With the Indians in France

On the 5th September 1914 I was quartered at Murree in the Punjab, and within a few days of finishing my four years’ tenure of command of the Northern Army in India, when the good news reached me that I was to proceed to France in command of the Indian Army Corps, then already on its way to take part in the Great War. My luck was once more “In.” I say “once more,” for I had had the good fortune to serve in fourteen campaigns or expeditions, and in all but two of these had been associated with or in command of British and Indian troops combined.

From Sandhurst I had passed on to Afghanistan in 1879 and had served under that grand soldier Lord Roberts. The Indian Frontiers from the North-West to Burmah were all familiar to me. I had shared the bivouac and the camp for thirty-six years with my brave and loyal Indian troops, on Afghan hills and in the dense jungles of the Irriwaddy and Chindwin, in Munipoor in the far North-East of India, in Ashanti and blood-stained Kumassi in distant West Africa. I had sheltered with them in the living squares of man and beast in the deserts of the Soudan, and now I was about to participate in their trials on the plains of Flanders. It had been my good fortune to command brigades and divisions in peace, and twice to be in chief command of expeditions on the North-West Frontier in 1908; and finally the Northern Army of India for four years.

Dull indeed must be the man who with all this experience did not know the Indian soldier, did not appreciate his great worth, or recognise his limits. I never joined the Indian Army, but did all my regimental duty with an Irish Corps, the 1st Battalion Leinster Regiment. To Irish soldiers I owe much; from them I first imbibed that spirit of camaraderie which is worth more in war than all book discipline; the spirit which recognises common sense to be one of the greatest of gifts, and which willingly renders loyal service, so long as no attempt is made to exact it by misplaced force.

The Irish soldier is unsurpassed in the field, but you must trust him as an Irishman. He has a right to a distinct nationality, and is justly proud of it. No man could serve with cheerier, better comrades than the 1st and 2nd Connaught Rangers, which belonged to my Army Corps in France; but of them more anon.

A word more as to myself; for in writing of Indian troops it is absolutely necessary that a man should thoroughly understand his subject, or his story would be worthless. I need only say that their religion, habits, castes, and language (Hindustani, the lingua franca of India) are as familiar to me as my own religion and language, and that from long and sometimes perhaps weary toil I had acquired a knowledge of many of the dialects of the Native Army. Thus equipped I found myself the fortunate commander of an Indian Army Corps, for the first time in history to be employed in Europe.

The Army of India was little understood in Great Britain. At the commencement of the war I read, not with any surprise but with considerable amusement, accounts of the composition of the Army Corps. A great part of the public appeared to think that Indian brigades and divisions were composed of Sikhs and Gurkhas alone, and did not trouble about any of the many other races of India; nor were they aware that in each brigade was a British battalion. As for cavalry, of course the “Bengal Lancers” were the only specimens known to them; a Sikh squadron being described by one correspondent as “fierce turbaned Moslems on fiery Arab steeds.” The artillery, which was composed of the finest British batteries in the Army, superbly horsed, was reported by one paper as consisting of “mountain guns borne on Abyssinian mules”; and a foreign paper, writing of the arrival of the Corps at Marseilles, solemnly announced that “this Corps has been raised and equipped entirely at the expense of three great Indian Princes, who are now occupying the finest hotels in Marseilles. Their names are Prince Sikya (evidently a corruption of Sikh); Prince Gorok (Gurkhas); and Prince Balukin (meant for Baluchis).”

The Germans at any rate were to be rudely awakened. The shell-torn trenches and blood-stained fields of Neuve Chapelle were to prove to them that, given a fair chance and a sufficient artillery support, the men from the banks of the Ganges and Indus, from the plains lying to the south, and the Highlanders of Nepal and North-West Frontiers, could take as fierce a toll on the day of battle as their white comrades.

The Army of India in 1914 was trained for a Frontier war or minor oversea expeditions, and for these purposes was to a certain extent sufficiently well armed and equipped, but by no means fully so. The training had been improved out of all recognition since Lord Kitchener formed a General Staff and instituted his “Test”; at the time a much debated innovation, but one which, in my opinion and that of many of those best qualified to judge, was a turning point in the field training of the Army. It had at least set up emulation and given a chance to all classes of which that Army is composed, so that even Corps in outlying unknown stations were brought into the competition, and the spurt thus given to military training had far-reaching effects.

The Army had had no opportunities for the higher training which was required for European warfare. The parsimony of the Indian Government had put a heavy clog on the military wheel. Money could be had for everything except preparation for war. It was far easier to get thousands of pounds for some perfectly useless scheme which might possibly benefit some local cause, than to extract a hundred pounds for anything to which attached the aroma of the Army. Indeed, so extraordinary was the antipathy to spending a farthing on anything savouring of gunpowder that officers and men, British and Indian, had accepted it as a cardinal principle that expenditure on the Army, however necessary or urgent, was a matter of small concern to the Government, and that, sink or swim, nothing but unforeseen upheaval or disaster, would ever worm a rupee from the civilian rulers in whose hands rested the decision.

In England there was at least our Expeditionary Force (or a great part of it) ready for war; its transport and equipment could be completed at the shortest notice, and its Reserves could be quickly called up. But in India, where, if anywhere in the Empire, it was essential that several divisions should be able to take the field at any moment, no such organisation existed. True it is that many thousands of men stood armed and ready to quell local disturbances or Frontier forays, but the mobilisation of a force consisting of even two divisions could not be completed in all its details for weeks. It is no answer to say that India was able to despatch two divisions to Europe at short notice. Two divisions certainly sailed from Karachi and Bombay, but their equipment had to be completed at Marseilles, at Orleans, and actually in the battle area itself, whilst the artillery was only made up by denuding other divisions of their guns. The rifles were of a pattern which did not suit the latest class of ammunition with which the Army at home was supplied, and both rifles and ammunition had actually to be handed into store at Marseilles and fresh arms issued. To any one acquainted with the science of musketry, and that in the days when our infantry had to depend on this arm alone; when hand-grenades and trench mortars were unknown; it will readily be understood that the handicap of going into action with brand new arms was a very real one. Even the machine-guns, which in some cases were much worn, had to be refitted with new tripods as best it could be managed at Orleans. Further, there were no howitzers, no mechanical transport, a scant supply of medical equipment and signalling apparatus, and innumerable other shortages which were essential to a force suddenly dumped down from railhead into the trenches. All these were supplied in abundance in France as soon as it was possible; indeed the excellence and rapidity with which this was done was astonishing to us who remembered the cheese-paring days in India, but it proved what a fool’s paradise we had been bred in, and on what sandy foundations the structure of the Indian Army rested.

I have no desire unnecessarily to string out the manifest disadvantages the Indian Corps laboured under, but I have heard too much the criticisms of our Indian troops by soldiers and civilians, who are without the faintest knowledge of what they talk about, and it is only right that the truth should be known. There is a growing body of Indians who have every desire but no means of ascertaining the facts, and if this book can be of any use in helping to explain to my numberless friends and acquaintances in India the splendid deeds of their brethren who fought and bled on the sodden plains of Flanders under handicaps which must have been seen and felt to be understood, I shall be more than rewarded. Moreover, as commander of those troops during a year of the war I had opportunities of knowing many details unknown to others, and now that the war is over I am free to write the truth which for years has been of necessity suppressed.

Whatever may have been the shortcomings of the Indian Army it possessed one asset which never stood it in better stead than in France; its British officers, although far too small in number, were the salt of the earth. As leaders of men, comrades and friends of their Indian officers, sepoys, and sowars, as loyal and brave gentlemen, they could not be surpassed. I always believed in them, but in France my belief was heightened to profound admiration, and as death took its heavy toll day by day I knew that by no means could they be replaced; for the great essential was that they should know their men and their language, and this became impossible as India sent more and more troops to the various theatres of war.

Next to the British were the Indian officers, most of them men who had earned their commissions by brave and loyal service, of fighting stock, with martial traditions, ready to give their lives for their King-Emperor, proud of the profession of arms; they formed the essential link between the British officers and men. In ordinary circumstances in the Field they were well fitted to fill temporarily the place of their lost British leaders, and many instances of this I shall relate.

I tread perhaps on thorny ground, but after a life spent with them in many lands, I do not consider they can replace the British officer in the field. I have discussed this with numerous Indian officers and soldiers of all classes, but I never met one who did not practically agree with me. There no doubt are in India some who will lay claim to this, but I firmly believe the British officers, who are the truest friends of the Indian soldier, will unanimously agree with me. If bravery and self-sacrifice were alone to be considered then by all means the Indian can take his place in any rank, but training and temperament at present stand in his way.

What is now being wisely done is to increase the pay of the Indian officers and men. The pay of Indian officers especially was almost an insult to a class so loyal and devoted, and it must be very largely increased; they should be given rank corresponding to their British comrades, and precedence equal to, if not above, their civilian confrères.

This was one of the sorest points with Indian officers. To the ordinary observer like myself, at Durbars and public gatherings it was plain that they never received their proper share of Izzat (honour). No doubt I shall be told this was all thought out and arranged by the Government, but I speak from practical experience, not from the edicts of Simla and Delhi. The Indian officer was not treated with the respect which was his due and which he has earned in arduous service on many fields of war. It was a feeling very strongly held by them and must be set right. Izzat is a thing little understood by any but Indians, but it is a great driving force; it raises men in the estimation of their fellows, whilst the loss of it debases them.

Public opinion as understood in this country was nonexistent in India. It was a one-man country; if the man was a strong personality he could do much; if he was undecided his share became a small one, and good old Indian dustoor (custom) settled the question in the prehistoric fashion.

Under the Indian officers are the N.C.O.’s and men. I have soldiered with Rajputs and Jats, Pathans, Sikhs, Gurkhas, Punjabi Mahomedans, Madras Sappers and Miners, Dogras, Garhwalis and other races. Each has its characteristics, and these must be recognised by any one entrusted with the command of Indian troops. You cannot place them in one mould; you will not get from them their best, unless they recognise that they are understood.

One of my chief difficulties at the beginning of this war was to make it understood that the Indians cannot be treated as pure machines, and that they possess national characteristics as varied as those between Scandinavians and Italians. I own that Sir John French and his Staff generally made every allowance for these facts, but there were others who made none; an Army Corps (no matter its fighting strength in numbers) was an Army Corps and nothing else. An Army Corps was supposed to be able to occupy so many thousand yards of trenches, and the orders were issued by this routine rule.

It might be said the Indian Corps was sent as a Corps and times were too pressing to go into such details; this is perhaps true, and we all recognised it at the beginning of the Flanders fighting; but as time went on and the German attack was beaten off, I saw plainly that you cannot expect a ship to keep up full steam when the engineers and stokers are lying shattered in the hold. And yet those brave men not only filled a big gap in our battered line, but, helped and encouraged by their comrades of the British battalions of the Indian Corps, held it against incessant attack. Minenwerfers, hand-grenades, and high explosives tore through them and flattened out their trenches; blood flowed freely; but as often as they were driven back from their front defences they managed to return to them again. India has reason to be proud of her sons, and their children may well tell with pride of the deeds of their fathers.

I can look back to the time when the Indian Army was commanded by Lord Roberts, and he paid two visits to Delhi whilst I was Staff-Officer there. Whoever may follow him as Commander-in-Chief, one thing is sure; no individual will ever be as closely connected in the minds of Indian soldiers with the name of Chief as he was. It was truly surprising how he was beloved by all ranks. It is no uncommon thing to hear of Viceroys or Commanders-in-Chief who were well known to and liked by Indians, but no sooner do they vanish from the scene than they are practically forgotten for all time. Perhaps it is human nature, perhaps it is common to all countries, but one thing is sure, viz. that Lord Roberts’ name has, and will have, an abiding place in many an Indian home for years to come. He had the nature which earns confidence, the open mind which breeds loyalty, the fearless character that binds men to their leaders with hoops of steel. An Indian Army led by Lord Roberts was doubled in its fighting capacity by his presence, which to them was the sure presage of victory. Without that affection which he had established, neither to-day nor in the times to come, will the soldiers of India give of their best on the field of battle. May be it is a fault, and in the eyes of some reduces their value as fighting units, but if the Empire calls on all its sons to fight in one field, it must not forget that human nature is stronger than Service Regulations, and that blood is thicker than water.

Lord Roberts left an indelible mark on the Indian Army and one which has proved invaluable to all who have since served in India.

Another great soldier who left his mark, but in a different way, was Lord Kitchener. His reforms were sweeping. The training of the Army received at his hands an impetus which will stamp his rule as remarkable so long as we remain in India. His re-grouping of brigades and divisions, the creation of a General Staff, the erection of new barracks and cantonments, quite upset the slow calculations of those who looked on and wondered. And yet if analysed his work was only a putting into force of principles which had long been recognised as necessary but which others had not had the power to carry out. Lord Kitchener with a master eye saw what was needed and did it; he rode rough shod over dustoor or custom; he was a mighty organiser and the civilians were afraid of him. He never bothered himself over minor details in India; he left them to his subordinates. He chose them himself and trusted them. The inside life of Indians was unknown to him, he went to India too late in life to learn; he was too busy with big tasks to attend to what he did not consider an essential for a Commander-in-Chief.

Among his many reforms were some which I venture to say have not been beneficial. The terms of service which passed men to the Reserve after a short period in the ranks proved a veritable stumbling-block, and created a Reserve which proved not only useless but a danger in war time. The Reservists sent to the Indian Corps in France were of this type, largely worn out, hating the very idea of war, many physically unfit and incapable of a single day’s work.

Even Lord Kitchener had found it hard to get sanction for sufficient British officers for Indian regiments and battalions. The numbers eventually sanctioned were sufficient for frontier work, but altogether inadequate to meet the requirements of European warfare, and this very soon made itself manifest.

The reduction of ambulance kahars (trained bearers) was another very serious drawback, but in this case it reacted worse on the Frontiers than in Europe, for in France, of course, a totally different system prevailed. In 1908, during the Zakka Khel and Mohmand Expeditions, in order to equip even one division and an extra brigade, bearers had to be collected from all the divisions in India as far as Madras; an impossible system in an Army supposed to stand ready for Frontier wars.

During Lord Kitchener’s rule, manœuvres or large gatherings of troops were few and far between; all the money available was spent on reorganisation; nevertheless the battalion training reached a far higher scale of efficiency than had ever previously been the case. In order to increase the numbers of brigades and divisions, to meet the requirements of his scheme for mobilisation, Lord Kitchener reduced the number of British battalions in a brigade from two to one. This for European warfare proved a great mistake, as I shall endeavour to show.

Lord Kitchener’s name will, in India for all time, stand as a landmark of great changes long needed. He has been described as a hard man; this he may in a sense have been, but underlying his hardness, to those who were privileged to know him well, was the very kindest heart that ever beat in a soldier. He set himself a definite task and allowed nothing to stand in his way, and yet I never knew a man who was more ready to listen to reasonable suggestions, more ready to acknowledge that there were two sides to all arguments, and when you had convinced him on any point he was always prepared to give your views a chance. As I shall show later he had an intense wish to do justice to the Indian Army and was the best friend of the Indian Corps from the day we landed at Marseilles to the day the Corps left France. The first telegram I received in Europe was from him.

I am glad to hear that the Indian troops are razi (happy), give them my salaams and tell them I feel sure they will maintain their records of the past when they meet the Germans.

If there had been a few more in authority who knew how to deal with Indian soldiers, and who understood that a word spoken at the right moment is worth a volume on paper, it would have been of inestimable advantage to the Corps in France.

The first Viceroy with whom I had any direct dealings was Lord Minto. A soldier by instinct, a gentleman by nature, and the kindest of friends: he was very much liked by the Indian officers. He always made a point of having them all introduced to him after any parade at which he was present.

During the Frontier expeditions of 1908, from the inception of the operations to the last day when we recrossed the Frontiers, Lord Minto never failed to bear the troops, British and Indian, in mind; and his advice on the political questions involved and his desire to spare the enemy once he had been well beaten and submitted, at once showed his nature. During his Viceroyalty the Indian soldiers learned that the representative of the King-Emperor had a heart of gold, and having been a soldier himself was anxious, as far as his high position would allow, to meet them as comrades.

Such men leave behind them traditions which in India far outlive those established during their comparatively short periods of high office by some others who place Western attainments on a higher plane than human nature. In the East this never pays; India is very susceptible of influence but it must be based on common sense.

On the Frontiers amid the wild hillmen, Lord Minto at once established himself as a soldier by appearing on his first parade in uniform, with the badges of a brigadier-general (which in military life he was), and I well remember the surprise and pleasure of the Indian soldiers who told me (then a Brigadier myself), that now they understood that Brigadier was in reality a very high rank, and that in the next expedition they hoped the Viceroy would himself command troops.

On this his first visit to the Frontiers he was accompanied by Lady Minto, who attended the parade and later went over the Malakand Pass. She spoke to all the Indian officers and many of the wild transborder chiefs, and years afterwards the memory of her visit was still a theme of conversation amongst the Maliks beyond Chakdara and en route to distant Chitral. You can do much in the East by personal example, you can do little without it.

Lord Kitchener was followed as Commander-in-Chief by Sir O’Moore Creagh. As a very young subaltern I had first met him after the Afghan War in 1880, when he was a Captain and had just won the V.C. at Kam Dakka in the Khyber. His cheery character had impressed me, and I instinctively felt I had met a soldier I might meet again in a higher sphere. His intimate knowledge of India, its people and languages, and his early promise marked him for distinction, and in 1910 he left the India Office, where he was Military Secretary, and assumed command of the Indian Army.

Sir O’Moore Creagh had to follow a difficult man. Lord Kitchener had dragged out of the Government what in India is spoken of as a colossal sum of money. In truth it was nothing of the kind, but it has in the past pleased that country to call anything a waste of money which is required for military purposes.

The military are the very root of our rule in the East, and if you refuse sustenance to that root the tree will wither. Time has proved the truth of this, and in 1914, when the trumpet of Death resounded all over the world, the Government of India awoke to the fact that there are other things than education and law on which to spend the revenues of an Empire.

During Sir O’Moore Creagh’s tenure of command, the Northern Army, which I commanded, was given many opportunities of holding manœuvres on a much bigger scale than usual. Comparatively large concentrations took place in the Peshawar Division and near Soneput in the Punjab, which offered scope for working entire war divisions against one another and also allowed many Corps of Imperial Service troops to share in the work. The Chief was present at some of these operations, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

The Indian Staff College at Quetta, which has proved so beneficial to the Army at large, was founded during his regime, and the General Staff was permanently established on a modern basis. He, however, like his predecessors found himself handicapped by the difficulty of getting sufficient funds to keep the Army efficient for war. The shortage of ammunition; the deficiency of a reserve of rifles; the totally inadequate numbers of Field Artillery; the absence of howitzer batteries properly armed; the inadequate pay of all ranks of the Indian Army, and a hundred other most important items had to remain in abeyance, and very soon after he left the Great War came to test the machine.

The test has proved the fine fighting spirit of officers and men and the dire need that existed for modern equipment. The aeroplanes, the howitzers, the reserve materials were non est, and although I do not know whether the Indian or Home Governments found the cash, whoever it is has had to pay pretty heavily for the failure to provide it in time.

During my tenure of command of the Northern Army nothing struck me more than the hopelessness of the system adopted both by the War Office and the Government of India in fixing the age for the higher Commands, such as divisions and brigades, and in the Indian Army of regimental and battalion commanders. The Indian rules were hopeless; promotion was given by length of service and selection had to take a back seat. Money was saved by keeping on officers, long after many of them had ceased to be fitted for command, as it kept down the pension lists, and when money could be saved on anything connected with the Army, there was no doubt it would be done readily. The consequence was that in a country like India, where youth and vigour should rank first in apportioning work, exactly the contrary was the case. Merit had to subordinate itself to rules and customs, and far too old a race of officers were frequently placed in positions for which they were unfitted. In themselves mostly good and gallant soldiers in their day, it was no fault of theirs but of the pernicious system under which they served.

But if this was the case in the Indian Army, encrusted in obsolete traditions, what excuse can be offered for the methods adopted by the War Office in selecting officers of the Home service for higher commands in India? Here at least was an opportunity for sending out young brigadiers and generals, but nothing of the kind was done. On the contrary, although good soldiers with good records were frequently selected, they were generally long past the age for brigade commands and would not have been given them in England. In fact the War Office used India as the dumping ground for senior officers whom they wished to reward, but for whom they did not mean to find a place in this country.

No one can deny these facts; they are to be found in the Army lists of the period. It was very hard on the many gallant officers themselves, but still harder on the Army of India. Any one anxious to examine the matter need only consult the comparative ages of Brigade commanders at the beginning of the war in France. In the Indian Corps drastic changes had to be carried out in the field in the first months, as, to quote one instance only, it was at once discovered that in combined operations the Indian Brigade and Divisional commanders became senior to Divisional and Corps commanders of the other Army Corps. Such a state of affairs could not long continue, and if for no other reasons, for this alone, the changes became imperative. How unfair on the Army of India was such a state of things! How unjust to those brave and loyal officers themselves, who after long years spent in gallant service for their country were pushed out of their places in presence of the enemy—the great goal they had lived for. And yet it was looked on as quite the usual thing, and no one at the War Office ever seemed to have troubled themselves where India was concerned. Such remarks may be called vindictive, but call them what you will the Army Council of those days is to blame, and secure as that body may feel itself when confronted with one whose experience has not been acquired in Whitehall, the Army of India of 1914 will support me in what I say.

The most important event in Sir O’Moore’s Chiefship was the great Delhi Durbar, when His Majesty the King was present. No need to write of this, except to say that knowing India, its Army and people, as I do, whatever may have been the impression left on the millions of the King’s subjects, speaking of the Army I can say that his presence among them has left an impression which no other occasion in the history of that wondrous land could ever have equalled. Men who had never dreamed of seeing their Emperor in person, saw him with their own eyes, knew him to be a living entity, and went away feeling themselves sharers in an unequalled Empire. It is not too much to say that the King’s visit did more to bind to the Throne in loyal bonds the Indian Army than any triumphs won by the greatest of India’s former Emperors. Only those who know India and its people, and know them well, can understand the magnitude of the event.

The last of the Viceroys in my day in India was Lord Hardinge. I had the honour of knowing him sufficiently well to appreciate thoroughly the very great interest he took in the Army. In fact I go so far as to say that none of the high officials I ever knew in India felt a keener sense of his duty towards the Indian soldier than he did. Grandson of a great soldier-Viceroy who had fought the Sikhs, his sympathies were equally with the men who had fought for and against us on many a fierce battlefield, and from the day I first met Lord Hardinge to the last day I commanded the Indian Army Corps in France, I never failed to enlist his unflagging interest in the men I commanded. He attended the big Delhi manœuvres of 1912 and camped near the troops. Up at dawn and till evening in the saddle, the Viceroy imparted his own enthusiasm to the men. He rode over every part of the large manœuvre area, enquired into everything, and during the final phase on the last day was like a boy in spirits, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, which turned out to be as realistic as mimic warfare can well be made.

It was Lord Hardinge who urged the employment of Indian troops in France. He and Lord Kitchener were the two moving spirits in the scheme, and from the day I left India he never failed at once to answer all my long letters; never failed to give me not only his advice on all matters connected with the semi-political aspect of affairs, as far as they concerned my Corps, but used his great powers to meet every request regarding the classes of troops, the terms of service, changes in the system of enlistment and Reserves, and in short nothing was more noticeable than the determination, throughout the first year of the war, which he evinced, to make the employment of Indians in Europe a success.

I write plainly, as the Indian Army should know the facts. The work of Viceroys, although frequently performed in the glare of publicity, has two sides. Much of what Lord Hardinge did for the Indians in France is the other, or unknown side, of the picture. What was done in India no doubt was put down as the work of the Indian Government, but much of it was originated by him personally, because he took the pains to enquire and knew the facts, and more still because he sympathised with the difficulties which attended the steering of the ship in uncharted waters.

Of one more official I must write before I proceed with my story, for not only were we much thrown together in peace and on active service, but his name is so intimately connected with the North-West Frontiers of India and the personnel of an important part of our best fighting material, that for many years past one had naturally associated the name of Roos-Keppel with that of the Pathans and other border clans.

Fifty-three years of age, Roos-Keppel had lived on the Frontiers for over twenty years. In many political appointments, as Commandant of the Khyber Rifles, and since 1909 as Chief Commissioner of the North-West Frontier Province, he has learned all there is to learn of the tribesmen, and has taught them, if not all, then most of what is necessary for them to understand. His life has been a romance of the wild border land; his success has been achieved by manly and just conduct in the face of semi-barbarism. His fearless nature, fine personal appearance, and intimate knowledge of the habits and language of the clans, stamp Roos-Keppel as a Paladin of the Frontiers. You must know the man and his task to understand what he has done for India. Governors and generals come and go, Maliks and Khans change or disappear, but for many long years Roos-Keppel has been the true Warden of the Marches.

The Afridis and Afghans know the white man came decades ago and planted himself firmly on his borders, and means to remain there; but the white man to the present generation of these wild warriors is Colonel Sir George Roos-Keppel and no other. His influence has won their admiration, his stern justice tempered with mercy has won their fear, and his belief in himself has made them believe in him also.

Often in France, in the dark days of 1914, have I quoted to the Pathans things he had said, and it always acted with them like a trumpet call to duty. Still more often did I wish I had had him with me, but it was not to be. He happened to be on leave in England when war broke out and came to Orleans to meet the Corps, and although I tried to secure his services, he was wanted back at his post in India, and I lost the aid of a good soldier and a remarkable man, which I deeply regretted.