Nizam-ul-Mulk, the mehtar (ruler) of Chitral on the Northwest Frontier of India, keenly watched the falcon swoop onto its prey. It was January 1, 1895, and Nizam and his party were at Broz, a village 10 miles south of Chitral (the capital and state bore the same name). To get a better view, he climbed a mound. On the way back down, his turban slipped, and in the momentary confusion Nizam's half-brother, Amir-ul-Mulk, ordered his own servant to shoot the mehtar in the back. Screaming, Nizam fell from his horse as he tried to reach for his revolver. Amir persuaded the party to change their allegiance on the spot as he claimed the title, and Nizam was left to die alone.
Such treacherous acts were common in Chitral during the struggle for power that began in August 1892, when the Great Mehtar Aman-ul-Mulk, described by a Western diplomat as "a truculent old savage," died. He left 17 sons, all aware that in a power struggle the rule was to kill first, or die.
Chitral, a stark, beautiful country with the Oxus region of Russia on its northern border, was small in size, with a population of about 80,000 tough hillsmen. It was described by Surgeon-Major George Scott Robertson, the British political officer for the region, as "big and desolate with...vast silent mountains cloaked in eternal snow; wild glacier borne torrents, cruel precipices and pastureless hillsides....It takes time for the mind to recover from the depression which the stillness and melancholy of the giant landscape at first compel."
Chitral was important to the British because it lay astride the shortest route between India and Russia. The local tribes acted as a buffer. Often volatile, the tribes were encouraged to keep in line by courageous young British military officers acting as political officers.
Early in 1895 the situation in Chitral became dangerous, and Robertson gathered his forces and moved into the fort at Chitral. He knew that the history of the country was "a crimson-stained record...the slaying of brother by brother, of son by father...naked treachery, wholesale betrayals."
Emerging as the strong man for the moment was Sher Afzul, a soldier of fortune who was Aman-ul-Mulk's half-brother. The British, however, did not recognize his claim. Sher Afzul's dubious backer was Umra Khan, the ambitious ruler of the Pathan state of Jandol and Dir, southeast of Chitral, who was carving out a kingdom for himself and sought advantage in supporting Sher Afzul.
Robertson planned for a siege. The fort he occupied was of the usual type built by tribal chiefs along the frontier. Square, with a tower at each corner and one tower at the end of a gully leading to the river, it was decaying and filthy, and birds scavenged among the rubbish scattered everywhere. The construction was crude--rough timber laid horizontally, encasing layers of mud and stone, which built up to a wall. The towers were built of two wooden cages, one inside the other with the space in between filled with rubble. It was all held together by wooden cross supports that stuck out from the walls. Robertson noted that it was easy for a lithe man to climb the protruding supports.
The fort's military commander was Captain Colin Campbell of the Central Indian Horse, and he had 340 riflemen (83 of whom were reliable Sikhs) out of a total of 543 people. He set about strengthening the defenses, noting that the inventory for ammunition was about 300 rounds per man for the Martini-Henry rifle (a large, soft-nosed lead bullet) and about 280 rounds for the Snider (a muzzleloader adapted for breechloading).
Food was a problem. The area was scoured, and all that could be carried was gathered in. Stocks were sufficient to last until the end of April, with a ration of one pound of flour per man each day. Pea flour was plentiful, with some rice, a few sheep and geese, tea and a small supply of rum.
Robertson expected relief, but he had no intelligence of the situation outside. He was ill with dysentery, but on March 3, 1895, he sent Campbell to conduct a strong reconnaissance. At 4:15 p.m., Campbell left the fort with more than 200 Kasmiris of the 4th Ragumath Rifles and headed for a nearby hamlet, where Sher Afzul and 400 men were camped. A section led by Captain John Baird of the 24th Punjab Infantry attacked a group of tribesmen in a ravine, and in a fierce action, Baird and most of his men were hit. Lieutenant Bertrand Gurdon, a cool, young giant of a man, displayed great skill in carrying out a fighting withdrawal in the face of heavy and accurate hostile fire.
The main force was in trouble. Captain C.F. Townshend struck at the hamlet, but the attack faltered. Townshend, who was second-in-command to Campbell, called his commander up, but Campbell was shot in the knee. It was 6:30 p.m. and the attack was exhausted; Townshend ordered a fighting retreat that became, in his words, a terrifying experience in the darkness, with white-robed warriors "running like wild dogs round a failing deer" to cut men off. Some died horrific deaths.
Robertson left the fort to rally the men. In the confusion, his horse bolted; eyes wild, it jumped walls and leapt down terraced fields to reach the polo ground. The enemy tried to stop the horse, but it raced through to the fort, where Lieutenant Henry Harley, a cheerful young Irishman, was advancing with his Sikhs to cover the retreat. The survivors, led by Campbell, Townshend and Gurdon fought their way to the fort. Many courageous deeds were performed along the way, including that of Surgeon-Captain Henry Whitchurch of the Indian Medical Service, who carried in the mortally wounded Baird, for which he was subsequently awarded Britain's highest award for valor, the Victoria Cross.
Overall, though, the reconnaissance was a disaster, costing the British 23 men killed and 33 wounded. In his book Much Sounding of Bugles, John Harris opined, "They had brought the defeat on themselves by launching the sortie too late in the afternoon...probed too far forward."
From then on, Robertson adopted a defensive posture. He met and listened to overtures from emissaries sent by Sher Afzul and Umra Khan while conducting a rumor campaign to confuse the enemy as to British intentions--such as their imminent surrender.
Life in the fort grew steadily harder. The enemy built sangars (stone fortifications) around the fort at strategic positions and kept up an annoying "dropping fire" for most of the day. A team of nonfighting men worked mainly at night to demolish the old stables, and the material was used to provide cover at exposed places. A hemmed-in atmosphere pervaded. Robertson later described it as "the quietness of death when there was no rattle of musketry. Often, for hours at a time, no sound would break the heavy stillness because inside the walls, with the exception of the keen-eyed sentries crouching on the towers, all the garrison was asleep or resting. Sometimes, the unnatural silence was so oppressive that an outbreak of rifle fire came as a relief."
The garrison was organized into watches of four hours on duty with eight hours off. Unfortunately, boredom and sloth insidiously began to erode morale--bad food, bad sanitation, fever and dysentery, the lack of drugs and being enclosed unsettled the soldiers. Little incidents caused problems.
Outside, intelligence reached the British of the outbreak of trouble in Chitral. At Mastuj, a village with a fort about 60 miles northeast of Chitral, a relief force was organized. Led by Lieutenant Stanley Edwardes of the 2nd Bombay Grenadiers and Lieutenant John Fowler of the Royal Engineers, the column of 60 men and much baggage reached the village of Reshun about 40 miles from Chitral after a long and arduous march. Sensing hostility ahead, the officers picked their campsite with care. The next day, a party of men went out to repair the track but were attacked by several hundred tribesmen and were forced to withdraw. At the village, 20 Sikhs cleared some houses with their bayonets, then turned the houses into a fort.
A spirited defense was put up by the officers and men as they repulsed many attacks over the next seven days, fighting desperately for their lives. Edwardes and Fowler were tricked by a bogus truce offer; as prisoners, they watched the defenders swamped by enemy warriors making such fanatical attacks over open ground that the Chitrali losses were terrible. The result had a profound influence on the future tactics of the Chitralis. According to Robertson, Umra Khan, on learning of his costly success, ordered "no more direct assaults on our troops, when entrenched, ever to be made."
Meanwhile, Captain Claye Ross of the 14th Sikhs arrived at Mastuj. An impetuous officer, he wanted to follow Edwardes and Fowler to Chitral. As Robertson later expressed it, Ross' overconfidence worried fellow officers because he refused to believe "that any number of draggle-tailed Chitralis dare, or could, oppose his splendidly-drilled and equipped men." It was, nevertheless, a view shared by many British officers at that time.
Ross and his force of 110 officers and men and many porters reached the village of Koragh on March 8. An eerie silence in the village and among the stark mountains did not deter Ross. He marched his column into an ambush of savage rifle fire and a hail of rocks. Sheer terror gripped the men. Control was lost and the porters fled, but sniper fire drove them to seek shelter in two caves close to the river below the path. They tried to break out that night, but were driven back, a pattern repeated over the next two days.
In desperation, Ross decided to make a final attempt to break out at 2 a.m. on March 11. He ran into ferocious opposition and, after courageously charging and killing four of the enemy, died fighting. The survivors, led by Lieutenant Herbert Jones, reached Buni after a terrifying march through the night.
The immediate relief of Chitral was out of the question. News filtered out. Preliminary plans to organize a new relief column were made, but seven days passed before positive action was taken.
In India, the newspapers reported unrest, but actual information on the situation was described as "scanty." The seriousness of the problem was finally brought home on March 15, when an ultimatum was sent to Umra Khan to keep away from Chitral--the fourth such warning he had received since 1891. Two days later, news came of a new expedition being raised. British prestige was at stake, and a positive reaction was demanded.
In Great Britain, it was only a small problem. "These incidents are always happening," a British newspaper said, reflecting the general public viewpoint. But, on March 9, a Reuters correspondent wrote, "A crisis is expected...fight is considered inevitable." The British public was presented with a picture of a few British officers and their men "holding thousands of savage tribesmen at bay."
Major General Sir Robert Cunliffe-Low was designated to lead a division of 15,000 troops to the relief of Chitral. Low had more than 40 years of experience in the East, and his staff was also made up of veterans of campaigns in Africa, Burma and on the frontier. The division consisted of three infantry brigades, cavalry and batteries of artillery with support units. Its considerable size was to ensure that the task was completed efficiently--and to serve as a warning to Russia not to intrude south.
Low's plans were for a combined movement from the north and the south. The larger and stronger column from the south would be capable of defeating any force sent against it, while the northern force of lightly equipped troops would reach Chitral quickly and boost the morale of the garrison until the main relief column arrived.
Low's start point was at Nowshera in the Punjab, some 70 miles south of the Jandol Valley, the home of Umra Khan. To reach it, he had a choice of three passes, each 3,500 feet high and very difficult to negotiate--the Mora, the Shahkot and the Malakand. Knowing the tribes respected strength, Low planned his advance to be bold and quick--with one political restraint, however: Some officials believed that the question of the new ruler of Chitral should be resolved first. A date was set for the advance to begin on April 1.
The northern column was commanded by Colonel James Kelly, with a start point at Gilgit in Kashmir, more than 200 miles east of Chitral. Kelly, a tough, long-serving soldier, moved swiftly. His route was a difficult one, through the 12,000-foot-high Shandur Pass. But he was not under the same restraint as Low, and his force was the only one available "which could dictate events." With a force of 400 men, his column left Gilgit on March 27, along a treacherous road that soon became a quagmire--without tents and with little baggage.
The advance was often delayed. On one occasion, two mules carrying a gun and two gun-carriage wheels fell 150 feet into deep snow. Lieutenant Cosmo Stewart, a burly Irishman and dedicated Royal Artillery officer, slid down after the mules, accompanied by a soldier; they knelt on the mules' heads while the loads were taken off and hauled up the ravine. Tarpaulins were then wrapped around the terrified animals, and they, too, were hauled up.
To the south, Low's advance began as planned. On April 1, with the siege a month old, the campaigning began with a time limit of 24 days. Late in the afternoon of April 2, the column reached a point some distance short of the Malakand Pass, where the main thrust was to take place. Diversionary moves were made toward the other two passes. On April 3, the main army was confronted by 12,000 hillsmen swarming over the craggy ridges above the Malakand Pass, exhorted by their mullahs (religious leaders).
Campaigning on the Northwest Frontier presented unique problems. An advance into hostile country inevitably was up a river valley, with the vanguard sweeping ahead. Small groups of soldiers would try to seize the prominent peaks and ridges from which the enemy might be able fire down on the troops in the pass.
The Battle of Malakand was a good example of a well-planned and executed operation. Low sent two battalions of infantry to the extreme right, supported by 20 mountain guns. The 1st Brigade, supported by the 2nd Brigade, attacked up the spurs on a broad front, against very strong enemy positions. The Chitralis all held the crest of the pass and the heights on each flank, with many sangars (redoubts made from piled-up rocks) in crucial positions.
The five-hour battle commenced with an advance party clearing a way for the artillery to move into position. The gunners played a crucial role in the subsequent battle, using a rolling barrage to tear into masses of the enemy, ensuring that they never concentrated for too long. The infantry endured a long, hazardous climb as they overcame sangar after sangar. In the center, the Gordon Highlanders launched a head-on attack, with the village on the ridge as their objective. Due to the many ravines, the attack was fragmented, but the men fought tenaciously forward. Small groups of sword-wielding tribesmen rushed at them, but accurate rifle fire broke them up.
Sir George Younghusband, who witnessed the action, wrote in his book Relief of Chitral that it was "a fine stirring sight to see the splendid dash with which the two Scotch regiments took the hill...wonderfully spirited manner in which the men rushed breastwork after breastwork and arrived just beneath the final ridge before the enemy had time to realize that the assaulting columns were at their very feet." The Gordon Highlanders halted briefly to re-form; then bayonets were fixed, bugles called for the advance to be resumed, and the Scots charged again with a great shout, seizing the position.
The Chitralis fought fanatically. A drummer climbed onto a roof and pounded his drum defiantly. Hit, he fell off but climbed back up again--and again and again until he was finally killed and pitched headlong down a 300-foot cliff. Another Chitrali, carrying a huge flag, led his men in a desperate charge into the King's Own Scottish Borderers until only he was left. Even then, as Younghusband noted, "nothing daunted, he went steadily on rising and falling till at last shot close to the lines."
The battle was said to be a good example of how "dash and determination" can succeed. About 500 of the tribesmen were killed, while the British suffered 70 killed and wounded. Battle accounts said the control of infantry fire was excellent, each man firing an average of seven rounds.
The 1st Brigade advanced the next day down into the Swat Valley; there it became involved in a fierce action with several thousand of the enemy. Fifty men of the Guides Cavalry launched a brilliantly successful cavalry charge. The hillsmen feared cavalry, and by the next morning the enemy had vanished.
Reconnaissance patrols pushed up the valley during April 5 and 6, seeking suitable fords across the Swat River. When a crossing was found, the opposition was strong, forcing the Guides Cavalry and the 11th Bengal Lancers to cross farther up and make a flanking attack. The enemy fled.
Twenty miles ahead, the Panjkora River proved almost unfordable; by April 12 a bridge had been built of telegraph wire and wood, and on it the Guides crossed and were firmly entrenched to cover the bridgehead. A day of hard fighting was to follow. The operation began as a cleanup of enemy sharpshooters who were annoying the sappers on the bridge. The British also burned villages that had sheltered the hillsmen. A wide and thorough sweep was made, but fanatical Chitralis harassed the British all the way back to the bridgehead. No quarter was given and none asked for.
The British expected an all-out attack that night, and indeed, 2,000 tribesmen were waiting to make such an assault. But the firing of star shells unnerved them, and the attack was never launched.
At Chitral, the siege continued, many forms of assault being tried by the Chitralis. For long periods only verbal abuse was hurled at the British; at other times stones were tossed into the fort with great accuracy, causing particular irritation among the defenders at night. In a more serious attack, 50 tribesmen reached the gun tower and set it on fire. A concentrated effort by the defenders quelled the blaze, but the tower was badly damaged.
A new pattern of half-hearted attacks at night, rushes that were never pressed home, war cries, pipes played loudly--all interspersed with volley fire and much sniping--gave rise to suspicion among the defenders that new attack was coming. Tension rose.
The threat of mining under the walls became real on the morning of April 17, when the muffled thud of a pick was heard near the gun tower. To deal with it, 100 men (40 Sikhs and 60 Kashmiri Riflemen), led by the courageous Harley, were chosen for a sortie. The success of the desperate operation hinged on whether the enemy were contemptuous enough of the garrison to be caught off guard.
Harley planned the raid carefully. First, he made several mines by placing 50 pounds of gunpowder in canvas bags, with long, narrow canvas tubes filled with gunpowder to serve as fuses. Then, at 4 p.m., he led his men, with bayonets fixed, from the passage leading to the garden exit; the gates were eased open and the attack commenced. A short and very fierce action ensued, and the surprised Chitralis were driven from the area. When Harley's men found the shaft, volunteers armed with knives went in and cleared the mine. The charges were then laid, and as Robertson described the moment, "Then I saw an enormous puff of smoke rise abruptly...and Harley's men raced back in two parties, their leader the last of all."
The successful action cost the British 21 casualties, but it lifted the garrison's morale and undermined that of the enemy. The following day, confirmation came that Sher Afzul had fled and that Umra Khan was pulling out.
Gurdon led a company out on April 19, and he was able to report that the area was clear of tribesmen. Traders told him of Kelly's imminent arrival and of Low's hard but steady advance north. Colonel Kelly's advanced guard reached the fort on April 20. The siege was over.
Robertson described the outcome vividly: "Bugles sounding...made me melancholy as well as happy...no extravagant greetings...my mind was weary....They declare, that we five [officers] standing stiffly in front of the ruined outwork, were white faced and strangely quiet...for the long sustained stimulus of danger and responsibility was gone; and only tiredness of brain and eyes and body, remained." Robertson was well aware that the successful outcome of the siege was due to the loyalty and courage of his Indian soldiers, along with the other personnel who endured and fought hard. They sustained a total of 41 casualties.
The thrilling military action touched many people's hearts back in Britain. The Illustrated London News of April 27, 1895, summed it up: "The British Indian Government has achieved a rapid and signal military success, promising completely satisfactory political results by its prompt expedition to Chitral and by the activity and dexterity of the commanders."
One action that received special attention was the destruction of the mine. George Younghusband wrote, "The deed of all others which appeals most to the soldier's heart was the desperate and successful sortie from Chitral made by the brave and gallant Harley and his Sikhs on April 17...."
Younghusband attributed the outstanding success of the relief operation to the rapid mobilization of the relief force, the crushing defeat of the enemy by the main relief force in its steady advance, the determined thrust of Colonel Kelly's column and the resistance of the garrison. It was, he concluded, "the game of war played on sound principles."
Such treacherous acts were common in Chitral during the struggle for power that began in August 1892, when the Great Mehtar Aman-ul-Mulk, described by a Western diplomat as "a truculent old savage," died. He left 17 sons, all aware that in a power struggle the rule was to kill first, or die.
Chitral, a stark, beautiful country with the Oxus region of Russia on its northern border, was small in size, with a population of about 80,000 tough hillsmen. It was described by Surgeon-Major George Scott Robertson, the British political officer for the region, as "big and desolate with...vast silent mountains cloaked in eternal snow; wild glacier borne torrents, cruel precipices and pastureless hillsides....It takes time for the mind to recover from the depression which the stillness and melancholy of the giant landscape at first compel."
Chitral was important to the British because it lay astride the shortest route between India and Russia. The local tribes acted as a buffer. Often volatile, the tribes were encouraged to keep in line by courageous young British military officers acting as political officers.
Early in 1895 the situation in Chitral became dangerous, and Robertson gathered his forces and moved into the fort at Chitral. He knew that the history of the country was "a crimson-stained record...the slaying of brother by brother, of son by father...naked treachery, wholesale betrayals."
Emerging as the strong man for the moment was Sher Afzul, a soldier of fortune who was Aman-ul-Mulk's half-brother. The British, however, did not recognize his claim. Sher Afzul's dubious backer was Umra Khan, the ambitious ruler of the Pathan state of Jandol and Dir, southeast of Chitral, who was carving out a kingdom for himself and sought advantage in supporting Sher Afzul.
Robertson planned for a siege. The fort he occupied was of the usual type built by tribal chiefs along the frontier. Square, with a tower at each corner and one tower at the end of a gully leading to the river, it was decaying and filthy, and birds scavenged among the rubbish scattered everywhere. The construction was crude--rough timber laid horizontally, encasing layers of mud and stone, which built up to a wall. The towers were built of two wooden cages, one inside the other with the space in between filled with rubble. It was all held together by wooden cross supports that stuck out from the walls. Robertson noted that it was easy for a lithe man to climb the protruding supports.
The fort's military commander was Captain Colin Campbell of the Central Indian Horse, and he had 340 riflemen (83 of whom were reliable Sikhs) out of a total of 543 people. He set about strengthening the defenses, noting that the inventory for ammunition was about 300 rounds per man for the Martini-Henry rifle (a large, soft-nosed lead bullet) and about 280 rounds for the Snider (a muzzleloader adapted for breechloading).
Food was a problem. The area was scoured, and all that could be carried was gathered in. Stocks were sufficient to last until the end of April, with a ration of one pound of flour per man each day. Pea flour was plentiful, with some rice, a few sheep and geese, tea and a small supply of rum.
Robertson expected relief, but he had no intelligence of the situation outside. He was ill with dysentery, but on March 3, 1895, he sent Campbell to conduct a strong reconnaissance. At 4:15 p.m., Campbell left the fort with more than 200 Kasmiris of the 4th Ragumath Rifles and headed for a nearby hamlet, where Sher Afzul and 400 men were camped. A section led by Captain John Baird of the 24th Punjab Infantry attacked a group of tribesmen in a ravine, and in a fierce action, Baird and most of his men were hit. Lieutenant Bertrand Gurdon, a cool, young giant of a man, displayed great skill in carrying out a fighting withdrawal in the face of heavy and accurate hostile fire.
The main force was in trouble. Captain C.F. Townshend struck at the hamlet, but the attack faltered. Townshend, who was second-in-command to Campbell, called his commander up, but Campbell was shot in the knee. It was 6:30 p.m. and the attack was exhausted; Townshend ordered a fighting retreat that became, in his words, a terrifying experience in the darkness, with white-robed warriors "running like wild dogs round a failing deer" to cut men off. Some died horrific deaths.
Robertson left the fort to rally the men. In the confusion, his horse bolted; eyes wild, it jumped walls and leapt down terraced fields to reach the polo ground. The enemy tried to stop the horse, but it raced through to the fort, where Lieutenant Henry Harley, a cheerful young Irishman, was advancing with his Sikhs to cover the retreat. The survivors, led by Campbell, Townshend and Gurdon fought their way to the fort. Many courageous deeds were performed along the way, including that of Surgeon-Captain Henry Whitchurch of the Indian Medical Service, who carried in the mortally wounded Baird, for which he was subsequently awarded Britain's highest award for valor, the Victoria Cross.
Overall, though, the reconnaissance was a disaster, costing the British 23 men killed and 33 wounded. In his book Much Sounding of Bugles, John Harris opined, "They had brought the defeat on themselves by launching the sortie too late in the afternoon...probed too far forward."
From then on, Robertson adopted a defensive posture. He met and listened to overtures from emissaries sent by Sher Afzul and Umra Khan while conducting a rumor campaign to confuse the enemy as to British intentions--such as their imminent surrender.
Life in the fort grew steadily harder. The enemy built sangars (stone fortifications) around the fort at strategic positions and kept up an annoying "dropping fire" for most of the day. A team of nonfighting men worked mainly at night to demolish the old stables, and the material was used to provide cover at exposed places. A hemmed-in atmosphere pervaded. Robertson later described it as "the quietness of death when there was no rattle of musketry. Often, for hours at a time, no sound would break the heavy stillness because inside the walls, with the exception of the keen-eyed sentries crouching on the towers, all the garrison was asleep or resting. Sometimes, the unnatural silence was so oppressive that an outbreak of rifle fire came as a relief."
The garrison was organized into watches of four hours on duty with eight hours off. Unfortunately, boredom and sloth insidiously began to erode morale--bad food, bad sanitation, fever and dysentery, the lack of drugs and being enclosed unsettled the soldiers. Little incidents caused problems.
Outside, intelligence reached the British of the outbreak of trouble in Chitral. At Mastuj, a village with a fort about 60 miles northeast of Chitral, a relief force was organized. Led by Lieutenant Stanley Edwardes of the 2nd Bombay Grenadiers and Lieutenant John Fowler of the Royal Engineers, the column of 60 men and much baggage reached the village of Reshun about 40 miles from Chitral after a long and arduous march. Sensing hostility ahead, the officers picked their campsite with care. The next day, a party of men went out to repair the track but were attacked by several hundred tribesmen and were forced to withdraw. At the village, 20 Sikhs cleared some houses with their bayonets, then turned the houses into a fort.
A spirited defense was put up by the officers and men as they repulsed many attacks over the next seven days, fighting desperately for their lives. Edwardes and Fowler were tricked by a bogus truce offer; as prisoners, they watched the defenders swamped by enemy warriors making such fanatical attacks over open ground that the Chitrali losses were terrible. The result had a profound influence on the future tactics of the Chitralis. According to Robertson, Umra Khan, on learning of his costly success, ordered "no more direct assaults on our troops, when entrenched, ever to be made."
Meanwhile, Captain Claye Ross of the 14th Sikhs arrived at Mastuj. An impetuous officer, he wanted to follow Edwardes and Fowler to Chitral. As Robertson later expressed it, Ross' overconfidence worried fellow officers because he refused to believe "that any number of draggle-tailed Chitralis dare, or could, oppose his splendidly-drilled and equipped men." It was, nevertheless, a view shared by many British officers at that time.
Ross and his force of 110 officers and men and many porters reached the village of Koragh on March 8. An eerie silence in the village and among the stark mountains did not deter Ross. He marched his column into an ambush of savage rifle fire and a hail of rocks. Sheer terror gripped the men. Control was lost and the porters fled, but sniper fire drove them to seek shelter in two caves close to the river below the path. They tried to break out that night, but were driven back, a pattern repeated over the next two days.
In desperation, Ross decided to make a final attempt to break out at 2 a.m. on March 11. He ran into ferocious opposition and, after courageously charging and killing four of the enemy, died fighting. The survivors, led by Lieutenant Herbert Jones, reached Buni after a terrifying march through the night.
The immediate relief of Chitral was out of the question. News filtered out. Preliminary plans to organize a new relief column were made, but seven days passed before positive action was taken.
In India, the newspapers reported unrest, but actual information on the situation was described as "scanty." The seriousness of the problem was finally brought home on March 15, when an ultimatum was sent to Umra Khan to keep away from Chitral--the fourth such warning he had received since 1891. Two days later, news came of a new expedition being raised. British prestige was at stake, and a positive reaction was demanded.
In Great Britain, it was only a small problem. "These incidents are always happening," a British newspaper said, reflecting the general public viewpoint. But, on March 9, a Reuters correspondent wrote, "A crisis is expected...fight is considered inevitable." The British public was presented with a picture of a few British officers and their men "holding thousands of savage tribesmen at bay."
Major General Sir Robert Cunliffe-Low was designated to lead a division of 15,000 troops to the relief of Chitral. Low had more than 40 years of experience in the East, and his staff was also made up of veterans of campaigns in Africa, Burma and on the frontier. The division consisted of three infantry brigades, cavalry and batteries of artillery with support units. Its considerable size was to ensure that the task was completed efficiently--and to serve as a warning to Russia not to intrude south.
Low's plans were for a combined movement from the north and the south. The larger and stronger column from the south would be capable of defeating any force sent against it, while the northern force of lightly equipped troops would reach Chitral quickly and boost the morale of the garrison until the main relief column arrived.
Low's start point was at Nowshera in the Punjab, some 70 miles south of the Jandol Valley, the home of Umra Khan. To reach it, he had a choice of three passes, each 3,500 feet high and very difficult to negotiate--the Mora, the Shahkot and the Malakand. Knowing the tribes respected strength, Low planned his advance to be bold and quick--with one political restraint, however: Some officials believed that the question of the new ruler of Chitral should be resolved first. A date was set for the advance to begin on April 1.
The northern column was commanded by Colonel James Kelly, with a start point at Gilgit in Kashmir, more than 200 miles east of Chitral. Kelly, a tough, long-serving soldier, moved swiftly. His route was a difficult one, through the 12,000-foot-high Shandur Pass. But he was not under the same restraint as Low, and his force was the only one available "which could dictate events." With a force of 400 men, his column left Gilgit on March 27, along a treacherous road that soon became a quagmire--without tents and with little baggage.
The advance was often delayed. On one occasion, two mules carrying a gun and two gun-carriage wheels fell 150 feet into deep snow. Lieutenant Cosmo Stewart, a burly Irishman and dedicated Royal Artillery officer, slid down after the mules, accompanied by a soldier; they knelt on the mules' heads while the loads were taken off and hauled up the ravine. Tarpaulins were then wrapped around the terrified animals, and they, too, were hauled up.
To the south, Low's advance began as planned. On April 1, with the siege a month old, the campaigning began with a time limit of 24 days. Late in the afternoon of April 2, the column reached a point some distance short of the Malakand Pass, where the main thrust was to take place. Diversionary moves were made toward the other two passes. On April 3, the main army was confronted by 12,000 hillsmen swarming over the craggy ridges above the Malakand Pass, exhorted by their mullahs (religious leaders).
Campaigning on the Northwest Frontier presented unique problems. An advance into hostile country inevitably was up a river valley, with the vanguard sweeping ahead. Small groups of soldiers would try to seize the prominent peaks and ridges from which the enemy might be able fire down on the troops in the pass.
The Battle of Malakand was a good example of a well-planned and executed operation. Low sent two battalions of infantry to the extreme right, supported by 20 mountain guns. The 1st Brigade, supported by the 2nd Brigade, attacked up the spurs on a broad front, against very strong enemy positions. The Chitralis all held the crest of the pass and the heights on each flank, with many sangars (redoubts made from piled-up rocks) in crucial positions.
The five-hour battle commenced with an advance party clearing a way for the artillery to move into position. The gunners played a crucial role in the subsequent battle, using a rolling barrage to tear into masses of the enemy, ensuring that they never concentrated for too long. The infantry endured a long, hazardous climb as they overcame sangar after sangar. In the center, the Gordon Highlanders launched a head-on attack, with the village on the ridge as their objective. Due to the many ravines, the attack was fragmented, but the men fought tenaciously forward. Small groups of sword-wielding tribesmen rushed at them, but accurate rifle fire broke them up.
Sir George Younghusband, who witnessed the action, wrote in his book Relief of Chitral that it was "a fine stirring sight to see the splendid dash with which the two Scotch regiments took the hill...wonderfully spirited manner in which the men rushed breastwork after breastwork and arrived just beneath the final ridge before the enemy had time to realize that the assaulting columns were at their very feet." The Gordon Highlanders halted briefly to re-form; then bayonets were fixed, bugles called for the advance to be resumed, and the Scots charged again with a great shout, seizing the position.
The Chitralis fought fanatically. A drummer climbed onto a roof and pounded his drum defiantly. Hit, he fell off but climbed back up again--and again and again until he was finally killed and pitched headlong down a 300-foot cliff. Another Chitrali, carrying a huge flag, led his men in a desperate charge into the King's Own Scottish Borderers until only he was left. Even then, as Younghusband noted, "nothing daunted, he went steadily on rising and falling till at last shot close to the lines."
The battle was said to be a good example of how "dash and determination" can succeed. About 500 of the tribesmen were killed, while the British suffered 70 killed and wounded. Battle accounts said the control of infantry fire was excellent, each man firing an average of seven rounds.
The 1st Brigade advanced the next day down into the Swat Valley; there it became involved in a fierce action with several thousand of the enemy. Fifty men of the Guides Cavalry launched a brilliantly successful cavalry charge. The hillsmen feared cavalry, and by the next morning the enemy had vanished.
Reconnaissance patrols pushed up the valley during April 5 and 6, seeking suitable fords across the Swat River. When a crossing was found, the opposition was strong, forcing the Guides Cavalry and the 11th Bengal Lancers to cross farther up and make a flanking attack. The enemy fled.
Twenty miles ahead, the Panjkora River proved almost unfordable; by April 12 a bridge had been built of telegraph wire and wood, and on it the Guides crossed and were firmly entrenched to cover the bridgehead. A day of hard fighting was to follow. The operation began as a cleanup of enemy sharpshooters who were annoying the sappers on the bridge. The British also burned villages that had sheltered the hillsmen. A wide and thorough sweep was made, but fanatical Chitralis harassed the British all the way back to the bridgehead. No quarter was given and none asked for.
The British expected an all-out attack that night, and indeed, 2,000 tribesmen were waiting to make such an assault. But the firing of star shells unnerved them, and the attack was never launched.
At Chitral, the siege continued, many forms of assault being tried by the Chitralis. For long periods only verbal abuse was hurled at the British; at other times stones were tossed into the fort with great accuracy, causing particular irritation among the defenders at night. In a more serious attack, 50 tribesmen reached the gun tower and set it on fire. A concentrated effort by the defenders quelled the blaze, but the tower was badly damaged.
A new pattern of half-hearted attacks at night, rushes that were never pressed home, war cries, pipes played loudly--all interspersed with volley fire and much sniping--gave rise to suspicion among the defenders that new attack was coming. Tension rose.
The threat of mining under the walls became real on the morning of April 17, when the muffled thud of a pick was heard near the gun tower. To deal with it, 100 men (40 Sikhs and 60 Kashmiri Riflemen), led by the courageous Harley, were chosen for a sortie. The success of the desperate operation hinged on whether the enemy were contemptuous enough of the garrison to be caught off guard.
Harley planned the raid carefully. First, he made several mines by placing 50 pounds of gunpowder in canvas bags, with long, narrow canvas tubes filled with gunpowder to serve as fuses. Then, at 4 p.m., he led his men, with bayonets fixed, from the passage leading to the garden exit; the gates were eased open and the attack commenced. A short and very fierce action ensued, and the surprised Chitralis were driven from the area. When Harley's men found the shaft, volunteers armed with knives went in and cleared the mine. The charges were then laid, and as Robertson described the moment, "Then I saw an enormous puff of smoke rise abruptly...and Harley's men raced back in two parties, their leader the last of all."
The successful action cost the British 21 casualties, but it lifted the garrison's morale and undermined that of the enemy. The following day, confirmation came that Sher Afzul had fled and that Umra Khan was pulling out.
Gurdon led a company out on April 19, and he was able to report that the area was clear of tribesmen. Traders told him of Kelly's imminent arrival and of Low's hard but steady advance north. Colonel Kelly's advanced guard reached the fort on April 20. The siege was over.
Robertson described the outcome vividly: "Bugles sounding...made me melancholy as well as happy...no extravagant greetings...my mind was weary....They declare, that we five [officers] standing stiffly in front of the ruined outwork, were white faced and strangely quiet...for the long sustained stimulus of danger and responsibility was gone; and only tiredness of brain and eyes and body, remained." Robertson was well aware that the successful outcome of the siege was due to the loyalty and courage of his Indian soldiers, along with the other personnel who endured and fought hard. They sustained a total of 41 casualties.
The thrilling military action touched many people's hearts back in Britain. The Illustrated London News of April 27, 1895, summed it up: "The British Indian Government has achieved a rapid and signal military success, promising completely satisfactory political results by its prompt expedition to Chitral and by the activity and dexterity of the commanders."
One action that received special attention was the destruction of the mine. George Younghusband wrote, "The deed of all others which appeals most to the soldier's heart was the desperate and successful sortie from Chitral made by the brave and gallant Harley and his Sikhs on April 17...."
Younghusband attributed the outstanding success of the relief operation to the rapid mobilization of the relief force, the crushing defeat of the enemy by the main relief force in its steady advance, the determined thrust of Colonel Kelly's column and the resistance of the garrison. It was, he concluded, "the game of war played on sound principles."
