Raiders of the Sarhad

So, after a couple of days' rest at Khwash, we marched out with our faces once more turned towards Gusht, and with every hope of another victory. The composition of the force was much the same as that upon the previous occasion, but with the addition of a few Chagai Levies under Major Hutchinson (political officer).

A couple of days' marching across the burning plain found us camped at a place called Ab-i-kahugan, lying in a small valley closely surrounded by hills. The men were hot and weary, and, as water had been scarce on the march, they were only too thankful to fling themselves down and rest. There were a small water hole and a few stunted trees and shrubs under which a certain amount of shade could be obtained.

For myself I dropped down under one of these bushes and slept well on into the afternoon. When at last I woke, still feeling very done up with the heat, I saw one or two flashes of lightning in the distance, and felt certain that it was going to rain.

I immediately got up and gave orders for the whole camp to be moved on to higher ground, and selected a likely spot on one of the slopes of the low hills surrounding the valley.

The heat was still very great, and the effort expended in striking and re-pitching camp was not inconsiderable. The present camping-place was also infinitely cooler and more comfortable.

As an outcome of this order an officer reported that the men were grumbling at having to move when tired out with the heat and the heavy marching of the last few days.

I explained (for I knew by my own state how tired and done the men must be) that I had a presentiment that it was going to rain and that, if it did, the dry valley-bed would soon be a running stream.

The officer stared at me. "Rain?" he repeated, as though he had not heard me aright. "But it hardly ever rains in the Sarhad, and it has never been known to rain in August."

"Nevertheless," I replied, "this valley-bottom is going to be turned upside down, and the sooner you get your men out of it and up on to high ground the better."

The officer saluted and returned to his men, who sulkily proceeded to carry up their kit and tents and to form a new camp on the uncomfortable, sloping sides of the hill.

As I strolled about, seeing that my orders were being carried out, I noticed that Major Hutchinson's tent had been left in the bed of the valley. I walked up to it, found him dozing inside, and told him to have his tent moved on to higher ground as it was going to rain.

He, however, demurred, saying that he was very tired. He added, "It never rains in the month of August in Baluchistan."

I, however, remained firm, though the few light clouds flecking the sky a short while before had completely disappeared.

Despite my stringent orders some of Major Hutchinson's Chagai Levies apparently passed unnoticed amongst the low scrub, and so remained down in the shady comfort of the valley.

As the evening wore on I began to feel that perhaps I had been foolish in ignoring the dogmatic statements of the men well acquainted with weather conditions in the Sarhad, and was still chewing the cud of this reflection when, suddenly, I heard a roar in the distance. This came rapidly nearer, and very quickly resolved itself into the sound of rushing water. Almost before we realised it, a mighty spate swept into the valley, literally filling it. The water carried everything before it, and very soon small trees, shrubs and débris were being hurled along in a mighty rush.

It was pretty evident that the rain foretold had indeed fallen, though actually, in another part of the hills, forming this spate, which would have caused us serious loss but for my lucky premonition.

Torrents of rain accompanied the spate, and the kit of the few Chagai Levies who had neglected orders was carried away and never seen again.

As for the Levies themselves, they came within an ace of losing their own lives, and only saved themselves by clambering into the branches of some stunted trees, and waiting there till rescued. Nor was the rescue-work done without considerable risk to the rescuers.

The Sarhad-dar had, for some reason, been down in the valley-bed when the spate arrived, and had been nearly drawn under during the first few minutes. But he too, fortunately, managed to climb into a low tree, where for some time his position was perilous enough, for the swirling waters threatened every minute to snap or uproot the trunk, when he would have been carried away.

It was pitch dark when the spate arrived. I had seized a hurricane lamp from my tent and was watching the amazing scene by its light, when I heard the Sarhad-dar's voice shouting for help. One of our resourceful Rekis instantly grasped the situation. He jumped on to one of the horses tethered close by, urged him into the flood, and soon had the Sarhad-dar safely beside me on the high ground. He was later on recommended for the Royal Humane Society's Medal.

The next morning, as soon as I was awake, my tent was besieged by the Hazaras. They crowded round, asking me to come out. So slipping into my kit I emerged with the intention of asking them what they wanted.

But I had scarcely lifted the tent-flap when they all raised a shout, and then proceeded to tell me that I was a Buzurg (prophet), that they all owed their lives to me, and had come to thank me.

I replied with proper solemnity. It was undeniable, I said, that I was a prophet, for had they not recently had two concrete instances of my powers?

Later on, Major Hutchinson, in thanking me for saving his life, asked: "How did you know it was going to rain?"

I laughingly replied, "Because I'm a prophet, my son! Didn't you hear the Hazaras proclaim it just now?"

As a matter of fact we had very great reason to be thankful for our escape. The loss of the whole of our camp equipment, and of hundreds of our animals, would have been inevitable had the camp remained on its original site.

The day following this incident we marched through Gusht again, and camped on the site of our recent engagement.

From here we resumed our march in the direction of Zaiti, a camping ground lying just beyond the Saragan defile. But though we started at five a.m., met with no opposition and reckoned the distance only about twelve miles, we were not through the defile before midnight.

It must have been at about this hour that I called one of the native Hazara officers to my side, and remarked, "Your men were very disappointed the other day when we tried to force the pass, and the order was given to retire. You remember, they said they were convinced they could have got through, even with the heavy opposition we encountered. Do you think, now they've seen what it's really like, they are satisfied that the order was a necessary one?"

"Sahib," he replied, "of course we all see now that we could have done nothing in such a place against a determined enemy. I have never been through such a place in my life, and I am used to rough and difficult country."

As a matter of fact the defile was so narrow in places that a loaded camel could not get through it. Fortunately we had a quantity of gun cotton with us, so were able to blast the rocks here and there, and thus make the passage possible for them without unloading.

In due course we arrived at the village of Sinukan, a place some eleven miles from Jalk. Jalk at the time was a Gamshadzai stronghold, where they held two forts of some strength.

At Sinukan I received a message from the Gamshadzais saying that they wished to treat with me, and asking whether I would go into Jalk and state my terms. If these were acceptable, they said, they would instantly submit, but, if not, they undertook to withdraw their forces to a distance of five miles on the farther side of Jalk, provided we also withdrew five miles from the town on our side. This suggestion was made in order to give us both time to make our respective dispositions before fighting commenced.

An answer was sent to say that I agreed to the conditions, and that my force would come at once into Jalk to meet the Chiefs and present my terms to them.

I would say here that these terms were not drastic. They were only bare necessary safeguards for the lasting peace of the Sarhad. On their presentation, therefore, and for a time during the discussion, I hoped that counsels of wisdom would prevail, and that they would be accepted in toto. At the last minute, however, the hotheads over-ruled the moderates and they were formally rejected.

On this rejection I warned them that, if they persisted in their refusal, it meant fighting, and their reply was that they fully recognised the gravity of their decision, but that they meant to abide by it.

Accordingly, we retired not only five miles but the whole eleven miles back to Sinukan. My reason for this action was that I had already thought out a plan by which it might be possible to subdue these warlike tribesmen without the fighting I was naturally anxious to avoid. I certainly did not want to lose my own men, nor did I wish to make casualties of any more of the Sarhadis. My chief object had been, throughout, and, as has already been mentioned in this narrative, to make friends with them in the long run.

But no race, white or coloured, ever held in respect man or government showing weakness or indecision, and, as the foregoing pages prove, it was of little use attempting to make friends with these tribesmen without first inspiring them with a wholesome respect for British arms.

As we approached Sinukan I directed my Brigade Major to form two separate camps as I wished to seize Jalk by surprise that night with a portion of my force. My idea was to leave my transport and other encumbrances under a sufficient guard at Sinukan and with the remainder to move off secretly to carry out my intentions. Great care was taken to keep my idea secret, and only a few officers knew my intention. So well was the secret kept that my personal servant, Allah-dad, brought me my tea next morning only to find my bed empty.

At midnight, very quietly we roused the troops and marched off. Before dawn we arrived outside the town. It was only at the very last moment that the Gamshadzais, who had learned that I had gone straight back to Sinukan, and, in consequence, had not anticipated an attack that night, got wind of our approach. They were, therefore, taken completely by surprise, and utterly lost their heads. As we charged into the place with the cavalry they all took to their heels and rushed out on the other side, leaving many arms behind them. Within a very few minutes the two forts were in our hands.

My men soon rounded up the few Gamshadzais who had remained in the place, which seemed otherwise to be full of women and children.

To my embarrassment three large ramas of weeping women and children were presently led up to where I was sitting under a tree on the bank of a stream. I was then informed that they were all mine.

Some of them, in tears, asked me what I was going to do with them.

I replied, "I don't know. But at any rate I am English and not a German. What would you like me to do with you?"

They seemed bewildered at first, and without understanding, but when I assured them that I was speaking seriously, and really wanted to know what they would like to do, they soon found their tongues and made known the fact that they would like to go to their own homes.

"Is that all?" I replied. "Well then, go."

Their faces which, at first, shone with joy soon fell again. "But, Sahib, we have nothing left. You have captured all our possessions."

"But I don't want them," I returned. "Take everything that is yours and go."

Their thanks were then overwhelming, but I cut them short. "Wait a bit before you thank me so much. No Englishman ever makes war against woman and children – but there are your men. If I catch them, after all the trouble they've given me, I shall certainly kill them."

"Kill them then, Sahib," they said scornfully. "They deserted us, and ran away, when you and your lashkar came in. It is all they deserve."