For a century the tangled mountains of the North-West
Frontier of India provided the British and Indian Armies with a school for
soldiers, a hard, unforgiving school in which mistakes cost lives and, above
all, a school in which the only certainly was the unexpected. Prominent among
the frontier tribes were the Afridi, of whom it was said that robbery, murder,
treachery and merciless blood feuds were the very breath of life. The same, to
varying degrees, might have been said of all the tribes along the frontier, the
Wazirs, Mahsuds, Orakzai, Mohmands and Yusufzai. Masters of the ambush and
guerrilla war, they fought constantly among themselves and regularly against
the British, who could provide much dangerous sport when there was nothing more
pressing to occupy their minds. Sometimes a serious incident would require the
despatch of a punitive expedition which would fight its way into the tribal
territory and destroy the offending villages. In due course, after they had had
enough of fighting, the tribesmen would let it be known that they were willing
to submit. A ‘jirga’ or council would be held, attended by the tribal headmen
and the senior British military and political officers. A fine would be
imposed, the troops would leave and all would remain quiet for a while. Then,
in a few years’ time, the whole process would be repeated. Such events,
however, tended to be local in character and it was unusual for large areas of
the Frontier to be affected simultaneously.
Yet, the frontier tribes had another side to their
character. Hospitality, for example, was regarded as a sacred trust. Devious
with each other, they would react honestly if dealt with the same way. It could
take years to win their trust, but once earned it could result in friendship
for life. Many enlisted in regiments of the Indian Army and, having served
their time loyally, would return home with their pensions and a mellower
impression of the British Raj. Against this, the tribes were to a man devout
Muslims to whom the killing of infidel Christians and Hindus was entirely
impersonal and certainly no matter for conscience searching.
At the beginning of 1897, while those at home were preparing
to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, the Frontier was quiet, although
the term was relative, and seemed likely to remain so. In July, however, it
suddenly exploded in revolt along its entire length, presenting the authorities
with the most formidable challenge they had ever faced, or were likely to
again.
There was only one cause capable of uniting tribes normally
at each other’s throats, and that was militant Islamic fundamentalism.
Fanatical clergy were at work, notably the Mullah of Haddah among the Mohmands,
the Mullah Powindah in Waziristan, the Mullah Sayid Akhbar in the Khyber
region, and especially the Mullah Sadullah of Swat, known to the British as the
Mad Fakir. Eyes blazing with fervour, Sadullah travelled from village to
village preaching ‘jihad’ (holy war) against the infidel, accompanied by a
thirteen-year-old boy whom he claimed was the last surviving heir of the Great
Moghuls and would soon ascend the throne of his ancestors in Delhi. The
situation was aggravated by Abdur Rahman, King of Afghanistan, who had recently
produced a tract praising the concept of jihad and, displeased with the results
of a recent frontier demarkation, urged the mullahs to drive the infidels from
their land, although he had no intention of taking the field himself. Perhaps
these factors would not on their own have been sufficient to provoke a general
rising, but also present on the Frontier were agents of Sultan Abdul Hamid II
of Turkey, determined to make trouble for the British in revenge for a
humiliating diplomatic snub he had received at their hands. The line taken by
these agents was to hint that Great Britain had been seriously weakened by its
quarrel with the Sultan, and since the truth of this would not suffice, lies
would do just as well. The Suez Canal and Aden were now in Turkish hands, they
claimed, so that whereas reinforcements from the United Kingdom would normally
take three weeks to reach India, they would now take six months; and, that
being the case, the jihad would be over long before they could arrive. Being
simple people with a limited knowledge of geography and no means of verifying
the truth, the tribesmen accepted what they were told and were much encouraged.
The fuze which actually detonated the explosion had been in
place since the previous year when a government clerk, a Hindu, was murdered in
northern Waziristan. As the culprit was never brought to justice a fine of
2,000 rupees was imposed on the area. One village, Maizar, refused to pay its
share and on 10 May 1897 the political agent, Mr Gee, arrived there to settle
the dispute, accompanied by a military escort of some 300 men. The troops were
offered hospitality to lull them into a false sense of security, then were
treacherously attacked by over 1,000 tribesmen. After all three British
officers had received mortal wounds the Indian officers took charge and
embarked on a difficult fighting withdrawal from the village, despatching
several cavalrymen to summon reinforcements. These reached the force during the
evening, having covered nine miles in 90 minutes, and enabled it to break
contact. Losses among the Indian soldiers amounted to 23 officers and men
killed, and a large number of wounded; it was estimated that about 100 of their
attackers were killed.
During the weeks that followed the rising spread like
wildfire along the Frontier, the garrisons of fortified posts having to fight
desperately for their lives against an enemy who, inflamed with religious
fervour, launched repeated attacks regardless of losses. At the end of August
disaster struck. The forts guarding the Khyber Pass were held by an irregular
and locally raised unit known as the Khyber Rifles, officered entirely by
Afridis. Raised after the Second Afghan War, they had given good service in the
past but had become seriously unsettled by the mullahs’ propaganda. On 23
August the rebels closed in around the forts. That at Ali Musjid was simply
abandoned, while the garrison at Fort Maude offered only a token resistance
before falling back on a relief column from Fort Jamrud. Next day it was the
turn of Landi Kotal, which resisted successfully for 24 hours before
treacherous elements opened the gates; some of the garrison joined the rebels,
some were allowed to leave after handing over their weapons, but others,
remaining true to their salt, managed to fight their way through to Jamrud.
Control of the pass, the vital communications route between India and
Afghanistan, was not regained until December. Such was the fury of the tribal
assault that those holding the smaller posts stood little or no chance of survival.
On 12 September the heliograph station at Saragarhi, midway
between Forts Gulistan and Lockhart, covering the important Samana Ridge to the
south of the Khyber and held by the 36th Sikhs, was attacked overwhelming
strength. The garrison, consisting of twenty men under Havildar Ishan Singh,
beat off two frenzied attacks during the morning, strewing the surrounding
rocks with bodies. However, some of the Afridis, taking advantage of an area of
dead ground, began picking away at the brick wall until part of it collapsed,
creating a breach. The Sikhs ran from their fire positions to repel the renewed
assault but were too few in number and in ferocious hand to hand fighting were
forced back into their barrack block, where they fought to the last man. One sepoy,
barricading himself in the guard room, shot down or bayoneted twenty of his
assailants before perishing in the flames of the burning building; another, one
of the post’s signallers, remained in heliograph contact with Fort Lockhart
until the end. Jubilant, the Afridis swarmed to join their comrades who had
invested Fort Gulistan that morning. Held in much greater strength, this proved
to be a tougher nut to crack and, despite casualties, was still holding three
days later when the tribesmen, flayed by the shellfire of a relief column
advancing from Fort Lockhart, abandoned the siege and dispersed into the hills.
Thanks to the 36th Sikhs, the Samana Ridge forts remained in British hands and
in recognition of the fact the regiment was awarded the unique battle honour
‘Samana’.
Such desperate actions as these marked the high water mark
of the rising, although months of fierce fighting lay ahead before the Frontier
was pacified. The government of India had been taken aback by the sheer scale
and ferocity of the revolt but reacted by despatching strong punitive columns
to Malakand and against the Wazirs, Mohmands, Afridis and Orakzais.
Considerations of space inhibit describing even the more important actions save
one, that fought by the 1st Gordon Highlanders at Dargai, which has passed into
the legends of Frontier warfare.
A contemporary general inspection report describes the
battalion as being ‘A particularly fine one. The officers as a body are an
exceptionally nice set; the warrant officers and NCOs seem to be very
efficient, and the privates have an admirable physique.’ Like every good unit,
the Gordons reflected the personality of their commanding officer,
Lieutenant-Colonel H. H. Mathias, whose bullet head, determined jaw, bristling
moustache and level blue eyes indicated a no-nonsense, instinctive fighter. In
many ways Mathias was a commander well ahead of his time, paying attention not
only to the more obvious aspects of his profession but also to the physical
condition of his men and their morale. In 1896 the battalion won the Queen’s
Cup for shooting and it was regarded as having the best signallers of any
British regiment in India. Field exercises took place regularly, one advanced
feature being the instruction of NCOs in military sketching, in those days an
essential element in reconnaissance, usually taught only to officers. Mathias
kept his men fit with a programme of athletics, hill-racing and football,
contests being held between companies and against neighbouring units. There
were also regimental concert parties and other activities to combat the boredom
of cantonment life. The impression given is that the 1st Gordon Highlanders was
a highly trained, efficient battalion, entirely at ease with itself and held in
high regard; it was, too, an experienced battalion, having taken part in the
Chitral Expedition of 1895.
In April 1897 the Gordons, based at Rawalpindi on the Punjab
side of the North-West Frontier Province boundary, moved up to their hot
weather station in the Murree Hills, expecting to remain there throughout the
summer. At the beginning of August, however, in response to the rapidly
deteriorating situation on the Frontier, it returned to Rawalpindi whence it
was immediately despatched to Jamrud. Here it formed part of a force that prevented
the rebels advancing further along the Khyber.
By October the British counter-measures had begun to take
effect. Nevertheless, it was appreciated that the tribes would not submit until
the war was carried onto their own territory and it was decided to advance deep
into the Tirah region. In this area it was estimated that together the Afridis
and Orakzais could field between 40-50,000 men and for this reason the Tirah
Field Force, commanded by Lieutenant-General Sir William Lockhart, was the
largest punitive expedition ever assembled on the Frontier. It consisted of two
divisions (the 1st under Major-General W. P. Symons and the 2nd under
Major-General A. G. Yeatman-Biggs), two flanking columns, a strong lines of
communication element and a reserve brigade. Altogether, 11,892 British and
22,614 Indian troops were involved, accompanied by almost 20,000 followers who
performed menial but essential tasks; there were also 8,000 horses, 1,440
ponies for the sick and wounded, over 18,000 mules and an enormous number of
camels, carts and baggage ponies. Lockhart’s plan was to concentrate at Kohat
and enter Tirah from the south by crossing the Samana Ridge at a pass west of
Fort Gulistan. He would then force two more passes which would bring him to his
ultimate objective, the Tirah Maidan, a wide fertile valley upon which the
surrounding tribes relied for subsistence, rarely if ever visited by Europeans
before.
Together with the 1st Dorsetshire Regiment, the 15th Sikhs
and the lst/2nd Gurkhas, the Gordons constituted Brigadier-General F. J.
Kempster’s 3rd Brigade, which formed part of the 2nd Division. The Tirah Field
Force left Kohat on 7 October, its route taking it past the now deserted ruins
of Saragarhi signal station. By 15 October, marching by easy stages, it had
reached Shinawari, but beyond this point progress across the Samana Ridge was
blocked by a substantial force of tribesmen holding the village of Dargai,
located at the summit of a towering spur that dominated the only road. The
crest was lined with sangars, while the rocks themselves contained numerous
fissures that provided natural rifle pits. Immediately below the village were
precipitous cliffs, broken here and there by goat paths, and below these was a
steeply sloping open space several hundred yards wide, forming a glacis that
could be swept by fire from above. An attacker who succeeded in crossing this
would then find his further upward progress restricted to goat paths or
funnelled into the narrowing approach to the village itself, where he could be
picked off with ease. Nature, therefore, had endowed Dargai with better
defences than many a purpose-built fortress.
Lockhart had only the 2nd Division in hand, the 1st Division
still being on the march some sixteen miles short of Shinawari. He nonetheless
decided that the former would take Dargai at once, conduct of the operation
being entrusted to Lieutenant-General Sir Power Palmer, normally responsible
for the force’s lines of communication, as Yeatman-Biggs was ill. Palmer’s plan
was for Brigadier R. Westmacott’s 4th Brigade to mount a frontal attack on the
village, covered by two mountain batteries, while Kempster’s 3rd Brigade made a
wide detour to the west, threatening the defenders’ right flank and rear.
The troops moved off during the early hours of 18 October.
The route of Kempster’s brigade, which Palmer accompanied, took it up a dry
watercourse that had its source near the western summit of the spur. The higher
they climbed, the rougher became the going, the narrower the stream bed, the
larger the boulders and the steeper the slope. After five miles had been
covered the Gurkhas, in the lead, gave the appearance of flies walking up a
wall. A point had now been reached at which the mules were unable to cope with
the precipitous going and Palmer decided to send back his guns and the field
hospital, escorted by the Dorsets and part of the 15th Sikhs. The Gordons,
bringing up the rear, had perforce to halt and let them through. From about
09:00 onwards the steady thumping of guns indicated that the mountain batteries
were engaged in their preliminary bombardment of Dargai.
At about 11:00 heliograph contact was established with
Westmacott’s brigade, which was making slow but steady progress, often in
single file, up the direct route towards the village. By noon the Gordons,
after a stiff two-hour scramble, had joined lst/2nd Gurkhas and 15th Sikhs on
the slopes above the source of the watercourse, attracting sporadic long range
fire. The coordination between the two brigades had been excellent, for Westmacott’s
battalions were now in position to launch their assault. Under a hail of fire
from above, the 2nd King’s Own Scottish Borderers and lst/3rd Gurkhas swarmed
across the open slope and up the goat tracks to the village. The tribesmen
hastily abandoned their positions and fled, sped on their way by a few long
range volleys from Kempster’s men. The capture of Dargai had been a model
operation, costing the Borderers only six casualties and the Gurkhas thirteen.
Undoubtedly, the enemy’s resistance would have been far stiffer had not
Kempster’s brigade threatened their rear, always a sensitive area in tribal
warfare.
By mid-afternoon both brigades had been concentrated at
Dargai. For the reasons quoted below, Palmer decided to abandon the position,
despite the fact that two large groups of tribesmen, one estimated to be over
4,000 strong, could be seen converging on the spur from their camps in the
Khanki Valley. Westmacott’s brigade, less two companies of Borderers, led off
first. Between 16:00 and 17:00, with the sun falling towards the western
skyline, Kempster’s brigade prepared to follow, covered initially by the 15th
Sikhs. They, in turn, were covered by the Gordons and the two Borderer
companies as they disengaged and passed through. By now the tribesmen, having
reoccupied the sangars along the crest, were directing an increasingly heavy
fire at those on the open slope below the cliffs, making the officers their
special target. Major Jennings Bramly was killed and Lieutenant Pears was
wounded; Second Lieutenant Young had his helmet shot off; and Lieutenant
Dalrymple Hay, feeling blood running down his cheek, discovered that it had
been grazed by a bullet.
When the moment came, Colonel Mathias released the Borderers
then ordered three of his own five companies back into fresh fire positions
from which they could support the withdrawal of the remaining two. One of the
latter had succeeded in disengaging, as had half of Captain F. W. Kerr’s
company, when a body of the enemy broke cover some 30 yards distant, fired a
ragged volley and charged the small group remaining. Six of them were dropped
almost at bayonet point, four of them falling to Private W. Rennie, and the
rest made off when they were engaged by Captain Miller Wallnutt’s company from
its new fire position. While this was taking place Lieutenant Young,
Surgeon-Captain Gerrard and Colour Sergeant Craib, went out and rescued a
wounded man who was in immediate danger of being hacked to death.
Darkness put an end to the fighting. In addition to the
casualties mentioned above, the Gordons had sustained another man killed and
seven wounded. Dead and wounded alike were carried down the rough two-mile
track to the road, on reaching which the battalion formed up and marched the
six miles back to the camp at Shinawari.
The reasons given by Palmer for abandoning Dargai include
the following:
1. The 2nd Division was not strong enough to hold the
position, guard Shinawari camp and maintain communications between the two.
2. There was no water supply between Dargai and Shinawari,
and no supply of firewood at Dargai.
3. The continued occupation of Dargai would have revealed
the proposed axis of advance into tribal territory, which was not desirable.
4. The 1st Division was still a day’s march short of
Shinawari.
The reader might agree that some of these look extremely
thin, while others might be regarded as excellent reasons for not having mounted
the operation in the first place. As it was, the Orakzais could claim to have
repulsed a British attempt to capture the position, and at this stage of the
revolt the mere suggestion of a tribal victory was the last thing that was
wanted. Nevertheless, for the better part of the next day Lockhart, lulled into
a false sense of security by the arrival of the 1st Division, refused to accept
the reality of the situation, expressing the opinion that the continued work of
improvement on the road, protected as it was by strong covering parties, would
in itself deter the enemy from re-occupying Dargai. However, when he was
informed that evening that Dargai Heights were now held by an estimated 12,000
Afridi and Orakzai, he reacted with commendable speed. Because it knew the
ground, the 2nd Division, reinforced by elements of the 1st Division, would
again clear the spur. This time, there would be no subtlety of manoeuvre
against the enemy’s flank and rear; what he intended was a straightforward
frontal attack in strength, supported by the fire of the divisional artillery,
supplemented by an additional battery. At this point personalities began to
have a bearing on subsequent events. Lockhart detested Westmacott, and decided
that Kempster, whom he merely disliked, would deliver the assault, under the
control of Yeatman-Biggs, who had returned to duty.
When the troops, having been briefed on the operation,
marched out of camp at 04:30 on 20 October, their muttered opinion of the
generals was ripe, to say the least. No doubt Kempster,1 whom they loathed,
received the lion’s share of the blame, which in this case was a little unfair
as the decisions had not been his.
By 10:00 the guns were pounding the summit, which the
Gordons also brought under long range rifle fire. The enemy, secure in their
sangars and rocky clefts, were little affected by this; they had, moreover,
strengthened their defences and from one point they were also able to direct a
crossfire across the all-important open slope below the cliff. Thus, when the 1st/2nd
Gurkhas rose to attack, the entire summit erupted in a wild storm of fire.
Under the impact of thousands of bullets the dusty surface of the slope was
churned into a dust cloud in which it seemed nothing could live. Gurkhas could
be seen falling and their casualties strewed the ground. Despite this, three
companies reached the cover of a rocky shelf approximately halfway across, but
further progress was impossible. Worse still, every attempt by their comrades
to reach them resulted in more men shot down. Jubilant, the tribesmen began
waving their flags, beating drums and shouting defiance.
Kempster ordered the 1st Dorsets to make the attempt. A few
managed to sprint across the fatal 150 yards to the safety of the ledge, but as
a whole the battalion was stopped in its tracks. It was then the turn of the
2nd Derbyshire Regiment,2 but they fared no better. As each attack failed the
frenzy of the tribesmen reached higher levels of exultation.
