XI. THE SECOND BATTALION
1882-1883.
THE WAR IN EGYPT.
In Chapter iv. the campaign of 1801 is described, in which the Royal Irish regiment played a distinguished part in the expulsion of the French from Egypt. To explain why, more than eighty years later, it became necessary for British troops again to take the field in the valley of the Nile, a few words of historical retrospect are necessary. Our short occupation of Egypt in 1801 was purely military and in no way interfered with the status of the country, which for many years continued nominally to be a province of the Ottoman Empire. In the first half of the nineteenth century an adventurer named Mahomed Ali, who started in life as a small government official in Turkish employ, made himself master of Egypt and conquered the Soudan, a vast no-man’s land, which from Wadi-Halfa, the southern boundary of Egypt proper, stretched for 1300 miles up the valley of the Nile. For thirty years he waged an intermittent war with the Sublime Porte, occupying Syria and threatening the safety of the Sultan in Constantinople itself, until the great Powers of Europe, which in 1827 had combined to destroy the Turkish fleet at Navarino, united in 1840 to save the Ottoman Empire from disruption, and sent a joint naval expedition against Mahomed’s garrisons on the Syrian seaboard. Next year the Sultan made peace with his rebellious vassal, who restored Syria to his overlord as the price of the hereditary viceroyalty of Egypt, which was then conferred upon him. A few years later the opening of the “overland route,” by which mails and passengers for the East were carried between Alexandria and Suez, began to bring Egypt closely within the sphere of British politics; and the completion in 1869 of the Suez canal by a French company, whose moving spirit was M. de Lesseps, the engineer, made the safety of the new waterway, and the good government of the country through which it ran a matter of paramount importance to the British Empire.[233] Yet England by no means desired to add the possession of Egypt to her other burdens. Her attitude is well described by Lord Cromer:
“The general political interest of England was clear. England did not want to possess Egypt, but it was essential to British interests that the country should not fall into the hands of any other European Power. British policy, in respect to Egypt, had for years past been based on this principle. In 1857 the Emperor Napoleon III. made overtures to the British Government with a view to the partition of the northern portions of Africa. Morocco was to fall to France, Tunis to Sardinia, and Egypt to England. On this proposal being submitted to Lord Palmerston, he stated his views in a letter to Lord Clarendon. ‘It is very possible,’ he said, ‘that many parts of the world would be better governed by France, England, and Sardinia than they now are.... We do not want to have Egypt. What we wish about Egypt is that it should continue to be attached to the Turkish Empire, which is a security against its belonging to any European Power. We want to trade with Egypt and to travel through Egypt, but we do not want the burden of governing Egypt.... Let us try and improve all these countries by the general influence of our commerce, but let us abstain from a crusade of conquest which would call down upon us the condemnation of all other civilised nations.’ On another occasion Lord Palmerston used the following homely but apt illustration. ‘We do not want Egypt or wish for it ourselves any more than any rational man with an estate in the north of England and a residence in the south would have wished to possess the inns on the north road. All he could want would have been that the inns should be well kept, always accessible, and furnishing him when he came with mutton chops and post-horses.’”[234]
Unfortunately Egypt was anything but well governed. A thin veneer of European civilisation barely concealed the barbaric methods of the East, and the corruption and extravagance of her rulers were almost incredible. In 1863, her public debt was about three millions and a quarter sterling.[235] Thirteen years later, under the rule of Ismail, it had increased to sixty-eight millions, with a floating or unfunded debt of twenty-six millions more, or ninety-four millions in all. As the funded debt had been contracted in Europe, chiefly in the money markets of London and Paris, and as a large portion of the floating debt was due to European creditors, the English and French Cabinets wrung from the Khedive a reluctant consent that European men of business should be appointed to investigate the financial condition of his country. In 1878, the Anglo-French committee of enquiry discovered that the finances of Egypt were rotten to the core. For the debt of ninety-four millions there was practically nothing to show, except the Suez canal, towards the building of which the Government of Egypt had contributed sixteen millions.[236] There was no money to pay the interest on the bonds, and the old method of raising a fresh loan to pay the interest on those already in existence was obviously no longer possible.
In the hope that the influence of high-principled European men of business would improve the government, the Powers insisted that the Khedive should employ ministers of their selection. He did so, but by resolutely obstructing the officials thus imposed upon him, he reduced the administration to such a state of chaos that in June, 1879, the patience of England and France was exhausted, and with the concurrence of the other Powers and the reluctant consent of the Sultan, the Khedive was deposed in favour of his son, Prince Tewfik. The change of viceroy did not, however, produce the result anticipated. Affairs did not improve under Tewfik’s rule; by the end of 1881 the population was in a ferment; a strong anti-European feeling had arisen among the people, while the army was mutinous, and regarded not Tewfik but Arabi, a clever and intriguing Egyptian colonel, as its master. With the object of strengthening the Khedive’s position, England and France in January, 1882, addressed to Tewfik a “dual note,” stating that they considered his maintenance on the throne as the sole guarantee of good order and prosperity in Egypt. This note, however, in no way impressed the population; the condition of the country daily grew more unsatisfactory, and by May a series of military demonstrations had made Arabi the virtual dictator of Egypt, though Tewfik continued in name to be its ruler. Massacres of Christians in various parts of the country caused an enormous exodus of the European population,[237] trade was completely dislocated, and the safety of the Suez canal appeared imperilled.
The Egyptian army, exclusive of the garrison of the Soudan, consisted of about 9000 men actually serving with the Colours, but more than 50,000 men had passed through the ranks into the reserve, and in the Bedouins, the dwellers in the desert, Arabi had a further reserve, though of very doubtful value. His artillery was powerful; exclusive of heavy guns there were forty-eight batteries of field-artillery, not, however, fully horsed. When war broke out the reserve men were recalled, and 40,000 recruits enlisted, who after a few days’ drill were thrust, virtually untrained, into the ranks. Egypt was rich in horses and camels, and in addition to the horses required for the artillery, eleven thousand transport animals were obtained from the population. Nominally, these beasts were the free-will offerings of their owners, but there is reason to believe that the generosity of their donors was greatly stimulated by the use of the courbash.
During 1881, and the first part of 1882, many communications on the subject of Egypt had passed between the governments of England and France and the other European Powers.[238] All were agreed that order should be restored on the banks of the Nile, but, save England and France, none seemed disposed to undertake the task. At first France was much more inclined to a military intervention than Britain, for England in 1882 no more desired to annex Egypt than in 1857, when she rejected the French Emperor’s schemes for the partition of northern Africa. But she remembered that, even before the time of the great Napoleon, France had cast covetous eyes upon Egypt, and as it was impossible for England to allow Egypt to be occupied by any Continental nation, her obvious policy was to co-operate with France, and by re-establishing order and good government in the country to render the Egyptians capable of managing their own affairs without European guidance. To this policy England loyally adhered until France refused to advance further in the matter. As tangible evidence that the Western Powers really intended to support the Khedive, an Anglo-French squadron was sent to Alexandria, where it lay for several weeks, until our Admiral, Lord Alcester (then Sir Beauchamp Seymour), discovered that in direct defiance of the Khedive’s orders, Arabi was preparing to make good his threat to attack any European troops landing in Egypt. Not only was he mounting guns on the fortifications, but he was also attempting to prevent the British fleet from leaving the port by secretly throwing great blocks of stone into the entrance of the harbour. Through Lord Alcester, the British government informed Arabi that unless he at once desisted the forts would be shelled. Arabi promised compliance, but when the search-lights from the ships were turned on, it was seen that under cover of night the work was being pressed forward.[239] The danger to the fleet soon grew too serious to be ignored, and after repeated but equally fruitless warnings, notice was given to Arabi that on the 11th of July the forts would be bombarded. Thereupon the French Admiral announced that his instructions did not permit him to take part in such an operation, and on the 10th he steamed out of Alexandria, leaving his British colleague in the lurch. The forts were bombarded with complete success, and Arabi, retiring inland for a few miles, threatened Alexandria from a position at Kafr-el-Dauar, astride the railway to Cairo. To save the town from pillage by its mob, and to defend it against attack by the Egyptian army, a large number of British sailors and soldiers were landed. The troops had just arrived from Cyprus, where, under Lieutenant-General Sir A. Alison, a brigade, supplied by the Mediterranean garrisons, had been assembled with secret orders to seize and protect the Suez canal against Arabi, who had openly expressed his determination to destroy it.
Meanwhile preparations for an expedition were on foot in England. An army corps drawn from the United Kingdom, the Mediterranean garrisons, and India was to be sent to Egypt under command of Lord Wolseley (then Lieutenant-General Sir Garnet Wolseley) with the temporary rank of General. It consisted of a cavalry division, two infantry divisions, artillery, engineers, and a strong contingent of British and native soldiers from India. In the first division, under Lieutenant-General G. H. S. Willis, were the 1st, or brigade of Guards, commanded by H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught, and the 2nd brigade (in which was the 2nd battalion of the Royal Irish), under Major-General G. Graham. The second division, commanded by Lieutenant-General Sir E. Hamley, was composed of the brigades of Major-General Sir A. Alison and Major-General Sir E. Wood. The Indian contingent, which was to join Lord Wolseley in Egypt, was led by Major-General Sir H. T. Macpherson. The total number of troops who embarked as part of the original army corps were 25,309.[240] The units selected for the war were mobilised; the reserve, or to be strictly accurate, those of its members who had left the Colours within two years were called out; transports were engaged and fitted up for troops, and the House of Commons voted the necessary money. Suddenly the policy of France completely veered round, and on the 29th of July, only nine days after the French Ministry had formally engaged to take part in the expedition, the Chamber by an enormous majority refused to spend a penny upon the restoration of law and order in Egypt. This remarkable change of front, which not only threw the whole expense, but the whole conduct of the expedition upon the British, was doubtless annoying to our statesmen, but agreeable to our generals, many of whom knew from personal experience in China and the Crimea how difficult co-operation with our French allies had proved in those campaigns. The defection of the French caused no alteration in Lord Wolseley’s plans. To crush the Khedive’s mutinous army and to restore order among his subjects it was essential that Cairo, the hot-bed of disaffection, should be occupied as speedily as possible by British troops, and this he proposed to do by landing, not at Alexandria, but at Ismailia, a town on the canal half-way between Suez and Port Said. From Ismailia to Cairo is about seventy-five miles, while from Alexandria to the capital is nearly double that distance. By the former route the track would lie alongside a canal of drinkable water, over hard sand which made a fair surface for marching. In the latter route, i.e. through the Delta of the Nile, there were practically no roads fit for wheeled vehicles, the local traffic being carried on by railway, by pack animals, and by boats on the innumerable canals by which the country is irrigated. Moreover, during the months of August, September, and October--the time of “high Nile,” which was rapidly approaching--the whole of the Delta is under water. Thus, of the two lines of advance, that through the desert was obviously the better one, and it possessed the additional advantage that the preparations for undertaking it served to protect the Suez canal from attack, and to secure possession of the canals by which Suez, Ismailia, and Port Said are supplied with drinking water. It was of the first importance that Arabi should remain in complete ignorance of the British plans; and thus the bombardment of Alexandria and the landing of Alison’s brigade, neither of which had formed part of Lord Wolseley’s original scheme, turned to our advantage, for the arrival of Alison’s troops confirmed the Egyptian General in his opinion that the invading army would disembark at Alexandria. Wolseley seized every opportunity to strengthen him in this belief; Alison was ordered to keep Arabi constantly in fear of an attack, and succeeded in doing so by a series of demonstrations against the works which the rebel army had thrown up.
By the end of July the troops began to leave the United Kingdom: and the second battalion of the Royal Irish regiment, almost the last corps to sail, embarked on August 8, 1882, at Plymouth, bound, as was then believed by all on board, for Alexandria. To enable the reader to appreciate the situation when the battalion reached the seat of war, it is necessary to give a short account of the events which took place while it was still at sea. On the 15th of August Lord Wolseley arrived at Alexandria, and with his naval colleague, Admiral Lord Alcester, settled the details of the combined operation by which the sailors in the men-of-war already stationed in the Suez canal were to seize and hold the towns upon its banks, until the soldiers could begin to land at Ismailia. A considerable portion of the expedition had already disembarked at Alexandria, and transports were daily, almost hourly, arriving from England. The question of how these troops were to be re-embarked and despatched to the canal without giving Arabi any clue to their destination now had to be solved. Throughout his career as a soldier, Wolseley had urged the necessity of deceiving your enemy in war: now he had a great opportunity to give the British army an object lesson in the art of mystifying an opponent, and right well did he avail himself of it. A strong believer in the truth of the axiom that whatever is rumoured in your camp to-day will be known to-morrow to the enemy, he determined to mislead, not only Arabi but the whole of the British army as to his intentions. Orders were accordingly issued for a combined naval and military attack from the sea upon the forts at Aboukir Bay, supported by the troops left to garrison Alexandria. Not even General Hamley, who was in command at Alexandria, was in the secret; and with the help of his brigadiers, Alison and Wood, he worked out elaborate details for co-operation in the advance of the main body after it had landed at Aboukir Bay; the scheme was submitted to Wolseley and gravely approved! At noon on the 19th of August all the troops, except those left to hold Alexandria, were on board their ships, and eight ironclads and seventeen transports steamed away towards Aboukir. Before his departure the Commander-in-Chief handed a sealed packet containing his real plan to General Hamley, with strict orders not to open it till early on the morning of the 20th. The fleet reached Aboukir in four hours, and anchored till nightfall, when the gunboats and other small naval craft stood inshore and engaged the forts, while the big ships slipped away unobserved and arrived at Port Said early next morning, to find that the navy had carried out their instructions admirably. The sailors had surprised the detachments of the enemy watching Port Said, Ismailia, and Suez; these places were in their hands. They were in possession of the whole of the Suez canal. They had prevented any vessels from entering it and, to clear the way for the transports, had ordered all steamers then in the canal to tie up at the gares or shunting-places, familiar to every soldier whose service has taken him east of Suez. The merchant ships complied with three exceptions. A French mail-boat claimed the right to pass, and was allowed to do so as a matter of international courtesy: two English master mariners of the baser sort disobeyed, and when the British gunboat that regulated the traffic was out of sight they followed in the Frenchman’s wake. This incident considerably delayed the entrance of the British fleet into the Canal, but by the evening of the 23rd, the day before the Royal Irish reached Lake Timsah, 9000 men and a few stores had been landed at Ismailia; the fresh-water canal and the whole line of railway between Suez and Ismailia had fallen into our hands, and communication by land had thus been secured with the Indian contingent, which had begun to disembark at Suez on the 20th. Thanks to Lord Wolseley’s ruse de guerre, these successes had been obtained almost without bloodshed.
The report that Aboukir was to be bombarded duly reached Arabi, who sent large reinforcements to the threatened forts. The Egyptians believed that the Delta was the object of the British attack, and consequently had concentrated the greater part of their army at the mouths of the Nile, with a body of 12,000 men at Tel-el-Kebir, a post in the eastern desert thirty-three miles to the westward of Ismailia. To this flank guard was allotted the duty of defending the Delta against an enemy based on the canal, and of guarding Zag-a-zig, the most important junction in the railway system of Egypt. By his successful feint upon Aboukir, Wolseley prevented the despatch of reinforcements from the Delta to Tel-el-Kebir, and thanks to the rapidity with which the naval landing-parties had seized the telegraph lines, news of the occupation of the Suez canal did not reach the garrison of Tel-el-Kebir in time to enable them to oppose our disembarkation at Ismailia. Very shortly after Arabi heard that Wolseley had landed on the bank of the canal he transferred his Headquarters to Tel-el-Kebir, where his Intelligence department must have been singularly inefficient, for, “strange as it may appear, it now seems to be certain that the great transfer of force on the 19th of August from Alexandria to Ismailia remained unknown to Arabi till he heard of it with evident astonishment about a year later in Ceylon,”[241] where, after the war was over, he was detained as a political prisoner. But though the British General had thus stolen a march upon his enemy, many difficulties still confronted him, well described in the following extract from the official history of the campaign.
“There was only one small pier at Ismailia. Ships did not at first anchor nearer than about half a mile from the shore. Every man, every horse and every gun, as well as all the ammunition and stores for the supply of the army, had first to be transhipped from the transports into barges and small boats, rowed or tugged to shore, and then landed on the small pier.... In no sense were the conditions for the rapid landing of a large number of troops and of a vast quantity of stores in existence at Ismailia. It is true that this state of things could be ultimately changed by our engineers. But this would also be a question of time. Every tool, every scrap of material, all the bridging stores and all the means of constructing other piers, for laying down tramways and increasing the pier accommodation must, by an inexorable necessity, be first landed under the conditions actually existing. Materials for all these purposes, including landing-stages expressly made for Ismailia, had been prepared in England before the expedition sailed, but it would not be possible to send them forward in the most advanced vessels of the fleet, for those ships must be otherwise filled. In order to secure the all-important lines of communication--the railway and Sweet-water canal--for the advance from Ismailia, it was essential that the first vessels of the fleet should be occupied by the troops which would be sent forward to seize them. These troops, once sent forward, must be supplied with food and ammunition, so that a considerable force, with all its guns and equipment, tons of supplies, ordnance stores and ammunition and the means of local transport ... must be sent on in the most advanced ships before any engineering material for the improvement of the means of landing ... could be put on shore.”[242]
The Egyptians had dammed the “Sweet-water” canal at Magfar, a few miles west of Ismailia, and the water, the only supply for the towns on the Suez canal and for the army when it moved into the desert, was falling rapidly. While keeping every available man at work at Ismailia, Lord Wolseley sent Graham with a small force of all arms to Magfar, and after two days’ skirmishing, not only occupied that place, but Kassasin also, where an important lock, twenty miles up the canal from Ismailia, fell into our hands. Here Wolseley determined to establish an advanced base, where, under the protection of a comparatively small force, supplies could be accumulated in readiness for the campaign in the desert. Graham was left in charge of this post; among his troops were two of the units of his brigade (the 2nd), viz.: a battalion of Royal Marine Light Infantry and the 2nd battalion, York and Lancaster regiment; the remainder of his command, the 2nd battalion of the Royal Irish regiment and the 1st battalion of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, though they landed on the night of the 24th, did not take part in these preliminary operations, being detained at Ismailia to help in unloading the store-ships and transports.
The Royal Irish arrived from England with a total strength of seven hundred and seventy-one, including a hundred and fifty non-commissioned officers and men from the reserve.[243] Among their fellow-passengers was a newspaper correspondent, Major Terry, a half-pay officer, who found the XVIIIth such good comrades that he attached himself to the battalion throughout the war. From his account the voyage was a pleasant one, the ship comfortable, and the troops well fed. The time passed quickly, for in addition to the ordinary routine of life on board a transport, the officers were hard at work reading the books on Egypt with which Colonel Gregorie had provided himself, and lecturing to the men about the country in which they were going to fight. The correspondent described the rank and file as “rather under height, but a very broad-shouldered and robust body of men, with quiet manners and pleasant to talk to. Intensely Irish, they easily brighten into excitement in their amusements, and when their own stirring national airs are played by the band.” At Malta the XVIIIth heard many rumours about Lord Wolseley’s plans, but the only definite information they received was the order to paint their helmets and belts mud-colour, and to dull the brass-work on their uniforms. To our modern ideas the red serge jumpers and blue serge trousers in which the expedition took the field was a kit singularly ill adapted for a campaign in Egypt. Spine-pads and spectacles with blue glasses were served out, but many men did not understand the value of these novel articles of equipment, and lost them, much to their sorrow when a few days later they found themselves in the desert exposed to the full blaze of a semi-tropical sun. On the 22nd the City of Paris reached Alexandria, and was immediately ordered on to Port Said, where the battalion found the navy in possession of the town, apparently quite as much at home there as in Portsmouth harbour. As the ship was steaming slowly along the canal, the Royal Irish were much entertained by a party of bluejackets, stationed at Kantara to protect the floating bridge. The guard of sailors turned out and presented arms in the most orthodox fashion; and then produced a concertina and played “Rule Britannia,” dancing on the sand and swinging their cutlasses round their heads with immense energy.
On August 24, the City of Paris arrived at Lake Timsah, and anchored in the midst of a great fleet of warships and transports, the latter surrounded by steam-launches, tugs, and lighters, all busily employed in landing at Ismailia the personnel and matériel of the expedition. This town, a creation of M. de Lesseps, is on the western shore of the lake, where, half-hidden in groves of palm and plane trees, it lies like a green oasis in a desert of yellow sand. Here the Royal Irish remained for the next four days, earning golden opinions by the sustained energy which they displayed in carrying out the irksome duty of moving stores from the water-side to the railway station. Then came the welcome order to join their brigade at Kassasin. They moved in detachments, constantly halting to help repair the railway and to clear obstructions from the Sweet-water canal. The march was a singularly unpleasant one: the heat was very great, the dust and flies were exasperating to a degree, the tents had gone astray, and the only water to be had was from the canal, which belied its name, as it was polluted by the dead bodies of Egyptian soldiers. Several of the stations on the railway showed traces of the recent presence of Arabi’s troops, who in their flight had abandoned their rifles and ammunition, and left their dead unburied behind them. There was so much work to be done on the line that it was not until late on the 8th of September that the last companies of the Royal Irish reached Kassasin.
Arabi had been misled by the lying reports of his Bedouin scouts, who informed him that they had cut the communication between Ismailia and Kassasin, and that the latter was held by a small force, whereas as a matter of fact the railway from Ismailia to the front was in working order; Kassasin was occupied by about 8000 men under General Willis, and the brigade of Guards, a battery, and a regiment of cavalry were all within reinforcing distance. Acting on this false information, he determined to take the offensive, and at dawn on the 9th he put his troops in motion and pushed from Tel-el-Kebir towards Kassasin with several squadrons of cavalry, thirty or thirty-one guns, and seventeen battalions of infantry. His cavalry advance-guard greatly outnumbered our mounted troops, who however succeeded in holding back the Egyptian horsemen, until the infantry had taken up a position astride the canal to meet the attack now threatening from the west and north. Covered by a vigorous but comparatively harmless cannonade, the enemy’s infantry, a large part of which had been brought by train, advanced towards the camp, the uniforms of the regular soldiers contrasting strongly with the white robes of the Bedouins as they moved over the low sandy hummocks of the desert. For a time General Willis stood on the defensive, and the Royal Irish were detailed as the escort to the field-guns. Then he gave orders for a general advance, and the battalion was placed in echelon on the right rear of the first line of Graham’s brigade, ready to form front to the right, and face the flank attack which for a moment was anticipated. At first the battalion moved in quarter column, and then in line; at no time during the 9th was it extended for attack, for the British guns played so rapidly upon the Egyptians that they fell back in disorder, giving Graham’s brigade no opportunity to close with them; and by half-past ten the enemy had retired to his works at Tel-el-Kebir, leaving four field-pieces in our hands. From his entrenchments Arabi opened an angry but harmless artillery fire upon the troops, who by General Willis’s directions halted out of range. In ceasing his pursuit at a moment when it seemed that a vigorous, though necessarily costly attack might have made him master of the entrenchments, General Willis was acting in perfect accord with the spirit of Lord Wolseley’s strategy, for Alison’s brigade of infantry had only just arrived from Alexandria at Kassasin, and the Commander-in-Chief was not yet ready to advance across the desert. Had the Egyptians been attacked and beaten on the 9th, Wolseley could not have followed up the victory, and therefore their defeat would not have been the absolutely crushing blow that he hoped to inflict (and did actually inflict) upon them a few days later. The British troops remained facing Tel-el-Kebir for about three hours, and thus secured time for a careful reconnaissance of Arabi’s position; then they were ordered back to camp. The Egyptian losses were severe, but the British casualties were only three men killed, two officers and seventy-five other ranks wounded. Among the wounded were Captain H. H. Edwards, Royal Welsh Fusiliers (attached to the XVIIIth) and two private soldiers of the battalion.[244] A subaltern in the Royal Irish thus recorded the experiences of the second battalion on this occasion: “Just as we were sitting down to breakfast the bugles sounded for us to fall in, and a minute or two later the enemy had got so close that they began lodging shell in our camp and made it so hot that the ---- had to clear out sharp. We were out pretty quick, and were alongside some guns which opened on the enemy and of course drew their fire on us. For about an hour we were in a pretty warm corner; shells burst thickly around us, but no one was touched except two men slightly wounded. After a time we got the order to advance, and in doing so we got a few rifle-shots among us which did not do us any harm. Our men did not fire a shot. As we advanced the enemy retreated. We were left to cover the retirement of the battalions who had been in the firing line and were relieved at four o’clock in the afternoon.”
In a short time the Commander-in-Chief’s preparations were completed; the whole of the troops selected for the march across the desert were concentrated at Kassasin, and those appointed to hold the lines of communication were at their posts. Lord Wolseley had already formed his plan of attack, which he thus described in his despatch of the 16th of September--
“The enemy’s position was a strong one; there was no cover of any kind in the desert lying between my camp at Kassasin and the enemy’s works north of the Canal. These works extended from a point on the Canal 1½ miles east of the railway station at Tel-el-Kebir for a distance almost due north of about 3½ miles. The general character of the ground which forms the northern boundary of the valley through which the Ismailia[245] Canal and railway run is that of gently undulating and rounded slopes, which rise gradually to a fine open plateau from 90 to 100 feet above the valley. The southern extremity of this plateau is about a mile from the railway and is nearly parallel to it. To have marched over this plateau upon the enemy’s position by daylight our troops would have had to advance over a glacis-like slope in full view of the enemy and under the fire of his well-served artillery for about five miles. Such an operation would have entailed enormous losses from an enemy with men and guns well-protected by entrenchments from any artillery fire we could have brought to bear upon them. To have turned the enemy’s position either by the right or left was an operation that would have entailed a very wide turning movement, and therefore a long, difficult and fatiguing march, and what is of more importance, it would not have accomplished the object I had in view, namely to grapple with the enemy at such close quarters that he should not be able to shake himself free from our clutches except by a general fight of all his army. I wished to make the battle a final one; whereas a wide turning movement would probably have only forced him to retreat, and would have left him free to have moved his troops in good order to some other position farther back. My desire was to fight him decisively where he was, in the open desert, before he could take up fresh positions more difficult of access in the cultivated country in his rear. That cultivated country is practically impassable to a regular army, being irrigated and cut up in every direction by deep canals. I had ascertained by frequent reconnaissance that the enemy did not push his outposts far beyond his works at night, and I had good reasons for believing that he then kept a very bad look-out. These circumstances, and the very great reliance I had in the steadiness of our splendid infantry, determined me to resort to the extremely difficult operation of a night march, to be followed by an attack before daybreak on the enemy’s position.”
The field-works at Tel-el-Kebir were not of uniform strength, for Arabi, believing that the British would advance along the Sweet-water canal, had devoted himself to the fortification of the right of his line, where for more than two miles stretched an unbroken series of breastworks, with parapets five or six feet high, and ditches varying from eight to twelve feet in width, and from five to nine feet in depth. Behind these defences about two miles of interior works had been thrown up, connected with those in front by rifle-pits and trenches, and from redoubts built at numerous salients, cross-fire could be poured in every direction. Towards the left the works dwindled in size, and at the extreme northern end of the line, that which, as we shall see, was attacked by the Royal Irish, they were but a mere collection of shelter trenches. Arabi had twenty-five thousand soldiers, six thousand Bedouin irregulars, and about sixty guns with which to defend these fortifications against the eleven thousand infantry, two thousand cavalry, and sixty-one guns that the British Commander-in-Chief could bring against him. The remainder of Wolseley’s command was absorbed by the garrisons of Alexandria, Port Said, Ismailia, Suez, and other points on the Suez canal, and the posts on the line of communication between Kassasin and the base at Ismailia.
Though the British advance was to be astride the Sweet-water canal, the main attack was to be delivered on the works to the north of it, where the first division was to assault the left, the second division the right of the entrenchments. The cavalry division, with its batteries of Royal Horse artillery, was to circle round the left of the Egyptian position, threaten its defenders from the rear, and pursue them when the infantry had driven them from their entrenchments. On the south of the canal the Indian brigade and the naval contingent were to clear the country, capture the villages which had been placed in a state of defence, and seize the important railway junction of Zag-a-zig. To the field batteries an interesting rôle was assigned. It was obvious that in a night march they could not discharge the ordinary duty of artillery, that of keeping in check the enemy’s fire so as to render it possible for the attacking infantry to advance. But it was almost equally obvious that, if the forty-two field-guns could be brought up to the entrenchments of Tel-el-Kebir by early dawn, they would be able to pour a crushing short-range fire upon the defenders: if either division required support the guns would be at hand to give assistance, and should either of the infantry attacks fail, the artillery would be ready to beat the enemy down behind his works until the attackers were able to renew the assault. The seven field batteries therefore were ordered to march in the interval between the infantry divisions, keeping level with them.
The first and second divisions and the field artillery were assembled after dark on September 12, on the rising ground known to the Staff as Ninth Hill, which lay about four miles to the east of Arabi’s position. To give the enemy’s scouts and spies no clue to the intended movements the tents were not struck till sunset, when all bugle calls ceased. Then the troops were set in motion, the men marching light with a hundred rounds of ammunition, rations, and water-bottles.[246] As soon as the sun went down the Royal Engineers began to set up on Ninth Hill long lines of posts, running many hundred yards into the desert, to serve as guides towards the enemy’s entrenchments. The night was unusually dark, the posts were hard to find, and it was not till eleven P.M. that all the units had reached their proper places. Graham’s brigade was on the right of the line, with its battalions standing in the following order from the right, Royal Irish, York and Lancaster, Royal Marine Light Infantry, Royal Irish Fusiliers: in the centre were the field-guns: on the left was Alison’s brigade. H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught’s brigade of Guards supported Graham, while in rear of Alison was a small brigade of two battalions under Colonel Ashburnham, King’s Royal Rifle Corps.
At 1 A.M. on the 13th of September, Graham called together the officers commanding the battalions of his brigade and in a low voice gave them instructions, briefly and to the point: the works of Tel-el-Kebir were to be surprised; the troops were to close upon them at earliest dawn, and carry them at the point of the bayonet. The soldiers were then roused; the orders were explained to them, and in half an hour the greater part of the army was on the march to attack an enemy of nearly double its numbers, and holding fortifications about which, except their strength, little definite was known. The Indian brigade did not leave its resting-place, south of the Canal, until 2.30 A.M., as to have moved earlier would have run the risk of giving the alarm to the inhabitants of the belt of cultivated land through which Macpherson had to march. Throughout the night telegraphic communication was kept up between the Indian brigade and a detachment of Royal Marine artillery, who followed behind the second division. It was many years since a British general had attempted operations at night upon so large a scale. In the Peninsula Wellington’s troops had been thoroughly accustomed to marching and manœuvring in darkness, but the art was now almost a lost one, and Wolseley wisely gave great latitude to his divisional generals in the choice of the formations in which their commands were to advance; he wished the brigades to be so marshalled that no manœuvring would be necessary to pass them from the order in which they marched into that in which they were to attack, and he suggested, though without positively commanding, that each brigade should move in line of columns of half battalions at deploying intervals. Neither Alison nor Graham adopted the suggestion in its entirety. Alison drew up his men in line of half battalion columns of double companies, and not only marched but attacked in this formation; Graham first moved in columns of half battalions at deploying intervals, but found it necessary to make several changes in formation before he finally closed with the enemy. Nothing but the perfect discipline of the troops enabled Lord Wolseley and his generals to move this great mass of men and guns at dead of night, across nearly four miles of ground which it had not been possible thoroughly to reconnoitre, and to bring it to within a few hundred yards of the fortifications before it was detected by the enemy. No smoking was allowed; the men were as silent as the grave; the few orders issued were passed along the ranks in a whisper. In the blackness of the night Staff officers riding from flank to flank found it impossible to see a column, when two hundred yards away from it; yet when their ears had grown attuned to the silence, which at first appeared crushing and unnatural, they became aware of a low dull noise, that sound of human feet, of horses’ hoofs, of jingling harness, which no forethought could prevent. Fortunately throughout the night a little breeze blew from west to east, and thus Arabi’s men, being up-wind, would have heard nothing if their watch had been vigilant, instead of extremely negligent.
In the 2nd brigade the precaution of extending a chain of connecting links between the half battalions did not ensure perfect leading by the guides. Sometimes the half battalions would open out, and at others close unduly upon each other. These mistakes had to be corrected, and each correction took time. At an hour variously estimated between 3 and 4 A.M.[247] General Willis considered that the 2nd brigade had come within range of the Egyptian works. He wished to rest his men for a moment, and accordingly, after forming line, ordered a short halt. With the priceless trust of British soldiers in their officers, the men immediately dropped on the sand and fell fast asleep during the few minutes’ repose which they were allowed. About the same time the Highland brigade was halted to refresh the men. As all orders were passed in a low tone from company to company and from battalion to battalion, this order was not at once received by the troops on the outer flanks; they continued to advance, but as they remained in touch with the centre they lost direction and by the time the command reached them they had wheeled inwards, though quite unconsciously. Thus the brigade halted not in line, but in a crescent-shaped formation. When the order was given to resume the march the flank battalions, quite unaware that they had lost direction, moved straight to their front, and soon almost crashed into each other. Each thought the other was the enemy, but by a triumph of discipline, every man waited for orders to fire, and thus gave time for the officers to discover the mistake. The brigade was halted, the companies of direction placed on the true line of advance, and the remainder of the Highlanders, gradually and successively drawing back, re-formed upon the proper alignment. This mistake, which took about twenty-five minutes to correct, is a good example of the difficulty of night operations and the necessity of implicit obedience to orders.
After a short rest Graham’s brigade again advanced, this time in line, but the formation was found unsuitable, and was changed to an advance by fours from the right of companies. To keep in the proper direction was no easy matter, especially as the mass of artillery on the left was steering a few degrees too far to the northward, and thus continually elbowed the 2nd brigade off the right path: to correct this pressure frequent turns half-left and half-right had to be made. Suddenly, at about 4.45 A.M., “far away to the left was heard a tremendous rattle of musketry, mingled with the firing of big guns, succeeded by ringing and sustained cheers, and”--to quote the special correspondent who, as already mentioned, had attached himself to the Royal Irish--“we felt sure that the Highland brigade had found its quest and run into it.” At this moment it became necessary again to correct a mistake in direction, and “a halt and change of front a quarter circle to the left were at once ordered.... A rattling fire of small arms now opened on us from the works, distant about 600 yards.[248] It was still dusk, but the blackness of night had given place to a pale darkness, through which the flashes of fire sparkled with ceaseless rapidity.”
By this time, owing to the difficulty of marching at night over the featureless desert with nothing to steer by but the stars, Lord Wolseley’s force was no longer in line but in echelon from the left, and when the Highlanders struck the enemy’s works the head of Graham’s brigade was probably more than 800 yards from the Egyptians’ entrenchments. As soon as the brigade had formed line the Royal Irish pushed forward, and were rapidly nearing the position when the brigade-major, suddenly appearing on the scene, told Colonel Gregorie it was General Graham’s wish that he should form the Royal Irish for attack. Though it was obvious that the battalion was too close to the trenches for the evolution to be carried out accurately, the necessary orders were given, and C and D companies extended, with B and E in support, and the remainder in reserve. Then the leading companies swept onwards under a heavy but fortunately ill-directed fusilade; the supports and reserves closed upon the firing-line, and with wild yells and almost without firing a shot, the Royal Irish swarmed over the shelter trenches at the extreme end of Arabi’s line, driving before them at the point of the bayonet the Egyptians, who slowly and in good order fell back to a second line of works in rear. The Royal Irish were now enfiladed by a redoubt on their left flank, but taking no notice of its fire they pressed onwards until, after driving the Egyptians from the second line of entrenchments, they were peremptorily halted and ordered to re-form their ranks. While this second charge was being delivered, Lieutenant Chichester made a gallant effort to storm the redoubt with a few men; but he and two or three of his followers fell wounded, and it remained in the hands of the enemy until the York and Lancaster carried it with a rush. The Marines and the Royal Irish Fusiliers gradually made themselves masters of the works in front of them, and the Egyptians, falling into confusion, and to a large extent abandoned by their officers who were among the first to fly, retired in disorder. When they discovered that the British cavalry had swung round the left of their position and were directly threatening them from the rear, their retreat became a rout. Yet there were many among the rank and file, especially in the regiments composed of Nubians, who had shown bravery in the battle, and at the time it was thought that had these men been well led they would have been formidable enemies. The justice of this, opinion has been proved by the services of the modern Egyptian troops in the Soudan, where regiments of Egyptian peasants and Soudanese blacks, trained and officered by men of the regular British army, have on many occasions acquitted themselves excellently.
Some interesting episodes have been recorded of the part played by the Royal Irish in this phase of the engagement. The special correspondent relates that as the battalion was advancing towards the first line of trenches two men, mad with excitement, dashed out of the ranks and rushed towards the enemy. For a moment they disappeared, but
“presently they were seen by themselves, beyond the first works, and in front of the big redoubt, in the very midst of the foe. These gallant two! One was on his knee facing south-west; apparently he is conscious of having gone beyond support. The Egyptians in their trenches and ditches are in front, to right and to left of him. He glances back towards where kneels, a few yards behind him, his brave companion. But who can save you now, rash, gallant young Irishmen! You have turned from the front of your regiment and are cut off from all aid. My position on horseback enabled me to see the men, who, kneeling, were hid by the trenches from their own regiment. I saw an Egyptian officer move up behind the left of the leading man, and seizing his arm, strike him over the head or shoulder with his sword. A struggle ensued, but the smoke of battle hid them from further view. After the fight Colonel Gregorie found two dead bodies of his men among the others of his regiment in the place described: their names were Corporal Devine and Private Milligan.”
The good conduct of other soldiers is thus described by Colonel (then Lieutenant) Chichester--
“They stood back to back, tackled six Nubians, and accounted for them all. I now forget their names, but I was going to recommend them for reward, but afterwards heard that they had been killed later in the battle. A very brave reservist in my company was badly wounded and lay on the ground close to where I had fallen. He had eight bullet holes in his body, yet he only died the day that our transport full of wounded arrived at Plymouth. When the men came to attend him on the battlefield, he said, ‘Don’t mind me; look after others, worse hurt.’”
In sharp contrast to the gallant behaviour of this Irishman was the treachery of an Egyptian officer who lay injured on ground occupied by the XVIIIth. One of the men offered him water; he drank it, and then suddenly rolled over, snatched up a rifle and shot down one of the soldiers who were tending him. Prompt steps were taken to prevent this ruffian from doing more mischief!
After pursuing for some distance, Graham halted to re-form his brigade in readiness for further action. He had every reason to be proud of his command, for, as he reported to Lord Wolseley, “the steadiness of the advance of the 2nd brigade under what appeared to be an overwhelming fire of musketry and artillery will remain a proud remembrance.” As he rode from battalion to battalion he was greeted with many cheers, a tribute to the leader who, though a stern disciplinarian, had ever proved himself mindful of the comfort of his men, watchful of their safety, and who had now led them to decisive victory. By the time the second brigade had re-formed its ranks the troops on the left had also finished their work. The task set to Alison’s command had proved much harder than that allotted to Graham’s battalions. Not only were the fortifications which faced the Highland brigade far stronger than those attacked by the second division, but when the Highlanders had surmounted them they came under a very heavy fire from the inner works. But thanks to the timely aid of the guns, which pushed right into the entrenchments, the enemy was driven back in wild confusion, and in less than an hour Arabi’s army was shattered as completely as it had been surprised.
Lord Wolseley lost no time in reaping the fruits of his victory. As soon as the enemy’s works were in his hands the cavalry were ordered to continue their pursuit, and to strain every nerve to reach Cairo before Arabi had been able to burn it, as he had threatened to do if he was defeated; while the Indian brigade, which had completely driven the enemy from the cultivated country on the southern bank of the canal, was to push on to Zag-a-zig, and by occupying it, prevent the various detachments of Arabi’s troops in the Delta from coming to his assistance. Both enterprises were successful. At four o’clock on September 14, the cavalry after a magnificent forced march began to appear before the gates of Cairo, where Arabi, who was one of the first to quit the entrenchments of Tel-el-Kebir, had taken refuge. Without attempting to fight, or to carry out his plan for the destruction of the city, he surrendered at once, and with him the garrison of ten thousand men. The Indian brigade made itself master of Zag-a-zig, capturing much rolling stock, in which a great portion of the infantry was moved up to Cairo. With their arrival the war was over, and in ten days’ time every garrison in Egypt had been disarmed, and the men set free to resume the avocations of peace.
Not all the British infantry, however, went on at once to Cairo. Among the regiments left at Tel-el-Kebir was the second battalion of the Royal Irish, who thus had plenty of opportunity to admire the fifty-eight guns which had been taken on the 13th. In the engagement the Egyptians are believed to have lost about two thousand killed;[249] of the number of their wounded there is no record, but several hundred were tended by our army doctors, while many uninjured prisoners were taken, disarmed, and turned adrift. The British casualties were nine officers killed and twenty-seven wounded; of the other ranks forty-eight were killed, three hundred and fifty-five wounded, and thirty missing--in all, four hundred and sixty-nine.
In the Royal Irish the losses were:
Killed Captain C. M. Jones (attached from the Connaught Rangers) and three other ranks.
Mortally Wounded Four private soldiers.
Wounded Lieutenant A. G. Chichester and Lieutenant H. H. Drummond-Wolff (attached from the Royal Fusiliers) and fourteen other ranks.[250]
After a week at Tel-el-Kebir the Royal Irish were moved by train to Cairo, where they were quartered in a barrack, the filth of which was so great that to this day the remembrance stinks in the nostrils of those who occupied it. The duty was heavy; there was much sickness among all ranks, and beyond ceremonial parades in honour of the return of the Khedive to the capital in which he had been reinstated by British bayonets, nothing of interest occurred during the three weeks the battalion spent in Cairo except a great fire, in the suppression of which it was employed. Lieutenant W. R. B. Doran (now Colonel Doran, C.B., D.S.O.), in a letter written at the time, thus described the part played on this occasion by the Royal Irish, who were fortunate to escape without any of the casualties which occurred among other corps--
“On the 29th of September we were startled by a tremendous bang, followed by what sounded like a succession of cannon-shots. After an interval there was another great explosion, more cannon-shots, and then a rattle of musketry. We thought at first it was some kind of plot. It turned out that a lot of trucks full of powder, unexploded shells, and small-arm ammunition had been set on fire by another train containing hay. How the hay was set on fire no one has yet found out. About 6.30 P.M. we were turned out in a great hurry, and went to the railway station, to stop all traffic in the streets in the neighbourhood, and to prevent the scum from beginning to loot; they had just begun, but they got such ‘toco’ from the ‘Tommies’ that they soon stopped their little games. We remained guarding the streets till nearly 1 A.M., when we were relieved and began, as we thought, to march home, but were grievously disappointed, as before we had gone half a mile we were halted in a square and told to lie down and go to sleep in the road. I was rather hungry, as I had not quite finished my dinner when the order to fall in came, so I managed to get a sort of penny bun from one of our captains, half of which I ate; the other half I put under my head and went to sleep on the hardest bed and strangest pillow I have ever had!”
The battalion was sent to Alexandria[251] on October 11, and a month later Lieutenant-Colonel Gregorie, after serving his full time in command, was succeeded by Lieutenant-Colonel R. W. E. Dawson. On February 1, 1883, the medals with clasps for Tel-el-Kebir were presented to the Royal Irish on the racecourse of Alexandria by a veteran soldier, Field-Marshal Lord Napier of Magdala, G.C.B., and a few days later the battalion, which to the great satisfaction of all ranks was not included in the 10,000 troops left to hold Egypt for the Khedive, sailed for Malta, and after remaining there for three months, landed at Plymouth at the end of May, 1883.
The regiment received permission to add to its battle honours the words “Egypt 1882” and “Tel-el-Kebir.”
Lieutenant-Colonel C. F. Gregorie was appointed a Companion of the Order of the Bath; Major G. W. N. Rogers and Captain J. H. Daubeney each received a step in brevet rank; Quartermaster and Honorary Captain T. Hamilton was made an Honorary Major; Lieutenant A. G. Chichester and Sergeant E. O’Donnell were mentioned in despatches. The following officers were permitted to accept and wear decorations awarded by the Sultan, viz.: Lieutenant-Colonel Gregorie, the Medjidie (3rd class); Major Rogers, the Osmanieh (4th class); Captain Daubeney, Medjidie (4th class); and Lieutenant Chichester, Medjidie (5th class), and all ranks were presented by the Egyptian government with a decoration known as the Khedive’s Star.
Two officers attached to the second battalion--Captain H. H. Edwards, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and Lieutenant H. H. Drummond-Wolff, Royal Fusiliers, were also mentioned in despatches.
XII. THE FIRST BATTALION
1884-1885.
THE NILE EXPEDITION.
At the time of England’s armed intervention in Egypt in 1882, the Khedive’s authority extended nominally far beyond the limits of the province which Mahomet Ali had wrested from the Sublime Porte. The founder of the Egyptian dynasty, not satisfied with fighting his Suzerain the Sultan in Syria, had pushed armies up the Nile into the heart of the Soudan, or country of the Blacks, a no-man’s land which stretched from Wadi Halfa, the southern boundary of Egypt, to the Great Lakes far beyond the equator. This region had no form of government; its inhabitants were oppressed by Arab slave-hunters; its condition was pitiable in the extreme. Mahomet Ali gradually conquered every tribe in the Nile valley up to the junction of the White and Blue Niles, where he built Khartoum, and thrust forward outposts in every direction from the capital of his new dominions, which was about a thousand miles south of Cairo. The country thus annexed became known as the Egyptian Soudan, and extended from the shore of the Red Sea to the western frontier of Kordofan; it was about the size of France and Germany put together, and its population in 1883 was estimated at fourteen millions of mixed breed, the descendants of the aboriginal negroes and the Arabs who overran the country early in the Mohammedan era. This blend had produced a race possessing the outward characteristics and mental attributes of the Arab, combined with the endurance and brute courage of the Negro.[252] After anarchy such as had prevailed in the Soudan, almost any form of government might have been expected to improve the condition of the country; but in this respect Egyptian rule completely failed. Taxation was heavy; extortion was the rule, rather than the exception, and slave-hunting, with all its attendant horrors, was not suppressed; indeed, thanks to the connivance of the officials, who were virtually in partnership with the slave-dealers, it so greatly increased that the country was rapidly becoming depopulated, when in 1869, the pressure of British public opinion compelled the Khedive to institute reforms in the administration, and to appoint an Englishman, Sir Samuel Baker, as Governor-General of the Equatorial provinces, which stretched from Khartoum to the Great Lakes. Five years later Baker was succeeded by General (then Colonel) Charles George Gordon, who held the post till 1879. Though both accomplished much towards the establishment of better government and the suppression of slave-hunting, their efforts were cramped and thwarted by the officials at Cairo and at Khartoum, who were naturally disinclined to lose the enormous profits they derived from the trade in slaves. A country so mercilessly treated only needed a leader to turn upon its oppressors, and in 1881, such a leader arose in the Soudan. A prophecy had long been current among Mohammedans that about this time a “Mahdi” would appear and convert the whole world to the true faith, and of this prophecy a religious adventurer, named Mohammed Ahmed, availed himself to the uttermost. He proclaimed himself the Mahdi whose advent had been predicted, and announced that as soon as the Soudan had joined his cause he would march on Egypt, destroying all who opposed him, and convert the whole world to Islam. Such was the spiritual part of his programme, carefully prepared to rouse the fanaticism latent in every Mohammedan; the temporal advantages he offered to his followers were universal equality and community of goods. Although denounced as an impostor by the educated Mussulmans, who probably regarded his socialistic propaganda with misgivings, he rapidly gained a great following, and obtained several successes over the Egyptian garrisons, which were at this time in a wretched condition. The troops had not been paid for many months, in some cases even for years: the soldiers were undrilled, their officers incompetent to drill them: the loyalty of all ranks was as doubtful as their courage. To stiffen this unpromising material, several Englishmen in the service of Egypt were sent to Khartoum; among them was Hicks Pasha, at one time an officer in the Indian army, now the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Khedive’s troops in the Soudan.
In September, 1883, Hicks, acting under the orders of the Egyptian government, led an expedition into the depths of Kordofan, where the Mahdi had retired to organise the tribesmen, from thirty to sixty thousand strong, whom his recent victories had attracted to his standard. Hicks commanded about 11,000 weakly and ill-fed men, of whom many were so unwilling to be soldiers that to prevent desertion they had to be sent up the Nile in chains. His artillery consisted of thirty-six Krupp, Nordenfelt, and mountain guns, and his transport was supplied by six thousand horses and camels. The whole of the Egyptian troops were thoroughly out of heart; they were aware that they were about to march into a country of which little was known except that it was almost waterless, and that they would encounter hordes of desperate and ruthless fanatics. As the men filed out of Khartoum they were in floods of tears. The fate of such an army may easily be imagined: on the 5th of November it was surprised by the Mahdi with 40,000 of his followers, and cut to pieces, near El Obeid in Kordofan.[253] Hicks and the other Europeans died fighting dauntlessly to the last; the Egyptians allowed themselves to be butchered almost without resistance: three hundred were given quarter, only to become the slaves of the victors, into whose hands passed the guns, much ammunition, thousands of rifles, and all the transport animals. One man alone escaped to bring the news to Khartoum. Yet so little was the importance of the Mahdist movement appreciated by the English government that at the very time Hicks’s column was being destroyed in Kordofan, Mr Gladstone was urging the reduction of the British army of occupation in Egypt. When Hicks’s fate became known in Cairo the situation grew very complicated. The Cabinet in London, afraid of being drawn into armed intervention in the Soudan, had persistently assumed an attitude of aloofness on the subject of Hicks’s operations, and, affecting to ignore the fact that Britain was virtually, though not officially, mistress in Egypt, and that a word from her representative at Cairo, Lord Cromer (then Sir Evelyn Baring), would have stopped the expedition, declined all responsibility on the ground that it had been undertaken solely on the authority of the Egyptian government. The annihilation of Hicks’s army had placed Khartoum in a position of great danger: only two thousand troops were left to man the four miles of earthworks by which the town was ringed, and its communications with Cairo and Suakim were seriously threatened. The generals in command of the British army at Cairo admitted that, if the Mahdi advanced on Khartoum, it would be impossible to hold it in its existing condition, and that in all probability the whole valley of the Nile, as far south as Wadi Halfa, would be lost to Egypt. Alarmed at the crushing blow which had befallen him, and at the consequences likely to follow it, the Khedive begged that British troops might be sent to the Soudan, or, if these should not be forthcoming, that a contingent of Turks might be imported to hold Khartoum. Our government refused to move a single soldier to the Soudan, but had no objection to the employment of a Turkish force to garrison Khartoum, provided that no expense was thereby thrown upon the Egyptian Treasury. They, however, advised Tewfik to abandon all territory south of Assouan, softening the blow by the promise that England would defend not only Egypt proper, but also the ports of the Red Sea against the Mahdists. To this wholesale dismemberment of his dominions the Khedive demurred, and again suggested a Turkish occupation of the Soudan, whereupon England sternly replied that if the Egyptian ministers would not carry out the evacuation of the Soudan they would have to make room for Englishmen, ready to enforce her policy. The Khedive thereupon withdrew his opposition, and agreed that the whole of the Soudan, except the port of Suakim, should be abandoned to its fate. During these negotiations the situation at Khartoum had become so serious that the senior European officer there, in reporting that it would be impossible to hold the town against the whole population of the Soudan, which had now thrown in its lot with the Mahdi, urged that immediate orders should be given for a withdrawal down the river. The question next arose--who was to effect the withdrawal, not only of the troops, but also of the officials, traders, and other members of the civil army of occupation in the Soudan?
The English ministers then bethought themselves of General Gordon, one of the most remarkable characters of the nineteenth century. His career had been a strange and eventful one. After serving with distinction as a Royal Engineer in the Crimea, the chances of war carried him to the Far East where he played his part in the Anglo-French expedition to China. When the object of the campaign was accomplished, peace was signed with the Emperor of China, but the end of the war found some of the most fertile provinces of the Celestial Empire in the hands of great hordes of insurgents, with whom the Chinese authorities were wholly unable to cope. Gordon was lent to the Emperor to command a force of Chinamen, raised by himself and officered by adventurers of mixed nationality. With a rare combination of military talent and personal courage, readiness to assume responsibility, power of influencing his subordinates, and complete absence of self-seeking, he welded his unpromising material into good soldiers, with whom he stormed many walled towns and won battles innumerable against vastly superior numbers. After a long struggle, in which his men earned the title of “the ever-victorious army,” he completely crushed the rebels; and then, disbanding the troops who had learned to look upon him as invincible, he returned to Europe with the justly earned reputation of a born leader of men. During his five years’ sojourn in the Soudan Gordon had acquired great influence over its inhabitants. The fighting men had learned to follow, the slave-hunters to fear him: the traders respected his stern and evenhanded justice: all classes knew that his word, once pledged, was never broken, and that his orders must be obeyed to the letter. At a few hours’ notice, Gordon was sent to Egypt to secure the retreat of the garrison of Khartoum and of the thousands of civilians who would probably wish to accompany it, and also to effect the evacuation of the remainder of the Soudan. For this enormous task he was allowed one Staff officer, Colonel D. Stewart,[254] 11th Hussars, with whom he reached Khartoum on February 18, 1884.
While Gordon was on his way up the Nile, the tide of war was setting strongly against the Egyptians in the eastern Soudan, where a wing of the Mahdi’s army was commanded by Osman Digna, an ex-slave dealer who had been ruined by the capture of his dhows by British cruisers. Osman Digna had stormed several fortified towns and villages, held by the Khedive as outposts round Suakim, and had cut to pieces columns of Egyptian troops sent at various times to the relief of the garrisons scattered throughout the district. Suakim itself was threatened, and the ships of war then lying off the port landed bluejackets and Marines for its protection, while Major-General Sir Gerald Graham was sent from Cairo to reinforce them with 4000 British troops. There were two sharp engagements at El-Teb (February 29) and Tamai (March 13), in which Osman Digna fought with magnificent courage, but sustained such heavy losses that his power for evil appeared sufficiently diminished to warrant the withdrawal of the British soldiers from the eastern Soudan.
While these events were taking place round Suakim, things were going badly with Gordon at Khartoum, and though direct telegraphic communication with him was cut off about a month after his arrival, the news which reached Cairo showed that his position was becoming one of considerable danger. In April, the Secretary of State for War began to realise that it might become necessary to send an expedition to rescue Gordon, and called upon Lord Wolseley for a plan of campaign. In his reply Wolseley showed that Khartoum could only be approached by the caravan roads converging on Berber from the Red Sea or by the valley of the Nile, and strongly advocated the latter route. He proposed to move the dismounted troops up the river in boats, and after pointing out that Gordon’s supplies would not permit him to hold Khartoum later than the 15th of November, urged that immediate preparations should be made to meet possible contingencies. For several months government took little action beyond making inquiries about the track across the desert from Suakim to Berber, and sending naval officers up the Nile to report whether Lord Wolseley’s scheme was practicable. These officers reported against it, and Sir F. C. A. Stephenson, the General commanding the British troops in Egypt, agreed with their views. On the other hand, a committee composed of three officers who had taken part in the Red River expedition in Canada emphatically expressed their opinion that Wolseley’s plan was perfectly feasible, and pointed out that the naval objections to it were based on the assumption that steamers of considerable size, and boats up to 40 tons burden would be required, whereas the army only asked for whale-boats, which could be used at any state of the Nile.
While these discussions were going on, the tide of Mahdism steadily flowed northwards. To meet a possible attack upon Egypt proper, the bulk of the Khedive’s army, then in process of reorganisation by British officers, was hurried to Assouan, where it was strengthened by English battalions; the Nile was patrolled by steamers manned by the navy; and irregular levies of Bedouins, also commanded by British officers, were pushed up the river into Dongola, the most southern portion of the Egyptian dominions in which the authority of the Khedive was still recognised. Dongola was ruled by a Mudir who, though originally in sympathy with the Mahdi, had been won back by golden arguments to the cause of his Suzerain. In the course of the summer his territory was attacked; it was considered necessary to help him with British bayonets, and the 1st battalion of the Royal Sussex regiment was moved southwards from Assouan. On the 8th of August, only eight days before the Royal Sussex reached the town of Dongola, a vote of credit was obtained from the House of Commons to cover the expense of sending troops to the assistance of the Mudir; but though by this vote government definitely committed itself to the Nile route, and therefore to the use of small boats, it was not until the 12th that official sanction was given for the construction of these craft. Four hundred were then ordered, and in a few days the number was doubled. The boats were to carry twelve men with their equipment, ammunition, and rations; to be suitable alike for rowing, sailing before a wind, and tracking (i.e., being hauled up stream from the bank), for ascending and descending rapids, and for passing over shallow and rocky places in the river: to be as light as possible, yet strong enough to be dragged over short stretches of ground to avoid cataracts; and to be 32 feet in length, 6 feet 9 inches in breadth, and only 2 feet 6 inches in depth. The first consignment reached Alexandria on September 22, the last on October 18, 1884.
It had not been proposed to employ Lord Wolseley in the expedition, but on August 26, he was appointed to command the troops upon the Nile. He reached Cairo on September 9, when there were actually in Egypt, or on their way thither, a regiment of cavalry, one battery of Royal Horse artillery, one of Royal Field artillery, one camel battery of mountain guns, and two garrison batteries; four companies of Royal Engineers, one of which was at Suakim; a battalion of mounted infantry, 423 strong; and thirteen and a half battalions of infantry--in all, nearly 11,000 officers and men, among whom were the first battalion of the Royal Irish regiment. Not all these troops, however, were available for the actual operations at Khartoum when that far-distant goal should be approached. The garrisons of Cairo and Alexandria absorbed four and a half battalions of infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and all the artillery except the mountain guns. Though the Egyptian army held the line of communication from Cairo to Hannek, it was considered necessary to strengthen this section with a British battalion, while to secure the Nile between Hannek and Berber, at least five battalions would be required. Lord Wolseley aimed at placing about 5400 men in line at Shendi, a place on the river about 100 miles south of Berber, and the same distance to the northward of Khartoum, and after making allowance for the inevitable wastage of troops in an expedition such as he was to conduct, and for the possibility that he might have to send part of his column on a sudden dash across the desert, he asked the War Office to supply him with eleven hundred more men, volunteers from regular regiments at home, to be turned into “camelry”--i.e., infantry mounted upon camels. The request was granted, and these reinforcements arrived in time to reap a large share of the honours of the campaign.
Before any troops could be moved to Shendi, through a country from which little or no food could be obtained, it was necessary to form an advanced base as high up the river as possible, where stores of all kinds were to be collected before the main body began to arrive from Cairo. It was also necessary to establish along the line of communication on the river a chain of intermediate depôts, from which the troops would draw rations and thus preserve intact the cargo of stores with which each whale-boat was to be freighted. Korti was selected for the advanced base, and there, when the first thousand miles of its journey from the sea was accomplished, the expeditionary force was to effect its preliminary concentration.[255] As far as Wadi Halfa, about 750 miles above Cairo, the navigation of the Nile presents no great difficulties, and every available river steamer and river boat was pressed into the service. But above Wadi Halfa a formidable series of cataracts, or rapids as they should more accurately be termed, proved fatal to so many of the native craft that the transport of stores to the higher reaches had almost entirely to be carried out by the whale-boats. It was not until the 1st of November that a sufficient quantity of supplies had been sent up the river to warrant Lord Wolseley in moving the main body of his infantry. Then as speedily as possible each corps was despatched in turn on its journey southward. Towards the end of December the first battalion of infantry reached Korti, where the camelry, who had marched along the banks of the Nile, were beginning to assemble; in about four weeks more the last regiments arrived, and by the end of January the preliminary concentration had been successfully accomplished.
* * * * *
While the second battalion was winning fresh honours for the regiment at Tel-el-Kebir, the first battalion was in India. It was stationed at Meerut in August, 1884, when the welcome order was received to start for Egypt forthwith on active service. In high spirits at the prospect of a campaign, all ranks worked with a will; by the 20th the preparations were finished, and the Royal Irish, after a very hot railway journey, embarked at Bombay on the 29th, and three weeks later arrived at Cairo in magnificent order. They are described by an officer who was then serving with the regiment--
“When the 1st battalion Royal Irish landed in Egypt in 1884, it was, bar none, the finest battalion I have ever seen, both in physique and in general appearance. Under Colonel M. MacGregor they were considered to be the best dressed regiment in India, and since his departure they had lived up to their reputation. In this respect they presented a very marked contrast to many of the battalions in Egypt, who were dressed in a very hideous grey serge very similar to that worn by convicts, which was worn apparently exactly as it had been issued from store. Their physique was equally distinguishable from the Corps who had lately arrived from home. The average service was (if I remember right) about seven years, and the average height, taken from the annual return prepared at Wady Halfa, was 5.7¾, and the chest measurement was 38″. While we were at Cairo a gymkhana was held at Gezireh, where one of the events was a tug-of-war open to all troops in garrison. The Royal Garrison artillery for some time past had invariably won this contest: so invincible were they considered that no infantry regiments would compete against them, and they used to take the prize on every occasion with a ‘walk-over.’ On the arrival of the Royal Irish, we determined to enter our team, which had been practically unbeaten in India. On the day of the gymkhana the R.G.A. expected to have another ‘walk over,’ when to their surprise and to that of the spectators (we had kept the fact dark that we intended to enter a team), ten strapping Royal Irishmen, in jerseys of the regimental colours, stepped out on to the ground. The gunners were so unprepared for this that they hadn’t even taken the trouble to be suitably dressed for a tug-of-war. So confident were they of beating all comers that instead of the usual line they had arranged an open ditch filled with water, across which the opposing teams had to pull. It was not many minutes before the two leading gunners were in the water, and the rest, to save themselves a ducking, had to let go the rope!”
The Royal Irish were almost the last troops to leave lower Egypt; but at length the long-expected order reached them, and on the evening of November 12, 1884, they entrained for Assiut, the farthest point to which the railway ran up the Nile. The marching-out state showed a strength of seven hundred and forty-six officers and men.[256]
Next morning, after a journey of 229 miles, the Royal Irish arrived at Assiut, and at once exchanged the train for the barges in which they were to be towed 318 miles to Assouan, at the foot of the First Cataract. The men were packed into four barges, in each of which a subaltern was on duty for twenty-four hours at a time; the remainder of the officers were divided among the steamers and a dahabiah. “That night the halt was not sounded till 10 o’clock, when,” wrote a young officer of the Royal Irish, “a nice job we had of it. Our steamers did not keep together, so that we had to go along the bank for about a mile in the dark, and draw rations for the next day, and very ticklish work it was, as the path was quite close to the river and bits of the bank were continually falling in.” Progress was slow, for both barges and tugs occasionally ran on to sandbanks, and it was not until November 24, that the flotilla, which had been joined by the 2nd battalion, Royal West Kent regiment, reached its destination. As the barges could not pass the rapids the Royal Irish landed, and spent an unhappy day in the belief that they were to remain at Assouan. They had been ordered to encamp, and some of the officers were on their way to select the ground, when a tremendous roar of cheers and Irish yells told them the battalion had received good news; shortly afterwards a staff-officer informed them that they were to proceed up the river forthwith, and after a short journey in the railway turning the rapids, the Royal Irish re-embarked at Shellal, this time in the sailing-boats or dahabiahs in which the traffic of the Nile from time immemorial has been carried on. The next stage (210 miles) in the voyage was to Wadi Halfa, the frontier town of Egypt, and the most southern point which Roman legions had occupied in the valley of the Nile. Here a long stretch of rapids called the Second Cataract barred the passage of all local craft at that time of year, and the troops landed and went into camp, where owing to a block on the line of communication the battalion was detained for more than a fortnight. This halt was by no means a restful one, for the fatigues were incessant, but some of the officers found time to reconnoitre the nearest of the rapids through which they were about to pass, and reported that a task awaited the XVIIIth as arduous in its way as any that had fallen to the lot of the regiment during the two centuries of its existence. The Second Cataract, like that at Assouan, is turned by a line of railway thirty-three miles in length, which ended at Gemai, where, in an improvised dockyard, the whale-boats lay waiting for the Royal Irish. By December 16, the line of communication was again clear, and the first detachment--B and E companies under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Wray--were sent by rail to Gemai, where they took possession of their “whalers,” and many stores. When these were packed the flotilla started in single file, and sometimes sailing, sometimes rowing (with many different strokes and styles), worked up a smooth stretch of river till nightfall, when the boats were tied up to the bank, and the crews disembarked and pitched their camps. Next morning the detachment reached Sarras, where the remainder of the stores were issued. Each whaler carried the arms, ammunition, tents, and camp equipage of her crew, materials for repairing any damage she might sustain on the voyage, and cases containing a hundred days’ rations for twelve men. These cases were not to be opened, but were to be delivered intact at the point of concentration, the supplies for current use being drawn at the various posts on the line of communication. By the time the whole of the freight (about four tons) was on board the boats, the load of boxes at stem and stern rose so high above the gunwales that the men at the oars were half-hidden behind the high-piled cargoes.
Lord Wolseley had always attributed much of the success of the little Red River expedition to the skill of the boatmen, or voyageurs who navigated his canoes over the waterways of Canada. With some difficulty he induced the British government to sanction the enrolment of a corps of Canadian boatmen for the much larger expedition of 1884; nearly four hundred officers and men were raised, many of whom proved themselves as valuable on the Nile as their predecessors had been on the rivers of Ontario and Manitoba. These voyageurs joined the whalers at Sarras: they were placed in charge of the actual handling of the boats, but, except as watermen, they had no authority. The flotilla as a whole was in charge of the regimental officers, who were distributed among the whalers, but in every company many boats were necessarily commanded by sergeants and even by corporals. In most cases the non-commissioned officers were as ignorant of boat work as their men, and with their crews had to learn by experience the use of oars and sails, the employment of poles to prevent the whalers from being dashed against the rocks, and the art of tracking. Even the best of the voyageurs, though experts in other branches of boatmanship, knew nothing of sails, which were not used in the navigation of the rivers with which they were familiar. In the forenoon of December 18, B and E companies pushed off from Sarras, followed by the remainder of the battalion, less G company, which next day brought up the rear. Thus the whole battalion was now afloat, engaged in a ceaseless struggle with the rapids of the Nile, and greatly handicapped by want of voyageurs, of whom the supply had run so short that instead of a couple of Canadians being posted to each boat, as had been the case with the corps first up the river, only two could now be allotted to each company of the Royal Irish. The difficulties encountered, as will be seen, were enormous, but the first battalion of the Royal Irish overcame them with brilliant success, and made the passage up the river faster than any other corps in the expeditionary force. In order to “get the last ounce” of work out of his troops, Lord Wolseley appealed to both the sporting and the patriotic instincts of his soldiers by offering a prize of £100 to the non-commissioned officers and men of the battalion which made the fastest run with the fewest accidents from Sarras to Debbeh, and by promising that the winning corps should be selected for the post of honour in the farther advance towards Khartoum. The money prize was awarded to the Royal Irish, who thus won the right to share in the hardships of the march across the desert to Metemmeh. Before that march is described, some account must be given of the portion of the Nile up which the Royal Irish had to force their way before they could hope to strike a blow for the relief of Gordon. For eighty miles above Sarras the river runs through a wild and barren region known as Batn-el-Hájar or the Womb of Rocks, of which the official historian gives the following description:--
“After leaving Sarras the first serious obstacle to navigation is the cataract of Semneh, the foot of which is reached after an eleven miles’ pull against a smooth, swift current running between high rocky banks. Then come ten miles of swifter-flowing water, against which, however, with the help of a moderate breeze, it is possible to proceed with the help of the track lines. At the head of this rapid is the great ‘Gate of Semneh,’ a narrow gorge, between two rocky cliffs, partly blocked by two islands about equi-distant from the shores and from each other. Through the three passages thus formed the whole pent-up volume of the Nile rushes as through a sluice-gate. Here the boats have to be unloaded, and their cargoes, package by package, carried for half a mile over the rocks and deposited near smooth water above the cataract. Then the track lines are passed round the rocks, and two or three boats’ crews manning one line, each boat is in turn hauled by main force up the water slide and run in opposite its cargo on the beach.
“For the next sixteen miles the course of the river is unimpeded by any serious obstacle, still for every yard the current runs as strong as the Thames in flood, on every side the basalt mountains radiate their heat, and everywhere the sunken rocks lie in wait for the unwary steersman. At the end of this distance the cataract of Ambako is reached, a very different piece of water to that of Semneh. At the latter spot an obstacle to navigation was formed by the volume of the Nile being pent into a narrow gorge; at Ambako the same effect is produced by a broad expanse of river being choked by an innumerable mass of reefs and islets. At full high Nile, when the lower rocks are buried deep beneath the surface, the cataract is not a formidable one; but as the river falls and reef after reef makes its appearance, the difficulties of navigation increase, until at low Nile the cataract has become impassable for the larger native craft, and is a grave source of difficulty even to the buoyant English whalers.
“Here every means of propulsion has to be employed. At one moment the whalers, under the lee of some islet, may be paddled gently up a narrow lane of almost stagnant water. Then, as the shelter of the rock is lost, though its crew pull for dear life, it is carried back some hundreds of yards until a point of vantage is reached near the shore. Next the track line is got out, and step by step the boat is hauled round a projecting point by a treble boat’s crew. Now a fresh breeze and a clear reach of moderate water make it just possible to gain a few hundred yards by making the very most of sails and oars; then a bit of shelving shore is met with, along which good progress may be made by half the crew tracking, while the remainder stay on board and use their punt-poles. At length, by dint of perseverance, the five miles of rapid are surmounted in twice as many hours of incessant labour, and another eight miles of open water are entered on.”[257]
Though no two cataracts are exactly alike, their general features are much the same, and therefore it is enough merely to mention the others passed by the XVIIIth. Above the rapids of Ambako came the cataract of Tanjur, which, though only two miles and a half long, usually took the boats a whole day to ascend, and fifteen miles higher up was another rapid, nearly as troublesome as that of Semneh. This was succeeded by ten miles of smooth water running between hills crowned with ruins, relics of a nation so ancient that its very name has been forgotten. Then followed the cataract of Dal, round which stores had to be carried for three or four miles by hand; these rapids once passed, the boats entered a long reach of calm but swift-running water 100 miles in length, at the head of which two more cataracts, those of Kaiber[258] and Hannek, had to be surmounted. From Hannek to Korti the navigation of the Nile was fairly easy.
The record of the forty days spent by the battalion between Sarras and Korti is one of unceasing toil. The Royal Irish worked like galley slaves. From dawn to dark, in burning and daily increasing heat, they rowed, and poled, and hauled the boats by ropes through the easier portions of the rapids. In the more difficult places it became necessary to lighten the whalers, and the crews had to unload them partially or entirely and to transport the cargo across the rocks, work the boats through the broken water, and then carefully repack them, with the knowledge, acquired by bitter experience, that an hour or two later the performance would have to be repeated. Occasionally, to avoid some especially bad piece of river, the boats had to be emptied, lifted out of the water, and hauled across country on the rollers provided for the purpose. Sometimes a boat missed the narrow passage among the rocks which barred her way, and was whirled backwards down the current until the men on the banks, hanging on to the drag ropes with their arms almost wrenched from the sockets, succeeded in hauling her into slack water. Occasionally a whaler was wrecked; nearly every day and sometimes several times in the day one or more were injured by striking against submerged rocks, and in default of professional boat-builders the officers had to repair the damage themselves. Major-General (then Captain) Burton Forster’s diary contains many references to his labours as a shipwright, and a few are quoted almost at random, to show what “handy men” the officers of the XVIIIth became in the expedition of 1884-85. “Found Sergeant Evans’s boat again broken at a small rapid. Stopped, and put in a plank about nine feet long, as the original one was cracked all that distance.” ... “Got all the ten boats of my Company up rapids by dark and beached them for repairs.” ... “Four-fifths of the keel torn off Corporal ----’s boat, mended her.” The work went on for seven days a-week; there was no rest on Sundays, or even on Christmas day, the entry for which runs--“Divine service for Roman Catholics, then drew boats up main rapids, kept moving, and unloaded in the evening.” In less arduous circumstances the voyage up the Nile would have proved a pleasant experience, for the scenery possesses a weird beauty of its own, wholly unlike that of any other part of the world; the climate is glorious, and the endless series of ruins which line the banks interesting in the extreme. But the officers of the Royal Irish had no time to admire scenery, or to study the archæology of the ancient Egyptians. They had suddenly been turned into fresh-water sailors; they had become jacks-of-all-trades--shipwrights, doctors, dock labourers; they had to maintain discipline, to keep up morale, and to cheer the men when under the strain of unceasing toil even their buoyant spirits for a moment flagged.
An officer of the regiment thus records his reminiscences of the boat work on the Nile--
“Greatcoats and nothing else was the favourite kit with the men of my boat, who prided themselves on their dress and were anxious to save one good suit of khaki in which, they said, they would march into Khartoum. It was a handy costume when you stuck on a sandbank or struck upon a rock, as you could be overboard in a second to shove the boat off. Very often my men used to row in their ‘birth-day suits’! Just before we started up the Nile I had been transferred to a new company, and my skipper[259] left the detailing of the crews of the boats to the Colour-Sergeant, who took advantage of my youth and innocence (?) to put into my boat ten of the biggest blackguards in the company, and a really good corporal of the old stamp (Corporal George M‘Kee). Though I was new to the company, my future boat’s crew were well known to me by name and sight as being constant attenders at the Orderly Room, so I thought a ‘few kind words’ would do them no harm, and consequently informed them that I knew them well, but that we were going to have no d----d nonsense in my boat, or out of it they would go to sink or swim! A grin of amusement was all the answer I got to my short speech.
“When we started off the Corporal and I were the only two men who had ever handled an oar in their lives. Luckily the Corporal was a good tough nut, and had been stroke in the regimental boat some years previously when we were in Malta. That first day’s row is still a nightmare to me. We left Sarras at 12 noon, the Corporal and I doing the rowing, while the remainder did their best to imitate us, but only succeeded for the most part in ‘catching crabs.’ The current for the Nile was slight--but except quite close in-shore it ran at about 3 miles an hour. Unfortunately our Cox, never having handled a tiller before, kept alternately running us out into the stream or into the banks. The distance from Sarras to Gemai was only 12 or 14 miles, but we did not get there till 8 P.M., and I thought we should never get there. I was more dead-beat than I have ever been before or since, and once I had thrown myself on to the sand when we eventually reached Gemai, I could not have gone another yard. However, youth and a sound sleep worked wonders, and next morning I was as fit as a fiddle, and started loading up the food stuff--a job requiring a lot of time and care, as each box had to be fitted into its place like blocks in a Chinese puzzle. With the stores, we also took in one or two Canadian voyageurs per company. My company had two. Regiments who had preceded us had had a voyageur for each boat, but a good many of them had become ‘fed up’ and had gone home or to Hospital, and by the time the Royal Irish went up the river, the supply only ran to about one or two for every 10 or 12 boats.
“I was given a French Canadian, and the company tool chest, and told to bring up the rear--a pleasant task which meant I had to go to the assistance of any boat in difficulties on a rock or sandbank, come last into the night’s halting-place, and when there sit up most of the night mending the ‘lame ducks’ of the fleet. The actual mending did not take so long, as we soon learnt to patch up holes and tears, but the repairs usually involved the unloading of the boat, and fitting together the ‘Chinese puzzle’ of boxes in the dark was an operation that took two or three hours.
“My Canadian was a very fine specimen of his class, and had a flow of bad language--both French and English--that I have seldom heard surpassed or even equalled. Owing to my being able to talk a certain amount of French, we became very good friends, and under his instruction I became an expert voyageur both at the helm and with the pole in the bows, and could have taken a boat up any of the rapids. Though we were such good friends, it did not prevent him ‘doing me in the eye.’ Each boat had a box labelled ‘Medical comforts,’ which was on no account to be opened. Very foolishly the authorities had a printed label on the box showing its contents, which in addition to beef-tea, arrowroot, &c., also consisted of 2 bottles of brandy and two of port wine. It had been reported that no box of medical comforts had reached its destination intact. I determined that my boat should be the exception, so the box was put in the stern of the boat, so that I could keep my eye on it during the day while I pulled stroke, and at night I slept on it in the boat. Never did it go out of my sight except at the portages, when my friend George, the Canadian, volunteered to carry it for safety’s (?) sake. I drew the line at carrying boxes at portages, and trusted George. When, however, my box was examined on arrival at Korti, though it appeared quite untouched, the liquor was all gone, the arrowroot, &c., were, however, quite complete; George had no use for them!
“It was marvellous how quickly the men took to rowing. In a few days they were pulling powerful if not stylish oars, and they certainly put their hearts and their backs into it. My crew of blackguards were simply splendid, and we never had any difference of opinion. On one occasion we came to a very stiff bit of water, and I turned round and said, ‘Now, boys, we’ll have to pull here,’ and the man behind--one of the biggest and sturdiest scamps in the battalion, said, ‘Begorra, sir, we’ll pull to hell wid you,’ and a voice from the bows added, ‘and out the other side, sir.’
“The Nile sores were the things that troubled us most; any scratches or in many cases ordinary rowing blisters, turned into festering sores which nothing could cure so long as we remained on the river. I took the skin off my ankle shoving the boat off a rock, and tho’ I kept it perfectly clean, and put vaseline on it, it would not heal. The strange thing was that once we got into the desert, tho’ we could not wash, these sores all began to heal at once.
“Other regiments suffered terribly from lice, but so far as I know we had none in the Royal Irish. I certainly had none in my company. I attribute this to the fact that our men were always in the water to shove the boat off if she stuck on a sandbank or rock, while I noticed other regiments seemed to dislike getting into the water, and used to try to shove off a boat that stuck with poles and oars, and much bad language. The day’s work did not vary much: we awoke at the first streak of dawn--had some tea or coffee and biscuit--bully beef if you cared for it, and then used to sail if the wind was really strong--which to us seemed very seldom,--to sail and row, if the wind was only moderate. If there was no wind, or an adverse one, it was a case of rowing, or towing if the bank was favourable, the latter being a quicker mode of progression than rowing against the strong current. If we had a really good sailing breeze, we didn’t like to waste it, and had cold bully beef and biscuit at about midday as we sailed along, but if we had had a tough morning’s row or two, we used to halt for about an hour to have a hot meal. At about sunset the leading boat of the company would halt for the night at some suitable spot, and the others if possible closed up. This often was not possible, owing to the numerous mishaps that were always taking place from bumps on rocks and sandbanks. The boats, when the Royal Irish took them over, had done several trips already, and were for the most part in a pretty rotten condition, and the materials for repairing them had run out, so that we had to use any expedients such as biscuit tins, &c., to patch them up. I thought myself lucky if on arrival at the night halting-place there was no damaged boat to mend, and that in consequence I could get a full night’s sleep--such a splendid sleep it was, too, under the clear sky of the Soudan winter! The ordinary monotony of the journey was broken at places like Dal, where one had to pull for four solid hours up a gigantic mill-stream, sometimes only gaining a few feet after half an hour’s pull, when one’s muscles felt as if they would crack. At Dal we took out the rifles and ammunition and a few of the boxes out of each boat, took a picked crew of eight men, and had two half-breed Indians in the boat, one at the helm, the other in the bows with a pole. It was most exciting work, and at first the task looked an impossible one, but the skill with which the voyageurs took advantage of every back water, and shot past the most dangerous-looking places was perfectly marvellous. Most of us officers learnt the trick before we reached Korti, and could have qualified as voyageurs. Amongst the voyageurs I should tell you, there were some who had not much claim to the title, and hardly knew the stern of a boat from the bow. They had come out for a picnic, but when they saw the Cataracts they ‘went sick’! One of the so-called voyageurs was a man who had been in the Royal Irish a short time before we went to Egypt. He was a smart, plucky fellow, who soon learnt the tricks of the trade, and by the time the regiment came up he was quite an expert, and went by the name of ‘Dare-Devil Dick.’ Some of the voyageurs were an insubordinate lot, and gave a good deal of trouble--especially in wanting to halt, and as they were not subject to military law it was difficult to know what to do with them on these occasions. One gentleman, however, met his match, after he had been particularly abusive to an officer who was well known in the service for his handiness with his fists. The voyageur, amongst other things, said that he was not going to obey any one’s orders, and that he was as good a man as any officer, so the officer told his men to row ashore, which they did; he then took off his coat and said, ‘You said you were as good a man as I am, take off your coat and I’ll show you whether you are or not.’ The Canadian looked at him for a moment, and then said, quite quietly, ‘No, boss, I guess not.’ ‘All right,’ said the officer, ‘you will obey my orders in future, or out of the boat you go, neck and crop.’ After that there was no further trouble.
“Pipes, or rather a lack of pipes, were soon a matter of great difficulty. The old soldier had not acquired the modern habit of cigarette smoking, and clay pipes were practically the only kind the men ever smoked. In the rough work of the Nile boat the supply of these soon gave out, and in my boat after about a week there was only one stump of a ‘dhudheen’ left amongst the twelve of us. This was passed round, each man getting ‘two or three draws and a spit’ out of it. I had started with three or four briar pipes, but they all disappeared--appropriated, I regret to say, by officers. As I did not care to share the dirty little stump that did duty for a pipe in my boat, I had to devise something as a substitute for my beloved briars. A broken oar-handle for the bowl, a boat’s auger, and a hollow reed for the stem soon provided me with the means of making quite a serviceable article. As the ash of the oar got very charred, the bowl had to be lined with a bit of biscuit tin. My patent was soon copied, and in a few days, as far as my crew was concerned, it was a case of ‘one man one pipe.’ My pipe did me yeoman’s service till after the return of the battalion from Metemmeh, when, amongst other luxuries in the shape of jam and sardines, an enterprising Greek brought up a store of wooden pipes which he sold at fabulous prices.”
The only amusement on the voyage was to watch the wild geese and pelicans which abounded in some parts of the river, to look for traces of the hippopotami, much disturbed by the long procession of whale-boats through the upper part of the river, and to take “pot-shots” at the crocodiles. The old ones were wary, and offered but indifferent targets for the officers’ revolvers; the young ones, less used to the ways of mankind, were slower in taking to the water. One, indeed, remained so long on an overhanging bank that when a party of the Royal Irish approached him his only means of escape was by taking a header into the water, right over a man who was standing on the edge of the river.
On the 23rd of January the leading boats reached Korti, where by the 27th the whole regiment was assembled, but not in the same strength as it left Cairo. The hardships and fatigues of the unaccustomed life had taken toll, and many men had been dropped at various hospitals on the line of communication.[260] One soldier had been drowned in the Nile, a fate which Lieutenant-Colonel Hugh Shaw, V.C., nearly shared. His boat was working close in-shore when a sudden fall of earth and stones from the bank struck her gunwale, and threw him into the swiftly running river. As soon as the dust had cleared away he was seen struggling in the stream; instantly Orderly-Room Sergeant Hanrahan and Colour-Sergeant Moylan plunged into the water, swam to him, and held him up until all three were rescued. For this gallant action the bronze medals of the Royal Humane Society were awarded to these non-commissioned officers. The Royal Irish won great praise not only for the short time in which they made the passage from Sarras, but also for the excellent care they had taken of the stores with which their boats were freighted, and Lord Wolseley’s thanks were officially conveyed to them in a special general order dated the 4th of February, 1885.
“The following battalions in the order given have completed the journey from Sarras to Debbeh in the quickest time:--
1. The 1st Battalion Royal Irish. 2. The 1st Battalion Gordon Highlanders. 3. The 1st Battalion Royal West Kent.
The 2nd Division Naval Brigade, the Royal Irish, and the Royal West Kent have distinguished themselves by the care they have taken of their boats. The division of the Naval Brigade and Captain Forster’s Company of the Royal Irish handed in their supplies at Korti complete, no case or package being either damaged or missing. General Lord Wolseley congratulates the men of the Royal Irish most heartily upon having won the small prize which he offered to mark his personal appreciation of the battalion which should accomplish the difficult journey of about 370 miles in the shortest time. As they have been first on the river, so he hopes they may be amongst the first to enter Khartoum, and he feels assured that he can wish this old and distinguished regiment nothing more thoroughly in accordance with its own desires.
“It has been most gratifying to watch the manner in which all the battalions have striven to reach at the earliest date this point where the army was to concentrate, and Lord Wolseley warmly thanks both officers and soldiers for the untiring spirit shown by them in overcoming the many and serious obstacles to navigation presented by the cataracts and rapids of the great river. All alike have worked well and cheerfully under conditions entailing considerable privation and continuous labour.
“The conduct of all ranks has been most creditable to the army, and Lord Wolseley will not fail to bring the energy and discipline that have been shown to the notice of Her Majesty the Queen.
“EVELYN WOOD, “Chief of Staff.”
In forwarding his cheque for £100 Lord Wolseley wrote as follows:--
“CAMP KORTI, THE SOUDAN, “11th March 1885.
“DEAR COLONEL SHAW,--It is with the greatest pleasure that I send you the enclosed cheque for £100, the prize won by your splendid Battalion by having come up the Nile to Debbeh in boats in less time than any other Regiment. Being an Irishman myself it is very gratifying to feel that my small prize has been carried off by my own countrymen.--Believe me to be, dear Col. Shaw, very truly yours, WOLSELEY.”
The general situation, as far as it was known when the XVIIIth reached Korti, was very gloomy. Khartoum was besieged on three sides, and on Gordon now rested the entire burden of its defence. In August he had sent his only fellow-countrymen, Lieutenant-Colonel D. Stewart and Mr Power, the correspondent of ‘The Times,’ on a mission down the river; their steamer had been wrecked, and they had been treacherously murdered by Arabs who had offered them hospitality. Thus with no officer whom he could trust, no friend in whom he could confide, he was left alone to face the hordes of fanatics by whom he was surrounded, while his men were suffering much from physical privations, and from the mental depression produced by waiting in vain for the British troops who, as their General had repeatedly assured them, were coming to their help. The tone of Gordon’s latest messages, brought by native runners to Lord Wolseley, showed that his position was growing so desperate that the time for which Khartoum could hold out must no longer be reckoned in months and weeks, but in days and hours. A modification of the plan of campaign had therefore become necessary. In the original scheme the point for the second concentration of the relieving force was fixed at Shendi, a town on the right bank of the Nile, faced on the opposite shore by the villages of Metemmeh and Gubat. But the passage of a column of boats over the four hundred miles of river between Korti and Shendi would inevitably take several weeks. Hitherto the troops had only been called upon to overcome natural difficulties: now they would be in the enemy’s country, and while working up rapids at least as troublesome as those already ascended, they would be exposed at any moment to attack and consequent delay. Even if unmolested on the lower reaches, they were committed to one serious military operation, the capture of Berber, a town on the Nile a hundred miles below Shendi; it commanded the river, and therefore must be seized and occupied before the expedition could pass it on the voyage up stream. From these various causes the column must necessarily move so slowly that long before the first whaler could be expected to appear off Shendi, Gordon might be overwhelmed, yet the Nile was the only route by which a large body of troops with adequate supplies could be placed within striking distance of Khartoum. For smaller detachments, however, the river was not the only possible line of advance. A glance at the map will show that the Nile in its windings between Shendi and Korti forms two sides of a huge triangle, the third side of which is marked by the camel track, 173 miles in length, linking Korti with Metemmeh. This road crosses the Bayuda desert, a barren waste of sand, dotted at rare intervals with wells for the most part inadequate for the needs of any considerable number of animals and men--yet in a dash across this desert lay the only hope of saving Gordon.
Lord Wolseley determined to divide the force which remained available for active operations after the safety of his line of communication had been secured. To Major-General Earle he entrusted the “river column,” a strong brigade of all arms, which, after capturing Berber, was to establish an advanced base near Shendi. The camel corps and various other troops were placed under the orders of Brigadier-General Sir Herbert Stewart, who was to lead the “desert column” across country to Metemmeh, and there establish an advanced base. If the information he received there convinced him that Khartoum was at the last gasp, he was to push forward at once with the “camelry” to Gordon’s rescue, but if the danger did not seem immediate he was to stand fast, and co-operate with Earle when the river column had won its way to Shendi. If Stewart halted at Metemmeh, his Intelligence officer, Colonel Sir Charles Wilson, was to embark with a few picked men on the Egyptian steamers which were known to be waiting on that part of the Nile to establish touch with the British, push on towards Khartoum, and, if possible, communicate with Gordon.
Though Lord Wolseley was intensely anxious to place Stewart’s column within reach of Gordon, it was not until the end of December that the preparations for the movement were completed. Among the innumerable difficulties which confronted the commander of the expedition two stood out pre-eminently. One was the probability, almost the certainty, that at Metemmeh the desert column would find neither food for themselves nor forage for their camels, and that a large amount of bulky supplies must therefore accompany the troops. The other was the fact that, although camels were the only means by which stores could be carried across the desert, the number of these animals at his disposal was inadequate, and could not be supplemented from local sources, as the Mudir of Dongola had failed in his promise to obtain a large quantity of them from his tribesmen. As enough camels could not be collected to carry to Metemmeh in one trip the personnel and supplies of the column, Wolseley decided to cross the Bayuda desert by stages. To carry out this plan it was necessary, as a first measure, to form a depôt between Korti and Metemmeh; and Gakdul,[261] 98 miles from Korti, was selected, as it was known that its two or three natural reservoirs yielded a good supply of drinking water. In addition to the stores which were to be left at Gakdul, and the supplies for the march there and back, the camels had to carry not only their own food, for the desert yielded but scanty grazing, but also water for the whole column, as it was known that the wells between Korti and Gakdul could not be depended upon. As the XVIIIth a month later followed the track of this convoy, the details of the march of Stewart’s “camelry” will show how remarkable were the performances of the first battalion, when it crossed the desert on foot. At 3 P.M. on December 30, 1884, the first convoy of 2206 camels started, with an escort of about 1100 troops, the mounted infantry on camels, the XIXth Hussars on their horses. With an interval of two hours the column marched till 7.30 A.M. on the 31st, rested for eight hours, then pushed on again, stopping at 8 P.M. for a short time at the wells of Hambok, where a small quantity of very indifferent water was obtained, and halted at 1.15 A.M. on January 1, 1885, at the well of El Howeiya, which yielded no better water than that of Hambok. At 8.30 A.M. the convoy was again in motion, and plodded on till 1 P.M., rested for two hours and a half, and then pushed on throughout the night and early morning until at 6.45 A.M. on the 2nd it reached Gakdul, where there proved to be abundance of good water. The ninety-eight miles from Korti had been covered in 63¾ hours, 32¾ hours of which had been spent in actual marching; but weary as the troops were, no rest could be allowed them. The stores with which the camels were loaded had to be unpacked and arranged in proper order; the camels to be watered--a process which occupied the whole day, and the post to be prepared for defence, for though from the absence of formed bodies of the enemy it was clear that the march across the desert had taken the Mahdists by surprise, their scouts had been seen hovering in the distance.
Before the next stage in the advance to Metemmeh could be undertaken the intermediate base had to be completely filled up with supplies, and to bring these, Stewart started on the return journey to Korti less than fourteen hours after he had reached Gakdul. He left behind him a garrison of 422 officers and men to guard the wells, and improve the arrangements for watering the troops and the camels; and he dropped small parties at the minor water-holes to clean them to the best of their ability. By noon on the 5th Stewart was back at Korti; but though his men had not suffered from their exertions, his camels had felt the strain. Tired by their long march up the Nile, the animals were in poor condition when they left Korti; they had been on short rations of food and water on the journey to and from Gakdul, and though every effort had been made to bring more camels from lower Egypt, the supply of fresh animals was quite inadequate, and the rest of the work in the desert had to be done by beasts whose strength and endurance was rapidly diminishing. On the 7th a second convoy of 1000 camels left Korti: 100 were laden with small-arm ammunition, 80 with medical stores, 30 with artillery stores, the remainder with food supplies. This column reached Gakdul in safety, and on its return passed Stewart, who on the 8th marched from Korti with 1600 troops, about 300 natives (chiefly camel-drivers from Aden), 2228 camels, and 155 horses.
The second phase of the desert march began on January 14, when Stewart pushed southwards from Gakdul with 1802 officers and men, three light pieces of artillery and a “Gardner” gun, 155 horses belonging to the XIXth Hussars, 1700 riding and 1188 transport camels. Two days later the XIXth Hussars came into contact with the enemy near the wells of Abu Klea, where on the 17th the Mahdists, after a very desperate fight, were defeated with a loss of about a thousand killed. Our casualties were 9 officers and 65 other ranks killed, 9 officers and 85 other ranks wounded. Struggling onwards towards Metemmeh, the desert column again met the enemy on the 19th, this time at Abu Kru, close to the river. The Arabs fought with as much gallantry as at Abu Klea, but were again heavily defeated, and fled leaving the ground covered with their dead. To us the cost of this engagement was 1 officer and 22 other ranks killed, 8 officers and 90 other ranks wounded; among the latter was Sir Herbert Stewart, who eventually succumbed to his injuries. When he fell, Colonel Sir Charles Wilson succeeded to the command of the troops, though Captain Lord Charles Beresford, R.N., in charge of the small Naval contingent which accompanied the column, was actually the senior officer present.
On the 20th, Wilson occupied the village of Gubat, which is within half a mile of the river; next day he threatened Metemmeh, two miles farther inland, but before his attack had developed several Egyptian steamers came in sight, and some hundreds of Gordon’s Soudanese soldiers landed, bringing the news that a considerable body of Mahdists were advancing. Wilson recalled his troops; fortified himself at Gubat; reconnoitred in various directions, and after many delays owing to the worn-out machinery of the river-boats, embarked on the 24th with a handful of the Royal Sussex and a considerable number of the Soudanese on his mission to Khartoum. It was not until this date that he was able to send off a despatch to Lord Wolseley describing the battle of the 19th and the movements which followed it. This report reached Korti in the early morning of January 28, and Wolseley at once decided to send Sir Redvers Buller to take command of the desert column, and to reinforce it with infantry, who were not to be carried on camels but to march on foot. Mindful of his promise that the battalion which won his prize on the river should have every opportunity of distinguishing itself on land, Lord Wolseley selected the Royal Irish to accompany Sir Redvers, and ordered them to move in detachments, the headquarters with A, B, and C companies starting that evening, the remainder following as soon as possible. In the afternoon of January 28, 1885, the battalion paraded for Lord Wolseley’s inspection, dressed in the fighting kit devised for them by a former commanding officer, Colonel M. J. R. MacGregor. It consisted of a khaki-coloured frock and trousers of cotton drill, a helmet covered with the same material, grey woollen putties, a woollen shirt, socks, and ammunition boots; spine protectors, cholera belts, and drawers had been issued, but were not in general use among the rank and file; all hands carried haversacks, wooden water-bottles, and rolled greatcoats. The officers wore “Sam Browne” belts, which supported their swords and field-glasses, revolvers and cartridge-pouches; the non-commissioned officers and men were equipped with braces and waistbelts, pouches containing seventy rounds of ammunition, three-edged bayonets (longer than those in use at the present day), and Martini-Henry rifles. As in previous campaigns it had been discovered that when these rifles were fired fast, the barrels became so hot that it was almost impossible to grasp them, they were fitted with leather hand-guards, tightly laced round the stock and barrel behind the back-sight, to enable the men to get a firm grip of their weapons. The remainder of the campaigning kit was carried on transport camels; to every ten men was allotted one animal, which was loaded with their camp kettles, a blanket and a waterproof sheet apiece, and one or two sea-kit bags, each of which contained sets of the following articles, viz.: one flannel shirt, two pairs of socks, a tin of grease, a canteen, a towel, soap, and a hold-all, complete. The troops were allowed no tents.
When Lord Wolseley rode on to the parade ground he was saluted by as fine a body of soldiers as he had ever seen. By a process of natural selection the weakly men had been weeded out in the voyage up the river, and only those of perfect constitution had reached Korti. Thanks to the varied forms of exercise they had taken since they left Cairo, the soldiers drawn up before him were in rude health and fit to go anywhere and do anything. After he had warmly praised their appearance, which he described as “hard, lean, and long-legged,” and informed them that to the regiment would probably be awarded the prize for the race from Sarras to Debbeh, he warned the Royal Irish that very hard work awaited them in the Bayuda desert. Before they could reach Gakdul they would have to make six marches, each sixteen miles long, in a country so dry that they must not count on receiving more than half a gallon of water a-day, a ration which they must make do for drinking, cooking, and washing! He wound up his speech by telling the XVIIIth that he trusted soon to join it on the other side of the desert, a hope, however, doomed to be frustrated by specific orders from home desiring him to remain at Korti, the better to direct the movements both of the desert and the river columns, the latter of which had been set in motion on the 24th of January.
When the inspection was over the headquarter companies returned to their preparations for the march. The skins containing water for the journey were filled, rations drawn, camels taken down to the river to drink and then loaded, and just after nightfall on January 28, 1885, the column started--as all ranks hoped and believed for Khartoum. The first two or three stages of the journey across the desert were by no means agreeable. The men of the XVIIIth had not only to look after their own regimental camels and those of the large convoy they were escorting to Gakdul, but to watch over the safety of a number of slaughter cattle and to prevent the camel-drivers from tapping the water-skins, which were not to be opened unless by order of high authority. Though the Royal Irish had mastered the ways of a whale-boat in the rapids, they were new to the tricks of the camel-drivers, who, from idleness or dishonesty, often fastened the loads so insecurely that in the night everything slipped off the saddles and fell in a cascade upon the sand. The soldiers had to pick up the boxes of stores and baggage which littered the desert and re-pack them firmly; they had also to halt frequently to enable weakly or lazy animals to keep up in their proper places; but when, after two or three rude experiences, they had learned how to cope with the camels and the natives who drove them, these initial difficulties were overcome and the troops pushed sturdily on towards Gakdul. For the greater part of the way the track ran over great plains of yellow sand, which played havoc with the men’s boots, already partly worn out by the portages on the Nile; but occasionally it crossed low round-topped ridges of black rock, belts of coarse dark-green grass, and thick growths of low acacia and mimosa trees. As the column marched at night and rested by day, the officers were able to get some sport; a gazelle was bagged and many sand-grouse were seen, though not hit, for the Martini-Henry rifle hardly lends itself to shooting birds on the wing! The rations consisted of a pound of ship’s biscuit and the same amount of preserved salt beef, an ounce of tea and three of sugar, an ounce of preserved vegetables, a quarter of an ounce of salt, and 1/320 of a gallon of lime juice. The thirst produced by the combined effect of the salt beef and the dry heat of the desert was great, and the regular allowance of half a gallon of water was hardly sufficient to quench it. General Forster’s diary records the joy with which all hands greeted the occasional issue of a larger supply; an additional quart rendered it possible to do a little cooking, while an extra half gallon brought some form of washing within the range of practical politics! On the half gallon issue the men could only spare enough water to make tea; as their salt beef had been well cooked before it was hermetically sealed in tin, they ate it cold; if water enough could be obtained, the preserved vegetables were soaked and boiled in the lid of a canteen.[262] To rest the camels, now breaking down fast from the combined effects of too much work and too little food and water, the convoy halted at the wells of El Howeyat for twenty-four hours and then marched on to Gakdul. The headquarters of the Royal Irish reached this post early on the 4th of February, and next day were joined by four more companies (D, E, F, and G) of the battalion under Lieutenant-Colonel Wray. Unencumbered by the charge of a large convoy, this detachment had covered the ninety-eight miles between Korti and Gakdul in a hundred and eight hours--a very fine performance for men who, though in perfect all-round training, had done no marching for many weeks.
The journey across the desert had so far been uneventful. The only exciting incident was the escapade of a lance-corporal, who temporarily losing his reason, wandered into the desert, and was not rescued till he had strayed twelve miles from the bivouac. A few tribesmen, captured by the irregulars who guarded the lines of communication, were the only enemies seen; they were wild-looking savages, short but wiry, with fierce eyes gleaming under shocks of matted hair, and armed with formidable spears more than five feet in length. They did not form part of the Mahdi’s regular army, but were local freebooters, more disposed to plunder than to fight. When the Royal Irish were a few miles north of Gakdul they met messengers hurrying to Korti with the news that Khartoum had fallen. On the 5th they had comparative rest, but on the 6th they were kept hard at work filling water-skins at the wells, ready for the next stage in their advance--Gakdul to Abu Klea, a distance of fifty-two miles. While thus employed they were joined by H company, which had been detained at Korti when the second detachment moved forward. In their anxiety to lose no chance of distinguishing themselves the company had made a great march, winding up by covering twenty-eight miles on the last day. Sir Redvers Buller, who had ridden part of the way from Korti with the headquarter companies, did not allow H company to start with the rest of the battalion when it marched on the 7th, but, mounting them on camels, sent them on a day or two later. How the men liked this new form of locomotion is not recorded, but it is probable that many agreed with the sailor who, after his first ride, remarked, “My camel is a queer beast. He’s been playing cup and ball with me all the afternoon and only missed me twice!”
Hitherto only the precautions usual in ordinary warfare had been taken on the march and in the bivouac, but now that the Royal Irish were well in the enemy’s country and liable to attack at any moment, the formation was adopted which recent experience had proved to be best suited for fighting in the Soudan. Under the immediate escort of one company, successive lines of camels, about forty abreast, lumbered along in a loose column which, if necessary, could be closed up into a solid mass. At one of the front angles of the column of camels were four companies; at the opposite rear angle was the remainder of the battalion, both marching in column or half-column of companies, ready to form square at a moment’s notice. The animals laden with the reserve of ammunition moved behind the leading companies into whose square they were to be received in case of danger; those bearing the rations and the water-skins followed the companies in rear, who were charged with their defence. If the enemy attacked, each square could support the other with flanking fire, and both could rake the ground over which spearmen would have to pass in order to close on the camels with the cold steel. At every halt square was formed, and at night the bivouacs were surrounded with zaribas--walls of stone, boxes of stores, saddles or mimosa bushes, anything, in short, which would serve to break a sudden rush of the Mahdi’s followers.
The column, however, was not attacked, and notwithstanding the cumbrous formation in which the Royal Irish moved they got over the ground fast, and on one occasion marched twenty-four miles in twenty-five hours and a quarter, coming in fairly fresh, alert, and fit for outpost duty. They reached Abu Klea on the morning of the 12th, passing close to the battlefield of January 17, still covered with dead bodies, for though the Mahdists had buried their chiefs, the rank and file remained where they had fallen. Two companies, C and E, were dropped at the wells to strengthen the garrison of the post; the remainder of the battalion, after a few hours’ rest, started for Gubat, where they arrived next day after a march of twenty-one miles, “swinging into bivouac,” as Sir Redvers Buller reported, “as cheerily as if they had been going to a field-day at Aldershot.” The troops of the desert column received the XVIIIth with great enthusiasm, turning out to a man to cheer it into camp. Among them were the soldiers who had accompanied Wilson in his abortive attempt to rescue Gordon from Khartoum, and who had just struggled back to Gubat after a series of adventures, remarkable even in the annals of the British army. In two tiny steamers, manned by natives of very doubtful loyalty, they had laboriously passed through the long and dangerous series of rapids known as the Sixth Cataract, and after running the gauntlet of the enemy’s guns and rifles, had arrived off Khartoum--to find that barely thirty-six hours earlier the town had been captured by the Mahdi, into whose hands Gordon, if he was still alive, had undoubtedly fallen. Wilson realised that his mission had failed, and with a heavy heart ordered his steamers to retire down the river. The retreat was conducted in circumstances as unpropitious as can be imagined; the native crews, excited at the defeat of the Christian General, were almost mutinous; the Soudanese, by far the majority of the fighting men on board, were stupefied by the knowledge that their wives and children were in the Mahdi’s clutches; every hour the dangers of navigation increased, for the Nile was sinking fast, and in one night dropped no less than three feet. But in spite of all difficulties Wilson made good progress down stream until his steamers, one after the other, were wrecked by the treachery of the Arab pilots. Landing his troops on an island he entrenched himself, and succeeded in informing the British at Gubat of his desperate plight. The sailors at once manned one of the river boats and fought their way up the Nile in time to save Wilson and his comrades from the destruction which threatened to overwhelm them.
On his way to Gubat, Buller had received a despatch from Lord Wolseley written after the news of the fall of Khartoum had reached headquarters, but before the rescue of Wilson’s detachment had been reported at Korti. His orders were to ensure the safety of Wilson and his men; to send all sick and wounded back to Korti; to make every preparation for the evacuation of Gubat, and if he considered it necessary, to fall back to Abu Klea or even to Gakdul. When Buller reached Gubat the situation was full of difficulty. Wilson indeed was safe, but within two miles of the bivouac was the strongly built village of Metemmeh, which we had threatened but not seriously attacked. It was held by two thousand of the enemy, almost delirious with joy at their victory at Khartoum; the Intelligence officers had ascertained that three or four thousand Mahdists, well provided with rifles, guns, and ammunition would shortly reinforce Metemmeh, and as there was nothing now to detain the Mahdi before Khartoum, his main army might also have to be reckoned with. The supplies of the desert column were running short: at Gubat there were only rations for twelve days, and the depôt at Abu Klea contained but a similar quantity. Worse than all, the transport was breaking down rapidly; “the camels,” Buller reported, “are emaciated, and their carrying power small. Indeed I do not think we have camels enough to get this force out at one go.” After a few hours’ deliberation he reluctantly decided to retire, and began his preparations, fortunately unhindered by the enemy who circled round the bivouac without attempting to close in upon it. Early on the morning of the 13th of February the sick and wounded were sent off, the convalescents on camels, the worst cases on stretchers carried by Gordon’s Soudanese. The convoy was escorted by part of the camel corps and three companies of the Royal Irish, and when all danger of an attack seemed over, the detachment was ordered to rejoin the main body of the battalion. Just as the three companies reached the bivouac a Hussar orderly dashed into the lines to report that eight or nine miles off the convoy was surrounded by a large number of the enemy, and was in great peril. Colonel Shaw and half a battalion of the XVIIIth hurried off to the rescue, but to their deep disgust did not come into action. The Mahdists had surrounded the convoy on three sides and were pouring in a fairly well directed fire when a detachment of camelry, on the way from Abu Klea to Gubat, suddenly struck the enemy on the flank just as the Royal Irish began to come in sight. The Arabs did not await Shaw’s attack and retired, leaving the convoy free to go on to Abu Klea, which it reached without further incident. Shaw’s half battalion did not accompany the sick, but was ordered back to Gubat, where the troops spent the night in destroying stores which could not be carried away and throwing into the Nile boxes of ammunition for which there was no transport. As day broke on the 14th, the column, 1700 strong, was set in motion. With the exception of a few of the XIXth Hussars whose horses were still serviceable, all arms and all ranks trudged over the desert on foot. The post of honour, the command of the rear-guard, was entrusted to Colonel Shaw, who covered the retreat with the Royal Irish, two guns, a detachment of the XIXth Hussars, and three hundred of Gordon’s Soudanese. A few of the enemy followed, but when Buller halted and offered battle the Mahdists drew off, and by midday on the 15th the column was in bivouac at Abu Klea. The men had not suffered much on the march, though the boots were beginning to fall off their feet, but so many animals had dropped from exhaustion that General Buller was forced to admit that any active operations were entirely out of the question, until the mounted corps were supplied with fresh camels, the transport camels replaced, and the XIXth Hussars completely remounted. There was not forage enough for the surviving animals, and it was evident that the wells could not be relied upon to supply the whole of the troops now concentrated around them. Buller accordingly decided to send back to Gakdul most of the camelry, all spare camels, and nearly all the XIXth Hussars, while with the remainder of his command he awaited instructions at Abu Klea.
The two companies of the XVIIIth detached to garrison the post of Abu Klea now rejoined headquarters, bringing with them a record of excellent service performed in clearing the bush which surrounded the wells, building zaribas, and similar useful though unshowy work. Early on the 16th, the battalion was directed to entrench one of the low hills which encircle the wells; just as the shelter trenches were finished and occupied, and the men were eating a well-earned meal, large numbers of the enemy appeared on ground commanding the defences of the Royal Irish, and opened fire at about 1100 yards’ range. To meet this attack, which enfiladed some of the trenches, fresh works had to be thrown up under continuous and sometimes very heavy musketry. “The Gardner and the screw-guns gave the enemy a little physic,” wrote an officer in his diary, “but the rebels kept it up all night, and we expected an attack at any time. Next morning they began in a desultory sort of way, but a few shells and a strong infantry fire made them lie close. Finally a field-piece of theirs came into action, but its shells fell short and dead. Two of our 7-pounders went out and fired a round or two, and the Mahdists then disappeared. We had an easy night on the 17th, and only regretted two things: one that we had not had a slap at them, the other that we had not received the half pound of bread that was due to us as a ration!” During this prolonged skirmish, in which there were many “close shaves” from the flat-trajectoried Remington rifles used by the enemy, Quartermaster and Honorary Lieutenant Jamieson and thirteen other ranks were wounded.[263] In the column the total casualties were three men killed, four officers and twenty-three other ranks wounded. For the next few days the regiment was very busy cutting down scrub and building redoubts--work with which the enemy’s fire did not materially interfere, as it was delivered from a very respectful distance.
When the untoward news of the fall of Khartoum reached England, the country was profoundly moved. A great cry for vengeance arose, and amidst a whirlwind of telegrams from the Cabinet, Lord Wolseley recast his plans, and proposed that the towns of Abu Hamed and Berber should be captured, and held during the summer as posts to cover an advance in strength up the river in the cool season. Government accepted the idea, and sent an expedition to Suakim to draw off to the shores of the Red Sea part of the enemy who might otherwise attack the troops echeloned along the Nile. But by the middle of February it become evident that Wolseley’s scheme was too ambitious. The river column, though successful in an engagement at Kirbekan, was making slow progress up stream owing to the abnormally “low Nile.” To enable this column to arrive at Berber with its cargo of stores intact, the original plan had provided that it should be fed by convoys across the desert of Korosko, but recent events at Khartoum had roused the fanaticism of the tribesmen to such an extent that it was very improbable this route would long remain open. A large quantity of Earle’s biscuit had proved uneatable; the remainder would only carry the column to Berber and back to Korti, and therefore none could be left to ration the garrison of Berber when that place had been taken. Wolseley thereupon proposed that the Royal Irish and part of the camel corps should strike across the Bayuda desert and fall upon Berber from the westward, but he was forced to abandon this idea when he realised that the transport, without which it was impossible to undertake the expedition to Berber, had completely given out, and that the marching power of the troops was seriously crippled by the condition of their boots.
“In view of all these conditions the Commander-in-Chief felt that he was no longer justified in persevering with the combined movement of the Desert and River columns on Berber, and he was forced, reluctantly, to abandon all hope of taking that place before the autumn. The intention to take Berber being given up, the capture of Abu Hamed became unnecessary; it would only have led to a useless waste of life, and have unnecessarily prolonged the line of river to be defended during the summer months. The retention of the Desert column in its exposed position in the desert was equally without object. A concentration on the Nile became the only course open to Lord Wolseley. Orders were accordingly sent on the 20th February, directing the river column to return ... and at the same time Sir Redvers Buller was directed to return to Korti.”[264]
In obedience to this order the one thousand seven hundred and forty effectives,[265] left to General Buller, made ready to march on the evening of the 23rd of February after an exciting day. About 11 A.M. Captain Morgan, Royal Irish Regiment, from his outpost to the south-east of the bivouac had signalled that masses of the enemy were advancing towards Abu Klea. Later it was reported that the Mahdists, between five and eight thousand strong, had halted two or three miles from the wells. The situation was a serious one, but neither the General nor his men were disturbed at the news: the packing was carefully finished, the convoy of wounded sent off under a strong escort, the wells filled up with thorny scrub and the many saddles for which there were no camels left, and soon after sunset the troops filed away in good order, leaving the Royal Irish to bring up the rear. The camp fires were made up, the usual bugle calls were sounded, and then in groups of twos and threes the men of the XVIIIth silently collected at the appointed place and were formed into a rear-guard. Whether the evacuation of the wells was unnoticed by the enemy, or whether the Mahdists thought it wiser not to attack the retiring column, is not known, but the fact remains that Buller was not seriously molested in his retreat, of which Major-General Burton Forster’s diary gives interesting details. “During the night of the 23rd-24th many camels fell down and were left behind. Halts were numerous, and we had a very hard and awkward march in the dim moonlight through the grass and scrub till 11.30 P.M. The rouse sounded at 4 A.M. (24th) and we started at 5, having come about 9 miles from Abu Klea. We marched till about 9.30, seeing only a few of the enemy’s scouts in the afternoon, and halted about 18 miles from Abu Klea. The vedettes fired at them and they disappeared. We started again at 5 P.M., and marched on till midnight, rested on the 25th till 5 P.M., when we started again, halting at 9.30 P.M. after doing 13 miles. Next morning we started at 6 A.M. and reached Gakdul about noon.... The work has been stiff and hot, especially on a daily ration of three-quarters of a gallon of water!... I think the march of 56 miles in 64 hours is very creditable to Buller’s column.... The men have been in their clothes without changing or washing from the 16th to the 26th, and it has told on them: they are not as fit about the feet as we could wish. Some of the officers succeeded in changing their socks once during the ten days, and were more comfortable in consequence.”
An interesting account of the retreat is given in a letter written from Gakdul on February 27, 1885, by Colonel B. J. C. Doran, C.B., then a subaltern in the first battalion, Royal Irish regiment.
“You will see by the address that we have commenced retracing our steps towards Korti, we arrived here yesterday morning and very thankful we all were to get in. The march back has been so far anything but comfortable, and our march going up was child’s play compared with this retreat, for of course then the regiment was by itself in two detachments and could consequently move pretty quickly having only a small amount of transport to hamper it, but marching with the ‘Desert Column’ as it is called, is quite another thing, besides having a large Hospital of sick and wounded to take care of. We left Abu Klea on the 23rd in two parties; the first consisting of the Hospitals and the whole of the baggage, rations, &c., for the column escorted by some mounted infantry started at 2 P.M. I went with this lot, as I am acting Quartermaster now to the regiment. The second party consisted of all the troops and did not start till 7 P.M.: they had no baggage or transport to hinder them, so of course when they started were able to catch us up, as they did about 8 or 9 miles out of Abu Klea where we halted and where a depôt of water had been left; they got in about 1 A.M. We started off again at daylight and marched till about 10 A.M., when the whole column halted, pretty well done up; the water question all along has been a very difficult affair. We were to rest here until 4 P.M., when we were again to start off, however just as everyone had made themselves as comfortable as is possible on these occasions under a blanket to keep off the sun and were just getting a few winks of sleep, we were startled at hearing heavy firing going on in our rear; it was at some distance but the sound of cannon being fired was quite distinct, everyone was up like a shot, and orders were given to get all baggage loaded ready to move off at once. However, after half an hour’s excitement we desisted, as it was discovered to be only about two men and a boy (natives) amusing themselves--we presume to frighten us--with some gunpowder in cases. To understand the cause of all this alarm, you must know that ever since the night we were potted at the natives still hovered around Abu Klea, and we only moved out just in time. Had we stayed there another day, we should have had a good fight, for just as the column I was with was about to start, from one of the outlying posts on the neighbouring hills it was signalled down that the enemy were seen advancing from Metemmeh direction in thousands; this caused a good deal of excitement; however, after coming within about 2 miles of our advanced posts, they all halted and settled down for the night. Meanwhile the column with sick and wounded got away and were well clear of all the hills and in a fine open desert by the time it was dark, and where we halted, as I said before, we were joined by all the remainder of the garrison that night, they having sneaked out under cover of the dusk. All the wells we filled up and left fires burning so as to deceive the enemy. I don’t suppose they found out we had gone until next morning, and then pretty late, as they would not have approached the place except very cautiously. It was a very nasty place to get out of, as for about six miles the road or track runs in a valley with commanding hills on both sides, and had the enemy made any attempt to hold the ground at the head, where it emerges into the desert, very few of us would have got out without scratches. Once in the desert we did not mind how many came on us, so now you can understand the commotion caused by the firing of cannon, as we thought they must have found out and were following us. This of course was almost impossible, as where they were encamped they had only one or two wells which they must have dug, and they must have wanted water, as they could not have got any since they left the river at Metemmeh, and it would have taken them quite a day to clear out the wells we had filled in at Abu Klea. In the first 24 hours after leaving Abu Klea we had done about 30 miles, not bad going for a column on an allowance of water, in the desert in fact. Everyone had to walk, except the sick and wounded, because all the camels belonging to the camel corps and mounted infantry had to be used for transport and baggage animals. There were only just sufficient to bring us away, and nearly all of them were completely played out before they commenced the march. However, we struggled on somehow, and arrived here more dead than alive. Thank goodness we are getting a day’s rest here, which will enable the men to pull themselves together, get some decent food and plenty of water to drink, and that good. If I had been told a month ago that I should drink as filthy water as I have done, day after day, and been very thankful to get it, I should have laughed! The thickness of pea-soup was considered good: sometimes, if it was thicker, then it might be a little bad, but not to be thrown away. Considering all things, the desert march has been the most trying thing known in a campaign for years. By the time we arrive at Korti, we shall have been away five weeks or more. We shall not have so many difficulties to contend with henceforward, as the next half will be much easier and I doubt the enemy following us beyond this. Everything about movements is kept a State secret here, and we don’t know what is going to happen, except we move out of this to-morrow or next day--they say to Merawi, to help the column gone up the River, but I have my own idea that we are going straight to Korti, though the Colonel told the officers on parade yesterday that after a day’s rest here, we were to move towards Merawi. It will be getting very hot here soon, and if we are to summer out here, it would be advisable to try and build ourselves some sort of shelter. However, I suppose when we get to Korti we shall probably then know what government has settled to do about the Soudan. I am sure if they only saw it, they would have no desire ever to keep such a country!”
At Gakdul the Royal Irish had a comparatively pleasant rest. A quantity of stores had recently arrived from Korti, and as there was no means of carrying them back, the Commissariat distributed them among the troops, who were regaled on jam, cheese, fresh bread, fresh meat, vegetables, and other long-forgotten delicacies. The men had time to change their clothes, there was enough water for washing, and better than all, a great budget of letters from home awaited the regiment. Some of the units of the column started at once for Korti, but it was not until the 2nd of March that the battalion was warned to start next day, an order which was very welcome, for the wells had begun to give out, and “the water had become filled with living animals, smelt, and was as fit to drink as a dirty duck pool!” From the 5th to the 8th the Royal Irish halted at the wells of Megara, where a successful foray of desert robbers upon the slaughter cattle considerably reduced their rations of meat. Then they once more pushed northward, this time in detachments, the last of which reached Korti on the 14th. As Lord Wolseley rode out to welcome them he saw men whom a civilian would have derided as tramps and scarecrows, but in whom a soldier’s eye recognised troops of the finest quality. Their uniforms hung in rags, patched where patching was possible with any material that had come to hand. Their boots were a nightmare. Their skins were the colour of mahogany, their faces seamed with the lines which hunger and thirst, exposure to heat and cold, want of sleep, and prolonged exertion stamp upon every soldier in a campaign. Their stern eyes, their hard-set mouths, their steady march and proud carriage all showed that their spirit and discipline were as high as ever, and that the great fatigues of their marches in the desert had in no way impaired the efficiency of the Royal Irish. On the 16th Lord Wolseley inspected the battalion, warmly thanked all ranks for the work they had done, and informed them that General Buller had reported on them in the most favourable terms.
Among those who had done much towards keeping the morale of the XVIIIth at the high standard maintained throughout the Nile campaign was the Roman Catholic chaplain, the Reverend Father Brindle, D.S.O., now Bishop of Nottingham, whose name even now is one to conjure with in the Royal Irish regiment. After serving with the second battalion in the war of 1882, he accompanied the first battalion throughout the whole of the expedition up the Nile. His genial personality, his devotion to duty, his coolness in danger, his indifference to hardship, combined to give him a remarkable influence over the men, which he exerted invariably in the highest interests of the Service.
The Royal Irish thoroughly enjoyed the comparative civilisation of the headquarters camp. They were once more under canvas; they had an inexhaustible supply of water; and they feasted their eyes, weary from the glare of the Bayuda desert, upon the palms and acacias growing on the narrow strip of cultivation which fringes both banks of the Nile. But they were not allowed to rest there long. When the rear-guard of the desert column returned to Korti, the British government were still determined to avenge Gordon and to crush the Mahdi’s power at Khartoum; and Lord Wolseley arranged to concentrate the expeditionary force for the summer in cantonments along the Nile near Korti. The XVIIIth was assigned to a movable column, commanded by Brigadier-General Brackenbury, whose headquarters were at Debbeh, with detachments in the neighbouring villages, one of which, Kurot, was occupied by the Royal Irish, where they settled down, as they thought for many months. Some of their huts were made of logs, grass mats, and similar materials, bought from the natives and issued to the troops; others were built of bricks, made out of the soil on the banks of the river and dried in the sun. “The battalion,” writes an officer who was present, “excelled at making the moulds for these bricks, and a sergeant, Kelly, was the crack moulder.” The want of straw, however, proved as serious a hindrance to the brick-making of Wolseley’s troops as to the Israelites of old, for many thousand bricks cracked and were wasted. But only a fortnight after the last unit had reached its allotted post, Wolseley was warned by the Cabinet that owing to the possibility of England being embroiled in war elsewhere, the expedition to Khartoum might be abandoned, and on the 11th of May he received orders to withdraw from the Soudan. He obeyed; but as the General-in-Chief in Egypt, who had been studying the local situation for many months, he strongly protested against the new policy, pointing out that if we retreated the Mahdi’s power would greatly increase, and that the British government would not only have to reinforce the garrison of Egypt, but to fight for the protection of that country. The difficulty of carrying out the evacuation was greatly increased by the necessity of bringing back about thirteen thousand natives, who, having thrown in their lot with us, could not be abandoned to the tender mercies of the Mahdists; but by dint of careful organisation and hard work the task was accomplished. General Brackenbury’s command started on the 1st of June in whale-boats for Abu Fatmeh, where three hundred men of the XVIIIth, under Lieutenant-Colonel Wray, were landed, and after marching some distance down the Nile rejoined the remainder of the battalion. Though the difficulties were light compared to those of the upward voyage, they were by no means insignificant, for the voyageurs had gone back to Canada, and the Royal Irish, who acted as rear and baggage guard to the column, had much work in towing and mending whale-boats, wrecked or damaged in shooting the rapids. When the battalion reached Alexandria, it was joined by a strong draft: a hundred and seventy-nine non-commissioned officers and men from the second battalion at Malta had landed in January, of whom fifty-eight had been fortunate enough to be sent to Suakim, where they served as mounted infantry in the eastern Soudan. Thus by a curious chance the Royal Irish were represented in the campaign of 1884-85 not only on the Nile, but also on the shores of the Red Sea, where a young officer of the regiment, Lieutenant D. G. Gregorie, who had already greatly distinguished himself while serving in the Egyptian army, was awarded the fourth class of the order of the Osmanieh.
As a matter of historical interest it may be mentioned that Lord Wolseley’s predictions proved singularly correct. Within six months of our withdrawal from Dongola a large body of the enemy attempted the invasion of Egypt, besieged for forty days a fort held by British troops, and did not retire southwards until on December 30, 1885, they had been defeated at the battle of Ginniss. To meet this incursion it was found necessary to hurry nearly seven thousand British troops up the Nile, and to increase the garrison of Lower Egypt by about three thousand men.
In despatches Lord Wolseley mentioned the following officers of the Royal Irish: Lieutenant-Colonel Shaw, V.C.; Captain Guinness, and Lieutenant B. J. C. Doran. Lieutenant-Colonel Shaw was awarded the C.B.; Captain Guinness was promoted to a Brevet-Majority, and Lieutenant B. J. C. Doran was noted for a Brevet-Majority on his attaining the rank of Captain. The Egyptian medal and clasp for the Nile, 1884-85, and the Khedive’s Star were issued to all ranks. In 1886, the regiment was permitted to add to its battle honours the words, “Nile 1884-5,” in commemoration of the ascent of the River and the operations in the Bayuda desert.
The first battalion, Royal Irish regiment embarked at Alexandria on August 24, 1885, in the s.s. Stirling Castle, and arrived at Plymouth on September 9.
XIII. THE SECOND BATTALION
1883-1902.
THE BLACK MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION: THE TIRAH CAMPAIGN.
Early in 1884, the second battalion of the Royal Irish regiment began a long tour of foreign service. Its first station was at Malta, where drafts from home brought up its numbers to a total of nine hundred and sixty-seven of all ranks.[266] While at Malta, the battalion heard that the expedition, described in Chapter xii., was to be sent to the relief of Gordon at Khartoum, and hoped to be included in it, but the War Office decided otherwise; and though the Royal Irish were represented in the Nile column, the honour, as we have seen, fell to the first, not to the second battalion, which remained stationary till January 7, 1885, when leaving a large detachment as a reinforcement for the first battalion in Egypt, it sailed for Bombay, and early in February reached Umballa with a strength of six hundred and fifty-two of all ranks.
A month later the battalion was ordered up to Rawal Pindi to increase the number of British regiments at a durbar, which the Amir of Afghanistan was to attend. On the journey the Royal Irish were in a very alarming railway accident: part of the troop train ran off the line--three bandsmen, Moore, Tod, and Frost, were killed; Lieutenant-Colonel Dawson was seriously injured; Major Hamilton, Lieutenant Symonds, Surgeon-Major Pratt, Bandsman Hayes, and Drummer Brennan were also hurt. As soon as the durbar was over the battalion proceeded to Subathu, where, with a detachment at Jutogh, it remained until November, 1887, when it changed stations for Nowshera, with detachments at Fort Attock and Cherat. While on the march the Royal Irish were annoyed by thieves, who hung about the outskirts of the camp in the hope of stealing modern firearms, for which there was a constant demand among the hillmen beyond the frontier. To keep their rifles safe, the soldiers before going to sleep at night used to tie or strap them to their legs, but even this precaution sometimes failed. On one occasion a small detachment secured their firearms in the usual way when they turned into their “E. P.” tent; but one of the party was not well, and to let him rest comfortably a comrade slept with both his own and his friend’s rifle fastened to him. In the middle of the night the Good Samaritan woke, feeling that some one was stealthily touching him; he instantly raised an alarm, when down fell the tent, and before the men could crawl from beneath the heavy folds of canvas, the thieves made off with a rifle. On investigation it was found that the robbers had noiselessly undone all the tent ropes with the exception of the four corner ones, which, when their presence in camp was discovered, they had cut through to cover their retreat. The Royal Irish took such stern measures to prevent further thefts that the thieves for a considerable time avoided a battalion which they described as a “Shaitan ki pultan aur Sahiblog bahut zaberdust.” This may be translated freely--The Devil’s own regiment with very high-handed officers!
During the time the second battalion was at Nowshera, one of its subalterns, Lieutenant W. Gloster, did a very daring piece of work. He had become noted for his good military sketching, and was specially selected to do reconnaissance work across the border beyond our frontier post at Hoti Maidan. His instructions were those which many officers before and since have received when sent on similar enterprises: he was told that though it was most desirable that the work should be done, the government would not be responsible for him: and that on no account was he to cause trouble on the border: if he liked to apply to the Guides at Hoti Maidan for an escort he might do so, but in all probability his request would be refused. The commandant at Hoti Maidan declined to help him, saying that if an escort of the Guides showed themselves beyond our frontier the whole of the country might break into a flame. Nothing daunted, Gloster in some mysterious way made friends with several of the Headmen along the border. “How he did it,” writes the officer who describes the adventure, “I don’t know, as he couldn’t speak a word of any language but English, and his only mode of conversation with his Pathan pals was a tremendous slap on the back, and ‘How are you, old cock?’ One night he was taken across the frontier by one of his new friends, made his sketch in the early hours of the morning, and was back on British territory just as his presence was discovered and the tribesmen were assembling to cut him off.”
On July 22, 1888, Lieutenant-Colonel T. C. Wray, who had been in command since January 9, 1887, died suddenly of heart disease, and was succeeded by Lieutenant-Colonel G. W. N. Rogers.
The second battalion in September, 1888, was called upon to take part in a punitive expedition beyond the north-west frontier of India. Hazara, a wild and rugged district on the left bank of the river Indus, about eighty miles east of Peshawar, had long been disturbed by the lawless conduct of some of the tribes of mountaineers inhabiting the no-man’s land beyond our border. The Akazais, the Khan Khel of the Hassanzais and the Alaiwals raided into our country, looted the villages, and killed peaceful British subjects; and though punished by the infliction of fines and by being “blockaded”--i.e., debarred from bringing their produce into British territory, they did not mend their ways. Growing bolder from comparative immunity, they brought matters to a head by attacking and killing a party of officers and men who were surveying a part of the Black mountain, within the Queen’s dominions. To avenge these two Englishmen and the Gurkha soldiers who were murdered with them; to maintain our prestige in India, and to prevent an outbreak on other parts of the north-west frontier, a considerable force was mobilised and placed under the command of Brigadier-General J. W. M‘Queen, C.B., A.D.C. It consisted of three mountain batteries (two British and one native), a company of Sappers and Miners, the 1st battalion of the Suffolk, and the second battalions of the Northumberland Fusiliers, Royal Irish, and Royal Sussex regiments, eight battalions of native infantry, and a native pioneer battalion. These troops were organised in two brigades, commanded respectively by Brigadier-Generals C. N. Channer, V.C., and W. Galbraith; and to meet the requirements of mountain warfare, in which it is impossible for one man to supervise the movements of a large body of soldiers, the brigades were subdivided into two columns, to each of which a British battalion, 600 strong, and two native regiments were allotted. A native cavalry regiment, the second battalion of the Seaforth Highlanders, and a native infantry regiment formed the reserve. The Royal Irish, whom Major Brereton commanded until Lieutenant-Colonel Rogers returned from leave at home, were in the fourth column,[267] the other units of which were part of a British mountain battery, three companies of the 34th Pioneers, the 4th and 29th Punjab Native infantry, with a field hospital and a detachment of military telegraphists. The whole force, including some Kashmiri troops and three hundred of the Khyber rifles, numbered 272 officers and 12,282 non-commissioned officers and men; the strength of the fourth column was 51 officers and 2414 of the other ranks.
The immediate object of the expedition was the punishment of the Khan Khel and the Akazais, whose watch-towers and villages were perched among the crags and precipices of the range which, in some places rising to a height of more than 9000 feet, cuts off the valley of Agror from the left bank of the Indus. It was decided to penetrate into this maze of mountains from two directions: three columns of the Hazara Field force, after concentrating at Ughi, the chief British outpost in the Agror valley, were to cross the range from east to west, while the fourth column, commanded by Colonel A. C. W. Crookshank, was to assemble fifteen miles to the south-west of Ughi at Derband, our frontier village on the Indus, and push northwards up the left bank of the river.[268] As this detachment could not be expected to join hands with the main body for several days, it was accompanied by General Galbraith, who, while leaving to Colonel Crookshank the actual handling of the troops, took charge of the general operations. Though there was little definite information concerning the prospective theatre of war, it was known that the roads were impracticable for any but mule transport; so baggage was reduced to a minimum; no tents were taken, and regimental officers were cut down to fifty, the lower ranks to sixteen pounds weight of kit. The main body had with it five days’ supplies and a hundred rounds of ammunition per man, seventy on the person of the soldier, thirty on mule-back. As the fourth column to some extent was acting independently, its supply was increased to seven days, and the number of rounds carried by mules was doubled. A general reserve of a hundred rounds per man was formed at the base.
The fourth column had finished its concentration on October 1, and on the morning of the 2nd, Galbraith advanced seven miles into the enemy’s country and bivouacked at Chamb, on a site he had reconnoitred while awaiting the arrival of his troops. Here he was informed by telegraph that owing to delays in bringing up stores to Ughi he was to make no forward movement for twenty-four hours, so after his mountain guns, escorted by four companies of the Royal Irish, had driven the enemy from the neighbouring hills, he improved the track leading from his bivouac into the valley of the Indus. Before dawn on the 4th, he had secured his right flank by crowning the heights with a detachment of native infantry, and as soon as it was light the advance-guard--two companies of the Royal Irish under Captain Lysaght--began to descend into the gorge of the river.[269] At 8 A.M. the advance-guard had reached comparatively open ground, where Lysaght halted to allow the remainder of the troops to come up; then he pushed on again, and an hour later a few of the enemy opened fire from the village of Shingri. The Royal Irish extended to the left of the hamlet, two companies of native infantry made a similar movement to the right, and with little difficulty and small loss the outpost was routed and dispersed. For another mile nothing was seen of the enemy, but when the advance-guard approached the next village, Towara, the hillmen were found awaiting our attack. Across the valley, here about twelve hundred yards in width, stretched their first line: the right rested on a patch of jungle growing amidst the boulders on the river bank; the left was posted on the crags of the lowest tier of the bare and arid mountains which form the eastern wall of the gorge of the Indus. Rather less than a mile above Towara the valley was completely closed by a steep spur or under-feature, on the far end of which the village of Kotkai, built on a huge mass of broken rocks, commanded not only the spur itself, but also the bed of the river, the hillmen’s line of retreat and the only track by which the British could continue to force their way northward up the left bank. On this spur the enemy, whose total strength was computed at 4000 fighting men,[270] had established his second line in well-built sangars; and on the eastern hills lurked about a thousand sharpshooters, armed with rifle and matchlocks, whose fire upon the valley below them would cross with that of a detachment of equal strength, posted in breastworks on the heights overhanging the western bank. Against the hillmen who held this formidable position General Galbraith could bring into action only his mountain guns, a couple of Gatlings, and about fourteen hundred foot soldiers, as the remainder of his men were employed in guarding the baggage and in crowning the hills in rear of the column.
Galbraith’s first care was to rid his flanks of the enemy. Covered by the fire of the guns and the steady and well-directed volleys of the Royal Irish, the 34th Pioneers drove the hillmen from the jungle on the left, while the 4th Punjab infantry scaled the precipitous heights on the right, pushing the foe before them in confusion. But the process took time, and it was not until 1 P.M. that the Royal Irish were allowed to move towards the enemy in the plain, where many flags showed that the tribesmen were assembled in large numbers. When the battalion had gained six hundred yards it was halted behind a low stone wall, and ordered to open upon the foe in front of them, while the guns shelled the defenders of the Kotkai ridge. By this time, the flanking detachments had done their work and were once more level with the troops in the centre, and Galbraith, considering that the hillmen were sufficiently shaken to warrant his assaulting their first position, ordered a general advance. With perfect steadiness the Royal Irish moved forward with sloped arms towards a clump of trees three or four hundred yards distant; the mountaineers who held this part of the line were beginning to fall back, when the word “Charge” was shouted by some unauthorised person whose identity has never been discovered; the call was sounded by a bugler, and with a wild yell the battalion dashed forward. They had covered some fifty yards of ground, when from a nullah about eighty yards off emerged a horde of swordsmen, Hindustani fanatics, each of whom had sworn to gain Heaven that day by slaying at least one of the Unbelievers. The suddenness of their appearance, their demoniacal yells and headlong rush might have startled any troops, but the Royal Irish were staunch; after an instant of surprised inaction the company commanders ordered their men to fire independently, and then to meet the rush with the bayonet. An officer thus described the affair in his diary: “We got the word to charge; the men went at them with a will, bayoneting or shooting every Ghazi within reach. The swordsmen then wheeled away as if they did not quite relish us, and went towards the 34th Pioneers, who fell back a bit at first but then pulled themselves together. Our men wheeled up of their own accord and followed the Ghazis, and I don’t think many got away. We killed or wounded about a hundred.[271] In the pursuit Gloster with one or two dare-devils of his company dashed after one of the enemy who was carrying a standard, shot him down, and brought back the flag in triumph.”[272]
After the main body of the enemy had been dispersed, several incidents occurred characteristic of warfare on the north-west frontier of India. When the fighting appeared to be over, a medical officer, seeing a sepoy lying hard hit on the plain, went off alone to dress his wounds, and suddenly found himself surrounded by five Ghazis; one he brought down with his revolver; the others circled round him, waiting their chance to dash in and hack him to pieces. The Royal Irish at that moment were re-forming their ranks; a patrol of an officer and four men hurried to the doctor’s rescue, and shot three of the fanatics; the fourth came on most pluckily, and was only ten yards from our men when one of them shot him, and then pinned him to the ground with his bayonet. These hillmen are wonderfully tenacious of life, and although the Ghazi had a Martini bullet through his chest and a bayonet wound in his stomach he strove up to his last gasp to kill his hated foes. A little later in the day General Galbraith was the hero of an adventure in which the good marksmanship of the battalion undoubtedly saved his life. While the Royal Irish were sitting on the ground in quarter-column, waiting for orders, the General on foot, unarmed, and with no escort but his aide-de-camp who was mounted, walked over the battlefield to ascertain from two friendly hillmen who accompanied him if any of the dead belonged to tribes which were nominally neutral.
“Suddenly [writes an officer] we heard some shots fired, and looking up we saw about two or three hundred yards off the General running as hard as he could towards us, closely followed by some Ghazis. The A.D.C.’s pony had became unmanageable so he could not fire, and the Ghazis were catching the General up; we accordingly ordered two or three picked shots to fire--risky work, for the fanatics were within a few yards of the General and he almost masked our fire. Still the risk had to be taken, and (luckily perhaps) as we fired, the General stumbled and fell, and the whole of the Ghazis were shot. We heard afterwards that when the General was examining the corpses, two of the supposed ‘deaders’ had jumped up and gone for him, and being unarmed, he could do nothing but run. The ‘friendlies,’ seeing the General’s plight, had gone for the Ghazis, and as they were all dressed alike, we were unable to tell friend from foe, and had shot all four of them.”
In the course of the afternoon a hospital was established in a clump of trees, among which stood a shrine packed with the furniture and other belongings of some of the tribesmen with whom we were at war. From one of these trees a Ghazi was dislodged by a bullet; the sound of the shot brought up a couple of our men who, suspecting that more fanatics were in hiding, began to rummage among the lumber in the shrine, where two more Ghazis were discovered to whom very short shrift was allowed. When the advance was resumed, half the battalion was ordered to keep down the fire from the sangars on the right bank of the river, while the other companies and part of the 29th Punjab infantry climbed the ridge and moved upon Kotkai. They entered it without opposition, for the enemy, already shaken by the shells of the mountain battery, retired before them to Kunhar, a village two or three miles higher up the river. By the time we were in possession of the Kotkai position the day was so far spent that pursuit had become impossible, and the wing of the Royal Irish was sent down to bivouac in the plain, while the native regiment remained to hold the village as an advanced post.
The next few days were full of varied occupations. The battalion marched with convoys of sick to Chamb, carried stores over rocks that the mules could not face, escorted the General up precipitous mountains when he visited tribes of doubtful loyalty to arrange the terms on which their neutrality was to be secured, and for more than one day carried on a long musketry fight with the hillmen, who had now flocked to the farther side of the river, whence they maintained a harassing fire upon our working parties. Under the steady shooting of the Royal Irish, the enemy gradually melted away, and when the British brought river craft up the Indus to replace the ferry-boats which had been destroyed, the mountaineers realised that the river was no longer an impassable barrier and disappeared, leaving the road-makers unmolested in their heavy task of converting mere goat-tracks on the side of a cliff into roads wide enough for the passage of heavily laden mules in single file. On the 11th the whole column reached Kunhar, though the road was still so rough that over the greater part of it the baggage had to be passed by hand. The 12th was spent in improving the path to Gazikot, a mile or two higher up the river; and on the 13th, Galbraith transported the Royal Irish and part of his native infantry across the river in boats, marched through various deserted villages, and blew up a hill fortress at Maidan. The tribesmen watched his proceedings from the neighbouring heights, and when he began to retire attacked his rear-guard, but were driven back, and the column regained the left bank without difficulty. After the destruction of Maidan the enemy began to lose heart, and though the troops in the fourth column made several raids into the mountains on each side of the Indus, occupying villages so filthy that the Europeans could not sleep in the houses and had to bivouac upon the roofs, they did not again come under hostile fire. On all these operations the Royal Irish were employed, and in their spare time Galbraith found plenty of occupation for them in the unexciting but very arduous work of improving the communications with the frontier of India.
While the fourth column was forcing its way up the Indus the other columns pushed eastwards from the Agror valley. They climbed mountains, made roads, destroyed watch-towers, and burned hostile villages with small loss, for they met with no opposition such as that which had awaited Galbraith at Kotkai, and their casualties were mainly caused by the “snipers” who harassed their bivouacs at night. Thus taken between two fires, the Hassanzais and Akazais learned that though slow to rouse, the Government of India when it begins to strike, does so with effect. Astonished to find that the fastnesses of the country could be reached by regular troops, dismayed at the loss of several hundred of their fighting men, and realising that the longer they deferred their submission, the heavier would be their punishment, these clans decided to surrender; paid the heavy fines imposed upon them, and promised amendment for the future. During the negotiations there was an episode in which Lieutenant Gloster played an amusing part, thus described by one of his brother officers--
“When the hillmen with whom we had been fighting came to the conclusion that for the time being they had had enough of it, they began to send Jirgahs or deputations of headmen to interview General Galbraith, who had very little knowledge of the manners and customs of the Border tribes. Presuming on his ignorance of frontier etiquette, they used to behave towards him with gross impertinence: they would walk into his hut and greet his Pathan orderlies, who acted as interpreters, with great respect, but take no notice of the General himself; then sit down without being asked, and finally spit on the floor--a particularly gross form of insult throughout the East. Gloster who since the engagement at Kotkai had been orderly officer to the General, was present at these interviews and used to boil with rage, but as his chief took no notice he had to swallow his wrath as best he could. But Gloster’s chance came when Colonel ----, an officer of long experience on the frontier, joined the column and took over the conduct of the negotiations for peace. On the morning after Colonel ----’s arrival the tribesmen walked into the new-comer’s hut with their usual swagger and went through their customary insulting performances--but not for long, as Colonel ---- turned upon them, first with a volley of abuse in Hindustani and Pushtu, and then with his stick and boots. In amazement they made for the door, and then as each astonished Pathan passed out, he got a blow on the side of the head from a huge fist, followed by a hearty kick from a long and powerful leg. A very chastened and exceedingly polite deputation returned to make terms next day!”
As soon as the Hassanzais and Akazais had made their peace with the Indian government, a portion of General M‘Queen’s command moved northwards to punish other recalcitrant tribes; but as the fourth column played no part in these operations it is not necessary to describe them. As far as the Royal Irish are concerned, the only incident during the remainder of the Black Mountain campaign was the visit of the Commander-in-Chief in India, General Sir Frederick Roberts, who on the 28th of October inspected the second battalion at Palosi, and complimented all ranks on their behaviour during this little mountain war. Early in November the expedition had finished its work; the columns marched back across the British frontier, and the Royal Irish, passing through Durband, arrived at their old station of Nowshera on the 23rd of the month.[273]
General Galbraith in a farewell order thanked all ranks of the fourth column for the admirable manner in which they had performed their duties, adding that their exemplary behaviour and unvarying good discipline had not been less conspicuous than their conduct in the field. His official report on the operations of the river column mentioned Major R. K. Brereton and Lieutenant W. Gloster, Royal Irish regiment, and the Roman Catholic chaplain attached to the battalion, Father Francis Van Mansfeld, who during the fighting on October 4, distinguished himself by carrying water to the wounded under a heavy fire. The losses of the Hazara Field force during this short campaign were small: the total casualties, including two officers mortally wounded, were less than a hundred. In the second battalion of the Royal Irish two men were killed and three wounded in action, while two were fatally injured by falling down a precipice.[274] The Indian Medal with a clasp for “Hazara 1888” was granted to the troops who took part in this expedition.
Until December, 1889, the second battalion remained at Nowshera; then it was stationed for a short time at Peshawar, and in April, 1890, headquarters and four companies were moved to Cherat, where the medals for the Hazara campaign were presented on parade by Mrs Rogers, the wife of the officer who then commanded the battalion. The year 1890 was memorable in the sporting annals of the regiment. After having been in the final tie for the Infantry polo tournament for three years running, the officers of the second battalion won it at Umballa with a team composed of Captain Apthorp, Lieutenants Cullinan, Kellett, Wynne, and Garraway--the last mentioned taking the place of Wynne, who met with an accident during the game. The non-commissioned officers and men also had a triumph in winning the Calcutta football tournament. The month of December found the second battalion on the way to Lucknow, where they remained till November, 1894, when a five weeks’ march brought them to Jubbulpore, an excellent centre for big game shooting. The officers lost no opportunity of going after tiger, and Lieutenant J. B. S. Alderson had a very exciting adventure in which his life was saved by the coolness of Lieutenant-Colonel Lawrence, then in command of the battalion. In the Chitri jungle Alderson was following up a wounded tiger on foot, when the beast charged and seized him by the arm. Colonel Lawrence rushed to the rescue, and with three steady shots killed it, but not without much difficulty, for as the huge brute lay upon Alderson mauling his arm, the bullets had to be placed so that they would strike the animal without doing his victim any harm. When Alderson was brought into hospital, he was so weak from shock, fatigue, and loss of blood that it was pronounced unsafe to put him under chloroform, and it was nearly midnight before all his numerous wounds were dressed. Though suffering agonies he never uttered a word, except from time to time to ask one of his brother officers, who were standing round his bed, to fill and light the pipe, which he did not allow to go out during the operation. His right arm had been bitten through, but neither the bones nor arteries were injured, and he recovered--to meet a soldier’s death a few years later in the South African war.
During the cold weather of 1896-97 the second battalion was inspected by the Lieutenant-General commanding in Bengal, who pronounced it to be “in first-rate order, in a very efficient condition, and quite fit for active service.” The Commander-in-Chief in India considered this “a very satisfactory report on the battalion, which appears to be very well commanded by Colonel Lawrence.” A few months after this inspection matters began to go badly on the frontier, where for some time past fanatical priests had been preaching “a Holy War” against the English. The first tangible symptom of unrest was a treacherous attack by the hillmen of the Tochi valley upon a British officer and his escort; then followed an outbreak in the Swat valley, where the tribes suddenly fell in thousands upon our post at Malakand. The garrison fought gallantly, and in spite of enormous odds held their ground for several days until the enemy were dispersed by a relieving column. The Mohmands were the next to rise, and finally the Afridis and Orakzais took up arms against us. To meet this formidable though fortunately ill-combined attack, troops were hurried to the frontier; among them were the Royal Irish, who on August 13, 1897, received the order to mobilise for active service. The news was welcomed by the battalion with wild enthusiasm, and proved so good a tonic to the large number of non-commissioned officers and men who, though apparently recovered from the malarial fever prevalent at Jubbulpore, still had the seeds of the disease lurking in their system, that eight hundred and twenty-seven of all ranks were passed by the doctors.[275] In two days everything was in readiness, and on August 15, the Royal Irish entrained for Rawal Pindi. The journey, at that time of year always an exhausting one, was made doubly trying by the result of a railway accident; the troop trains, timed to reach Pindi early in the morning, did not arrive there till nearly midnight, and by some departmental blunder the battalion was left all day without food or shelter from the sun. At Khasalghur, where the rail ended, the Royal Irish had very heavy work, loading and reloading stores in extreme heat. Then followed several forced marches, in the first of which they escorted a convoy four or five miles in length for twenty-six miles over a very rugged country, drained by two rivers passable only at deep fords. When they joined Major-General Yeatman-Biggs in the Miranzai valley, they found his column at Hangu, a village at the base of the foot hills of the great Samana ridge, where the camp, pitched on fields from which the crops had just been reaped, stood on ground saturated by the heavy rain of the monsoon. In a previous campaign on the frontier, an imperfectly entrenched British force had been attacked at night by a horde of hillmen, whose determined rush was not repelled without great difficulty and hard fighting. Mindful of this episode, Yeatman-Biggs had ringed his camp with works, which were occupied by the troops at night, when, to avoid offering a target to “snipers,” the tents were struck. As the weather was very wet and steamy, it was impossible for the men ever to get their clothes thoroughly dried, and during the fortnight that the headquarters of the battalion remained at Hangu there was much fever among those who were unlucky enough to be left in camp,[276] but the companies sent on detachment kept in good health and accomplished the remarkable marches mentioned in Colonel Lawrence’s order, quoted in appendix 5.
On the evening of September 12, General Yeatman-Biggs issued orders for his column to march forthwith to the rescue of a party of the 36th Sikhs, who were hard pressed in Fort Gulistan, an advanced post on the Samana ridge. At that moment the battalion was so reduced by detachments and by sickness that only two hundred and ninety-five Royal Irishmen were present to take part in the arduous operations by which the Gulistan garrison was relieved on the 13th. After this success Yeatman-Biggs was ordered to remain on the Samana; the sick of the battalion were sent up from the hospitals below, and in the pure air of the mountains rapidly regained their health. In addition to the ordinary camp guards, duties, and fatigues the battalion was employed in road-making and in reconnaissances among the hills; and in high spirits and absolutely unaware that they had been reported upon unfavourably, all ranks anxiously awaited orders for a farther advance into the enemy’s country, when a telegram reached Colonel Lawrence from a civilian friend at Rawal Pindi, telling him of a rumour that the Royal Irish were to be ordered back from the front for garrison duty in India. Colonel Lawrence at once went to the General, who said it was true that the battalion was to go back, as the doctors reported it to be saturated with malaria. At the Colonel’s request a medical board was assembled, whose members were instructed to be very thorough and searching in their examination, and to pass no one who was not thoroughly fit for the hard work of active service. The doctors did not see the whole of the battalion, as a hundred and fifty officers and men were absent on detachment, but out of those whom they inspected, five hundred and twenty-three were passed as absolutely fit, and above the average physique of the army. With this favourable report in his hand, Colonel Lawrence made every effort to obtain the recision of the order but without success; and on September 30, appeared the following paragraph in Major-General Yeatman-Biggs’ Field Force orders: “under instructions from Army Headquarters, Simla, the 2nd battalion, Royal Irish regiment, is to proceed to Rawal Pindi for garrison duty, on relief by the 2nd Derbyshire regiment.”
It will be observed that no reason was given for the removal of the battalion from the fighting line; and soon after the Royal Irish reached Rawal Pindi rumours, most injurious to their character as soldiers, became current in civilian circles and found their way first into the Indian and then into the British newspapers. Major-General Sir Henry Havelock-Allan, the Colonel of the regiment, was in England when these rumours were repeated by the London press; and stirred to the heart by the aspersions on the fair fame of the corps with which he had so long and honourable a connection, he hurried to India to investigate the truth of these stories. Shortly after the second battalion returned to Rawal Pindi Colonel Lawrence was appointed to the command of the XVIIIth regimental district; but before leaving India he went to Simla to ascertain if possible why the battalion had been so unjustly treated. He was unable to obtain an interview with the Commander-in-Chief, but from the Adjutant-General he learned that, several days before the medical board had been convened, General Yeatman-Biggs had reported that the Royal Irish were so saturated with malaria that they could not keep up with the rest of the column. As General Havelock-Allan and Colonel Lawrence crossed on the voyage without meeting in any port, the former landed at Bombay with an unbiassed mind; without stopping to see the battalion at Rawal Pindi he hastened to the frontier, and after the fullest inquiries in every direction was able to assert proudly that the Royal Irish had behaved like good soldiers in the Tirah campaign. By his tragic death in the Khyber Pass at the end of December, the regiment apparently lost its only influential friend in the East, and when, shortly afterwards, the authorities at Simla refused to grant the board of inquiry for which Lieutenant-Colonel Forster had applied in order to refute the libels on his battalion, the spirits of all ranks sank very low. The dignified attitude of the officers under misfortune won universal respect and admiration at Pindi; and it speaks well for the discipline of the battalion that in such distressing circumstances there was no sign of angry feeling among the men, and that all ranks, knowing that there was no grounds for the aspersions made against them in the press, possessed their souls in patience until their conduct should be investigated by an authority even higher than that of Simla.
While Havelock-Allan was on the frontier he had laid the grievances of the Royal Irish before General Sir William Lockhart, who was in command of all the troops engaged in the Tirah campaign; and after Lockhart had seen the battalion at Havelock-Allan’s funeral at Pindi, he exerted himself so vigorously on its behalf that, after being closely inspected by the chief army doctor in India, it was ordered back to the front, and on February 9, 1898, joined the third brigade, under Colonel (now Lieutenant-General Sir Ian) Hamilton, in the Bara valley. Thence it moved up to Barkai, where the expeditionary force received the Royal Irish with open arms. “The fuss that has been made over us is wonderful,” wrote an officer of the XVIIIth. “Every general within fifteen miles of Barkai rode over to congratulate the regiment in the names of their respective commands, and the officers were inundated with shoals of complimentary telegrams.” Unfortunately, as far as Hamilton’s brigade was concerned, all fighting was over when the battalion was allowed to return to the front, and thus it had no opportunity of again meeting the enemy; but still it had been sent back to the fighting line, and thus from the military point of view its honour was completely vindicated. One thing, however, was still needed to re-establish the second battalion in the eyes of civilians--a letter from Army headquarters at Simla clearing it from the charges made against it in the newspapers. Such a letter arrived on the 17th of February, but being marked “confidential” could not be sent to the public press for publication. When Colonel Lawrence received from the second battalion a copy of this confidential letter, he rightly considered that for the complete exoneration of the Royal Irish he should be permitted to make its contents known to the world; he accordingly asked leave of Colonel Gough, Secretary to Lord Wolseley, then Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, to publish it to the brigade of regular and militia battalions of the Royal Irish territorial regiment, about to assemble at Kilworth under his orders. In reply “as an exceptional case and in view of his proceeding to Kilworth where other battalions of the regiment are stationed” he received an extract from a letter from the Adjutant-General to the Commander-in-Chief, India, which runs as follows:--
“I am directed by the Secretary of State to inform you that a perusal of the papers connected with the withdrawal of the 2nd battalion, Royal Irish regiment from the field force on the North-West frontier has satisfied the Commander-in-Chief that a grave injustice was done to the 2nd battalion, Royal Irish regiment when it was recalled from field service.”
Colonel Lawrence immediately published this complete exoneration in an order to the troops at Kilworth (see appendix 5).
In order that the public should realise how completely the charges against the Royal Irish had been refuted, it was suggested that some signal honour should be conferred upon the regiment. Her Majesty Queen Victoria, always remembering the XVIIIth when they guarded her at Windsor, had been much concerned at the libels on her Irish soldiers; she at once appreciated the importance of proving to the world that the rumours about the second battalion were absolutely without foundation, and by her command Lord Wolseley was appointed to be the first Colonel-in-Chief of the Royal Irish regiment. This mark of the Queen’s favour closed the Tirah incident, the most painful episode in the long history of the regiment.
* * * * *
As the second battalion was not one of the corps fortunate enough to be sent from India to South Africa for the Boer war, the record of its service during the remainder of the period embraced by this history is almost barren of interest. In February, 1900, the Royal Irish distinguished themselves at Mhow in putting out a dangerous fire, and were specially thanked by Major-General Nicholson, C.B., who commanded the district--
“The General Officer Commanding wishes to convey to the troops in garrison, his thanks for the excellent work done by them during the last few days in endeavouring to extinguish the recent fire in the Commissariat stack-yard. The promptitude with which Officers and men of the Royal Irish regiment turned out on the first alarm undoubtedly saved the remainder of the stacks at the time, and the zeal evinced and arduous work done by all the troops in garrison on that and subsequent days has been fully appreciated by the General Officer Commanding, and he will have much pleasure in bringing the same to the notice of the Lieutenant-General Commanding, Bombay Command.”
A month later the battalion learned from Army Orders that to commemorate the gallantry of the Irish regiments in the recent battles in South Africa, the Queen had ordered that in future all ranks of these corps should wear on St Patrick’s Day a sprig of shamrock in their head-dresses--a recognition of national sentiment which caused great satisfaction to both battalions of the XVIIIth, and to every other Irish regiment in Her Majesty’s army.
In the ordinary course of Indian reliefs the second battalion was due to turn its face homewards in the autumn of 1900, but owing to the war in South Africa all such arrangements were cancelled, and the Royal Irish were ordered to remain at Mhow, where they were still quartered when in July, 1901, Lieutenant-Colonel J. Burton-Forster, relinquishing the command on appointment to the Staff, was succeeded by Lieutenant-Colonel H. S. Shuldham-Lye. The dislocation of reliefs was not the only effect produced on the second battalion by the South African war. As every recruit, as soon as he was fit for active service, was sent to join the first battalion, there was great danger that the second battalion would become dangerously weak if the time-expired men left India at the end of their engagement to serve with the Colours. As every battalion in India was in a similar plight the government offered liberal terms to men willing to re-engage, viz.--a bounty of £10 with a two months’ furlough at home, or an additional bounty of £16 in lieu of furlough to all ranks below the rank of sergeant, who had completed six years and three months’ colonial service, and who had not entered upon the twelfth year of such service. The men who accepted these terms were to engage to extend their service so as to complete twelve years with the Colours. Twenty-two of the Royal Irish accepted the £10 bounty with furlough; two hundred and ninety-seven preferred to have £26 paid into their hands, and did not take a holiday at home.