Raiders of the Sarhad

I asked Idu if he had met anyone who had obtained an immortal bride.

Idu smiled. "I fear there is no young man in the Sarhad good enough to be worthy of the honour!"

I persuaded Landon, who was unmarried, to climb the hill with me – but not by moonlight! On our return Idu asked Major Landon if he had seen the Jinikan.

Landon replied regretfully that he had not, but was sure it was because he had not been able to ascend the hill by moonlight – certainly not because he was not good enough. He, however, had seen some very large footprints, which he sincerely trusted, for the sake of the beauty of the legend, did not belong to these immortal damsels!

But what pleased me more than the romantic hill was the discovery of a stream only a short distance away. This afforded not only an unexpectedly good supply of water, but, from a quantity of dry bushes along its banks, an abundance of fire wood for cooking.

On each day of the march we held counsel with the Sarhadis and soon became on friendly terms with them. We found them a very interesting crowd, full of adventure and the joy of life. They informed me that, as they had now thrown in their lot with me, they were quite ready to take part in any raid with me, if only I would organise one. Nor did the objective matter. Persia, Afghanistan, or, in fact, anywhere where there might be excitement and adventurous doings. So friendly, indeed, were we all that I began to think my work, and the whole object for which I had been sent to the Sarhad, accomplished.

But Idu was never optimistic on the subject. He invariably shook his head, and warned me, in and out of season, against Halil Khan and Jiand. He, at last, so infected me with his own anxiety, that I began to wonder whether the two Chiefs might not take it into their heads to wipe out our little force one night. They could have done this with the utmost ease. This change of mind induced me at last to make my camp dispositions with redoubled care. The Raiders were given to understand that they must take part in organising the camp against some unknown foe who might make them, as well as myself, an object of attack.

My suspicions were further aroused by the minute way in which they questioned me as to the individuality of that foe, and the direction from which it would be possible for him to come. I told them that habit in soldiers becomes second nature; that it was a soldier's habit to take the utmost precaution in self-defence, and that neglected precaution might always bring possible disaster. But I could see that they accepted the explanation with doubt, and obviously disbelieved in my mythical foe.

The third day's march across the Duzd-ab valley was a very trying one. We had to make a double march, for our food supplies were almost exhausted, and it was obviously imperative to reach Kacha as soon as possible. It must be remembered, too, that we had been on half rations since leaving Galugan, and already there had been much grousing amongst the whole force.

That night we encamped at the base of a hill which Jiand proudly announced as "Koh-i-Jiandsiah," or the "Hill of Black Jiand." I asked him who Black Jiand might be, and he replied that his father's name was Jiand, though he was not black, and that the hill had been named after him. The old fellow was obviously proud of the honour which had been conferred on his father.

Here Landon and I spent an anxious night, for both Idu and the Sarhad-dar were very nervous and depressed. The latter said that a rumour had got about amongst the Sarhadis that all my promises and protestations to them were false, and that I was really leading them into a trap at Kacha, where they were all to be killed. Consequently, the idea had been discussed as to whether it might not be safer, and wiser, to attack our small force, overwhelm us during the night, and escape before daybreak.

As may be imagined, the prospect was scarcely a pleasant one, but we could take no stricter precautions than had already been done, and our sole remaining action now was to show an absolutely untroubled and confident front to men who, though nominally our prisoners, held us in the hollow of their hands. In other words to "trust to luck."

Fortunately for us the Raiders, who still could not make head or tail of the real situation, determined on a pacific course, and the night passed without incident. So luck stood with us, and on the following morning we were early astir for the last march south of Kacha.

It was evident that the situation had now become one of the "touch and go" order, so I determined to emphasise my supposed confidence in the Raiders, by this means restoring theirs, and convincing them that there was no trap. I, therefore, gave orders that none of them were to march in advance, but in the rear, as I wished to have a clear view of my covering troops.

As we drew in towards Kacha I noticed that Halil Khan and his band gathered as close in behind me as possible, and I learned afterwards that he had said, "If we are to be led into a trap I will see to it that the General Sahib does not escape me."

I had already given orders that, the instant we entered Kacha, the advance guard of infantry, also the cavalry and guns, were to march straight off to their respective barracks. This order I learned afterwards greatly relieved the anxiety of the Sarhadis, who had actually talked themselves into an honest belief of the existence of a trap. They themselves encamped in the vicinity of the British Political Officer's house. He himself was absent at that date. Ample food supplies were dealt out to them. Now that our lines of communication were clear of the Raiders food was coming through again from India.

For the moment all need for anxiety seemed at an end.

On the 1st of May I summoned a Durbar, to be held, on the following day, close to the Political Officer's house. Idu was not present, for he had asked for leave to go to Robat on important personal business. I suspected this important business was a visit to one of his numerous wives, though the rascal always disclaimed the suggestion that his absences ever had anything to do with a woman.

The Durbar was an impressive affair. Several bags of money were brought from the Government Treasury by the Sarhad-dar and placed at my feet. These were to be given to the Chiefs as rewards for future good conduct. After delivering an address – more or less a repetition of what I had said at Khwash as to the folly of deserting the British for the Germans – I called on the Chiefs to sign an agreement whereby they handed their country over to the Sirkar, and promised in future to be loyal to the Indian Government. Further than this, and under this agreement, they were to give timely warning of the approach of German agents from any direction.

As most of the Raiders could not write, their thumb-marks were duly impressed on an imposing looking document produced by the Sarhad-dar, and the Chiefs swore on the Koran to abide by the agreement. They were then handed the money rewards promised them, Jiand receiving the largest amount – two thousand rupees.

I then announced to them that they were all free to return to their homes, and that if ever any of them needed a friend, or would like me to adjudicate between them on any local quarrel, they were at liberty to call upon me for the purpose.

They professed themselves as very grateful for all that had been given them; admitted they had been treated generously, and promised, on oath, that there should be no more trouble in the Sarhad, nor should any German or German agent be permitted to pass through their territories.

Thus, when they left for their homes, on the morning of May 3rd, all parties were, apparently, on excellent terms.

I wrote a despatch to headquarters at Simla, giving a short account of the expedition and its results, at the same time bringing forward the names of various officers, and other ranks, for good work done. I also mentioned the fact that I did not know what to do in regard to the traffic in slaves.

That evening Idu returned. He came straight to my room and told me I had acted unwisely in disregarding his repeated warnings as to the unreliability of Jiand and Halil Khan. He further added that some of his own chosen men, who had been scouting around and picking up all possible information, had met him, on his return to Kacha, and had given him the following authentic and disquieting news. It was to the effect that, hardly had Jiand got out of Kacha, that morning, with promises of devotion and loyalty still hot upon his lips, than he had halted and called a meeting of the Raider Chiefs, urging them to repudiate their oaths, to collect all their fighting men as quickly as possible, attack and take Khwash, and then to turn their attention to my force, which he now openly said he knew to be a contemptibly small one.

This was bad news indeed. We naturally knew that Khwash could be captured in a few minutes. There were only five men there. We were also quite conscious of the fact that we could be wiped out in less than the same time if attacked in any force.

But the bad was leavened by the good, for the same report told us that Juma Khan had resolutely and absolutely refused to fall in with Jiand's plans. He was also reported to have said that the General Sahib had kept every promise made to them, had spared their lives and crops when he could have destroyed them, had treated them, from the commencement of hostilities, as honourable foes, and later as friends, and had finally given them considerable sums of money. He had never broken his word, and he did not intend to begin doing so now. Therefore, he was to be counted out of any plans of treachery which Jiand might be meditating. Upon which expression of opinion he had ridden off to his own country with his following.

But, even with Juma Khan eliminated, the situation was serious enough, for I saw no chance of obtaining reinforcements from any quarter in time to prevent a disaster. However, it was no use crying over spilt milk. Things must be faced as they were.

After all, as I pointed out to Idu, Jiand could not do the impossible. He and Halil Khan could not collect their scattered men in a moment. The one thing left for us to do was to set off on the morrow, march back to Khwash, endeavour to reach it before Jiand, and organise our defence against his coming.

I have often since been blamed for an apparent foolhardiness in trusting the Raiders sufficiently to let them go. But it must be remembered that I had not come out to fight the Raiders – unless events made it absolutely necessary to do so – but, rather, to make friends with them and to keep the Germans, or their agents, from coming through their country. Moreover, the force at my disposal was very small indeed, and quite insufficient to keep these Raiders in check when once the bluff was called. In other words, I should soon lose the game if I persisted in treating them as enemies.

It must be understood, too, that the Sarhad was only the Southern portion of my command, and that rumours were constantly coming in that Germans, who had failed to get through into Afghanistan via the South, were not only moving North towards Birjand, but were trying to cross the border in that direction.

I knew, also, that it would soon be necessary to move North in order to induce the Russians to keep a more careful guard than they had been doing in the district North of Birjand, a district within their sphere of influence in Persia.

Nor must it be supposed that I had not quite realised, before I let the Raiders go, that I had not obtained all the safeguards I could have wished. But I did not then, nor do I now, see that I had any other alternative.

In any case I had gained one very definite advantage. I had won over Juma Khan to our side; and it was through his territory that the Germans would first have to pass in order to get through the Sarhad.

But, though Juma Khan had already given a practical example of his determination to be loyal to his oath, I recognised that he would be bolstered up in his loyalty if he felt there was apparent some show of strength on our side. The loss of Khwash to Jiand would, therefore, be a terrible confession of weakness.

Landon and the Sarhad-dar fully concurred with me that the one and only wise plan to follow would be to march at daybreak with all the forces we could command, and endeavour, by a series of forced marches, to reach and enter Khwash before Jiand could take it.

CHAPTER VII

THE RACE FOR KHWASH

Plans and routes – Car versus legs – An equestrian interlude – The trap in the gorge – More digging – Rendezvous – Mrs Idu and gastronomy – A reinforcement – A message to Landon – Izzat's men – Idu's romance – A "British Bulldog" – The car abandoned

Time was obviously the chief factor to be reckoned with for any hope of ultimate success; I wondered, therefore, whether the car might not be utilised in this dash back to Khwash.

Considering the nature of the ground over which we had marched, it seemed rather a mad idea, but Idu pounced on it.

"The very thing, Sahib," he said excitedly. "You remember how astonished even I was when I first saw it? How much more will it impress Jiand's ignorant men! They will think it a new sort of devil, and it will be more useful than a dozen guns!"

"I believe Idu is right," Landon said. "Why don't you go in the car, whilst I take charge of the army?"

After further details had been discussed, we decided to adopt this plan. The car was still at Robat, about twenty-four miles distant, with Allan in charge. I, therefore, sent a telegram, and also a duplicate message by a sawar on a mari camel, telling Allan to provision the car, bring all the spare tubes and tyres he possessed, and start early the following morning on the track to Saindak, where, at a spot to which the sawar would guide him, about nine miles out of Kacha, Idu and I would meet him on horseback.

Landon, who would be able to use a far more direct route to Khwash than the car could take, was to start with the army – the same old army of seventeen cavalrymen, four trained infantrymen (it will be remembered five had been left in Khwash), sixty-five untrained men, with two mountain guns, two machine-guns, and six hundred camels. He was to endeavour to reach the Raiders' stronghold in seven marches.

Six hundred camels for so small a force would seem out of all proportion. But it must be remembered that transport for provisions, and everything else we should need for at least a full month, was required; that we could not depend on keeping open any sort of lines of communication; and that whenever a Durbar or meeting was held, all those attending it expected to be fed, and well fed. Our very existence depended on an ample supply of food. Further, the presence of so many camels helped to uphold the game of bluff it was still necessary to play, and a distant view of these six hundred camels gave an appearance of numbers out of all proportion to our real fighting strength.

Landon's route would take him by a comparatively short cut, though, even by this – over the western slopes of the Koh-i-taftan – he could not hope to accomplish the march in less than seven days.

Very early in the morning Idu and I rode off on a couple of small ponies provided by the former, and he assured me that it was only a very special breed of pony that could hope to cope with the difficulties of the nine hilly miles lying between us and the meeting-place arranged with Allan and the car.

Idu was fully justified in his criticism of the track we had to follow, for it grew steeper and narrower as we proceeded, until, at last, we were negotiating a mere cleft in the hill, with our elbows almost touching the rocky sides.

Suddenly, my pony, who had probably been deciding that he had had enough of it, stopped dead, quivered all over and – sat down! Idu, who was immediately in front, turned round to see what had happened, and his pony promptly rolled backwards on the top of us.