Читать книгу The Thirteenth Hussars in the Great War - H. Mortimer Durand - Страница 7

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In the beginning of 1910 the Thirteenth Hussars had been more than five years in India, and again in the south, where their first Indian service had passed. The military station of Secunderabad, in the dominions of His Highness the Nizam, the greatest of the Mahomedan Chiefs of India, had long been one of the strategical points at which a considerable force of all arms was kept, and a British Cavalry regiment almost always formed part of the garrison. It is, or was then, as Indian stations go, one of the pleasantest and most sociable, with some sport to be got in the neighbourhood; and, owing to the size of the garrison, there was plenty of amusement, as well as work, in the Cantonment itself. The Nizam and those about him were always friendly and hospitable.

The Thirteenth were not to be in Secunderabad much longer, but in May, while they were still there, occurred the lamented death of King Edward VII., and the accession of King George. On the 9th May the officers of the Regiment, with a party of non-commissioned officers and men, attended at the British Residency at Hyderabad, the capital of the Nizam’s dominions, and there heard read the proclamation announcing the beginning of a new reign. It was to prove one of the most memorable in the history of India.

THE DRUM HORSE—AT THE DURBAR

During the remainder of the hot season, which in the East is necessarily the slack season so far as military training is concerned, the regimental records contain notice of little beyond routine occurrences and sport of various kinds, the football and polo and tent-pegging with which men and officers while away the heat and tedium of an Indian summer. Then, as the heat slackened and another working season began, the Regiment received orders to move from the south of India to the north, to a station nearly a thousand miles away, among a totally different population and surroundings. The Thirteenth left Secunderabad in the middle of October, carrying with them the hearty good wishes of the garrison, and of the General Commanding the Cavalry Brigade, who warmly praised their work and discipline, and expressed his confidence that they would maintain in the north of India the good name they had borne in the south.

Arriving in the northern plains by train, they marched to their new station, meeting on the line of march the Seventeenth Lancers, with whom they had charged at Balaclava more than fifty years earlier. The two Regiments had not met since. The Thirteenth entertained the Lancers to a camp-fire concert, and then they went their ways again.

Meerut, where the Thirteenth were now to be quartered, was a well-known and favourite station. It was memorable as the place at which occurred the first serious outbreak of the Mutiny of 1857, since which time it had, from its central position and nearness to the ancient capital of Delhi, continued to be a large military station. In 1910 the memories of the Mutiny had grown dim, but Meerut was still an important place from a military point of view. It lay in the centre of “Hindustan,” the great northern block of territory which has been the seat of countless Empires, Hindu and Mahomedan—the real India upon which the vast Indian Peninsula has in a measure depended for thousands of years. In its broad plains and teeming cities was always concentrated the military power of succeeding conquerors, and the British, when they took the place of the Moghuls, had, like their predecessors, massed their strength on these northern plains.

Meerut, it may be noticed, was also a centre of sport, the site of an annual polo tournament, and within reach of good shooting and “pig-sticking.” The Thirteenth arrived just in time to join in the polo tournament, and to be soundly beaten by their Balaclava comrades of the Seventeenth Lancers. They were also beaten soon afterwards at another tournament at Lucknow, this time by the Rifle Brigade; but every one cannot win, and the Thirteenth were at all events to the fore in every kind of sport.

Meanwhile the usual work of military training began again—drill and swimming camps, and marches, and musketry, and inspections, and much more—the steady hard work of which civilians as a rule have no knowledge, but very real and useful work for all that, as the old Army was to show in the dark days which were coming.

Then followed the summer of 1911, and in the autumn the 13th received news of the death of their Colonel-in-Chief, General Sir Baker Russell. He was succeeded by General Sir Robert Baden-Powell.

But this year, 1911, was not to close with another round of customary training. King George had shown from the first, as his father and Queen Victoria had shown before him, a keen interest in his Indian Empire. As Prince of Wales he had visited the country already; now he had decided to visit it again as King-Emperor, and to take his seat in person upon the Imperial throne. It was a momentous decision, and was to have a great effect upon the Chiefs and people of India—how great an effect those only can know who have studied and in some measure understood the traditions and feelings which thousands of years of kingly rule have implanted in the Indian mind. Happily King George understood, and had resolved to take the unprecedented step of leaving England for months to gratify the desire of his Indian subjects. In the whole history of India no such ceremonial had ever been held, for vast as the Empire of the Moghuls had been, it had never embraced the whole of the Eastern dominions now under the British Crown, nor had it formed part of a wider Empire extending to all the continents of the world.

D SQUADRON—AT THE DURBAR

Among the preparations being made to invest the ceremonial with due pomp and splendour, was the assembly at the Imperial Camp of a military force drawn from the Army of India. The occasion was not primarily a military one, and the numbers of the force were limited; but 50,000 troops, British and Indian, were being drawn together to represent the armed might of the greatest power in the East, and to show that if ever he chose, the British Emperor of India would be able to throw into the scale of any world-conflict an army in which the military efficiency of the West would be blended with the loyal devotion and numbers of the Indian fighting races. Among the Regiments which had the honour of being included in the representative force at Delhi was the Thirteenth Hussars.

The various pageants which took place have been described in detail by Fortescue, the historian of the British Army, who accompanied the King to India. The great Durbar at which the King took his seat upon the throne was a wonderful scene, all classes of the Indian population joining to do him honour, from the humblest to the great feudatory chiefs and their retainers, blazing with jewels and gorgeous clothing and antique armour. The Thirteenth did their part among the soldiers, of whom Fortescue says: “The troops formed the most essential part of the pageant.” Besides the Durbar, there were many other interesting ceremonies and amusements—the presentation of colours, receptions, polo and football matches, and so on. But the whole did not last many days. The vast encampment, covering twenty-five square miles, which had risen as if by magic, with its myriads of tents and its luxurious gardens, from the solitude of a barren plain, was gone before the end of the year. The Chiefs of India marched away with their brilliant retinues, the troops and the people were scattered in every direction, and the plains about Delhi relapsed into something like their old lonely peace. But before he went the King had announced with dramatic suddenness, to the astonishment of the great assembly, that Delhi was again to be the capital of India, and that the British Empire, which had risen from the sea, and had hitherto had a seaport for its capital, was for the future to be centred, as former Empires had been, on the plains of Hindustan, surrounded by the territories of the Indian chiefs and the lands of the great Indian fighting races. It was a landmark in the history of India.

To the officers and men of a British Cavalry Regiment the full significance of the ceremonial could hardly perhaps be apparent, and certainly they could not foresee the world-war which was soon to show how fortunate in its consequences had been the King’s act in coming to India at the beginning of his reign. Pageants are hardly to the mind of a soldier. Still, the Thirteenth had their part in it, and did well what they had to do. The Regiment was conspicuous among those reviewed by the King, and at the close of the ceremonial it was selected for the honour of furnishing a squadron to escort the Queen during her visit to another ancient capital, Agra. The squadron was under the command of Captain W. H. Eve. Fortescue writes of it: “We had remarked the Regiment at Delhi; but even so we were not quite prepared for what we saw on that Sunday. All the officers of the suite agreed that the escort was the most perfect they had ever seen, so admirably were the distance and the dressing preserved. This may seem to be a small matter, but such details count for much in the discipline of a regiment, for those that are careful in small matters are unlikely to be careless in great. Moreover, it is a real pleasure in this imperfect world to see anything faultlessly done.”

Fortescue’s words may perhaps seem exaggerated: smartness and discipline are not necessarily the same thing. But they are nearly allied, and there is perhaps no greater mistake made by civilians in judging soldiers than the contempt for drill and “the barrack-yard” which is so readily expressed. Henderson writes in ‘The Science of War’: “It is unfortunately to be apprehended that few, except professional soldiers, understand the nature or the value of discipline.” And he shows very clearly how necessary is the “habit of obedience” for efficient action in war. It was not for nothing that the great American soldier Stonewall Jackson began his career in the Civil War by drilling his undisciplined soldiery until he made himself detested by the officers and men who afterwards learnt to worship him. His brigade stood “like a stone wall” in their first battle when all was melting around them, and earned him the splendid nickname which has become immortal. History teems with instances of the supreme value of the trained soldier in war. Never was it shown more conspicuously than in that wonderful month of the retreat from Mons, when the little army of British regulars went back day after day before the overwhelming numbers of their enemy, only to turn on him at the end and prove to him that in spite of all their losses and sufferings their spirit and efficiency were still unbroken. “It is open to those in whose ears the very name of discipline smacks of slavery, to assert that a powerful instinct of obedience dwarfs the intellect, turns the man into a machine, and rusts his power of reasoning; and in this there is a shadow of truth, but it is only a shadow.” It is a question which has been often debated, and in which, primâ facie, the contemptuous critic seems to have much right on his side; but to few who have seen war will his view commend itself. The Regiment which shows up well in the manœuvres of the parade-ground will rarely fail to show itself efficient in the field. Like everything else, the principle is capable of abuse, and may be carried too far, but it is a sound principle in the main. Certainly the squadron which won Fortescue’s admiration went very straight when it was tried a few years later in something more than escort duty.

THE QUEEN AT AGRA

The Durbar and its attendant ceremonies at an end, the Thirteenth marched back to Meerut, and the old life of military training and sport began again. There were rifle meetings and inspections, drill and manœuvres, courses in musketry and signalling and machine-guns, polo and races; and then the hot weather of India came once more with its blinding sandstorms and weary nights of heat, when sleep was hard to get and life seemed hardly worth living. There was some sickness too, and the terrible spectre of plague cast its shadow over the Regiment. The men faced the shadow cheerily enough, playing football and hockey and having boxing competitions after the manner of the British soldier; but one or two died, and the Regiment had to be inoculated. The officers kept themselves fit with polo and the swimming-bath. July brought some welcome rain, two or three good showers a week, and the Review report of the General Commanding the Northern Army was received: “A fine regiment, fit for service.” But it was a trying time, as an Indian hot weather in the plains always is. India is a picturesque country, full of beauty and romance for those who have eyes to see, but it has its drawbacks. English women face them as well as men. The following extracts are from the letters of a lady who decided to brave the heat with the Regiment.

February 15, 1912.—“The weather has suddenly got very hot.... The Inter-Regimental week starts on the 4th of next month, and goes on for about a fortnight. To feel I’ve got to entertain people for a fortnight is a nightmare!—this place doesn’t suit me, and I never feel well. At the last moment —— may be sent up to the hills with the invalid party, but it doesn’t look like it, and he’s not down for a day’s leave of any description.”

February 21, 1912.—“We have heard nothing about the Regiment being moved this year, so I suppose we shall stay on here. I have decided to try and stick out the hot weather with ——. I should like to have come home, but if I do —— won’t go away at all by himself, and if I have to go away and go somewhere to a hill station he will come too if he can get any leave. Of course every one tells me that no woman can do a hot weather here, but I shall try....”

April 3.—“We have had a nice cool week, for which everybody is very thankful. There was a terrific thunderstorm at the end of last week, and the temperature dropped from 103 to 83, so you can imagine it was a change. We all shivered, but it was lovely. It is warming up again now, and the last two days have been 100 or over in the shade in the middle of the day.

“The early routine has started now and —— has to be up at 4.45, and gets done about 10.30, when he comes in and has breakfast. We generally lie down in the afternoon and try and sleep, getting up about 4 for tea, before going to polo or playing tennis. Nearly every one has gone away on leave, and the place is very empty and desolate.”

April 18.—“There is no news to tell you from here—the hot weather is always a dreary time of forced inaction and perpetual discomfort. We are sleeping out of doors every night now with no sheets or blankets to cover us, so you can imagine it is pretty warm. One generally falls into a dead sleep just before the dawn, which is the only cool time during the twenty-four hours. I change my clothes five times during the day—it is one form of exercise. We are both keeping fit, which is the great thing....

“We had a terrific sandstorm here on Tuesday. We could see it coming for miles as the sky was a bright yellow; unfortunately we were caught in it as we were out driving; it was filthy, and we got covered from head to foot with sand. The storm lasted two hours, but we didn’t get a drop of rain. If only we had had some rain it would have been cooler for a few days.”

So it went on for many months longer, through the blazing hot weather and the sultry depressing rains. Then began another cold season.

THE ESCORT AT AGRA. 1ST AND 3RD TROOPS OF SQUADRON D

On the 1st November the Thirteenth won the final in the Meerut Polo Tournament, after a desperate struggle with the King’s Dragoon Guards. An officer of the Regiment who had been studying the more scientific parts of his profession left for the Staff College at Camberley.4 There was a Cavalry concentration camp, where a considerable mounted force was assembled for Divisional training, followed by manœuvres of several Divisions together. In the midst of all this soldier work the year was closed by an incident which startled and shocked India. It had been arranged that on the 23rd of December the Viceroy, Lord Hardinge, was to make a State entry into the new capital, and some of the Thirteenth had been sent to join in the ceremonial. The Regimental Diary records very briefly that “a dastardly outrage occurred, a bomb being thrown at the Viceroy, which resulted in his serious injury.” It was a painful commentary upon the enthusiastic greeting which had been given to the King-Emperor on the same spot just a year before, and a reminder that in India there exists always a root of sedition and danger which must not be disregarded. Peace in India is armed vigilance. But happily disloyal sentiment is confined to a small minority, and the heart of the great Empire is sound. So Englishmen felt. They showed a fine example of coolness and moderation in face of the treacherous attempt at murder, and all went on again as before. If the traitors had expected to intimidate the white man they were wholly mistaken.

On the 1st of January 1913, ceremonial parades were as usual held throughout the country to celebrate the assumption by Queen Victoria, more than thirty years before, of the title of Empress of India, and over the momentarily troubled waters the ship of Empire sailed forward undisturbed upon its stately way.

During the rest of the year there was from the point of view of the Thirteenth nothing of much importance to record. The Regimental Diary mentions that the English system of messing was introduced for the first time in India; that “C” Squadron won a silver challenge cup for shooting open to all squadrons, batteries, and companies in the Division; and that there was a short spell of “experimental training” in camp, when the Regiment lived entirely on the resources of the neighbouring country. Beyond these incidents, the Diary touches upon little but the doings of the men at cricket and boxing, and “skill-at-arms” competitions, and hockey and football tournaments. Hot work they must have been, for there is this entry referring to the months of July and August: “During these two months the average temperature was about 98. The weather was very trying and injurious to health, mainly due to the rain, followed immediately by sunshine, which caused vapours to rise from the ground.” To every one who has served in India this quaintly worded sentence brings back a familiar picture. The British soldier who has “heard the réveillé from Birr to Bareilly” knows only too well the dreariness of the late summer, when the faces of the women and children grow white in the reek from the rain-sodden ground.

On the 25th of October, Balaclava Day, the first “Old Comrades Dinner” was held in London, and the Diary notes that among those present were two Balaclava veterans.

With this month of October 1913, began the last working season of the old order. Everything then seemed peaceful enough, and no one thought that before a year had passed England would be fighting desperately in the greatest war of all time. For the Thirteenth Hussars attention was focussed on the usual incidents of an Indian “cold weather.” The Diary records that the regimental machine-gun detachment distinguished itself at the Meerut Rifle Meeting by winning a match open to all India, and that there were some tactical field-days with V Battery of the Horse Artillery. The Regiment was to be associated with V Battery in much hard fighting before they had done with each other. Finally, at the close of the cold season, the Commander-in-Chief in India came down to Meerut, and there was a “Garrison Ceremonial Parade,” in which the Thirteenth took part. All went well with them, and the inspection was entirely satisfactory. It was the last they were to undergo before being tested by the ordeal of war.

In the summer of 1914 came the fateful news of the murders at Serajevo, and before long it began to be seen that events were tending towards a great European conflict into which England might possibly be drawn. Every one remembers the excitement of the month that followed. In India, as elsewhere all over the world, it was intense. After so many years of peace, or at all events so many years in which England had looked on at European wars without bearing any part in them, it was difficult for Englishmen to believe that the long-standing German menace had really come to a head, and that “The Day” was upon us. It seemed more probable that England would again stand aside, and that whatever the Continental nations might do, no British Army would be sent to shed its blood on European battlefields. Even when Germany turned upon France, and it became certain that we should see war close to our own shores—war by which our own deepest interests must be endangered—it seemed doubtful whether England would take upon herself the tremendous responsibility of throwing her sword into the scale. Until the 4th of August the issue remained in suspense. Then the doubt came to an end, and on the following day it was known all over the British Empire that the old country had chosen the path of honour.

In no part of the Empire had the suspense been more acute than in India, which was full of martial traditions, and, in spite of local treason here and there, full also of goodwill to the British Crown. The sudden knowledge that Great Britain was at war stilled at once the voice of sedition, and was the signal for an outburst of loyalty on the part of Chiefs and people which astonished our enemies, if not ourselves, though it was no new thing;5 and it need hardly be said that in the military cantonments scattered over the face of the country, where the soldiers of the King’s Army, British and Indian, were gathered in constant readiness for war, the announcement was received with joy and eager hope. They might not be privileged to join in the central conflict on the battlefields of Europe, but surely they would have some share in the fighting, some chance of service and honour.

Meerut was no exception, and among all the King’s Regiments there was none which looked forward to the war more eagerly and hopefully than the Thirteenth, with its memories of the Peninsula and Waterloo and Balaclava. Some days before war was declared all officers on leave in the country had been urgently recalled, and when on the 5th of August the Regiment learnt from a telegram to the Meerut Club that the sword had been drawn, it was ready for immediate service. On the 9th of August the Meerut Division was ordered to mobilise. Then followed some weeks of anxiety, during which the Thirteenth were alternately elated and cast down by contradictory rumours. Early in September they received orders to prepare a large draft of men and horses for the Eighth Hussars, which threw them into the depths of depression; then they got, but could hardly rely upon, private reports that they were not to be left in India. It was a trying time.

Meanwhile it had been raining hard, and this added to the general depression. Polo became impossible, and neither officers nor men had anything to relieve the tedium of waiting. The following extracts from the letters of a junior officer may be worth quoting:—

Lieutenant G. R. Watson Smyth—August 9-12.—“I do not know whether this letter will ever reach you, or where I shall be if it does. At the present moment we are awaiting the order to mobilise: it is sure to arrive at any moment now if the Regiment is to go on service. We don’t know if it is decided to take the Meerut Cavalry Brigade, but ... it is possible that the infantry of the Division may be taken. Whether they will be taken to garrison Egypt or to fight at home is another matter. As I said, though, we are just waiting for the telegraphic order before we start shoeing our horses and sharpening our swords....

“It is now two and a half hours since we should have got our orders, and I am beginning to fear that we shall not get them....

“I have just gone to the Club, and a wire has come in saying that the Brigade is not for it. Rotten luck....

“The Native Regiments here are in a sort of fever of excitement, and are longing to have a go at somebody....

“Skinner’s Horse are in Meerut with us now. They are an extraordinarily good and very sporting lot.6

“There has only been one day’s polo for the last month, as all the grounds are under water, and the rain never stopped long enough to let them dry....”

DRAFT OF MEN AND HORSES DETAILED FOR THE 8TH HUSSARS

SEPTEMBER 1914

THE BAND AT THE LAST CHURCH PARADE BEFORE LEAVING INDIA

NOVEMBER 1914

August 30.—“We are carrying on in the same way as if there were no war in the world.... It really is a bit too thick that here are we, the most efficient Cavalry in the world, stuck in this horrid country.... Not a hope of our going to war. We have just heard that they are mobilising three other Brigades, and that the Viceroy is coming with the Court to live at Meerut this cold weather. His escort is one British Cavalry and one British Infantry Regiment with a battery of horse guns. This means that we shall stay here and do escort to him the whole time that the war is on....”

September 17.—“We are becoming deadened to joy or sorrow. It is a perfectly horrible existence, and unfortunately there is no hope of its changing for the better.

“We have had six inches of rain since midnight, and it is still raining—the country will probably be flooded....

“There is a small polo tournament coming off here next week; it ought to give us something to think about, but I am afraid that no one can raise any enthusiasm about anything, as we are all bored stiff.”

October 8.—“There is as usual nothing to say this mail except that our chances of getting out look blacker than ever....

“I think I told you that we have been having a little polo tournament on the American system. I am glad to say that we won it....

“We are going into camp with the squadron on Saturday for a fortnight. It will be bad, but a lot better than barracks.”

October 12.—“I am writing this in our squadron camp.... We have made friends with the local Nabob, and he has lent us an elephant to go out shooting on. It is rather fun shooting off his back, as one never knows what the next shot will be at: it may be a buck or quail or partridge or snipe, or anything. He is a jolly good retriever and will pick up anything that is dead, but he hates to if it is only wounded.... The old man who lent us the hathi (elephant), has just come in to complain that two of our men have shot two peacocks, which are sacred birds to Hindus. As there are very strict orders against shooting peacocks ... I hope that they get it in the neck. They are both in my troop.”

That is an old cause of trouble. The British soldier finds it hard to resist at times the temptation to shoot a wild peacock, and add a “turkey” to his rations; but the Government of India is rightly strict on the subject. It is an instance of the care one has to take to avoid hurting Indian feelings.

India, October 25, 1914.—“As perhaps you may guess from the above vague address, we are off to the war.... We got the order at 4 A.M. ... to pack up and come in to barracks at once as the Regiment was mobilising. We had everything packed up by 5 A.M., and the squadron left at 5.30. Considering that this was all done in the dark and that it was raining as well, I think that it is rather a good show.... They limit our kit to 35 lbs., which is only two blankets, a change of clothes, an extra pair of boots, and a valise to carry the lot—not very much to sleep in with a temperature of 20 or 30....

“It is rather a coincidence that we got the order to mobilise on Balaclava day, isn’t it?”

Balaclava day! Sixty years had passed, and the thought of it was still ready to the minds of those who were now taking the Regiment into another war. That is what a feat of arms in which his Regiment shared means to the soldier—an ever-living memory and example.

The suspense was over. “It is great news,” wrote the Captain commanding the squadron, “far better than we dared hope for, and you may imagine how we are all feeling.” He was the same officer who had commanded the Queen’s escort three years before—the model escort. Now he was going to show whether the men who had won so much admiration in a pageant of peace time would do equally well in the field.

Nothing remained but to complete the number of men and horses, both now below strength in consequence of the draft lately sent to the Eighth Hussars, and to make the final arrangements for a quick departure. Men and horses were found from other regiments, and during the first ten days of November the packing and preparations were completed. Officers disposed of their horses and furniture; many of the polo ponies were taken over by the Remount Department for service as Infantry officers’ chargers; the regimental mess was closed; the heavy baggage and valuable books were sent to England; and the Regiment’s period of peace service in India was at an end.