By now the base of the wall was packed with men, their units inevitably intermixed, seeking a way in. Onto them the Chinese, now unable to use their muskets, rained down grenades, cannon shot, large stones, jars of quicklime and ‘stinkpots’ that gave off choking clouds of smoke. The French were struggling to erect their ladders, which were thrown down by the enemy as soon as they were emplaced. Most of the narrow gun embrasures had survived the bombardment, but some had been damaged and into one of them scrambled a courageous Frenchman. For a moment it seemed as though he would be first to penetrate the interior of the fort. He fired his rifle at the nearest defender, took another handed up to him by a comrade, fired it, and then fell back, speared through the face.
Near the gate Lieutenant Nathaniel Burslem and Private Thomas Lane, both of the 67th, also clambered up to an embrasure and, despite the fact that they both sustained serious wounds, used a pick to enlarge it until it was wide enough. In the meantime, Lieutenant Robert Rogers and Private John McDougall of the 44th, who had been among the first to swim the ditches, had been joined by Lieutenant Edmund Lenon and Ensign John Chaplin of the 67th, the latter carrying the Queen’s Colour of his regiment. Driving the point of his sword deep into the mud wall and supporting the hilt, Lenon made a step for Rogers to fight his way into an embrasure. Others followed Lenon’s example, jamming their bayonets into the wall, enabling Lenon, Chaplin, McDougall and others to join Rogers. Shortly afterwards, Burslem and Lane broke through their embrasure. There was now a steady stream of men from both regiments coming over the wall, from which the defenders were being pitched into the courtyard below. At this point its was noticed that the French, too, had broken in, led by a drummer named Fauchard, and that close behind him came the colour bearer of their 102nd Regiment of the Line. Suddenly, all other considerations forgotten, a deadly race developed between the Allies as to which of them could plant their flag first on the summit of the high central tower, which could be seen crowded with large numbers of the enemy. At the bayonet’s point the British stormers fought their way up the long ramp, enabling Chaplin to win, although he was wounded three times in the process. At this point the Chinese resistance, which had been extremely tough, completely collapsed. Some of them hid in huts and corners from which they were winkled out, while others, trying to escape over the walls, were either impaled on their own panjis or drowned in the wet ditches. It was estimated that they sustained 400 casualties out of the 500-strong garrison. British losses amounted to 21 killed and 184 wounded, French losses being proportionally less.
The capture of the Small North Fort had been a desperate business. Yet, for all the obstacles in their path, the attackers had, as one eye witness put it, ‘meant to get in.’ The Victoria Cross was awarded to Lieutenant Rogers and Private McDougall of the 44th; to Lieutenants Burslem and Lenon, Ensign Chaplin and Private Lane of the 67th; and to Hospital Apprentice Andrew Fitzgibbon, aged 15, of the Bengal Medical Establishment, attached to the 67th Regiment, for his courage in tending the wounded under fire during the assault. Both regiments received a number of brevet promotions and in the 67th Colour Sergeant Davidson was subsequently promoted to ensign.4
The Small South Fort was abandoned by the enemy at once. The commander of the Large North Fort blustered briefly but then allowed the French to take possession of it without firing a shot. To their astonishment and delight the 2,000-strong garrison, who were expecting to be massacred, were simply disarmed and told to go home. Within the fort were some of the guns taken from the ships lost by Admiral Hope the previous year. The mandarin commanding the now-isolated Large South Fort, Hang Foo, surrendered the following day. Over 600 guns of various calibres were counted in the two South Forts alone.
The rest of the story is soon told. The Allies advanced up the Pei-ho to Tientsin and then began marching on Peking, defeating a Chinese field army in two sharp engagements. At this point the Imperial government indicated its willingness to talk but then behaved with incredible stupidity, kidnapping the Allied negotiators and holding them as hostages against a further advance. Disregarding these threats, Grant closed in on the capital and was preparing to storm it when, on 13 October, Prince Kung, deputising for the fleeing emperor, capitulated, agreeing to every one of the Allied demands, including the surrender of Kowloon on the mainland opposite Hong Kong, the payment of a substantial indemnity, and the ratification of the various treaties. When the surviving hostages were handed over, Grant learned to his horror that half the party had died as a direct result of the tortures to which they had all been subjected. In reprisal, he had the Yuen-Ming-Yuen, a group of palaces set in beautiful gardens, burned to the ground.5 The Allied force then withdrew to the coast, leaving a garrison at Tientsin. Apart from a brief undeclared war with France in the 1880s, the Imperial government avoided conflict with the Western powers for the next 40 years, when it provided unofficial support for the Boxer Rising of 1900.
Notes
1. To transpose the engagement into a more modern perspective, it was as though eleven corvettes and a weak infantry battalion had tried to fight their way into one of the heavily defended river estuaries in Hitler’s Atlantic Wall.
2. The name Napier was very familiar indeed in mid-Victorian Britain. General Sir Robert Napier was created Lord Napier of Magdala following his command of a successful punitive expedition against Abyssinia (Ethiopia) in 1867-68. General Sir Charles Napier conquered the Indian principality of Sind during a remarkable campaign in 1843, famously advising the Governor General of his victory, at least in the version of the satirical journal Punch, with the Latin cryptogram ‘peccavi’ (I have sinned). Admiral Sir Charles Napier restored order in the eastern Mediterranean with naval actions along the Lebanese coast and a decisive victory on land which forced the Egyptian army to evacuate Beirut in 1840, subsequently commanding the Allied Baltic Fleet during the Crimean War.
3. The Armstrong guns were a few years ahead of their time. The vertical vent pieces could crack or even be blown out of the gun on firing. As was usual in such cases the users blamed the manufacturers, the latter responding by accusing the gunners of not tightening the breech screw sufficiently. The root of the problem lay in inadequate sealing of the chamber and during the 1870s the Army reverted briefly to rifled muzzle-loading guns.
4. Rogers and Chaplin both became major-generals in due course. On leaving the Army Lane joined the Kimberley State Police Force in South Africa. Fitzgibbon shares with Drummer T. Flinn the claim to be the youngest winner of the Victoria Cross, both being aged fifteen years and three months at the time of their respective actions, although only Fitzgibbon’s age can be authenticated. He graduated to the rank of Apothecary, dying in Delhi in 1883.
5. The Imperial Summer Palace, lying outside the walls, had already been thoroughly looted of its treasures. The British blamed the French, whose conduct they thought disgraceful, although this did not stop them attending the subsequent sale. The Essex Regiment’s museum at Chelmsford contains a fine enamel cloisonné vase, and the Royal Hampshire Regiment’s museum at Winchester has a beautifully embroidered collar, both taken from the palace. Captain (later General) Charles Gordon of the Royal Engineers was also present and rescued numerous artefacts, including a beautiful carved throne, all now in the Royal Engineers’ museum at Chatham.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dargai, 20 October 1897
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 pro
vide 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 in 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, pa
ying 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.
Impossible Victories Page 15