjects.
It is difficult to get at these poisonous polluters of
the political atmosphere through the ordinary agency
of the law. They are lawyers themselves, and
possibly know more about law and its possibilities
than the Public Prosecutor. They can appeal and
re-appeal, and go on appealing, and meanwhile can
rope in strings of paid and perjured witnesses.

270 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Outside an ordinary Court of Justice in India may
be found dozens of professional Indian witnesses,
who will swear anything for one rupee. But on
the North- West Frontier of India there is a special
code, called, I believe, the Frontier Crimes Act,
and applicable only to trans-Indus territory, under
which straight and swift justice can be done. If
that code were applied, when and where necessary,
we should hear little more of political crimes, and
organised conspiracies.
The Indian requires straight, firm, paternal
government, and the less the entanglements of the
law enter into it the better. I speak only as a
soldier, but after nearly forty years' experience of
India, and of my Indian fellow-subjects.
The Indian has many great and lovable qualities
which I am the last to depreciate, and here are some
instances of them.
Very many years ago, an old Native Officer named
Ibrahim Khan served under my father in the Mutiny,
and many old wars on the Indian Frontier. When
I joined The Guides he was living close by, the Khan
of the village, a great local magnate and landowner.
He declared that my father was both his father and
his mother, and the founder of all his prosperity, and
he sent me a pony as a small token of gratitude to
my forefathers. This pony, on the Colonel's advice,
I accepted, and he carried me many a weary mile in
Afghanistan. Old Ibrahim Khan lived for many
years afterwards, came to see me frequently, and
took a fatherly interest in my progress.
One day, however, came the news of the death of
my father in England at the age of eighty-five.
A letter also reached old Ibrahim Khan by the same
mail giving him the same sad news.
The old man came to me with tears in his eyes, and
asked whether this dreadful news was indeed true.
I said it was, but bade the old man bear up, for my

IBRAHIM KHAN

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 271
father had lived a long and honourable life in the
service of his Queen and country, and had been
gathered peacefully to his fathers whilst still hale
and hearty.
But old Ibrahim Khan was inconsolable.
" Alas ! and bitter alas ! " he moaned, " my dear
old master dead, one with whom I served so long.
Who am I that I should live when my Sahib is
taken ? "
At last he went away bowed with grief, and ten
years older than when he entered the house.
Walking gently and feebly along he went straight
to the mosque, the temple of his faith, and laying
the fatal letter on the ground before him, he knelt
down and bowed his head till his forehead lay on
the letter. Then he prayed.
" O Allah ! O God ! Who am I that I should
remain on this earth when my dear Sahib is gone ?
Take me also, O God, that I may be with my old
master in Heaven."
And Allah was good to him, and took the old man.
He never ate or drank or spoke again. He just
passed peacefully away, with a kind old smile on his
face, and his dear master waiting to welcome him
Beyond. Some people say that the old class of servant has
died out. You hear the same in England, or Hong
Kong, or India. But not perhaps so altogether. It
is the personal element, the human sympathy that
comes in. One man, or one woman, can always keep
their servants, others cannot.
In India perhaps the personal element comes in
stronger than in most parts of the world.
The Indian soldier holds a sort of distant allegiance
to the King, as to a great and far-off God. He has
a slightly more present feeling of allegiance to the
Indian Government, the Sirkar, as he calls it. But
his real personal devotion, and we may almost say

272 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
loyalty, is to his own Sahib, his own British Officer.
The Colonel of his regiment is his real deity, occasion
ally slightly overshadowed by the larger constellation
of the General, when he is inspecting the regiment.
Not that he really thinks very much of the General,
but he knows his Colonel does, and therefore he must
too. His squadron or company-commander figures
in his eyes as being of the same calibre a shis Colonel
— just a Colonel in embryo.
For these two, especially if they are his own old
Sahibs, who have always been in the regiment, he
will go through fire and water, and hell and chaos
beyond. There is strength and weakness in this great and
noble feeling. Strength as long as the Sahib lives
to lead him, but when that swift bullet lays the
Sahib low, he is often as sheep without a shepherd.
When I was starting off for the Great War, my old
bearer, Luckoo, who had been with me for twenty-
four years, suddenly broke down as he was packing
my kit. He bowed down to the ground, and
embraced my feet, and wept bitter tears.
" Sahib ! What can I do ? How can I live with
out my Sahib ? Take me with you."
" I am awfully sorry, Luckoo, I can't possibly.
I am only allowed one servant, and he must be a
Mohammedan to be able to cook my food. So I must
take Kadir Dad."
Luckoo was a Hindu of high caste, who may not
cook food even for the Sahib. Nor may he even
hand it to him ; though I have known Luckoo
commit the most dreadful crimes in that way, when
I or my wife have been ill.
" But look here, Luckoo, you've served me jolly
well for twenty-four years, and I'll get you a good
place with another big Sahib. Why, you are only a
young man yet : not more than forty-two."
" No, Sahib, I will never serve any other Sahib

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 273
but your Honour. Have I not eaten your Honour's
salt for twenty-four years ? "
" Oh, rot, Luckoo ! I'll get you a good place.
And how about Bugtoo, your son ? I must get him
a place too."
Bugtoo appeared first on our horizon as a tiny
little boy with a very large tummy, and nothing on
but a string round his waist, running about the
sunny compound. One day it occurred to me to
enquire who this child was. So I pointed him out to
Luckoo and said, " Is that your boy, Luckoo ? "
Luckoo cocked one eye at him, and after gazing
steadfastly at the distant figure, remarked laconi
cally and non-committedly, " God knows ! "
Bugtoo was shortly after put into a very nice
livery by his mistress, with a very large puggri ; and
thus clad, with great pomp and ceremony received
visitors when they called at the front door. He
was now a young man, and assistant-bearer to his
father. " No, Sahib," said Luckoo, " with great respect to
your Honour, Bugtoo will take service with no one
now. But when the Baby Sahib (as he still calls my
son, now a strapping young Subaltern in the
nth Hussars) comes to India, then Bugtoo will
serve him. But no one else."
And so these two faithful souls went off to their
village in Kangra, and are there awaiting the arrival
of the Baby Sahib on his Indian tour of soldiering.
The best Indians in the middle and lower classes,
and those who have the highest and best qualities,
are the soldiers and servants who can perhaps
neither read nor write, but who have lived all their
lives within the honest atmosphere of Enghshmen
and Englishwomen. The worst are the so-called
highly educated Indians, who get a smattering of
algebra and John Stuart Mill.
This book is not about the Great War, but perhaps

274 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
two stories may be told about Kadir Dad, another
old Indian servant who followed me to it.
It was a dark and bitterly cold night. A driving
icy wind and pouring rain. The ground soaking wet,
and the water standing in pools on it. Heavy firing
going on at intervals, and to move a precarious
business. We had been fighting all day, and were fighting
all night, and had another fight before us next day.
Somehow, too, our food had gone wrong, and we had
had nothing to eat or drink since the early morning
before. We were passing the hours in utter misery. Frozen
with cold, soaked to the skin, hungry and thirsty,
and no smoking possible.
Suddenly, at about 11.30 p.m., in the dense dark
ness a figure was seen groping along.
" Halt ! Who comes there ? "
" Kadir Dad, the General Sahib's servant. Is he
here ? "
And there was old Kadir Dad, with a bottle of
whisky, a bottle of water, a tumbler, some biscuits,
and my deck-chair !
For nearly two miles he had stumbled across the
entirely trackless plain, in pitch darkness, without
tree, or wall, or bush for landmark ; through shell
fire and many swishing bullets, and after many hours
had found us.
I think we all blessed old Kadir Dad that night,
and thanked the good God who guided him safely.
As our midday meal was being prepared one day
a shell fell into the kitchen and exploded, causing
considerable devastation amidst the pots and pans,
and wounding my Orderly. The cook was not a
very brave fellow, named John, originally a native
of India, but long settled in Baghdad, where he had
married a Chaldean woman. The Chaldean lady
was in Baghdad, and John joined up with us as cook,

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 275
with a view to rejoining her. The shell not only
upset the kitchen, but upset John a great deal, too.
He burst into loud lamentations, and wrung his
hands and wept copious tears. He would have run
away, only he thought it was rather more dangerous
in the open behind than in the little dug-out where
his kitchen was.
Then came old Kadir Dad, as the angel of peace
and consolation. He himself was not in the least
perturbed ; and first picking up the fuze- head of
the shell to be preserved as a relic, he squatted down
beside the weeping John.
"Yes, Jam" (as he pronounced it), "you are a
very brave fellow, Jam. But how about the Sahib's
food ?
" Yes, Jam," stroking him down the back, " you
are a great warrior. Now just put the fire together
again and blow it up. Thus.
" Yes, Jam, fear not. You will be able to talk
about this a lot afterwards, and tell them how brave
you are. Now the frying-pan and some bacon.
" Yes, Jam, your wife will say you are like a lion,
so brave. A few more sticks on the fire, Jam."
More stroking and encouragement, and the weep
ing ceased. John felt like a desperately brave
fellow, and finished frying the bacon in quite a
cheerful and optimistic mood.
In governing India, the more the personal element
comes in the better, personal contact of the English
man with the governed, from the Viceroy down
wards. Lord Mayo was a tremendous personality amongst
the natives of India. He was a great burly man of
commanding presence, free with his money, and
riding about amongst the people.
One day, in the course of a ride round the North-
West Frontier, he arrived with a couple of his Staff
to stay the night at The Guides' Mess.

276 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Regimental troop horses had been sent out to
stage him in. These were small light horses, and
Lord Mayo was a large heavy man and rode hard.
Anyway, when he got in he thought he had about
foundered his mount, and did not want anyone to be
the loser.
" Capital little horse that of yours, Colonel.
Carried me like a bird. I should like to buy him.
What would be a fair price ? "
" He belongs to Sowar Ram Sing, and I suppose
is worth about Rs.250." For each trooper in the
old Silladar Cavalry owned his own horse.
" Well, he is a good bit of stuff." And turning to
his Military Secretary : " Give Ram Sing Rs.500
for his horse."
Here indeed is a king ! thought Ram Sing and the
rest of the regiment.
Next morning, as he was going off, he turned to
his Military Secretary, and said :
" I am afraid we have given these people a lot of
trouble. Give the Mess servants Rs.500 backshish."
As there were only three mess servants to divide
this princely sum, they too decided that Lord Mayo
was a king, and spread his fame far and wide.
One of the highest and best class of Indians is
Sir Pertab Singh. He is a gentleman to the finger
tips, and reminds one most of a very gallant knight
of the days of chivalry. If the princes and leaders
of India were all modelled on the type of Sir Pertab
Singh, the British might to-morrow lay down the
burden of government, and with confidence leave
India to govern herself.
To get on with the native you have to understand
him, and that understanding is the result of inti
mate knowledge of his prides and his prejudices,
which only comes with long residence in the country
and daily intercourse. Travellers and new-comers
often consider Englishmen in India unsympathetic,

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 277
even hard and arrogant. That is only a superficial
view, the Englishman is really the kindest person in
the world, but he has learnt almost insensibly, by
years of contact with the people of India, that,
however sympathetic he may be, he must be careful
how and when he shows it. He is born of a nation
accustomed for hundreds of years to govern alien
nations all over the world, and as the history of the
Empire shows, on the whole with humanity and
success. There is perhaps no nation on earth which
has come under British rule and guidance which has
not benefited by it. The attitude of the English
man in India is that of one man, and alone, govern
ing thousands of his fellow subjects, not by force, but
by strength of character and moral rectitude.
To take a daily instance, an observer may be
standing on a crowded railway platform where there
are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Indians — a
struggling, shouting, and seething mass. Appears
one Englishman walking quietly to his carriage ; he
neither pushes, nor shoves, nor shouts, but it is at
once apparent that he is the one man on the platform.
Through those hundreds of years he has insensibly
acquired the natural demeanour of one who rules,
an attribute which lies dormant when he is a plain
citizen in England, but at once develops when great
responsibilities fall on him.
It is perhaps not generally known that there are
only 1200 Englishmen in the Indian Civil Service,
and that these govern more than 300,000,000 of the
King's subjects. In a German Colony there are, as
a rule, 30 per cent, who are officials. At that rate
the Germans would require several millions of
officials to govern India.
The Indian National Congress from time to time
puts forth suggestions, or demands, for a larger
share of the government of the country to be
entrusted to Indians. The extreme sections demand

278 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
Home Rule and the abrogation of British control.
But is the Indian nation ready for this ? Let us
take two everyday instances.
As far back as Lord Ripon's time, to meet the
aspirations of the more forward spirits, a measure
of Local Self-Government was introduced, " Lokul
Sluff " the natives call it. Under this measure
Boards were created for dealing with local affairs,
municipal and the like. After many years' trial this
measure has been found almost a total failure. The
Indian cannot govern himself, even in small local
affairs. With the very usual result that in most
places the Board or Committee does practically
nothing, and the whole work and control falls on the
shoulders of the only Englishman on it, the Deputy
or Assistant-Commissioner.
A few years ago, when Swaraj — that is, the
encouragement of home Indian industries — was to
the fore, some of the leading Indians of a large city
in Upper India conceived the very good idea of
having an exhibition of home industries, so as to
encourage their growth. The British Government
heartily supported the scheme, and it was decided
that an Indian Committee should manage the whole
business from start to finish. This was all settled
a year before the proposed opening of the Exhibition.
As week followed week, and month followed month,
and no signs of preparation were apparent, the head
English official of the city, the Deputy-Commis
sioner, made discreet enquiries, and was assured
that all was well.
As time went on the Deputy-Commissioner used
occasionally to take his morning ride past the
Exhibition ground, to see what progress was being
made. There was a little scaffolding up, and here
and there usually a few coolies working in a desultory
manner. Six weeks before the date fixed for the opening of

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 279
the Exhibition, the Indian Committee came to the
Deputy-Commissioner with tears in their eyes, and
implored him to help them. They could get nothing
done, and failure stared them in the face.
The Deputy-Commissioner, like the kind man he
was, took off his coat, and in addition to his own
heavy duties, set to work to help them. He took
over the whole job, and in six weeks accomplished
what the Indian Committee had failed to do in a
year, and made of the Exhibition a success.
An Indian Judge told this story in the writer's
hearing, and he added :
" And those are the people who think they are
fit to govern themselves."
When India is ripe for self-government, then, in
accordance with her precedents and history, England
will gladly lay down the burden of government and
launch another enlightened nation to sail the seas
alone.

CHAPTER XVIII
ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN
My Father's Ride— 700 Miles in Seven Days— The June Heat —
Sukker to Simla — " An Awful Beast " — The Adjutant-General's
Remarks — Lord Lytton's Remark — The Irishman of India —
Some Sample Letters — Catching a Train — " Your Honour
Knows Best " — The Horns of a Dilemma — The Camp of Roaring
Luck — The Old Soldier — " Draw Swords " — " Charge " — The
Queen's Bounty — Sir James Willcocks and the Tactful Sentry —
A Regimental Durbar — Tfye Infuriated Gurkha — Deprived of
his Rope to Heaven — The Judgment — Mr. Keir Hardie in India
— Calls Himself a Coolie — Astonishment of Audience — The
Wano Patriots — Invitation Accepted — Arranging his Reception
— Battles by the Way — A Feast at Mess— A Disappointment — •
Micky Doyne— Full Private in the K.O.S.B. — Sir Bindon Blood
Admires the View — Storming of the Malakand — The Return
Journey — A Surprise Visit — A Curious Medallion
MY father1 was a very hard man, and a
noted rider. His nickname was " Plummy."
One of his great feats of endurance was
a ride from Sukker to Simla, a distance of seven
hundred miles in seven days, in the month of June,
that is in the hottest period of the year, through the
hottest region in India. I asked him once how he
managed about horses for the ride. He answered
laconically :
" Oh ! ddk-ed them out."
In those days on the Frontier wheeled traffic was
unknown and everybody rode, wherever business,
pleasure, or duty called him. If the distance was
long, horses were laid out by stages of from eight to
ten miles each, sometimes more. A Cavalry regiment,
out of courtesy to a brother Officer, would lay out
1 Major-General J. W. Younghusband, c.S.l.
280

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 281
horses for several stages both sides of its canton
ment to help him along. The regular charge for
these troop horses, which went to the sowar who
owned the horse, was Rs.2 per stage. Therefore
anywhere near a Cavalry Cantonment my father was
all right, but in his seven hundred mile ride he had
to pass through big stretches of country where there
were no cantonments. Through these districts he
arranged with the Civil Authorities to provide Police
patrol horses which were laid out in stages for him.
Occasionally, however, there were long stretches to be,
passed through where there were not even Police
patrol horses. Here he had to pick up what he could ;
the village headman's pony, a scarecrow out of an
ekka, anything on four legs.
One of his mounts was lent him by Sir Sam
Browne, then a subaltern. This was an " awful
brute," as my father described it. He would neither
walk, nor trot, and his canter was an earthquake.
His only decent pace was at a full gallop.- So my
father just put him at that for the ten or twelve
miles of his stage, which ended at Sir Sam Browne's
house. It was a very hot evening, and he thought he
must have about done for his host's horse. So on
entering the house, like Lord Mayo on another
occasion, he at once said :
" A rattling good horse that of yours, Sam. You
must sell him to me. What do you want for
him ? "
" Sell that horse ! Not I, Plummy, my boy. He's
the best horse I ever had. Wouldn't sell him for
worlds ! "
Arrived at Simla, my father went to report his
arrival, as in duty bound, to the Adjutant-General.
" How do you do, Younghusband ? How are
you ? Where do you come from ? "
" Sukker sir."
" Sukker' ! Where the hell is Sukker ? "

282 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" It is in Scinde, sir."
" Scinde ! That's a long way off."
" Yes, sir, seven hundred miles."
" Seven hundred miles ! And how much leave
have you got ? "
" Ten days, sir."
" Ten days ! And how the doose did you get here
in ten days ? "
" I rode, sir, in seven days."
" Seven days, did you ? And how the blazes are
you going to get back in three ? "
" Well, sir, I was rather hoping you would kindly
extend my leave a little."
The Adjutant-General, who was a kind man, burst
out laughing, and said :
" Yes, by Jove, you must want a bit of rest. You
can have your month's leave."
So my father had his leave and then jogged back
his seven hundred miles.
The object of this tremendous ride was a young
lady — my mother.
Lord Lytton made a wonderfully true remark
when he called the Babu the Irishman of India.
Neither the Babu nor the Irishman have the least
notion that they are being funny, and nothing is
further from their thoughts. In each case it is
entirely spontaneous and natural, but the mental
projector is entirely dissimilar, one is Eastern and
the other Western. The Irishman's chief manner of
amusing the Englishman is to do so verbally, the
Babu usually achieves the same effect on paper, or
by telegram. Nearly all Indian soldiers, and the
vast majority of the Indian peasantry, are un
acquainted with English, and therefore confide their
correspondence to professional letter-writers, in a
regiment, usually the Babu in the regimental office,
and in villages the village postmaster. Here are
two or three samples recently received :

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 283
10th April, 1915.
Dear Madam,
Received your kind letter together with two
parcels — watch and the cloth. I thank you very
much for the kind favour. The photo sent shall be
a memory of the Bawa Sahib.1 Please convey my
hearty salam to my beloved Sahib, and I always
pray God to prosper and lengthen the life of the
General. My salam to Bawa Sahib, may God bless
him. Please be good enough as to send my few lines
to the Sahib in the field, and always be punctual to
let me know about the welfare of the Sahib. Bugtoo
(his son) pays his best respects to the Sahib and to
you. Please take the trouble of sending me a knife,
a fine cloth for four shirts and a blue cloth for the
coat, etc. I am a poor man, please shower your
manna occasionally.
Thanking you in anticipation.
With best respects,
Yours most obedient servant,
Lakhoo, Bahra (Bearer).2
To the General Sahib Behadur.
Sir, I most humbly and respectfully invite your
kind consideration with the few following lines.
My husband has been died or rather gallowed3 in
Egypt from the last 2 months. There was none to
support me except him, whose name was  .
Now a days I am without support and in much
difficulties. I have no lands to give or produce me
any kind of bread.
1 Baby Sahib, now twenty years old and a Lieutenant in the nth
Hussars, but always a Baby to his old Bearer.
2 Was my servant for twenty-four years.
3 He was hanged for murdering a British Officer.

284 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
At this time you are the only man to sup
port me.
I have not even a building to live me. So I beg
you to give me any kind of support so that I may be
able to pass my life with-out hesitation. Now a days
my age is twelve years and I have nothing for my
subsistance. There is a custom in our country that a
woman can not go outside the home. At this time
you are the man to support me.
Hoping to hear in favourable regard towards me,
Your most obedient servant,

27-1-1916.
Dear Sir,
Since long I was much astonished to know
where you went after leaving Aden, but thanks God
that my astonishment changed into joy when I
read in news papers that your special ability and
old experience in military tact has won a great name
for you near Bagdad in Arak Arb. To tell the truth,
able officers like you will surely root out the enemies
who know nothing save cruelty. Our blockade and
enemies limited number of population lead them
(enemies) to complete destruction. I have heard
but could not clearly read the words of title recently
given to you by Our King Empror, for which I
congratulate you. I pray for your long life, health,
high ranks and for the final success of Allies which is
near at hand. Everything is going on quite well in
India. Yours obediently,

There are evidently some very clever people in
the Post Office, the War Office, and the India Office,
and they were all present at their desks on January

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 285
19th, 1917. A letter was written to me from India
by an old servant, and it was thus addressed :
Lundon Bare Kalaf ghar
Pohanch Kar
Janral Yung Husban
Sahab Ko Mile.
Which being interpreted is :
London
Having arrived at the great Club.
To General Younghusband Sahib
may it be delivered.
That letter arrived in London on January 19th
and was marked " War Office " in blue pencil by
the Post Office. The War Office strategist scratched
that out and wrote " India Office " in red ink. The
India Office lightning operator scratched that out,
put my Town address, not a club, in black ink, and
popped it into the post. It was delivered to me
first post on January 20th !
But the Babu sometimes displays uncommon
humour in ordinary life. One day I was in a
tremendous hurry to catch a train, and not being
sure that my watch was right, dashed into the Post
Office where the official time is kept, and asked the
Babu what was the correct time.
Smiling fatly and insinuatingly, he replied with the
true Oriental flavour :
" Your Honour knows best ! "
Which besides being untrue did not help me
, at all.
Another Babu was caught on the horns of a
frightful dilemma. Sir Edmund Barrow and I
strolled into the Post Office, where my regiment

286 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
was stationed, about some letters. The Babu had
lately been transferred from Peshawar, which was
Sir Edmund's headquarters, to our little place..
" Well, Babu," said I, " how do you like Mardan ?
Happy and contented here ? "
" Yes, Sahib, greatly happy. Out of Heaven, this
is the best place."
"Hullo! Babu," broke in Sir Edmund, "but
what about Peshawar ? "
" Oh ! sir," perspired the Babu in great per
plexity, " that also is out of Heaven. Indeed, sir ' '
(with a deprecating smile), " I am a lucky man to be
alive anywhere, so great is your Honour's kindness."
We were being inspected by Sir George Luck, then
Inspector-General of Cavalry, in the days when the
first great Cavalry manoeuvres were held. The
Camp of Roaring Luck it was called. And by way
of beginning at the bottom and instructing everyone
in his duties, Sir George Luck used to have up the
Indian Officers and ask them various questions to
test their knowledge of the drill book. In The Guides
in those days were many stout old warriors who
could neither read nor write, but who, having been
in constant fights from their youth upwards, knew
exactly what to do in a battle, and did it. To these,
drill-books, writing and learning of all descrip
tions were anathema. Only postal clerks, and office
Babus, and such-like inferior cattle pursued such
peaceful arts as reading, and writing, and learning
things. One old warrior with thirty years' service, many
a wound, and a hard-earned medal or two, received
such enquiries as were made to him by the General
with the politest attention. To some he answered
not, shaking his head wisely and tolerantly, as if
humouring an inquisitive child. To any questions
pressed upon him he would reply with engaging
candour :

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 287
" Now what answer would your Honour give ?
Your Honour knows everything. Who am I that
I should instruct your Honour ? "
At last Sir George Luck got rather nettled, and
asked :
" Well, what do you know ? "
" Sahib, in my days there were only two Orders.
One was ' Draw swords,' and the other was ' Charge.'
I know these well."
An Indian paper once rose to the commendable
height of humour displayed in the following para
graph. Yet one cannot be quite sure whether the
writer had the least intention of being humorous :
" The Queen's Bounty is not infrequently be
stowed on women who present the British nation
with triplets, but we believe it is rarely bestowed
on men. An exception will doubtless be made in
the case of Lieut.-Col. G. J. Younghusband, who
has not only given birth to, but raised, three
regiments, the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, the 26th
(Younghusband's Horse) Imperial Yeomanry, and
the 27th Light Cavalry."
The Indian is at all costs, even occasionally at
the expense of truth, tactful.
One day Sir James Willcocks was inspecting a
regiment belonging to our Brigade, and the hour
assigned was 10 a.m. At that hour the regiment was
drawn up to a hair's-breadth, and ready to receive
the inspecting General. But as minute after minute
passed and no General appeared, it was thought that
some accident must have occurred, for Sir James was
a most punctual man.
At length, at twenty minutes past ten, the General
and his staff appeared pricking at haste across the
plain, and exactly as they arrived at the saluting
base the sonorous voice of the guard-room gong
sounded ten.
"A most tactful sentry that," remarked Sir

288 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
James. "lam really twenty minutes late, kept by
urgent business. Very sorry."
What made this tactful proceeding possible is that
outside all Indian guard-rooms the gong is struck
by hand.
The daily orderly-room in an Indian regiment is
called a durbar, and is in some regiments held in the
open, under a big tree in patriarchal fashion, or on
the edge of a veranda. At this durbar all are
entitled to attend, whether they have business or
not ; it is an open Court. Many curious cases
quite outside Military Law and jurisdiction come
before the Commanding Officer at these durbars :
domestic, social, and religious. It was in this last
connection that an infuriated Gurkha one day stood
forth. He was perfectly livid with rage and looked
like blood, so I noticed one or two hefty and ready
fellows close up to him to prevent mischief.
A Gurkha, as one of his tribal customs, as well as
from religious observance, cuts his hair quite short all
over and has a parting shaved down the middle, but
leaves on the top of his scalp one long lock of hair.
This lock of hair is very carefully preserved for a
specific reason.
Apparently the Gurkha and another soldier, who
was a Pathan, had a quarrel, and so vigorous did this
become that the Gurkha's cap got knocked off. This
revealed the little lock of hair on top of his head, and
the Pathan, who by nature was a bit of a yahoo, in the
course of the further conflict, seized this, and being
a man of some strength, pulled it out bodily.
Friends then intervened, and the Gurkha was led
off, mad with rage and pain, to make his complaint
before the Colonel in open durbar. This complaint
and its preface put into plain language appeared to
be that not only was the Pathan a pig, and the son
of a pig, but that his mother was a lady of easy
virtue, who had ended her life at the stake. Regard-

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 289
ing the Pathan's sister he had not a good word to
say ; indeed, according to the Gurkha the whole of
his female relations were such as would make any
respectable person blush. This was all by way of
an opening address, and bore no necessary con
nection with the truth, or with the subject-matter of
the complaint. The real complaint, when we got to
it, was this :
" As your Honour knows, we Gurkhas grow a tuft
of hair on our heads, in accordance with the orders
of our religion. We lose caste, and are heavily fined
if we cut it off, and for this reason. When the
agents of the Deity come to take us to Heaven it is
by that lock, and that lock alone, will he lift us
up, for then he can take several at the same time.
Now that accursed Mohammedan, out of religious
spite, has torn off mine ; observe thou, who alone
art my Father and my Mother and Protector of the
Poor, here it is in my hand."
And he produced it, and flourished it aloft.
" That's very unfortunate," said the Colonel,
" very unfortunate indeed. But look here, Dan Bir,
you must not think of leaving us yet awhile. You
must just stop in the regiment, and put off going to
Heaven, till you have grown another lock of hair.
Be content. Be no more angry."
Then, turning sternly to the Pathan, he said :
" And you, Shah Jehan, shall pay the fine which is
due from Dan Bir to his spiritual leader, for having
lost his lock. And any more horseplay of that class,
and out of this regiment you go. Ek dum, like a
shot. You understand."
" I am content," said the Gurkha.
" As your Honour orders," said the Pathan.
And both saluted and went.
Mr. Keir Hardie not many years ago undertook
a tour of India, with the modest intention appar
ently of showing the natives that they were a

290 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
downtrodden race. He could not speak one word
of the language, and therefore every remark he
made, and every speech he uttered, had to be
translated by interpreters. These were supplied by
the small and insignificant body of disappointed
lawyers, hailing mostly from Lower Bengal, who
assumed to speak on behalf of 300,000,000 fellow
subjects. It was rather unfortunate that Mr. Keir
Hardie's last speech did not happen to be his first.
For though his visit was, to put it mildly, a frost
from beginning to end, he would in that case have
had no audience at all.
In this last speech, just before he sailed home
ward, he brought out the time-honoured tag that he
was " a labouring man," as if nobody laboured
except those who build brick walls, or lay railway
sleepers. Most unfortunately, the interpreter on the
spur of the moment translated the word " labouring
man " into " coolie." The audience, which con
sisted of anything but coolies, grew suddenly cold
at this astonishing revelation. A member of
Parliament a coolie, impossible ! They must have
mistaken the speaker's meaning. But when the
orator not only went on, through his interpreter
calling himself a coolie, but added that he was a
coolie speaking to coolies, several highly respectable
persons found that they had urgent business else
where. Next day it appeared in all the papers that Mr.
Keir Hardie, though he called himself a Member of
Parliament, was really only a coolie, as he had been
careful to explain. And who on earth cared one
way or another what a coolie thought, or said ?
That gives the Indian attitude of mind in a
concrete form. No respectable Indian audience
would for one moment consent to be addressed by a
sweeper, the lowest caste of all. Nor on any grounds
whatever, political or social, would it submit to

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 291
hearing the views of a coolie, who is only just one
rung above a sweeper. The professional agitators
are usually of the petty clerk class, whose parents
have been well enough off to send their sons to
England to be called to the Bar. These return in
English clothes, and with a fine flow of words, and
poison their compatriots with ill-digested theories
about self-government, the rights of nations, and the
like. During Mr. Keir Hardie's Indian tour it occurred
to some bored subalterns in a Frontier Mess that
they might get a little amusement for themselves,
and at the same time considerably enliven Mr. Keir
Hardie's tour. They were stationed at Wano, which
lies some one hundred and twenty miles from the
nearest railway station on the North- West Frontier.
The first sixty of these miles can be driven in a
tonga, but the last sixty miles lie up the rock-strewn
bed of the Gomal Pass, and have to be ridden.
No man can go up that Pass even with an escort.
He can only go up on stated days twice a week, and
then only with the heights on both sides held by
Infantry picquets. This is because the Gomal Pass
runs through the Mahsud Waziri country, inhabited
by fourteen thousand armed and determined raiders.
There was not the least chance that Mr. Keir
Hardie would receive even the most enticing and
courteous invitation from one of His Majesty's
Messes ; that was not his role. Though curiously
enough, if he had known it, it would have greatly
enhanced his prestige amongst Indians to be asked
to an Officers' Mess. For the warrior Sahib is a
great personage in Indian eyes.
The bright geniuses of the Officers' Mess therefore
sank their identity under the more engaging bait of
the " Wano Patriots." A telegram was consequently
forwarded to Mr. Keir Hardie, m.p., from the Wano
Patriots, expressing unbounded admiration for him

292 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
and his propaganda, and asking him to pay a visit,
and deliver a lecture to the down-trodden patriots of
Wano. In due course a reply was received from Mr.
Keir Hardie, sympathising with the down-trodden
condition of the patriots, and promising to pay
them an early visit. These telegrams can be seen in
the album at the Wano Mess.
So far so good, and, further, the patriots deter
mined that Mr. Keir Hardie should have the time
of his life. First they arranged that the distinguished
M.P. should have as comfortable a pony as possible,
for perchance he had never been on a horse in his
life, and sixty miles is a hard ride even for a tough
rider. They did not want him to arrive peevish.
But they did want him to arrive in a chastened
spirit. It was therefore arranged that though the Pass
should be even more securely picqueted than usual,
a tremendous battle was to take place.
If the Mahsud - Waziris furnished the desired
enemy, well and good; but if it was one of their
quiet days, and none were on the war-path, then
other arrangements were to be made.
The picquets were, in this latter unlikely con
tingency, carefully instructed to enter into a heavy
engagement at each spot as the cavalcade came in
sight, and lots of shots were to pass at a discreet
distance over the honoured M.P.'s head. To the
unaccustomed, or even the accustomed, a bullet
passing within fifty yards seems to whistle past
one's ears.
On arrival at the Mess it was proposed to give
Mr. Keir Hardie the best dinner, and the most
hospitable time of his life. Thus deftly educating
him up to the understanding that all Officers are not
popinjays who live chiefly in or about ladies' boudoirs,
and sleep on feather beds. But that some of them,

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 293
at any rate, live year in and year out with their
lives in their hands, holding the outposts of our
Empire, and at the end of the day can dine as
usual. It was a source of keen disappointment to the
patriots at the last moment to receive a telegram to
say that Mr. Keir Hardie regretted that he could
not fulfil his engagement with the Wano Patriots.
It was a pity indeed, for it would undoubtedly
have enlarged his views greatly on the subject of
labour, not necessarily making bricks and mortar,
but for the Empire.

It was on the day before we stormed the Malakand
Pass on the way to the Relief of Chitral, that Sir
Robert Low and his Staff were riding forward
slowly past the long line of troops marching up the
road. As we came alongside the King's Own
Scottish Borderers, Sir Bindon Blood, the Chief of
the Staff, turned to me, and said :
" Now isn't that a particularly fine piece of
colouring ? " pointing away from the troops. " The
lights and shades on that mountain are particularly
fine. The way the greys blend into the blues  "
and so on for quite a long time.
If S*r Bindon had not been a particularly
abstemious man, one would have suspected some
thing stronger than tea for breakfast. However,
as in duty bound, I answered, " Yes, sir," and " No,
sir," and " Quite so, sir," but secretly thought that
his mind had become temporarily unhinged.
Suddenly he stopped his high-flown poetic and
artistic comments on the border mountains, and,
turning to me with a grin, remarked :
" I was only keeping your attention and mine off
the K.O.S.B.'s."
" Why so, sir ? "

294 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Well, just because I was afraid you or I might
recognise a friend in the ranks."
Then he gave a merry wink, and rode on to talk to
Sir Robert Low.
Later in the day, happening to meet an Officer of
the K.O.S.B.'s, I asked him straight, what friend of
mine was in the ranks of his regiment.
" Don't you know ? " he replied. -
" No, I don't."
" Then," viewing the red tabs with suspicion,
" wait till you find out." And he smiled mys
teriously, and found a job elsewhere to do.
It was only next day, during the battle, that I
heard accidentally that Micky Doyne, Colonel of
the 4th Dragoon Guards, was fighting disguised as a
private soldier in the ranks of the King's Own
Scottish Borderers.
He was a gallant Irishman, was Micky Doyne,
but in all his soldiering had never seen a shot fired,
and he was determined to do so. Stationed at
Rawal Pindi, not far distant, he got a few days'
leave for shooting, quite appropriately. But how
or by what subterfuges, history does not relate, got
taken on as a private in the K.O.S.B.'s. He fought
through the action with great gallantry, and was
one of the foremost in carrying the Malakand Pass
with the bayonet.
That night his leave was up, and through the
same kind agency, managed to slip away on his
trudge back forty miles to the railway.
About midnight, Raleigh Egerton,1 of The Guides,
was awakened by someone fumbling at his tent door.
Seizing his revolver he asked sharply :
" Who's there ? "
" Want to speak to you a minute," answered
a tired voice, in English.
Opening the tent door, Raleigh Egerton saw
1 Major-General Sir Raleigh Egerton, k.c.b.

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 295
revealed an exceeding begrimed and unkempt private
of the K.O.S.B.'s.
" Give us a drink and a biscuit," said the tired
private. Thinking that he had already had too much
whisky to be thus knocking up an Officer at mid
night, Raleigh Egerton was about to order him off
with great sternness, when he added :
" I'm Doyne of the 4th D.G.'s."
This rather confirmed the Officer in his opinion.
The man was not only drunk, but so drunk as to
try and pass himself off as the Colonel of a Cavalry
regiment. Explanations, however, ensued, and the adventure
was told. So with a good meal and a short rest,
Micky Doyne was sped on his way.

One of the old Standing Orders in Fort Abazai,
one of the Frontier forts, reads :
" The custom obtaining amongst Officers of
shooting at natives across the river is reprehensible,
and should be discontinued."
This order was issued in the days when rifles were
first invented, and owned only by a few Officers as
a sort of new toy. In the boredom of garrisoning an
isolated fort, young Officers apparently used to sit
on top of the Keep in the evening and practise
shooting, usually taking as a target something as
large as a haystack at three hundred yards distance.
Occasionally, however, without for a moment think
ing that a bullet would carry so far, or that there
was the remotest chance of hitting so small a
thing as a man, they used to take a shot across
the river. Much as a boy would take a chance
shot with a catapult at a bird at an impossible
distance. Apparently some of these shots wept uncommonly

296 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
near some villagers, who naturally complained.
Hence the order.

For many years attached to my person has been
a gold medallion. On one side is engraved :
KEEP YOUR TEMPER
TILL 10 A.M.
And on the other :
AND YOU'LL KEEP IT
ALL DAY.
The possession of this medallion was well known
in my Brigade, and a candid and confiding subaltern
once told me that a pious hope went round, when
field days, manoeuvres, and other obnoxious forms
of exercise were in progress, that it had not acci
dentally been left at home.
Perhaps they may be issued to all Field Officers,
Colonels, and Generals, The A.I.S. or Anti-Irascible
Society.

CHAPTER XIX
MESS CUSTOMS
The King's Health — Across the Waters-Some Regiments Absolved —
Undoubted Loyalty of Old — Various Customs in Drinking the
King's Health — " Gentlemen, the Vice " — The Regent's Allow
ance — A Backhander — A Naval Tradition — " A Glass of Wine
with You " — Treating in Messes — Mufti at Dinner — A Sub
altern's Instruction — Ante-room Etiquette — Scotch Regiments
and St. Andrew — A " Quaich " — Pipers at Mess — Irish Regiments
and St. Patrick — Cricket the Day After — The Lost Wicket-
keeper — Welsh Regiments and St. David — Passing the Leek —
The Italian Priest — The Senior Officer at Mess — An Angry
Doctor — Six Months' Discipline — Life in a Mess — Mess Ex
penses — How to Live — Young Officers of To-day — An Old
Soldier to a Young One — Answering Salutes — The King's
Uniform
I HAVE often wondered why no one has written a
book on Regimental Customs. Perhaps someone
has, and I have missed it. But, anyway, it is
evidently not well circulated, or we should not see
customs changing and dying out, as we do now
sometimes. Let us begin with the drinking of the King's
health at Mess. As probably most people know, the
origin of this toast was only very remotely con
nected with any consuming desire for the well-being
of the reigning sovereign. Far from it. It was, on
the contrary, a toast ordered by the King to be
drunk, as a test of each individual Officer's loyalty
to himself and his dynasty. Officers who longed for
the return of the Stuarts, and meanwhile were not
desirous of losing their commissions, got over the
difficulty by passing the wine-glass, before drinking
from it, across the water in their finger-bowls. The
?97

298 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
toast thus became " The King " (across the water).
All that is now, of course, a thing of the far past, and
when Officers drink the King's health they do so
with the utmost loyalty, and add, " God bless
him." In different regiments different ceremonial is used
in drinking the ^King's health, whilst in some
regiments the King's health is not drunk at all.
The origin of this omission is that these regiments
were in ancient days so undoubtedly loyal to the
King, that they were exempted from the test of the
toast. There are certain regiments with undoubted
history on their side in support, but there are also
spurious imitators. The writer remembers one
being exposed many years ago. The General, when
dining with the regiment, noticed that they did not
drink the Sovereign's health. An official inquiry
was sent next day asking the reason. In reply was
trotted out the old loyalty chestnut. But the
General knew a little better, and pointed out that
the regiment was not born, or bred, or thought of,
till a hundred years later. He ordered that in
future they should drink the Sovereign's health once
a week, without fail.
In regiments which drink the King's health there
are several varieties in method. The most general
custom is, after the wine has been passed round, for
the President to stand up and say, " Mr. Vice, The
King." Mr. Vice then stands up and says, " Gentle
men, The King." Everyone then stands up and the
band plays a bar or two of " God Save the King."
Led by the Colonel each Officer then vociferates
more or less loudly, " The King, God bless him "
and sips his wine. This ceremony generally takes
place once a week, and is followed by the toast,
" The Prince of Wales," in regiments connected with
that Prince.
In other regiments the Royal toasts are drunk

MESS CUSTOMS 299
sitting, and every night. In the Navy, too, the toast
is drunk sitting. The origin in both cases may
possibly have been safety against the perils of the
sea, or a slippery floor. Some regiments leave out
" Mr. Vice " altogether, and the President gives the
toast direct. I remember, on one solemn occasion,
the President, rising and with great portentiahty
and emphasis, giving the opening "Mr. Vice, The
Queen." Mr. Vice, who was busy talking, taken by
surprise, jumped to his feet, and briskly gave the
toast, " Gentlemen, The Vice — as you were, The
Queen." A somewhat unpopular innovation has been
introduced in India, directing Officers to drop the
old title that has lived for centuries in the Mess, and
to drink to " The King-Emperor." Regiments do
not like these changes in ancient regimental customs,
and, as a matter of fact, like the finger-bowl Officers,
they very often elude such orders, except when a
General or someone is present who might take
notice. The President and Vice-President are appointed
weekly by roster. The origin of the Regent's
allowance is well known, but may perhaps be
repeated. George IV, when Regent, was dining
at a regimental Mess and he noticed that several
Officers did not take part in drinking the King's
health. The Regent enquired the reason of this,
and was told that the Officers in question, though
perfectly loyal, could not afford to drink wine.
" Tut ! tut ! that will never do," said the Regent.
" Every regiment shall have two bottles of wine
free every night, to drink the King's health, at my
expense." And he was as good as his word.
When the writer first joined the Service these two
bottles, one of port and one of Madeira, were put on
the table every night, free of cost. Nowadays the
allowance still continues, but is usually taken in

300 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
money, instead of wine, and goes towards general
Mess expenses. While on the subject of wine it may
be mentioned that wine at Mess, as indeed now in
private houses, is passed from right to left round
the table, and may on no account go backwards,
except with special permission. For instance, if an
Officer wants a glass of wine and has inadvertently
allowed the decanter to pass, he addresses the
President, or Vice, whoever is nearer, and says,
" Mr. President, or Mr. Vice, may I have a back
hander ? " I do not know the origin of this custom,
though some say that it is the result of an ancient
superstition that the wine went sour -if passed the
wrong way. Others say its origin was to ensure that
all drank fair. In the Navy the tradition is that the
ship will sink within a year, if the wine is passed
the wrong way.
In some regiments a loving-cup goes round to
celebrate certain occasions, and whilst each Officer
is drinking, his next-door neighbour steps out and
stands back to back with him, so that he shall not,
as of old was apparently possible, be stabbed in the
back, whilst his head is buried in the loving-cup.
It is not necessary to drink the King's health in
wine. King Edward issued an order that his health
might be drunk in water, and this still holds good
though seldom literally acted upon ; whiskey and
soda in a wine-glass being the substitute. In days
gone by there were many occasions on which an
Officer had to stand drinks all round, either to
celebrate a promotion, or as a fine for some violation
of regimental rules and regulations. The matter is
now entirely voluntary, and an Officer rarely stands
drinks round ; unless he has won the Derby, or
come into a fortune.
There was also an old custom, now quite dead, of
drinking a glass of wine with a brother Officer at
Mess. The procedure was to call the Mess Sergeant,

MESS CUSTOMS 301
or a waiter, and say to him, " Take this bottle to
Captain Hallows and ask him to give me the pleasure
of drinking a glass of wine with me." Hallows' glass
was then filled, and the two nodded genially at each
other, and drank their wine.
Rather an insidious, and deadly, and really rather
vulgar offshoot of this courteous custom began to
get into some messes. That is the habit of Officers
standing each other drinks, at any time of the day,
in the ante-room ; for all the world as if one of His
Majesty's Officers' Messes was a public-house, or
American bar. And the vulgarity was emphasised by
adding such catchwords as " so long " and " here's
to you," which came from the same not very
aristocratic haunts.
An Officers' Mess is, of course, each individual
Officer's private house, and it is just as much a
faux pas to offer an Officer a drink in his own Mess,
as it .would be to offer one's civilian host a whiskey
and soda in his own house, and pay his butler a
shilling for it. On one occasion I saw a very smart
and very correct Colonel of a crack Cavalry regiment
nearly burst into bits at being offered a drink in his
own Mess, by a young veterinary Lieutenant who
was temporarily attached as an honorary member.
Of course most Colonels rigidly taboo this innovation,
for not only is it against the ancient etiquette of the
Service, and also rather vulgar, but it indirectly
promotes large mess-bills, which no one wants.
A certain number of regiments in former days
used to wear mufti at dinner, and some do still ;
amongst these were the Household Cavalry when
stationed in London ; and The Guides and regiments
of the Punjab Frontier Force in India. The Foot
Guards do not have a Mess in London, but take
their meals at the Guards' Club.
There is a certain etiquette on joining a regiment
which a boy should know. If he has a friend already in

302 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
the regiment he should look him up first, and together
go and. see the Adjutant. The Adjutant will then
take the newly joined sub. in hand and will take him
round to see the Colonel, and then to the Mess to
introduce him to any Officers who may be in. In
some regiments a newly joined subaltern has to
report himself in uniform to the Colonel at the
regimental office, but if things so fit in, the Colonel's
acquaintance will have been made unofficially the
day before, and a formal arrival report dispensed
with. He is also asked to dine with the Mess his
first night, as a guest, and sits next the Colonel.
When I joined the 17th Foot, the senior subaltern
took me in charge to teach me all things, and in
cidentally that there was no regiment like our own.
That the others, poor things, did their best, but it
wasn't much — comparatively ! At the same time,
never by word, sign, or deed, was one to let this
appear, for that would indeed be bad form. These
were the little grains of esprit de corps which were
being sown, and which grow into that great and
good tree which leads regiments to win great victories
against great odds, century after century.
Another little point in etiquette we were taught
which now sometimes appears to have been for
gotten : we were told to call a subaltern, or a
Captain, by his terminal name tout court Jones,
De Vere, or Castlerock, and never by any chance
Captain Jones or Lieutenant De Vere, or Lord
Castlerock ; nor, on the other hand, unless he
chanced to be a Sandhurst pal, or an old acquaint
ance,' by his nickname, till later allowed that
privilege. Then a Major was always to be addressed
as " Major," and not as Major Smith or as Smith
alone, much less by his nickname, " Blobs."
Exemptions were allowed on the border line, that
is to say a very senior Captain would not necessarily
" Major " a very junior Major. Top of all came the

MESS CUSTOMS 303
Colonel, and he was always to be addressed as
"Sir" or "Colonel." No other Officer in the
regiment was ever to be addressed as " Sir," except
on parade. There, of course, a subaltern a day
senior was to be called " Sir," by his junior. Then
came the knotty point of Brevet Major, and Brevet
Lieutenant-Colonel : and the rule for these was for
us juniors to call them " Major " and " Colonel "
(but never " Sir " off parade), whilst those near to,
or senior to them, regimentally, called them by their
surnames. These good old rules, which were traditional, have
got lost sight of somewhat both ways. In some
regiments slackness has been introduced, whilst in
others an over-official air has come into being.
Nothing is more absurd than to hear a subaltern, or
Captain, calling a Major " Sir " every second word at
lawn-tennis or polo ; and nothing is more in
appropriate than to hear young Officers calling field-
officers by their nicknames, or even surnames.
There are one or two ante-room customs which
would perhaps hardly be worth mentioning were
they not in some danger of being lost sight of. It
might seem superfluous to mention that when a
guest, or a stranger, enters the ante^room, it is the
custom of the Service for the Officers present to get
up and welcome him, whoever he may be. Yet a
recent experience shows that a hint in this direction
is not unneeded. The writer recently experienced
the uncomfortable sensation, when calling on the
Mess of a well-known Cavalry regiment, of being
completely ignored by everyone — except by whom ?
The Riding Master, and he was a ranker ! Dis
courtesy of this sort is unpardonable, and it need
hardly be added very much opposed to the traditions
of the Service.
Again, though the whole spirit of a mess is for
Officers to live together in friendly informality when

304 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
not on parade, yet the good sense of the Officers
themselves has maintained small points of etiquette
which, without being in the least derogatory to the
individual, encourages the spirit of courteous inter
course between those of different ages and ranks.
Thus in no well-regulated regiment would the last-
joined subaltern, nor indeed any Officer, remain
buried in an arm-chair with his feet on the fender
stool when his Colonel came into the room. He
would perfectly naturally get up and say : " Good
morning, sir," and if he happened to have the cosy
chair, offer it to the Colonel. It is ante-room
etiquette for the junior always to address the senior
first with such ordinary greetings as " Good morn
ing " and " Good evening."
There used to be an old rule that no bets were to
be made till the wine had been round at dinner, or,
rather, as it was expressed then, " till the cloth had
been removed." Such a rule was quite necessary,
if only for self-protection from a most boring craze,
now happily dead. In some messes, in those days,
you could not say anything, or do anything, without
someone immediately wanting to bet you that you
were a liar — to put it bluntly — or that he could put
up someone to beat you; or your nominee, at what
ever the game might be. Quite large sums were won
and lost, in what most people thought a singularly
idiotic manner. The rule remains but it is rarely
required, or mentioned.
Another dreadful custom has survived in some
regiments, and that is sitting at table for hours
and hours after dinner, especially on guest nights.
The awful and appalling boredom of this proceeding
is only equalled by its stupidity. In old days Officers,
and the gentry at large, sat long after dinner in
order to drink bottle after bottle of port wine. That
was a reason for sitting, good or bad. But now
British Officers are the most abstemious of men, and

MESS CUSTOMS 305
it is the rarest thing in the world to see an officer
take more than one, or two, small glasses of wine
after dinner, which he finishes in ten minutes. Yet
in some regiments they sit on, and on, for hours,
doing nothing but talk and smoke cigarettes ; both
of which can equally well be done in the ante-room
in comfortable arm-chairs, and thereby free the
boys for bridge and billiards.
This is because one of the old rules of the Service
has been forgotten. That rule is that directly the
wine has been round any Officer can get up and go
out without discourtesy or disrespect ; unless, of
course, there is a regimental guest, in which case all
wait till the Colonel moves ; and he, if he has the
remotest tact, will move as soon as he sees that such
is the general feeling.
It is now strictly against the King's Regulations
for Officers to give plate to the Mess, and the rule is
rigidly observed in some regiments, and entirely
disregarded in others ! This is one of those cases
where it is much better to leave matters of a private
nature to the discretion of the Officers. The British
Officer is a rum devil in that way ; he is very easily
led if approached in a gentlemanly way, but very
hard to drive. Above all he hates having his private
affairs interfered with, hates being ordered to drop
time-honoured old customs, and hates being ordered
to adopt new customs he disapproves of.
Scotch regiments make a special feature of
St. Andrew's Day and New Year's Day, and those
nights at their Messes are very merry ones. Our
brethren across the Border have a quaint custom
on this night, which in some Scottish regiments is
extended to every guest night. Towards the end of
dinner the Mess Sergeant hands to each Officer in
turn a small shallow cup with two handles, full of
liqueur whiskey. This is called a " quaich," I
believe (but I do not know how to spell it). Anyway,

306 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
call it what you may, what you have to do is to
stand up and drink off the whiskey in it at a gulp.
You then twist the cup over and outwards, and kiss
the bottom, to show it is empty.
In all Scottish regiments, whether Highland or
Lowland, there are swarms of pipers, and these
march round the table after dinner, and make what
is to some people a cheerful noise. Each piper has
on his pipes the banner of his Captain ; the arms,
and escutcheons, and so forth, of the said bold
Captain being emblazoned forth thereon. After
walking round the table several times the pipers line
up behind the Colonel, and the principal guest. If
the principal guest is a Scotchman he puts on a sort
of ecstatic air and drums the table with his fingers,
and in extreme cases beats time with his feet. If,
on the other hand, the principal guest happens to be
an Englishman or an Irishman, his face, and
demeanour, are quite worth studying.
The Englishman starts with a faint and fatuous
smile, half out of politeness, and half to show a
kindly tolerance towards these brave bare-legged
barbarians, and their ideas of music. Gradually,
however, especially if he has had much wine, the
noise gets to his head and bewilders him, and you
see that same wild sort of look come into his eyes,
that you see in the face of him who seeks the
steward, on a rough day, on the Irish boat.
A real old hand, who likes Highland regiments,
and loves dining with them, but hates pipes, goes
prepared with a pair of ear wads, such as Naval
Officers pop into their ears before the firing of big
guns commences in a battleship turret, but he must
be exceedingly careful not to be caught inserting
them. An Irishman, having a weird instrument of
his own, not unhke a pipe, is more inured to
this form of hardship ; but I have seen him taken
two ways. Either he got sadder, and sadder, and

MESS CUSTOMS 307
sadder, till he finally wept on the Colonel's shoulder ;
or, on the contrary, the martial strains rose to his
head, and he started strange and penetrating yells,
such as the Scotch themselves indulge in.
In his own Irish Mess, and on his own St. Patrick's
night the Irish Officer is seen to great advantage,
and one feels quite sure that St. Patrick himself must
have a very bad headache next morning. On one
occasion we were dining with the 18th Royal Irish
on St. Patrick's night, and next day several of us had
to go to a neighbouring Cantonment to play in a
cricket match. We had a reserved railway carriage
in the siding, and after a most jovial and enjoyable
evening ending with supper at 2 a.m., we went to bed
in our railway carriage.
Next day about eleven o'clock we were collecting
ourselves for cricket, when we missed our stalwart
wicket-keeper, six feet two inches in height and
weighing fourteen stone. Enquiries were set afoot
amongst guards, J stationmasters, servants, drivers,
coolies, but not a trace of him could be found.
" By Jove, I believe we have left him behind in
the 18th Royal Irish Mess ! " suggested someone.
Hasty dash to the telegraph office, and urgent
wire sent :
" Have lost our wicket-keeper. Please make
enquiries." Not long afterwards came the mysterious answer .
" Wicket-keeper found in tablecloth, despatched
by next train."
Just as we were sitting down to lunch up rolled a
very little tum-tum with a very large man in it. Our
lost wicket-keeper !
Of course he was received with roars of laughter
and chaff, and when these had subsided, he made his
explanation. " You see, boys, it was like this. After supper
me and some of the other boys got talking. And

308 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
what with one thing and another, one said, how
mighty clever it was the way the Sergeant, and Tom
O'Grady the head waiter, whipped off the side slips,
the whole length of the table, and never spilt a glass,
or spoon, or gave anyone a flick in the face either.
Another of the boys pooh-poohed this, and said he
could do it easy ; and it was only a matter of
screwing the blamed thing up tight, and giving a
sharp pull. So what with one thing and another
they got the slips put on again, and then we had a
sort of match, starboard side against port side, to
see who could whip the slips off quickest. It wasn't
long before they got tired of that, and then some
body, bad cess to him, suggested doing the same
thing only with one of the boys screwed up in each
slip, and they voted me in for one. Well, of course,
a slip wasn't big enough for me, so they got a whole
tablecloth, and they laid me along at full length in it.
Then about four of the boys at each end wound the
tablecloth opposite ways till I must have looked like a
long white sausage. Then one of the young savages
gave a whoo !j hoop ! and one lot let go, and the
other pulled, and 1 sped along that polished table
like a greased pig, and came with no light bump on
the floor at the other end. Then they tied up the
two long ends of the tablecloth and left me, for
some other devilment. Sure and I was a bit tired
perhaps, for thereupon I went to sleep quite snug
and happy, and didn't wake till the Mess Sergeant
fell over me coming to see about laying breakfast
this morning."
In Welsh regiments they have a curious custom
on that night of the year on which they eat a feast,
and drink libations, to their patron saint, St. David.
Everyone, who has not previously done so, is
obliged on this occasion to " pass the leek," in other
words eat a raw onion ; and this is done with much
ceremony. As it comes to each novice's turn he has

MESS CUSTOMS 309
to stand up on his chair, and behind him is grouped
the regimental goat held by two drummer boys, and
several more of the regimental drummers, and the
Mess Sergeant. The Mess Sergeant then hands the
victim a plate full of leeks, and he, if wise, chooses
the smallest he can hastily discover. This he
solemnly eats, whilst the drummers beat a fanfare
and the goat wistfully contemplates a charge on his
immediate rear, and the company generally chaffs,
derides, and cheers him. And so on to the next and
the next.
Dining once on this auspicious occasion with the
23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers there was an Italian
Roman Catholic priest present, evidently inured to
this rich diet, who thought that he was meant to eat
the whole plateful of leeks, which he proceeded to
do with great gusto. And the more he ate, the more
everyone cheered him, and the more they cheered,
the more the priest smiled and the more he ate ;
till at last everyone was in hysterics. Which hilarity
apparently so weakened the two boys holding the
goat that they let him slip. Whereupon he promptly
charged the next thing ahead, which happened to be
the holy father's chair, and over went that zealous
prelate backwards. For a few moments there was a
fine medley of drummer boys, priest, drums, goats,
and onions.
Everyone also on St. David's night has to wear a
leek in his buttonhole, which in old days must have
been distinctly bad for one's clothes, and made them
smell long, and strong. But nowadays it has been
ordained that one may wear a glass imitation of the
same, and this somewhat tempers the wind to one's
female relations when one gets home. It is not
so much the leek itself that is unpleasant to eat,
though most people would rather pass it by, but it
is the aftermath to oneself and one's friends. For
the whole of the rest of the evening everything

310 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
tastes of onions ; one's wine, coffee, cigars, whiskey
and soda ; and as for one's friends who are not in
the same plight, they say, " Tush ! tush " and
"Begone." At Mess the senior combatant Officer presides,
be he only a subaltern. For a Mess dinner is a
parade which every unniarried Officer must attend
unless he gets leave of absence, and the senior com- .
batant Officer is for the time being responsible for
the discipline and order of the Mess.
An Officer has no longer personally to ask the
Colonel for leave of absence from dinner, he merely
writes his name in a book as " dining out." And
should he omit this formality his crime is brought
home to him by having to pay for a dinner he has
not eaten.
Once at a Mess in a neighbouring station one
guest-night it so happened that the senior com
batant Officer was a subaltern, and he, according to
procedure and the established custom of the Service,
went in to dinner first, taking the guest of the
evening with him. There happened at the time to
be attached to the regiment a Surgeon-Captain, as
they were then called, who took great umbrage at
this, and made himself rather unpleasant. He said
he was senior to the subaltern, and should take in
the guest of the evening. But the matter did not
stop there, for next day he started writing official
letters on the subject. Then, as the subaltern
expresses it, he " got it on the neck," -for the
King's Regulations are perfectly clear on the
subject. He not only "got it on the neck," but a final
paragraph commanded that he should be "trans
ferred to the Corps of Guides for discipline."
I don't think we were hard on him, but the rough
and ready, good-natured chaff of a big Mess does
wonders, and at the end of six months he turned

MESS CUSTOMS 311
out an excellent fellow, and to this day can never
speak too highly of his time with the old Guides.
Life in a big Mess has a very salutary effect on
those who live in it. The prig ceases to be priggish :
it isn't good enough. The cad, if by chance he has
slipped in, ceases to be caddish : it isn't good
enough. The real " bad hat," or untamable
" bounder " quietly disappears from His Majesty's
Service. This Mess life has been of incalculable value not
only to young Officers, but also to Civilians, especi
ally those who administer the Government in India.
On the Frontiers of India these civil servants
invariably live at one or other of the Frontier Messes,
and it is noticeable right through their after careers,
their breadth of character, knowledge of how to deal
with their fellow-men, besides tact, good temper, and
savoir faire, that have been imbibed when sucking-
civilians in the Frontier Mess.
One often hears querulous complaints about the
expenses of a Mess, and " Father of Six " or
"Anxious Mother" writes to the papers about it.
Let me, who have spent nearly forty years in many
Messes, reassure them. It is not the Mess that is
expensive, it is running up to Town for week-ends,
that costs money. If a subaltern sticks to his
regiment, wherever it is quartered, and only goes
away for his regular leave, and during that leave
he probably has his own people and friends who are
glad to see him, he will find that he can live with
perfect comfort in His Majesty's Service on very
small means.
The very large influx of Officers into the Ser
vice during the Great War, and the difficulty, at
short notice, of making these acquainted with the
customs of the Service tempts me to make a few
notes which may be found useful.
In the first place an Officer should always be

312 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
properly dressed. It is not good form, besides
being against the King's Regulations, to wear fancy
articles of apparel when in uniform.1
It is better not to smoke at all in uniform in
public, but if it is a matter of life and death a
cigarette may be permitted ; even in cases of extreme
urgency or exhaustion a cigar. But never a pipe.
To smoke a pipe in uniform in Pall Mall, or Hyde
Park, is a more grievous offence than to elope with
the Colonel's mother. Though I have known that
too being done — once.
To walk arm in arm with a lady when in uniform,
and more especially for the Officer to take the lady's
arm, is not considered at all correct. Unless, of
course, either the lady or the Officer suffer from an
infirmity of the legs, or other serious disease, in
which case it is allowable. In fog, on a dark
night, or at a bad crossing, it is permissible for
an Officer to help a lady in distress by giving her
his arm.
To answer a soldier's salute, or to salute a senior
Officer who passes, are not things to be ashamed of
or shunned. The soldier is not saluting 2nd Lieu
tenant John Smith, he is saluting the King's
uniform, and it behoves the wearer of the King's
uniform to look the soldier in the face, and return
that salute smartly.
In our Service we do not salute everyone senior
to us in the streets. A subaltern does not, by the
custom of the Service, salute another subaltern, but
he does salute a Field Officer, or a General. The
salute of sentries should carefully be noted, and
returned. One often sees young Officers, either from bash-
fulness or ignorance, pass the Lifeguardsmen at
Whitehall, and the sentries on Buckingham Palace
without returning their salute. These sentries it
1 Of course great latitude is naturally allowable in the field.

MESS CUSTOMS 313
will be noticed are most punctilious in saluting every
Officer who passes.
The matter of ladies is a somewhat delicate one.
But perhaps we may best put it that an Officer,
wearing the King's uniform, should not be seen
about in public with any lady who would not be
welcome at his mother's tea-table.
The last and best advice an old soldier can give a
young one, is never at any time, or under any
circumstances, disgrace the King's uniform.

CHAPTER XX
SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES
The Victoria Cross — The Royal Warrant — Lieut. R. C. Hart —
Lieut. E. P. Leach — Lieut. Walter Hamilton — Capt. A. G.
Hammond — Capt. W. J. Vousden — Revd. J. W. Adams —
Major White — Lieut. Wilson, r.n. — Q Battery, R.H.A. —
Lieut.-Col. R. B. Adams — Lt. Lord Fincastle — Lieut. H. MacLean
— Lieut. F. A. Maxwell — Lieut. G. Wylly— Sepoy Lalla
DURING the best part of forty years'
soldiering and in the course of many
campaigns, one has naturally come across
many cases of gallantry for which the Victoria Cross
has been awarded, and perhaps an equal number
where it has not. Curiously enough, the standard
appears somewhat to vary in different campaigns,
and even with the views of those who have the
recommending. This apparently should not be so,
for the Victoria Cross Warrant is open to all to read
and is very clearly expressed. Lord Roberts, for
instance, had great difficulty in getting the Victoria
Cross for an Officer who had displayed great cool
ness and bravery, because it had become a rooted
impression that it was absolutely necessary to
rescue a wounded man before an Officer or soldier
could get the Cross. Yet there is nothing in the
Warrant about rescuing wounded men.
In the same way, it is not generally known that the
Victoria Cross can be bestowed on the spot by an
Admiral or General Officer under certain circum
stances. As perhaps few people know the exact wording of
3M

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 315
the Victoria Cross Warrant, it may be interesting to
give all the important parts of it.
VICTORIA CROSS WARRANT
Victoria R.
Whereas ... for the purpose of attaining an
end so desirable as that of rewarding individual
instances of merit and valour, We have instituted
and created, and by these presents, for Us, Our
heirs and successors, institute a new naval and
military decoration which We are desirous should
be highly prized and eagerly sought after by the
Officers and men of our naval and rnilitary services,
and are graciously pleased to make, ordain and
establish the following rules and ordinances for the
government of the same, which shall from hence
forth be inviolably observed and kept : —
Firstly. • (Name and description of Victoria Cross.)
Secondly. (To be worn on left breast with blue
riband for Navy, and red for Army.)
Thirdly. (Names of recipients to be Gazetted.)
Fourthly. (Bars to V.C. for further acts of gallan
try.)
Fifthly. It is ordained that the Cross shall only be
awarded to those Officers and men who have
performed acts of conspicuous bravery or
devotion to the country in the presence of
the enemy.1
Sixthly. It is ordained, with a view to place all
persons on a perfectly equal footing in
relation to eligibility for the decoration, that
neither rank, nor long service, nor wounds,
nor any other circumstance or condition save
the merit of conspicuous bravery, shall be
As amended in 1S81.

316 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
held to establish a sufficient claim to the
honor.
Seventhly. It is ordained that the decoration may
be conferred on the spot where the act . . .
has been performed. . . .
I. When the fleet or army, in which such act
has been performed, is under the eye and
command of an admiral or general officer
commanding the forces.
II. Where the naval or military force is under
the eye and command of an admiral or com
modore commanding a squadron or detached
naval force, or of a general commanding a
corps, division or brigade on a distinct and
detached service, when such admiral, com
modore or general officer shall have the power
of conferring the decoration on the spot, sub
ject to confirmation by Us.
Eighthly. It is ordained, where such act shall not
have been performed in sight of a command
ing officer as aforesaid, then the claimant to
the honor shall prove the act to the satisfac
tion of the captain or officer commanding
the ship, or to the officer commanding the
regiment to which the claimant belongs, and
such captain or such commanding officer
shall report the same through the usual
channels . . . who shall call for such de
scription and attestation of the act as he may
think requisite, and on approval shall recom
mend the grant of the decoration.
Ninthly. (Recipient to be publicly decorated.)
Tenthly. (Ditto.)
Eleventhly. (Name to be registered.)
Twelfthly. (Special cases unprovided for above,
how to be dealt with.)

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 317
Thirteenthly. It is ordained that, in the event of a
gallant and daring act having been performed
by a squadron, ship's company, a detached
body of seamen and marines, not under fifty
in number, or by a brigade, regiment, troop,
or company in which the admiral, general or
other officer commanding such forces, may
deem that all are equally brave and dis
tinguished, and that no special selection can
be made by them, then in such case the
admiral, general or other officer commanding
may direct that for any such body of seamen
and marines, or for every troop or company
of soldiers, one officer shall be selected by the
officers engaged for the decoration : and in
like manner one petty officer or non-com
missioned officer shall be selected by the
petty officers and non-commissioned officers
engaged : and two seamen or private soldiers
or marines shall be selected by the seamen, or
private soldiers or marines engaged respec
tively for the decoration. . . .
Fourteenthly. (A Pension of £10 a year to warrant,
petty, non-commissioned officers, and seamen,
privates and marines. £5 extra for each bar.)
Fifteenthly. (Providing for forfeiture of the decora
tion.) By Her Majesty's Command, Panmure.
Buckingham Palace,
January 2<)ih, 1856.
In relating the story of how a few Victoria Crosses
have been won, it must be remembered that these
are not necessarily selected or typical cases, but
merely those which are within the writer's personal
cognisance. During the Afghan War, 1878-80, two Columns

318 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
were sent into the Bazaar Valley to punish raiders
on our lines of communication. Having completed
their work, they were returning to their former
stations by different routes, one leading to the
Khyber Pass and the other to the Jellalabad Valley.
Serving with the former Column, which was under
command of Sir Frederick Maude, father of Sir
Stanley Maude now commanding in Mesopotamia,
was a young sapper subaltern named Reginald
Hart.1 Reginald Hart had already won three Humane
Society's Medals, whilst still a Cadet at Woolwich,
for a signal act of bravery. He was returning from
leave in France, and was going on board the boat at
Boulogne in very rough weather. The ship was
grinding against the jetty, and the motion made the
gangway very unsafe and unstable. A lady going
on board shpped, missed her footing, and fell through
into the sea between the ship and the jetty. The
Gentleman-Cadet with great promptitude risked
being crushed to death, and being drowned, and
dropped through after her, and saved her life.
For this brave act Reginald Hart was awarded
the English Humane Society's Medal, the French
Humane Society's Medal, and a special medal
presented by the town of Boulogne. In later life, as
a Colonel, this gallant sapper earned a clasp to his
Humane Society's Medal for diving, in full dress
when returning from a parade, after a driver of the
Royal Artillery who had been thrown into the
water whilst crossing a bridge.
On the occasion when he won the Victoria Cross,
he happened to be with the rearguard of Sir
Frederick Maude's column when a Sowar rode up
to it at speed, and reported that he and another
Sowar had been sent with a despatch from the
Jellalabad Valley column. That as they rode along
1 Now General Sir Reginald Hart, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o.

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 319
a heavy fire was opened upon them, that his com
panion had been severely wounded and his horse
shot, and that he himself had ridden on to deliver
the despatches, and to send succour back to his
wounded comrade.
Reginald Hart overheard this converse, and there
and then started to run back to rescue the wounded
Sowar. Now in civilised warfare a wounded man
is, or was till the Germans put back the clock three
hundred years, a non-combatant and safe till he can
be attended to. But the Afridis had then no such
code, and would murder a wounded man out of
hand. The young Sapper-Officer therefore ran back,
it might be for miles as far as he knew, into a Pass
which in all probability was swarming with expert
riflemen, alone and armed only with a revolver, to
rescue a wounded comrade from a horrible death.
And we had had some ocular demonstration of what
that death might be.
Captain Stedman, with a detachment from the
rearguard of the 24th Punjab Infantry, started to
double after him, and eventually came up with
Reginald Hart, to find that he had driven off the
obscene vultures who were hovering round their
prey, and was standing guard over the prostrate
Sowar. For this act of prompt gallantry the Victoria
Cross was awarded to Lieutenant Reginald Clare
Hart, Royal Engineers.
Another sapper subaltern, E. P. Leach,1 earned the
Victoria Cross shortly afterwards, also in Afghanis
tan. Leach was then employed in surveying the
hitherto unmapped areas of the occupied country,
and was out with an escort of the 45th Sikhs under
Captain Barclay, and of The Guides Cavalry under
Lieutenant Walter Hamilton, who himself a few
1 General Sir Edward Pemberton Leach, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o., died
1913-

320 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
weeks later got the Victoria Cross. This survey
work is highly dangerous in Afghanistan, and the
mountainous country between that country and
India. These people have a fanatical hatred for
anything to do with a map, for as the Pathan saying
is : " First comes one Englishman to shoot birds or
beasts, then come two Englishmen to make a map,
and then comes an army to take the country. It
is better therefore to kill the first Englishman."
An escort, though of great assistance — indeed,
without it survey in these regions would be im
possible — finds it very difficult to adequately guard
the surveyors. For they and their assistants are
frequently perched about on all the highest moun
tains, sometimes over a considerable area.
The Afghans had carefully watched Lieutenant
Leach and his party, and at a favourable moment
attacked it with superior forces. Captain Barclay
commanding the escort was mortally wounded, and
the whole of the httle force was in danger of being
annihilated when Leach promptly took command,
rescued Barclay from a horrible death, and boldly
taking the offensive completely defeated the enemy.
In the fight Leach himself was severely wounded.
Sir Sam Browne, himself a V.C. man, recom
mended Lieutenant Leach for the Victoria Cross,
and this in due course was bestowed upon him.
The deed for which Walter Hamilton of The
Guides earned the Victoria Cross was of a different
type of bravery. It was resource and boldness at a
critical moment, whereby the tide in a battle was
turned to victory. At the moment things were not
going particularly well in that particular battle, the
battle of Fattehabad in Afghanistan.
A squadron of The Guides Cavalry were therefore
ordered to charge. There were only two British
Officers with the squadron. One was Major Wigram

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 321
Battye, and the other was Walter Hamilton, a young
subaltern who had just joined. Almost immediately
after the charge started Major Wigram Battye was
first wounded and then killed, so that the command
devolved on the young subaltern just joined.
Nothing dismayed, the boy swept on with his
squadron, but just before he reached the enemy
he was faced by a horrible shock. A deep ravine
with a nine-feet sheer drop into it, a flat, sandy bed,
and then a sheer cliff nine feet high on the far bank.
Along that bank the enemy, posted and firing
heavily. That was not a very encouraging obstacle
to come across in a Cavalry charge. But the young
Irishman's blood was up : he neither checked nor
wavered, but made a clean jump down into the bed
of the ravine and his squadron came tumbling after
him. For the Indian trooper will go anywhere his
Sahib leads.
Arrived in the ravine bed, all by instinct galloped
towards the far bank which brought them more or
less into dead ground ; then scattering right and
left sought egress. Hamilton was one of the first
to find a way, a rivulet cut or a goat track, and
struggled out on to the plain beyond. His men
hither and thither found similar places, and on their
active little stallions scrambled up. Then each and
all, led by Hamilton and without reforming, fell on
the enemy and turned the tide of battle.
Walter Hamilton was a very calm and unperturb-
able boy in ordinary life, and that evening, chatting
with him, he seemed chiefly concerned with the fact
that " some infernal fellow had cut his boot open."
Which indeed he had, from the instep to the toe, and
a brand-new pair too.
Sir Charles Gough, who was commanding in this
battle, and himself a most gallant Cavalry leader
and Victoria Cross man, recommended Walter
Hamilton for the soldier's highest reward for his

322 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
gallantry on this occasion. But he did not live to
learn that he had received it, for he was killed in the
defence of the Kabul Residency before the Gazette
appeared. The case of Captain Hammond of The Guides is
the one alluded to elsewhere in which Lord Roberts
had great difficulty in obtaining the Victoria Cross
for him because of a curious official obsession. Lord
Roberts's force was besieged in Sherpur, but that
gallant leader was not one to submit to a passive
defence. He therefore made occasional strong
counter-attacks. One of these was made against the
Asmai heights to the right rear of Kabul city.
After inflicting considerable loss on the enemy, the
force was being withdrawn for the night into Sherpur.
A retirement of this sort is a very delicate operation
against hordes of Afghans. Every stone and rock
produces a man, and these all hurl themselves, with
great bravery and determination, on the retiring
troops. Captain Hammond, with the Dogra Company of
The Guides, had the post of honour and danger,
as the extreme rearguard of the British force.
During the retirement he was very heavily attacked,
and it was of utmost importance to hold on to a
small hillock, till positions behind were in their turn
occupied. Captain Hammond was a very powerful
man, and stood no nonsense from Afghans, or any
one else. He therefore seized a rifle and bayonet and,
practically alone, held the hill-top. Lord Roberts,
who himself saw the incident, at once recommended
Captain Hammond for the Victoria Cross for con
spicuous bravery and devotion. But some worthy
person with a pen refused to forward the recom
mendation, because it did not appear that Captain
Hammond had rescued a wounded man. As a
matter of fact, Captain Hammond had rescued
several wounded men, and especially one, The

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 323
gentleman with the pen being now satisfied, Captain
Hammond received a most gallantly won Victoria
Cross. Captain Vousden, of the 5th Punjab Cavalry, and
afterwards Commandant of The Guides, won the
Victoria Cross at Kabul about the same time as
Captain Hammond. His was a deed of prowess of the
old knightly order, when mighty men of valour
entered into the battle, and with their own right
hands showed who was the better man. Captain
Vousden was not only a very powerful man, but an
expert swordsman on horseback. He and his
squadron were in camp, off-saddled, when it was
suddenly reported by one of the outlying picquets
that a body of the enemy some hundreds strong
were sweeping round a neighbouring spur with a
view to attacking the camp.
Orders were at once issued for Captain Vousden to
turn out with his squadron of the 5th Punjab
Cavalry and check this onslaught. When a regiment
is off-saddled and in camp, it takes some appreciable
time to collect the men, saddle up, and get moving.
As time was a matter of great importance, and the
situation critical, Captain Vousden took the first
eight men who were ready, and with them stoutly
charged the Afghans. He himself killed five with
his own hand, and five out of his own eight men
were killed, but Vousden escaped without a scratch.
The rest of the squadron now arriving, he com
pletely defeated and dispersed the Afghans.
This was a very fine instance of personal daring,
great danger encountered at once against great odds,
in a devoted and successful endeavour to gain time,
and save an imminent disaster.
There has always been much controversy as to
whether it is better to use the edge, or the point, of a
sword, that is whether to cut or thrust. All the old
School of Cavahy soldiers, men who had been in

324 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
many a personal encounter, maintained that the
natural instinct of a man is to cut, not to thrust ;
and that therefore, however much he was taught
to thrust in peace time, the moment he got into a
melee he would forget all that instruction, and lay
about him as nature ordained. This was Captain
Vousden's experience : in each case he first parried,
and then cut. He said that if he had thrust, his
sword would probably have remained firmly em
bedded in his first victim, and left him unarmed.
Or at best he would have got tangled up each time,
getting his point clear, and meanwhile lay open to
attack. For this great deed of daring, on true old heroic
lines, Captain Vousden was recommended for the
Victoria Cross by Lord Roberts, and my recollection
is, that the same knight of the pen who objected to
Captain Hammond's V.C, again intervened in this
case. But happily he was again defeated and
Captain Vousden received his well-earned reward.
Padre Adams was of the sporting-parson class. As
an Army Chaplain his view was that to get to know
Officers and soldiers, you must join in their pursuits,
and meet them daily on common ground. The
soldier, and his Officer, go to Church Parade because
the King's Regulations ordain that they should do
so. They have also to be particularly smart on that
occasion, and this means a considerable amount of
polishing of buttons, and belts, to the private soldier.
Arrived at the church, the soldier goes through a
perfunctory service and hears, or does not hear, a
short sermon from a gentleman in white, with out
wardly respectful attention, and departs home none
the better and none the worse. The Army Chaplain's
position is a difficult one, unless he grasps at once
that he and Thomas Atkins, and his Officer, are of the
same clay, only one wears a white robe, and the other
a scarlet tunic, in church.

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 325
Padre Adams grasped that essential truth. He
was a week-day friend with the men, and he still
more laid himself out to be a week-day friend with
the Officers. To this end he played cricket, and
polo, and hunted with the Peshawar Vale Hounds.
He was a poor polo player, but he played his best,
and secured what he was driving at, that is meeting
young Officers somewhere else than in church, where
they could not chaff him back. In those days, for
polo was in its young days, what appealed a great
deal to the Officers' Mess was the hard man, who
could ride far and hard.
Nobody for choice holds one service in one place
in the morning, and another forty miles off the same
evening, but Padre Adams did frequently, and
probably not from excessive love of riding great
distances in the hot sun, but because these feats
brought him nearer the most difficult portion of his
congregations. He used thus frequently to hold one Parade
Service at Peshawar, and that same afternoon an
Evening Service at Kohat, forty miles distant. But
not only was, and is, Kohat forty miles distant from
Peshawar by road, but that road passes through the
Kohat Pass, a strip of tribal territory in which any
bandit gang might lie secure for purposes of highway
robbery and murder. Thus each of these rides shone
in the subaltern's eyes as a "dam' sporting thing,"
and he thought all the better of a parson who could
do them.
Thus Padr6 Adams was dubbed a "sporting
parson," and that helped his work immensely. There
was no one at the time who had more influence for
good, amongst Officers and men, than Padre Adams.
When the Afghan War broke out Padre Adams
went to the front as a Chaplain, and accompanied
Lord Roberts to Kabul. There was much fierce
fighting in and around Kabul during the winter of

326 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
1879-80. A small British Force was in the centre of
an enemy's country, surrounded by great hordes of
armed but undisciplined warriors, dealing a blow here
and another there, much as does one stout-hearted
man, with his back to a wall, against a dozen
assailants. In one of these encounters the gth
Lancers were ordered to charge, but their effort
was broken by a swollen stream which suddenly lay
in their way. Great bodies of Afghans, quick to
seize a chance, then attacked them, hoping- to
capture some Horse Artillery guns which accom
panied the Cavalry.
During this hot fight Padre Adams was well up,
riding his pony, when he noticed a man of the
9th Lancers wounded, and on foot, and staggering
back and in great jeopardy of being killed by the
Afghans. Jumping off his pony, the Padre was
attending to and helping this man, when his own pony
in the hurly-burly took fright, and ran away. Help
ing the soldier into safety Padre Adams returned on
foot to see if he could be of further assistance.
Reaching the deep-flooded rivulet, which had
interrupted the Cavalry charge, he saw two lancers
pinned down by their horses and in imminent risk
of drowning, whilst the Afghans were close up on
the opposite bank. Without a moment's hesitation
the Padre jumped into the icy water, regardless of
the heavy fire, and rescued both soldiers.
Lord Roberts, himself the bravest of the brave,
recommended Padr6 Adams for the Victoria Cross,
which in due course Queen Victoria bestowed on
him. He was the first parson to receive that greatly
prized decoration.
I last met Padr6 Adams preaching in Sandring
ham Church, before King Edward and Queen
Alexandra, when Prince and Princess of Wales, with
his Victoria Cross and two Afghan medals on his
surplice, and found the same human spirit in his

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 327
sermon, amidst such greatly differing surround
ings. One of the bravest men, and an Irish gentleman
to boot, was Sir George White.1 After twenty-six
years' service he was still a Major in the Gordon
Highlanders, and had never seen a shot fired. But
his chance came in the Afghan War. His was a
case again where the scribes objected that he had
not saved a wounded man. But here again Lord
Roberts insisted that there was no word in the
Warrant about rescuing wounded men, and that
Major White had on several occasions behaved with
conspicuous bravery and devotion. The two in
cidents for which he was officially granted the
Victoria Cross, took place at the battles of Charasiah
and Kandahar. Charasiah was one of Lord Roberts's
most critical battles, and had to be won at all costs.
At the most crucial moment in that battle it was
most essential that a hill on our left should be taken.
Major White and a wing of the Gordon Highlanders
were sent to achieve this object. The hill was steep,
the defence stout and strong, but at length Major
White, leading with two men only, and these ex
hausted, won his way up. Going on alone he shot
dead the leader of the enemy, and as the men
struggled up permanently captured the position.
The second act of valour, which was bracketed
with the first in the bestowal of the Cross, took
place at the battle of Kandahar, after Lord Roberts's
famous march from Kabul to Kandahar. Here
again, leading the advanced wing of the Gordon
Highlanders, was Major White, and opposite them
was a battery of the enemy's guns. These Major
White charged, himself racing on in front, and per
sonally capturing the first one.
In connection with Major White a nice story was
1 Field-Marshal Sir George White, v.c, g.c.b., g.c.s.i., g.c.m.g.,
G.C.I.E., G.C.V.O., O.M.

328 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
told by Sir Herbert MacPherson, who commanded
the brigade in which the Gordon Highlanders served.
Sir Herbert was at Osborne on a visit to Queen
Victoria, and Her Majesty asked him point-blank,
why she always heard of Major White and the
Gordon Highlanders, and seldom of Colonel Parker
and the Gordon Highlanders ; Colonel Parker being
the Colonel of the regiment. Sir Herbert at once
replied :
" Partly, Madam, because Major White is an
excellent Officer and has done exceedingly well ; and
partly because Colonel Parker never thinks of him
self, but always gives credit to those serving under
him." In the Soudan a Naval Officer, Captain A. K.
Wilson,1 known as " Tug " Wilson, was one of those
who received the Victoria Cross. It was at the battle
of El Teb, one of our earlier battles in the Soudan,
when we always fought in hollow squares. This
tactical formation was used partly because it was the
simplest way of guarding and protecting the baggage
and convoy, and partly because the dense bush made
it difficult to know from which direction to expect an
attack. So the troops stood foursquare, and at night
cut down thorn bushes and formed a zareba round.
The weak point of any formation with salients is
the apex of those salients. In a square the corners.
At these, therefore, were usually placed the machine
guns, or Artillery if we had any. At El Teb the blue
jackets with a machine gun were given the defence
of one corner of the square, for naturally all battles
of this description were fought on the defensive,
victory being achieved by rifle and gun-fire. Wilson
was present on the naval commander's staff. At
a critical moment the gun jammed, as they fre
quently did in those days, what with sand and one
thing or another, and a determined rush was made
1 Admiral Sir A. K. Wilson, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o., o.m.

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 329
by the dauntless Arabs at what had now become a
very weak spot. Wilson was not only a stout
hearted sailor, but also physically a strong man,
and he took on the Arabs in hand-to-hand fight.
Many of the Arabs were armed with heavy swords,
copied from those carried by our Crusaders in the
old wars between the Cross and the Crescent. Some
of these were the original blades used by our fore
fathers, and I was fortunate enough to secure one
of these, with the English lion and the cross engraved
upon it, now on the walls of The Guides' Mess.
Against these heavy swords a light Naval Officer's
sword was not of much avail, and Lieutenant
Wilson's sword was broken off short at the hilt.
Nothing dismayed he used the handle as a knuckle
duster, and went in at the Arabs with his fists. The
bluejackets followed suit and in good old British
fashion knocked out the astonished Arabs. Mean
while the gun had been got into working order again,
the situation cleared, and a hard-earned victory was
added to British laurels.
For his great personal bravery, and splendid
example, Wilson received the Victoria Cross.
It is not often that three Officers in the same
regiment get the Victoria Cross on one day. Occa
sionally as in the case of Major Phipps-Hornby and
Q Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, at Sanna's Post
in the South African War, Victoria Crosses are given
collectively to the Battery, and the Battery, or
other body of troops, elect the actual recipients —
One Officer, one Warrant or Non-Commissioned
Officer, and two men.
The three Officers on the present occasion were
Lieut. -Colonel R. B. Adams, who commanded the
Corps of Guides ; Lieutenant H. MacLean, Adjutant
of the Guides' Cavalry ; and Lieutenant Lord Fin-
castle, 16th Lancers, attached to the Guides' Cavalry
for the Campaign. The scene was the Swat Valley,

330 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
down which flows the Swat River. At its lower end
the valley is well cultivated, and some three miles
wide in parts. Proceeding upstream the valley
narrows, and spurs from the mountains on each side
run down and touch the river at intervals. Between
these spurs are bays of cultivated land.
The British force was proceeding up the valley
and found one of these spurs strongly held by the
enemy, and it was necessary to drive them off
this, by a frontal attack. Sir Bindon Blood, who
was in command, directed the Infantry to attack,
and held his Cavalry ready to go in pursuit, directly
the enemy were driven off the spur.
When the right moment arrived, and the enemy
gave signs of breaking, the Cavalry received their
orders, and proceeded to obey them. Now the only way
of getting round the spur, where it abutted on the
river, was by a narrow single-file track which for
about a mile skirted the spur at river level. Beyond
was an open cultivated bay, about two miles across,
and much intersected with irrigation water-courses.
On the far side of the cultivated bay was another
spur running into the river. It was the intention
of Sir Bindon Blood that the Cavalry should catch
the flying enemy as they crossed the cultivated bay.
But as all Cavalry soldiers know, a body of Cavalry
moving fast in single file along a tortuous and rock-
strewn track is apt to get very spun out. The
leading files get through quick enough, too quick
unless checked ; and the further to the rear the line
reaches the more strenuous are the efforts of horse
and man to keep up.
The leading files with an Officer soon passed
through the defile, and arriving in the open saw the
enemy fleeing before them. They waited a bit to
collect more men, but fearing the fleeting chance
might be missed soon set forth in pursuit.
With this small leading body of Cavalry was a young

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 331
Officer of Infantry, who was acting as war corres
pondent to one of the daily papers. He was riding
a pony which was evidently not accustomed to be with
charging Cavalry, and mad with excitement set off
at a tearing gallop, easily outdistancing the troopers
on their more heavily weighted mounts. Across
the valley he tore quite out of control, straight for
the next spur, which now could be seen to be strongly
held, right down to the edge of the cultivation.
Nothing could stop the mad pony, and alone he
charged at the enemy. When he was quite close,
150 yards or so, a scattered volley from the enemy
killed, the pony and severely wounded the war
correspondent. Meanwhile Colonel Adams, having
reformed the Cavalry as it emerged in driblets from
the defile, pushed on as hard as he could in support
of the advanced parties. When he got close he saw
that up a rock-strewn mountain was no place for
Cavalry to charge, so he diverted them off to the
left to occupy a ziarat, or walled-in graveyard, and
thence ordered them to open a heavy fire on the
enemy on the spur. Meanwhile the war correspon
dent lay out in the open, liable to be cut to pieces
at any moment.
This could not be, so first Hector MacLean rode
out and dismounting tried to lift the half-conscious
correspondent on to his horse. The enemy were
only 150 yards distant and firing heavily. Thus
whilst Hector MacLean was labouring to lift him
the correspondent was shot dead and almost im
mediately after the gallant young Adjutant of the
Guides' Cavalry was himself mortally wounded.
Almost simultaneously Colonel Adams on horse
back and Lord Fincastle on foot dashed out, for the
enemy shouting exultingly were swarming down
on their prey. Colonel Adams mounted, and with
pistol in hand stood out boldly to stem the rush,
whilst Lord Fincastle lifted the dying officer and

332 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
carried him to safety. MarveUous to relate, though
subject to a very hot fire at close range, ioo to 150
yards, Colonel Adams escaped with a graze, though
his horse was shot. Lord Fincastle miraculously
escaped unscathed.
Colonel Adams and Lord Fincastle received the
Victoria Cross for their bravery and devotion on
this occasion, and Hector MacLean was awarded
a posthumous Victoria Cross. Two or three of the
N.C.O.'s and men of the Guides' Cavalry were also
decorated with the Order of Merit for their gallant
assistance under very desperate circumstances.
Another very gallant Officer, Francis Aylmer
Maxwell,1 who fought his first Campaign in The
Guides, has since earned the Distinguished Service
Order, the Victoria Cross, and a second bar to the
D.S.O. in three later Campaigns.
For the Distinguished Service Order, Lieutenant
Maxwell was recommended in the Rehef of Chitral
during a retirement when he carried in Colonel
F. D. Battye, the mortally wounded Commandant
of The Guides, under a very hot fire. The reward
was not granted then, but with this record behind
him he received it for further services in Tirah.
The second bar he received for gallantry in action
whilst leading his regiment in France.
It was in South Africa, whilst yet a subaltern,
that this brave soldier won the Victoria Cross. He
was serving with Roberts's Light Horse, a Colonial
Corps recently raised for service in the Boer War,
and formed part of General Broadwood's force, which
was returning from the eastern portion of the
Orange Free State towards Bloemfontein. On
leaving Sanna's Post, the force fell into an ambus
cade, very cleverly and boldly contrived by De Wet.
Part of General Broadwood's force consisted of
Q Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, under Major
1 Lieut.-Col. F. A. Maxwell, v.c, c.s.i., d.s.g., m.c

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 333
E. J. Phipps-Homby. This battery at once un-
limbered and came into action against the enemy,
who were concealed in the bed of a dry spruit. But
the range was very short, only four hundred yards
or so, and the enemy's rifle-fire killed men and
horses, and for the moment put the battery out of
action. Major Phipps-Hornby seeing that thus
exposed his battery could not be of use, whilst it
was in great danger of being captured, determined
to withdraw it a short distance. This was a very
desperate undertaking, but was successfully accom
phshed, in so far as four guns were concerned.
In this hazardous work Lieutenant Maxwell at
once joined as a volunteer, and exhibited "the
greatest possible gallantry " in the work of rescue.
Five times he went out into the open under what
was termed " an infernal fire " and helped to bring
in two guns and three hmbers, one of which he, with
Captain Humphreys, r.h.a., and some gunners,
dragged in by hand, all the horses being shot.
This was an occasion when the collective award
of the Victoria Cross was made to Q Battery, Royal
Horse Artillery, and it. was also awarded to Lieu
tenant Maxwell.
Young Wylly, of The Guides, earned the Victoria
Cross in South Africa, when, I think, a Corporal in
the Corps of Tasmanian Imperial Bushmen. His
father was an old Army Colonel, who had settled in
Tasmania, and when the Boer War broke out this
son, like many other patriotic men, enhsted and went
to the front. When out foraging one day near Warm
Bad in the Transvaal, Wylly and his party feU into
a veritable hornets' nest of Boers. As they were
riding through a narrow gorge a sudden burst of fire
knocked out six of the eight who composed the
advanced party. Wylly himself was one of the
wounded. But he rose to the occasion, and with
great courage and determination faced the situa-

334 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
tion. He had become the only man left able to use
a rifle, and alone behind a rock kept the Boers at
bay by quick and accurate shooting, and eventually
rescued all the incapable wounded, and brought
them off.
For this act of conspicuous gallantry Wylly* re
ceived the Victoria Cross, was promoted from the
ranks, and transferred to the Corps of Guides.
This young Officer had had a fairly strenuous time
in that narrow defile, but perhaps a later experience
was even more trying to the nerves. One day after
he had joined The Guides in India, a letter came
from the Mihtary Secretary to Lord Kitchener, then
Commander-in-Chief in India, asking that Lieutenant
Wylly might be sent down to Calcutta to be vetted
as to his suitabihty to fill a vacancy as A.D.C. to
Lord Kitchener. The letter further enjoined that
he was not to be told what he was wanted for, and
dark hints were to be given that it was something
to do with the Intelligence Department.
I, however, took the liberty of ignoring the last
part of the letter, for it is always best to be straight
and clear with British Officers, and told young
Wylly exactly what he was wanted for, and to be of
good cheer, and perfectly natural. Arrived at Cal
cutta he was subject to the awful ordeal of a trial
lunch, having heard just before that three previous
candidates, immediately after their lunches, were
presented with first-class tickets back to their regi
ments ! His lunch, however, was a success, and he
served many years with Lord Kitchener, and was
much devoted to him.
A heavy frontal attack was taking place across
the dead flat open ground on the Turkish trenches,
which were strongly held. On our left the attack
partially succeeded, but all along the rest of the hne
it was held up at distances varying from ioo yards
to 500 yards from the Turks, At this moment Sepoy

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 335
(now Lance-Naik) Lalla came across a Major in his
regiment 150 yards from the enemy, lying com
pletely exposed in the open, and trying to bandage
a grievous wound. Lalla dragged him a few yards
to a very slight depression only a few inches deep,
and there bound up the Major's wounds. Whilst
doing so he heard other cries for help, and sallying
forth dragged four more of his comrades into the
meagre shelter, and bound up their wounds.
Meanwhile it had come on to rain hard, and a
pitiless icy wind sprang up. Then Lalla heard
another voice calling for help about fifty yards to
the front, and only hundred yards from the Turkish
trenches. He recognised the voice and said to the
Major :
" That is my Adjutant, Sahib, calhng. I must
go out to help him."
" No, Lalla, it is quite useless," said the Major.
" You will certainly be shot dead and therefore be
of no use."
Then seeing that Lalla was still preparing to go,
he added :
" I order you not to go. Lie down."
Lalla lay still for a bit, and then the voice from
the front again called for help.
Up jumped Lalla, and calling out " I'll be back
in a minute," dashed out to his Adjutant.
The Adjutant, just before he was taken into the
operating-room in hospital, where he died, dictated
his evidence to a brother Officer. He said :
" I was shot down in the open about hundred
yards from the enemy, and lay in great agony. An
Officer of the Black Watch, who was lying wounded
a few yards off, tried to crawl to my assistance, but
he was instantly shot dead. Every time I made the
shghtest movement bullets whistled past me, or
through me. Then came a Sepoy to my assistance,
arid he was instantly shot dead- Then it came on

336 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
to rain, and a bitter wind sprang up. Then as I lay
in great pain suddenly appeared Lalla and lay down
beside me with cheering words. First he bound up
my wounds, and then taking off his own coat spread
it over me. Then he lay down lengthways so as to
protect me from the enemy's bullets. For five hours
he lay like this in the wet and cold, and all the time
kept talking cheerfully and encouragingly to keep
my spirits up. At length when it grew dusk he crept
off and said he was going back to get assistance and
would soon return. I slept or dozed for some time
and then heard Lalla return.
'"It is good, Sahib, very good. I have brought
some stretcher-bearers up not far from this. I will
lie flat whilst you get on my back, and then I will
crawl away with you on hands and knees.' "
With great difficulty the Adjutant obeyed these
instructions and was borne painfully many hundred
yards by Lalla to the stretcher-bearers.
Then Lalla said :
" I must return and fetch the Major, Sahib, and
those four Sepoys."
And this he did, and brought them all safely
out. And wonderful to relate he was not touched
by bullet, or shell, all day or night. Next morning
he was hale and hearty and cheerful as ever, and
grinned with great joyousness when he heard he
was a brave man.
The Victoria Cross has only recently been accorded
to Indian soldiers, and perhaps there is no worthier
wearer of that badge of honour and bravery than
Lance-Naik Lalla of the Dogras.

CHAPTER XXI
A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS
A Mighty River — Nine Miles Wide — Its devastations — Dera-
Ghazi-Khan Swept Away — The Party — The Fleet — Weighing
Anchor — " What's a Log ? " — The Telegraph Operator — Lunch
on Board — The Lady sees 3000 Geese — We Shoot One — The
Fleet Sets Sail — Anchor for the Night — A Few Partridges —
Soulful Music — Set Sail Again — Stalking Duck — More Par
tridges — Struggle with an Alligator — A Night Alarm — " Man
Overboard " — The Telegraph Operator's Use — His Night Ex
cursion — Shooting, Lazing and Sailing — A Goancse General —
A Scene of Desolation — The Ruined Town — The Church
Stands Amazed — Good-bye — Off to Fight the Germans
THE Indus is a mighty river, though you
might not think so in the cold weather.
Then opposite Dera-Ismail-Khan it flows
usually in two channels, one about as broad as the
Thames at Westminster, and the other somewhat
narrower, nor is it here very deep. But in summer
it is a very different river ; then the melting of the
snows in the Himalayan Mountains, and the heavy
rain in the nearer ranges, swell the Indus to great
dimensions. It is thirteen miles from Dera-Ismail-
Khan Cantonment to the railway station on the
opposite bank. In the cold weather all but a few
hundred yards of this distance can be driven in a
tonga, or ridden on a horse. But in the summer
there are nine miles of water which have to be
crossed by boat or steamer, and only four miles
drivable. That gives the size of the river at its
greatest and least.
Nor is it stable in its channel. The original town
of Dera-Ismail-Khan lies at the bottom of the
y 337

338 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
river nine miles west of its present site. And now
the new site is threatened after sixty years of steady
erosion. The river now flows along the foot of the
regimental parade grounds and sometimes floods
them. It may continue its western erosion, or it
may suddenly discover that the other bank is more
interesting, and next year be six miles away.
It thus played a grim joke on Dera-Ghazi-Khan,
the next Frontier Cantonment downstream. It at
tacked it fiercely and strongly ; the Indian Govern
ment spent hundreds of thousands of pounds in
fighting it. Yet it prevailed. It swept away the
town of Dera-Ghazi-Khan, it swept away the Can
tonments behind it, and then, having played this
pleasantry, wandered off into a channel five miles
away. Dera-Ghazi-Khan came into my Brigade area —
a somewhat elastic term : for some Brigade areas in
India include three sets of barracks, whilst others
include territories as large as half of England. This
particular Brigade area is half as large as England,
and twice as wicked.
It was with a view to visiting this portion of the
spacious domains assigned to my Brigade, as well
as to see how the fight with the Indus was proceed.
ing, that we took a voyage down that historic river-
The party consisted of the Major, the Ingenuous
Subaltern, myself, and last, but not least, the Lady
Sahiba. These four decided on a voyage of adven
ture, two hundred miles down the Indus, from Dera-
Ismail-Khan to Dera-Ghazi-Khan. They chose the
best time of year, that is February, when the days
are bright and not too hot ; and the nights not too
cold, but just cold enough to sleep in what is known
in soldier language as a flea-bag. That is a blanket
sewn up into a long thin bag, into which the sleeper
can insert himself, boots and all if necessary, and
sleep the sleep of the tired hunter, without having

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 339
the wind whistling through the cracks, or putting
his feet through the end.
The fleet chartered to carry this party and their
retinue consisted of three ships. First came the
Saucy Sue, a square flat-bottomed privateer, painted
white with green facings, and having a single mast
with a lateen sail. In her sailed the four principal
persons as above enumerated ; two dogs, one a
black chow named " Phoongye," and the other a
visitor, a rough-haired fox terrier, " Patch " by
name, who hated his canine host with a smouldering
passion. Then there was Luckoo, more generally
known as the Faithful Servitor, having been twenty
odd years in his master's service, and Bugtoo, his
son and diminutive understudy. I say son, but
Luckoo himself took up a semi-detached attitude
on the subject.
The Saucy Sue had a crew of six, including the
Captain ; guns, rifles, fishing rods, and other sporting
ventures were also on this ship.
In the second ship, named The Slippery Sal,
sailed the rest of the servants, and in the East their
number is legion ; the provinder, the kitchen, and
the telegraph operator. This ship was of the same
pattern as the Saucy Sue, but more humbly adorned.
In the third vessel might be found tents, the
soldiers of the escort, and other warlike impedi
menta. Her name was the Brazen Bess, and she
looked rather hke it.
The objects of the expedition were several fold.
A general and genial outing was the broad outhne
of the scheme ; but there was also every intention
of shooting large quantities of wild geese, duck,
teal, and partridges both black and grey ; also
alhgators to be made later into Gladstone bags. Then
the fishermen of the party expected good sport in
that line, and visions of a 50-lb. mahseer were con
stantly before their eyes. Next and somewhat

340 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
incidentally, it was the duty of one of the party to
make a military report on all the fords, ferries, and
passages of the Indus which we encountered. And
finally we were travelling down to see a strange
spectacle, a great town and cantonment in process
of being swept away by a great river. This was the
town and cantonment of Dera-Ghazi-Khan — now
no more.
The fleet was timed to weigh anchor at 10 a.m.
on Monday, but did not for various reasons. The
chiefest of these is that rarely, if ever, does a fleet,
or for that matter a single ship, start at a given
hour, but always an hour or more later. The only
exception to this rule is when some of the passengers,
relying on this well-known habit, come down that
one hour later. On that occasion, right down through
the ages from the days of Noah, the ship will sail
punctually, taking their baggage and leaving the
passengers behind. It was therefore in a spirit of
some self-congratulation that we weighed only an
hour and twenty minutes late. To an ignorant
landsman those eighty minutes appeared to have
been wasted in spurious futilities, but no doubt they
were all necessary. Anyway, at 11.20 a.m. the
fleet set sail, in line ahead ; the Saucy Sue leading,
followed by the Slippery Sal, the rear being brought
up by the Brazen Bess.
" What the twelfth-letter-in-the-alphabet is a
log ? " asked the Ingenuous Subaltern, picking up
a book from the seat.
" A log, my dear boy," said the Major impres
sively, " is a thing you tow behind you when at
sea — or on a river."
" Well, I thought it was a thing the captain wrote
secretly in his cabin every day, all about nothing,"
chimed in the Lady of the party.
" You are both perfectly right," summed up the
oldest of the party, judiciously.

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 341
" All right, let's have one," voted the Ingenuous
one. " The General shall write it, the Major shall
supply the meat, the Lady the fashionable gossip,
and I'll tow it overboard when finished."
And it is from this veracious document that the
present story comes.
" Who is that strange-looking person up in the
bows of the Slippery Sal, with a many-coloured
worsted comforter worn as a pugaree ? " asked the
Lady. " That is the telegraph operator," volunteered
the I.S.
" What on earth is a telegraph operator ? And
how does he operate on a river ? " demanded the
Lady. " That, my dear Lady, you will discover when
you run short of hairpins," answered the Major.
Evidently the telegraph operator had some doubts
himself. From his gloomy bearing and appearance
he evidently foresaw that he was committed to a
deadly adventure, a mere forlorn hope.
The wind now dropped, and though we had a
good current, progress was so slow that the Captain
ordered out the sweeps, and the privateersmen being
experts at these unwieldy weapons, we made good
way. After about three hours of thus voyaging
the party got sensibly hungrier, possibly with the
exertion of watching the rowers. They, therefore,
signalled up the Slippery Sal, which carried the
lunch. It was whilst lazily slipping along after lunch
that the sharp eyes of the Lady, possibly because
they were the only ones open, descried our first
quarry. There were, according to the Lady's com
putation, exactly 3000 geese on and near an island
about half a mile downstream. The fleet therefore
came hastily to anchor, and the tender shoved off
with the three guns on board, to shoot a bird or

342 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
two for dinner. The geese had, fortunately for us,
but unfortunately for themselves, never seen a
tender or a fleet before ; or even apparently the
glint of a gun. The intrepid party in the punt were
thus enabled to approach quite close to the quarry
without muffled oars, and arrived there, to fire a
broadside into the brown. At the sound of the loud
report 2999 geese, considerably agitated judging by
their remarks, got up and flew away, whilst one
remained. " Mine, I think," said the Major.
" Well, it so happened that that is the exact one
I aimed at. I had. him right on end of my gun all
the time," protested the I.S.
"As a matter of fact he is probably mine," put
in the General, " for you two were apparently firing
with No. 5, and nothing short of No. 2 will get
through a wild goose's skin."
" They have all settled again," remarked the
boatman. And so they had, in the most confiding and goose
like manner, about half a mile down, and most of
them under a steep bank.
The plan of operations this time was much more
elaborate. Two guns went ashore at once, and
making a long detour turned inwards towards the
steep bank. The tender was then let shp, and
dropped slowly down on to the white crowd. As
was intended, the geese watched the tender till it
got fairly close to them. Then they began to show
signs of anxiety. A lucky long shot brought down
one, and the rest went off over the two shore guns,
two tremendous thumps on the ground signalhng
two more down. We had now enough fresh game
to provision the fleet, and the geese went off into
the next province.
About this time a stiff breeze sprang up, and the
fleet received orders to set sail. To a soldier this

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 343
would seem an easy enough operation. You just pull
one rope which hoists the sail, and then tie down its
two spare comers, and there you are ! But to our
sailors, experienced old river salts, the true magni
tude of the task was at once apparent. In the first
place, the sail was a tangled mass of ropes and poles
and canvas, stowed away so that no one could get
at it. During the preliminary disentanglement the
flagship ran up into the wind, and incidentally on
to the shore. But the wind caught her another biff,
and blew her off, but only to waltz round and run
hard ashore again. After severely injuring several
more portions of the foreshore, the good ship Saucy
Sue was got before the wind, and sailed with great
swiftness for 800 yards, when she ran hard on a
sandbank, and in getting off this on to another.
The crew being now exhausted, and the fleet feeling
rather sore underneath, it was decided to anchor
for the night on a lee shore. By orders of the
Admiral the sails were furled by parties standing
on the bank, the fleet unloaded, and camp pitched
on a desert island.
While camp was being pitched, a couple of guns,
accompanied by the two dogs, went off to try
and shoot some of the partridges which could be
heard calling all round. After the first shot
" Phoongye," the chow dog, with completely shat
tered nerves hastily returned, and hid in the bottom
of one of the boats ; whilst " Patch," the terrier,
having eaten one partridge, ranged so wide in
search of another that long shots were the order of
the evening. However, the gunners came back very
pleased with themselves, if not with " Patch," and
added sensibly to our larder. Meanwhile Bugtoo,
who was the only keen fisherman of the party, first
landed a stickleback, and then by way of con
trast hooked a mahseer as big as himself ; a fish
which required the united efforts of six boatmen,

344 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
with an extraordinary amount of conversation, to
land. Under a bright starlight sky and a half moon,
we sat down to good camp fare, prepared under the
auspices of the Lady and the I.S. ; with a bottle
of beer, and a glass of port to follow. After dinner,
what with the moon on the water and one thing
and another, the I.S. was moved to sing songs to his
guitar, apparently not only about one siren's grey
eyes, but also about some other good lady's eyes-
of-blue. These had a soporific effect, and as we
each had a little tent to sleep in, soon nothing was
to be heard but the low droning of the anchor watch,
and the soft footfall of the sentry on his beat.
Next morning we were up betimes ; had struck
and packed camp on board, and set sail by 8.30 a.m.
We had not gone far, however, when a large number
of duck and teal could be seen, but right out in the
middle of the river and difficult of approach. We
did not see much chance of floating down on them,
for duck are generally very wild on this river, so we
contrived a drive on the off chance of getting a shot.
The ships were anchored with their sails set, this
being a familiar object ; whilst one gun was landed
on each bank and the third remained on board.
Next some boatmen and the dogs were sent round
by land to cut in below the duck and drive them up
stream. The duck came up all right, but at a great
height, and only a brace fell to the guns.
A little further downstream the fleet came to a
good patch of rough grass and bushes, near a village,
and hearing partridge calling the guns disembarked.
Here during an hour's walk they picked up half a
dozen brace. They also bought some very precious
eggs, and the fowls that laid them, at the village.
But the triumph of the day was a large alligator.
Shots had been fired at several, and these, though
apparently hard hit, managed to slide into the water,

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 345
where by common consent they were eaten by their
friends and relations. Anyway, they never appeared
again, alive or dead. But this fellow was>it in the
neck and lay completely stunned, with his tail
standing straight up over his back, like a scorpion.
Having learnt by previous experience that to fire
another shot had the mysterious effect of galvanizing
an alligator into sufficient life to convulsively heave
him into deep water, this time he was approached
very quietly indeed in the tender ; and when
arrived close, two of the boatmen got out and
wading closer still, very deftly threw a rope round
his tail. Then the monster woke up suddenly, and
there was a very lively and chaotic encounter which
lasted for some minutes. For a good-sized alligator
has the strength of a dozen men. After everyone
had got very wet, and somewhat exhausted, we
hauled the monster clear enough ashore to get a shot
through his head, and this finished him. A suit-case
made out of his skin was the trophy of this heroic
struggle. A few more duck were shot, and then we tied up
for the night. Whilst camp was being pitched a few
partridges were added to the bag. That night there
were mysterious scratchings, followed by violent
barking on the part of the dogs. When the sentry
closed up to it he saw a big beast, probably a hyena,
searching for somebody, probably Bugtoo. The
sentry blazed at the beast, and missed like a man.
This woke up the whole camp, thinking a midnight
attack was being made by some stray raiding party.
Explanations on the part of the sentry, and peevish
remarks from everybody else. And so to bed again.
Next day we set sail early, and again there was a
strong N.W. breeze, which carried us along at
a great pace ; but the flagship, being flat-bottomed,
made much leeway, and also sandbanks were, as
often as not, colhded with ; this lost much valuable

346 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
time and space. The ship's crew being also of
Eastern blood, did things in an Eastern way, that
is to say, the longest and fuddliest way ; with bits
of garments dropping off at critical moments. As
someone has said, we need not fear being turned
forcibly out of India till the people of that land have
assumed a costume which does not fall off in parts,
whenever they start to do anything.
We saw one large flock of geese in a field, and a few
duck here and there, but did not draw trigger all the
morning. The scenery the whole way was exactly
the same, a flat muddy-coloured river, meandering
at about two and a half miles an hour through a per
fectly flat, sandy desert. Occasionally a patch of
high grass scrub, and now and again in the course of
a day a tree was seen. For the rest, flat desolation.
In the far distance to the west an occasional ghmpse
through the haze of the Suleiman Range.
R-r-r-ripp, smack ! That is the side awning
tearing. Why ? Because our beloved Aryan brother
can rarely use an article, or instrument, or anything,
for the express purpose for which it is made. He
uses something else, as unsuitable as lies handy, and
it generally breaks. The Saucy Sue and the Slippery
Sal, being warped alongside for a meal, one would
naturally have tied them together with ropes, or
other suitable attachments. Not so the brother.
He ties together the awning strings of both ships,
and then at the moment of parting forgets to undo
them. Hence the rip, smack !
" Man overboard ! " Quite so. And now ? Why,
also of course in the manner of the East. We were
tacking, and when tacking all the crew, from the
Captain downwards, has a word to say, generally
pitched in a key that can be heard a mile off. One
brave mariner was holding the sheet with one hand,
trying to roll up several yards of his pugaree with the
other, and at the same time talking torrentially.

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 347
Puff comes a blast of wind, out goes the sheet, and
the mariner at the end of it, whilst his pugaree forms
a long pennant to the group. The puff went by, and
souse went the sheet end, and our friend into the
water. Then we all set to work earning the Humane
Society's Medal and cursing the mariner for making
us wet. End of incident.
That evening we gave the telegraph operator an
answer to the Lady's question of the first day.
" Look here, sonny, you will walk as fast as you
can due west till you hit a telegraph line ; it may be
six miles off, and it may be sixteen. When you hit it,
tap the wire, and see if you can get any news ; and
in return send news of the safety, and present
position, of this Armada."
" God forbid, sir ! I shall certainly perish from
bad men on this journey."
" Oh no, you won't, Babu. You ain't worth
killing. You just trot along."
" Sir, you are very harsh man. But I beget my
wife and children to your Honour's generosity."
" Thanks, Babu, but you are going to support them
yourself for many a long day. Off you go."
So, with a villager for a guide, off went Babu Moti
Ram, the telegraph operator ; and eventually hit the
line about six miles off. Having arrived at this
haven of safety, where at any rate he could talk both
ways — that is, either to his friend Babujee Dinshaw
at Dera-Ismail-Khan, or to Narain Das at Dera-
Ghazi-Khan — he decided to take no further risks
and absolutely refused to face the perils of the
journey back to the river.
Here, with his back to the telegraph post, he felt
safe, and at home. It was only with courage
begotten of the first streak of dawn that the villager
induced him to trek back to the boats ; further imbued
with the fear that delay might result in his being left
behind in these awful and impenetrable deserts.

348 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES
" Where no man can live soundly," as he was
heard to explain afterwards.
Yet these are the people who for some years
appear to have seriously shaken the nerves of the
Government of India.
And so our cruise continued : shooting, sailing,
and lazing by day ; a little fishing in the evening,
and a bright little camp in a bright little spot every
night. It was therefore with some regret that we
at length saw, spanning the distant horizon, a white
bridge of boats which we knew betokened Dera-
Ghazi-Khan, and the end of our river cruise.
At this particular moment, and happily not before,
our noble cook, reputed to be a Brigadier-General in
the Goanese Army, fell sick. One can receive with
well-restrained equanimity the news of the regret
table departure from this vale of tears of many of
our friends ; but only those who are built in the
heroic mould can without emotion hear of the
slightest ailment which may attack their cook.
Ours happily survived, and is now very possibly a
Field-Marshal fighting against the Germans in East
Africa. As we stood on the middle boat of the bridge, the
toll keeper remarked, " You are now standing over
the exact spot where the spire of the Mission Church
was a few months ago."
We looked down but could see no spire. South
and south-west from here, and only a few hundred
yards off, the sight of a mighty river demolishing a
great town met our gaze. More than half of this
town of thirty thousand inhabitants had already
been swept away ; and the rest was now going in
large slabs and shces, as the great river roiled
relentlessly past it. The remaining houses, temples
and shops were now all forsaken, and hundreds of
homeless families were camped about on the higher
ground further inland.

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 349
The Cantonment had been evacuated by the
troops ; and there lay sad and desolate, awaiting
its inevitable end. The Garrison Church stood
without doors and windows agape with sad amaze
ment. Even the tombs of the dead had been dis
mantled, and their monuments moved to a new
land. All round stood enormous banks and defences
showing the heroic fight of the engineers, and the
hundreds of thousands of pounds spent, in the vain
endeavour to fight the great river. It was a sad
and dispiriting scene.
Only the imperturbable good spirits of the
Ingenuous Subaltern kept us from passing a rather
mournful evening — our last.
" Well, good-bye all," said the Lady, " and next
year we must take another cruise."
But that cruise never came off, for the Emperor
Wilhelm II claimed our attention next year.

INDEX

A'Court, Colonel, 122
Abdul Rahman, 37
Adams, Lieut. -Col. R. B., 329-
332
Adams, Padre, 324-326
Afghanistan, Amir of, 32, 43
Afghanistan, 32, 39, 320
Afghan War, 1878-80, 317
Aguinaldo, 157, 158
Alexandra, Queen, 208, 209, 326
Alexandria, 96, 235
Ali Gul, 51-57
Ali-Musjid, 43, 45, 49
Allahabad, 37
Aston, Brig.-Gen. Sir George, 120
B
Baden-Powell, Sir Robert, 189, 190,
191
Bangkok, 112, 113, 219
Bannatine-AUason, General, 243
Barclay, Captain, 320
Barrow, Sir Edmund, 241, 242, 285,
286
Battye, Colonel F. D., 332
Battye, Major Wigram, 321
Beaufort- West, 178
Bedford, Duke of, 212
Beresford, Lord Marcus, 207, 208,
210
Beresford, Lord William, 210, 211,
212
Bethlehem (S. Africa), 164
Blood, Sir Bindon, 293, 294, 330
Boer War, 160-191, 192, 207, 225,
230, 238, 243
Bombay, 37
Bond, Major, 246
Boshoff, 166, 167
Botha, General, 181
Brabazon, General Sir John, 72
Brahmaputra, 51
Brown, Captain, 248, 249, 251

Browne, Sir Sam, 281, 320
Bugtoo, 273, 339, 343, 345
Bunbury, Maj.-Gen. W. E., 118
Butler, Captain H., 245, 246

Cambridge, Duke of, 119, 120, 126,
127, 128
Cape Town, 175, 190, 191
Caroline Islands, 148
Cassel, Sir E., 207, 208
Cateau, Le, battle of, 236
Cavagnari, Sir Louis, 75, 252
Charasiah, battle of, 227, 327
Chesham, Lord, 166
Chichester, Sir Edward, 1 51-154
Chitral, Relief of, 71, 130, 293,
332
Clery, Sir Francis, 117, 123
Connaught, Duchess of, 220
Connaught, Duke of, 220, 221
Cooper-King, Colonel, 125
Cowans, Lieut.-Gen. Sir John, 117,
118
Cromer, Lord, 232
Cuba, 147, 196
Curzon, Lord, 242 D
Dale, Padre, 82, 83
Davies, Lieut.-Gen. Sir Francis, 118
Delhi, 139, 220
Delarey, General, 181
Dera-Ghazi-Khan, 338, 340, 347,
348
Dera-Ismail-Khan, 337, 338, 347
De Wet, 164, 168, 180, 181, 332
Dewey, Admiral, 150-155, 157
Dodd, Major G., 245-252
Dogs, anecdotes of, 72-83
Doyne, Colonel M., 4th Dragoon
Guards, 294, 295
Dufferin, Lady, 212, 213, 214
Dufferin, Lord, 212, 213

351

352

A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES

Edward VII—
entertaining at Sandringham,
207, 208, 209
great ruler, 206
issued order that his health
might be drunk in water, 3op
leading monarch in Europe, 206
Padr6 Adams preaches before,
326
personal charm and diplomacy of,
207
secured rapprochement with
France and Russia, 206, 207
Egerton, Maj.-Gen. Sir Raleigh,
294. 295
Egypt, 89-96, 232, 235
Egyptian War of 1882, 234
El Teb, 328
Ewart, Lieut.-General Sir Spencer,
116, 117, 118, 120

Fincastle, Lieut. Lord, 329-332
French, Lord, 177

Gatacre, Sir William, 101, 102, 134
Germany —
behaviour of German Fleet at
Manila, 152-154
Caroline Islands ceded by Spain
to, 148
chief beneficiary in Spanish-
American War, 147
Roosevelt's dislike of, 225, 226
George V —
his gift of remembering faces,
214,215
Sir John Woon supplies chargers
for use of, 216, 217
Tour of India as Prince of Wales,
214
Visit to India as George V, 216,
217
George, Mr. Lloyd, 238
Gibraltar, 235
Gleichen, Maj.-Gen. Count, 118
Gomal Pass, 146, 248, 291
Gordon Highlanders, 327, 328
Gorringe, Sir George, 233
Gough, Sir Charles, 321
Great War, the, 1914, 232, 237, 238,
245,272,311
Greaves, Sir George, 95
Griscom, Lloyd, 192, 194, 200, 203

Guides, The — -
commanded by Sir J. McQueen,
87
enquired after by Lord Roberts,
230
gallant officers of, 332, 333
General Luck questions native
officers of, 286, 287
in Khyber Pass, 49, 50, 51
march to Delhi in Mutiny by,
139
mess customs of, 301
native Princes enlist as troopers
in, 56
officer sent for discipline to, 310
paraded before Lord Roberts, 229
part of 2nd Brigade in storming
of Ali-Musjid, 45
splendid fight in battle of Panj-
kora River, 134
surveying escort in Afghanistan,
319-321 H
Haakon, King of Norway, 209
Haig, Sir Douglas, 236, 237
Hamilton, General Sir Bruce, 124
Hamilton, Lord George, 162
Hamilton, Walter, 320-322
Hammond, Captain, 322, 323
Hardie, Keir, 289-293
Hart, Sir Reginald, 318, 319
Henderson, Colonel, 125
Hickie, G. W. C, 250, 252
Holmes, Captain, 221-223
I
Iloilo, 148, 149
Imperial Yeomanry, 3rd, 163, 164,
231, 287
Imperial Yeomanry, 26th (Young-
husband's Horse), 287
India —
Duke and Duchess of Con-
naught's stay in, 220-224
George V visits as Prince of
Wales, 214-216, and as King,
217
incapacity for self-government
of, 277-279
Keir Hardie's visit to, 289-293
loyalty of native officers and
servants, 270-275
paternal system of Government
best adapted for, 268, 269
problems of, 268-270

INDEX

353

India —
risks of British officers on Fron
tiers of, 244-267
strong line needed in, 197
Indus, 337-349

Jhelum, 39, 40, 89
Jugdulluk Pass, 75, 77
Jutogh, 187 K
Kabul, 75, 215, 227, 229, 322, 323,
325. 327
Kandahar, 227, 327
Khyber Pass, 42, 43, 45, 49, 50, 57,
318
Kiang-Tung, 107, 109
Kimberley, 167
Kipling, Miss, 187, 213
Kipling, Rudyard, 187-189, 213
Kitchener, Earl —
as Commander-in-Chief in India,
241, 242
contrast to Lord Roberts, 228
fashioned on lines of Bismarck,
229
interviews young Wylly, 334
name and fame chiefly connected
with Egypt, 232
narrow escape from capture by
Boers, 232
his power of intuition, 232, 233
influence of Press and Public, 241
Kohat Pass, 325

Ladysmith, 71
Lahore, 38, 187, 188
Lalla, Lance-Naik of Dogras, 335,
336
Leach, General Sir E. P., 319, 320
Leyds, Dr., 184
Lhassa, 51
Lindley (S. Africa), 164
Lindley, Maj.-Gen. the Hon. J., 119
Lonsdale-Hale, Colonel, 125
Low, Sir Robert, 134, 293, 294
Luck, Sir George, 286, 287
Lucknow, 136
Luckoo, 135, 262, 272, 283, 339
M
MacDonald, Sir Hector, 160, 161
MacLean, Lieut. H., 329, 331, 332
MacPherson, Sir Herbert, 328

McRae, Captain, H. N., 221-223
McQueen, Sir John, 87, 88
Mafeking, 71, 191
Mahsud-Waziri, 245, 248, 291, 292
Malakand Pass, 134, 293, 294
Malolos, 158
Malta, 32
Mandalay, 108, no
Manila, 149, 150, 153-155, 157
Mardan, 78, 81, 83, 286
Maud, Princess (Queen of Norway),
208
Maude, Colonel, 123, 188
Maude, Sir Frederick, 318
Maurice, Sir Frederick, 124, 125
Maxwell, Lieut.-Col. F. H., 332, 333
Mayo, Lord, 275, 276
Meerut, 190
Mekong River, 219
Mesopotamia, 43, 318
Methuen, Lord, 163, 166, 167, 179,
180, 231, 232, 235
Mikado, 219, 220
Monro, General Sir Charles, 116
Mons (retreat from), 236
Montreal, 198, 199
Moulmein, 104, 107
Murree, 72, 74, 80 O
Oyster Bay, 195, 224

Panjkora River, battle of, 134
" Patch," 80-82, 339, 343
Penn Symons, Sir W., 235, 236
" Persimmon," 209, 210
Peshawar, 39, 41, 74, 131, 136, 214-
216, 286, 325
Pezu, 144, 145
Philippines, the, 148, 155
Phipps-Hornby, Major E. J., 329,
333
" Phoongye," 81, 339, 343
Portland, Duke of, 231
Powindah, Mullah, 140, 141
Pretoria, 191
Probyn, Sir Dighton, 162

Q

Quebec, 197, 200 R
Rangoon, 108, 109
Rawal Pindi, 74, 221, 235, 294

354

A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES

Rhodes, Cecil, 188, 189, 190
Roberts, Countess, 212
Roberts, Earl —
advance on Pretoria, 191
Charasiah, battle of, won by,
227, 327
contrast between Lord Kitchener
and, 228
difficulty in getting V.C. for
Captain Hammond, 314, 322,
and Captain Vousden, 324
kindness and consideration of,
117, 229, 230
lies in St. Paul's Cathedral, 228
march from Kabul to Kandahar,
227, 325, 327
modern Bayard, 228
recommends Padre Adams for
V.C, 326
sends despatch rider to Lord
Methuen, 163
stern disciplinarian, 229
strenuous efforts for National
Service League, 228
success at Sherpur, 228
takes command in Boer War,
228
Robertson, Sir William, 237, 238
Rolleston, Colonel Sir L., 167, 168
Roosevelt, Miss, 203, 204
Roosevelt, Kermit, 196
Roosevelt, Mrs., 196
Roosevelt, Theodore, 195-197, 224-
226
Roosevelt-Cole, Mrs., 203, 204
Russo-Japanese War, 148

Sandhurst, 1-32, 181, 242
Sandringham, 207-209, 326
Sanna's Post, 329, 332
Scarbrough, Lord, 162, 163
Scarbrough, Lady, r72
Scrase-Dickins, Captain, 224
Sheikh-Budin, 144
Sher Afzul, Sirdar, 129-133, 135
Sherpur, 227, 229, 322
Shore, Maj.-Gen. O. F. B., 118
Siam, King of, 218, 219
Simla, 82, 134, 187, 189, 237, 280,
281
Singapore, 148
Singh, Sir Pertab, 276
Smith-Dorrien, Sir H., 235, 236
Snakes, anecdotes of, 83-86
Soveral, Marquis de, 208

Spanish-American War, 147-159
Stedman, Captain, 319
Suakin, 89, 90, 97
Suez Canal, 34
Suleiman Mountains, 144
Swat River, 330

Tirah, 57, 190, 238, 332
Tokio, 219
Toronto, 198
Tytler, General, 45 U
Umballa, 160, 235, 238

Vereeniging, 172
Victoria Cross —
Royal Warrant for, 315-317
awards of, 317-336
Victoria, Princess, 209
Victoria, Queen, 328
Villebois de Mareuil, 167, 168
Vousden, Captain, 323, 324

W
Wano, 247, 248, 291-293
Wauchope, General, 160
Waziristan, 245, 248
White, Field-Marshal Sir George,
i°3, 327. 328
Willcocks, Sir James, 242, 243, 287,
288
William II, German Emperor —
eclipsed by Edward VII, 206
Roosevelt's opinion of, 226
visit to Salisbury Cathedral, 217,
218
Wilson, Admiral Sir A. K., 328,
329
Wolfe, General, 198
Wolseley, Lord, 162, 233, 234
Wood, Gordon, 230
Woon, Sir John, 188, 216, 217
Wylly, Corporal, 333, 334

Younghusband, Sir Francis, 51, 129
note

INDEX

355

Younghusband, Major-General Sir
George —
acts as guardian to Sher Afzul,
129-133
adventures on intelligency duty
in Burmah, 104-111
applies for service in Egypt, 87-
89
asked by Lord Roberts to break
news of death of Gordon Wood,
230
association with Sir James Will
cocks, 242
attacked by convicts at Suakin,
. 96, 97
battle of McNeill's zareba, 91-93
boating on Indus, 337-349
childish memories of India, 36
his diplomacy at Viceregal Lodge,
213, 214
his dogs, anecdotes of, 72-83
drives Staff College coach, 122
encounter with Major Dodd, 245
endeavours to take part in Boer
War, 160-163
escape from assassination by
Mahsuds, 144, 145
fighting with a column in Boer
War, 180-187
his first battle, 58-71
first meeting with Lord Roberts,
229
first meeting with Lord Kitchener,
231, 232
joins his regiment, 37-44
journey to Suakin, 89, 90
letters from Indian friends, 283-
285
and Luckoo, his bearer, 135, 272,
273. 283
his medallion, 296
meets George V when Prince of
Wales, 215
meets Lord Kitchener at Wel-
beck, 231

meets Sir William Robertson at
Simla, 237
practical jokes at Sandhurst, 1-31
prescribes for Burmese lady, 107
press notice of, 287
purchases sham sapphires and
cat's-eyes, in, 112
rash hunting foray, 97-99
rides in Aldershot Point-to-Point
Race, 120, 121
route-marching in India, 135-139
second battle of Tamai, 93, 94
selected for arduous work in
Burmah, 103
service with Imperial Yeomanry
in Boer War, 163-178
a spectator of Spanish-American
War, 148-159
spends leave in America, 192-198
stay at Staff College, 115-128
success in French examination,
123, 124
syce surrenders to, 100
at taking of Khyber Pass, 45-50
as Times correspondent, 134, 135
trip to Canada, 198-200
trouble with Governor of Iloilo,
149, 150
unpleasant task as Staff officer,
240
visit to Mr. Roosevelt, 195, 196,
224-226
visit to Sandringham, 208, 209
visits Salisbury Cathedral, 217,
218
visit to Admiral Dewey on flag
ship, 151
visit to Aguinaldo's headquarters,
157- 158
voyage to India, 33-36
Younghusband, Brigadier-General
Leslie, 80, 81
Younghusband, Maj.-Gen. J. W.,
270, 271, 280 note, 281, 282
York Town, 24, 25, 30

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