Jallianwala Bagh, 1919

  On 20 April, ‘another flying column went to Muridke and Kamske, between which the telegraph wire had been cut; this column was accompanied by a civil officer, and the latter, acting as a Summary Court, sentenced the headman of Kamske to a fine of Rs 200 and a whipping for obstructive behavior.’ The headman was tied to a tree and publicly flogged. As Jacob, the Civil Officer who performed the whipping described it, there was no judicial procedure followed.79

  Johnson, who was permitted to inflict his sadistic fantasies on the residents of Lahore for six weeks, considered himself a ‘benevolent autocrat’ and was convinced that his methods had a reformatory effect on his victims. He also maintained that people could not ‘wage war’ without suffering hardships. The truth was that nobody was interested in waging war; they had only been trying to organise protest meetings.80

  The gatherings at the Badshahi Mosque were halted by Fyson, the Deputy Commissioner; the order was confirmed by Johnson. The Badshahi Mosque was closed and permitted to be opened only on an undertaking by the trustees that ‘No Hindus would be allowed to enter the Mosque.’ This was a huge blow to the unity that was being forged among Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs, with the mosque becoming a meeting place. The effort now was to take everyone back to the ‘divide and rule’ system, which had worked so well for the British.

  The ever-energetic Johnson was also trying cases in the summary courts. He tried 227 cases in less than 45 days; most of those tried (201), unsurprisingly, received convictions. Punishments included imprisonment, fines and floggings. Around 66 people were whipped in Lahore: the maximum number of stripes they were given were thirty and the least were five. Johnson felt ‘this was the kindest method of punishment’. His answer to the Hunter Committee when Justice Rankin asked him if this was the most efficacious method of dealing with minor breaches, was: ‘I hardly agree with you. You have a very great population. You are creating new offences by the issue of these orders. If the jail is the only punishment, it would not effect this population here very much. The jails are an extraordinarily comfortable place from the general standard of household in the city. They are well fed in the Central Jail and one would soon have got used to the conditions. We were going to have the whole lot of them. I feared the jail would be too filled.’ He also said that the value of a whipping was equal to the use of 1,000 soldiers.81

  The press and the legal profession were specially chosen for punitive measures. One among them was Manohar Lal, who was a trustee of The Tribune newspaper as well as a well-known lawyer. It did not help that he had been a foundation scholar of St John’s College, Cambridge, from where he had completed his BA. He had received his MA from Punjab and was now a well-established lawyer as well as the President of the High Court Bar Association. On 18 April, he was arrested at around 7.30 a.m., without a warrant, and till he was released on 16 May, he had no idea what he had been charged with. In his absence, his home was searched on 19 April. His wife, who was an invalid, and his children had to take shelter in the servants’ quarters. He was kept in unsanitary conditions, with very few facilities—just ‘stinking earthen vessels cleaned twice daily’, for almost five days. Then he was shifted into the European ward, which was much more comfortable. But the reason for his arrest remained a mystery, for he was neither involved in the organisation of the hartal, nor was he politically inclined. Yet he was kept in jail for almost 20 days.82

  Other members of the press, such as Kalinath Roy, the editor of The Tribune, along with the editor of The Pratap were arrested and tried. During the period when martial law was in place, The Tribune, The Punjabee and The Pratap were not published. Pre-censorship of the newspapers had already been in place since 10 April.

  Apart from Amritsar and Lahore, bizarre martial law orders were passed in Gujranwala and Kasur as well, following an uprising of the people. The reasons for the unrest were similar, except that contrary to Dyer’s claim that the Jallianwala Bagh massacre would subdue Punjab, these two areas experienced disturbances even after 13 April.

  Gujranwala lies just 36 miles from Lahore, and at the time had a population of 30,000. There was a local meeting on 5 April at which the action of the authorities in Delhi, of firing at the anti-Rowlatt Act protestors, was condemned. It was proposed that 6 April should be a national protest day. It passed off without any problems. This was despite the fact that there was a complete hartal. Colonel O’Brien, the Deputy Commissioner, had already issued a warning that if there was violence, he would take action against the protestors.

  Everything remained peaceful, but as news of the disturbances of 10 April trickled in from Amritsar and Lahore, the organisers felt that perhaps another protest meet should be held to communicate their dismay. The chosen date was 14 April. In the meantime, O’Brien left Gujranwala on 12 April, and Khan Bahadur Mirza Sultan Ahmed became the acting Deputy Commissioner. Anticipating some backlash after the troubles in Amritsar and Lahore, all European and American missionaries left Gujranwala on the advice of O’Brien and the Superintendent of Police, Heron.

  As already noted, there was a close-knit understanding between the Indian communities in their common cause against the British. This was visible at Gujranwala as well, but it became clear that someone was trying to deliberately foment trouble between them. In Amritsar and Lahore, steps were already being taken to ensure that Hindus and Muslims did not put up a united front. The same methods that would be used during the Partition of India to incite communal violence were used here, possibly for the first time.

  Oddly enough, at 7 a.m., the body of a dead calf was found hanging on the Katchi Bridge near the railway station. It was removed by the Deputy Superintendent of Police but no trouble ensued as it was suspected that the calf had been hung there by the police themselves to engender suspicion among the Hindus and Muslims.83 According to the INC Report, pork was found to have been thrown ‘by someone in a mosque’.84 Wisely, the crowd that had gathered to protest against the British did not react or harm each other.

  Also, according to the INC Report, the complete hartal continued. Unfortunately, with nothing to do, the crowd was fuelled with drink and resentment and became increasingly unruly. A train to Wazirabad had arrived with holidaymakers. Following an attempt to stop the train, the crowd set fire to the Arya Samaj Gurukul Bridge.85 After that, local leaders such as the Governor of the Gurukul, Lala Rallya Ram, barrister Labh Singh, and pleader Din Mohammed arrived and together with some policemen and a few others, they helped put out the fire. The crowd then moved to the other side of the station, to Katchi Bridge. Meanwhile, the leaders called a meeting to get the crowd to calm down. However, before their words could have any effect, Heron, the SP, fired on the crowd at the bridge, leading to casualties. As before, since these were Indians, the HC Report barely mentioned them and there are no precise numbers.

  Immediately upon seeing the wounded, the crowd became uncontrollable and destroyed the church, the post office, the tahsil office and the Court House, and attacked the railway station. Here, too, the Hunter Committee account and the INC account vary. The former has little local colour and, as before, the latter is unclear about the names of the British officials who were there, and the exact timeline.

  Meanwhile, the Gurukul Bridge fire had been doused by Nevill, the Assistant Superintendent of Police, with a guard of seven men. The telegraph wires had also been cut and the SP could only send a message to Lahore by telephone. By midday, most of the telephone and telegraph wires were cut for around three miles. The damage to Katchi Bridge was also quite serious and the area was rendered unsafe for trains.

  The Deputy Superintendent of Police was able to rescue a guard who had been surrounded by a crowd of protestors. Events moved fast after that, as another crowd had gathered behind the railway fencing on the Grand Trunk Road, on the Lahore side. Now ‘armed’ with whatever they could lay their hands on—crowbars, hammers, lathis, and railway implements—they wanted to break up the railway line, as one of the objectives of the hartal was that nothing should be
in operation, not even trains. (Interestingly, till today, the destruction of public property remains a popular form of protest in India.)

  The confrontation steadily grew more serious. When Heron tried to prevent them from breaking up the railway lines, someone in the crowd made a move to attack him, and stone throwing followed. Heron fired and ordered his men to do so as well. As a result, ‘upto three men were wounded, one seriously.’86

  According to the INC Report, local leaders tried to pacify the crowds and lead them back to the city. However, ‘the temper of the crowd seems to have got worse than before’.87 Heron was now the chief target; one person accused him of having shot his brother, and threatened to kill him.

  At this crucial moment, the burning post office, which was close to the station, distracted everyone. The fire engine was not allowed in by the protestors who kept waving black flags and throwing bricks ‘mostly at Mr Heron (and) upon the police’.88 Heron and the DSP were keen to shoot at them, but the acting Deputy Commissioner, Khan Bahadur Mirza Sultan Ahmed, restrained them. He was concerned about the young boys in the crowd, and hoped that the leaders would be able to achieve some calm. This pacific approach was later said to be a mistake by the Hunter Committee. It is debatable whether firing would have dispersed the crowd or made it angrier as they set the tahsil (the revenue office), the church, the dak bungalow and the district courts ablaze. The police then mostly fired from a distance, as they were not equipped for riots at this scale. This carried on as the crowds kept regrouping and coming back. The firing on them also continued. The railway station buildings and goods shed were set on fire and looted. The Casson Industrial School was set on fire.

  Though there is no mention of the massacre in Amritsar on 13 April (the previous day) as a reason for the anger of the crowd, it is likely that they were aware of what had happened. Given that trains had come in and stopped at the station, the news would have spread by the afternoon. The crowd entered Civil Lines, and the District Engineer and his family took shelter in the Treasury, where they were protected by a small guard under a Havildar.

  Things changed rapidly at around 3.10 p.m. Three aeroplanes flew in from Lahore and over Gujranwala. This was probably done on the instructions of O’Dwyer, for whom an opportunity had appeared at last for actual bombing, which had eluded him in both Amritsar and Lahore.

  The first to enter air space was then Captain (he was later promoted to Major) D.H.M. Carberry, MC, DFC, Flight Commander, No. 31 Squadron. ‘He had received his orders from Lieutenant Colonel FF Minchen, DSO, MC, Wing Commander, who had himself received them verbally from the General Staff of the 16th Division. They were to the following effect:

  that the native city was not to be bombed unless necessary;

  that crowds were to be bombed if in the open;

  that gatherings near the local villages were to be dispersed if coming or going from Gujranwala.’89

  As O’Dwyer was to state later in his testimony:

  We knew a very dangerous situation had arisen in Gujranwala; there were no troops there and very few police. The Deputy Commissioner had just been transferred and an Indian officer of very little executive experience was in charge of the district. . .

  O’Dwyer had asked O’Brien to motor back and had also sent the Deputy Inspector General of Police, but he doubted that either of them could reach in time or even reach at all. So he suggested to General Beynon, General Commanding Officer, 16th Division, that aeroplanes be sent out. O’Dwyer said in his evidence: ‘We know that these aeroplanes could fly at a very low level and it was agreed that they should use their Lewis guns in the same conditions as troops would use their rifles.’ He said that he could not obviously give any instructions to the pilots and all instructions were given by the General.

  There had been a discussion at Government House a few days earlier whether aircraft could be sent and it was decided that crowded areas should be avoided, but the request to send aeroplanes to Gujranwala was made by O’Dwyer. The following entry appears in the Government House War Diary:

  General Staff Officer, 16th Division, asked to send aeroplanes and drop bombs if necessary and a good target presents itself. The opportunity for an aeroplane seems good.

  The General Staff Diary has similar notations:

  His Honour considers this to be a good opportunity for aeroplanes to use bombs as there is little opportunity for hurting friends.90

  The Hunter Committee notes that the orders given to the Wing Commander by the General Staff were ‘to send machines out with bombs and machine guns to disperse the rioters at Gujranwala with the object of saving the lives of any of the white population who were in danger’. This was despite the fact that not a single European had been harmed in Gujranwala.

  There is no discussion anywhere of the thousands of peaceful Indian men, women and children who had probably stayed indoors during the disturbances on 14 April or were continuing with their daily lives. As indiscriminate bombing and shooting began, it would soon become obvious that many innocent people would be wounded or killed. Yet, O’Brien, who reached Gujranwala around the same time as the aircraft, gave the number of victims, including those killed by bombs and machine guns and those shot by the police, as 11 killed and 27 wounded.

  It is very likely that these figures were incorrect, as there were instances in which firing took place from the aircraft, and bombs were dropped as well, but there is no account of the resulting casualties. It is also important to remember that some of the wounds were grievous—people lost limbs and young children and students were also affected. Not just the physical trauma but the mental trauma has also gone unrecorded. Most people in Gujranwala would have never seen an aircraft before, let alone have these machines shoot at them and drop bombs upon them. The fact that the Indians, injured and killed, mostly remain nameless is another travesty of the evidence that was given before the Hunter Committee. These were smaller numbers than the thousands affected in Jallianwala Bagh. Yet here, too, there was no attempt to gather information about them—apart from the arrests which would follow, if ever any unfortunate men, women and children were identified. There is no account of any medical help given to them either. Later, the Congress Sub-Committee gathered evidence, and recorded a few names. However, given the persistent firing and bombing that took place, it is obvious that more casualties would have occurred than we know of.

  Major Carberry was flying at 100 to 700 feet within an area of three miles. He saw the railway station burning, as well as the goods shed. He said there was a train on fire as well (there is no account of that in the evidence presented before the Hunter Committee or in the INC Report). He saw large crowds around the station, on the roads, as well as in Civil Lines. He also saw that the church and four homes in Civil Lines were on fire.

  According to the evidence provided by Carberry, he first took action outside the town of Gujranwala. As stated in the Hunter Committee Report, he dropped ‘three bombs on a party of Indians 150 strong which was making for Gujranwala. This was outside a village around two miles north-west of Gujranwala. (We are informed that the name of this village was Dhulla.) One of the bombs failed to explode; the others fell near the party and scattered it. Three people were seen to drop as a result of this bombing. We are informed by the Punjab government that a woman and boy were killed and two men slightly wounded. The rest ran back to the village, and fifty rounds were fired at them with the machine-gun to ensure that they were effectively dispersed. A few minutes later, Major Carberry took action on a group of about 50 Indians outside a village about a mile south of the first. . . Major Cranberry tells us that the party was apparently returning from Gujranwala, and that he dropped two bombs, only one of which burst, but this, though it dropped near the party, did not cause any casualties. The party disappeared into the village, 25 rounds from the machine gun being fired after them without any visible effect. . .’91

  Interestingly, while he was flying and dropping bombs as well as shooting, Cranberry also had the ti
me to count the number of people in the crowd. And he also knew the direction they were coming from, and because they were coming from Gujranwala, he presumed it was fine to bomb them. Yet, he could not see that there were children and women among them, who were obviously not indulging in any violent activity. Still he bombed them. We are back to the ‘moral effect’ doctrine: No matter who you kill, you are killing the enemy, and the people of Gujranwala had to be taught a lesson.

  The aeroplane was now returning to Gujranwala. Major Carberry observed a party of about 200 Indians in a field near a large red building on the north-west outskirts of the town. This was the Khalsa High School and Boarding House. He dropped a bomb in the courtyard and several people appeared to be wounded. Thirty rounds were fired at the party with the machine-gun and took cover in the house. . .one man (was) hit by a bullet, one student by a splinter and one small boy stunned.92

  According to the INC Report, a student of Khalsa College described the scene: ‘We heard the noise of aeroplanes about 3 pm. . . They remained hovering over the boarding house for about 10 minutes. . . suddenly a noise was heard and a shell came down which struck our confectioner Ganda Singh. . . A small piece of it injured the finger of my right hand. A boy fell down because of the shock.’93 As no incendiary activity was going on at the school, was it deliberately targeted because so many young boys were participating in the anti-Rowlatt Act protests? This was possible, because as in Amritsar and Lahore, more and more imaginative punishments would be meted out to the male youth of Gujranwala over the following weeks.

  Carberry dropped eight bombs in all. One came down on a large crowd inside the town, and another near the station. Apparently the first bomb killed four and wounded five. And the second killed two and wounded six. ‘He also fired 100 to 150 rounds upon parties of Indians coming from the railway station and going to the civil lines. He returned to Lahore around ten minutes to four.’ 94 He had spent 45 minutes over Gujranwala.