Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
Waller felt more than ever, from personal causes, inspired by an
ardour in the performance of his duty, and speedily became
distinguished as one of the most active and gallant officers on the
staff of Sir Robert Sale, a veteran whose uninterrupted career of
service dated back to the battle of Malavelly, where Harris defeated
Tippoo Saib, and the storming of Seringapatam, in the closing year of
the preceding century. Sale commanded one division in our Army of
Vengeance,--for such it deemed itself; General M'Caskill, a stern and
resolute Scotsman, led the other; and the whole under General
Pollock, on being reinforced by Her Majesty 31st, the 33rd Native
Light Infantry, the 1st Light Cavalry, all clad in silver grey, and a
train of mountain guns (the ghalondazees of which wore picturesque
oriental dresses), commenced the march towards the mighty range of
mountains that lie between Jellalabad and Cabul.
McCaskill was in such feeble health that the brave old fellow had to
proceed at the head of his division in a litter borne by four Hindoos.
Experience had taught our leaders the mistake of having the usual
mighty encumbrances of camp-followers, the tenting and feeding of
which formed the curse of our Indian armies; so, in this instance,
such appendages were greatly reduced. For tents, the palls or little
marquees of the sepoys were substituted. Save a single change of
linen, the soldiers carried nothing in their knapsacks; the baggage
of the officers was cut down to the smallest extent--Waller carried
his in a valise at his saddle--and three or four had to sleep under
one marquee. All the sick and wounded were left under a guard in
Jellalabad; and thus the army was trimmed, pruned, and fined down to
the active, well-armed, and lightly accoutred fighting-men alone.
Hence the camp had no longer the aspect usually presented by those of
our Indian forces, as these usually exhibit a motley collection of
coverings, to ward off the baleful dews of night or the scorching sun
by day. Here and there a superb suite of tents or marquees,
surrounded by squalid little erections of coloured calico, tattered
cloths and blankets stretched over sticks and poles, even palm leaves
being improvised when they could be had; and amid all these congeries
of variously coloured masses, the flags of chiefs and colonels, the
bells of arms, horses, oxen, camels, and elephants, pell mell!
A final act of individual cruelty, perpetrated by Ackbar Khan on a
poor Hindoo--the same schroff, or banker, whom Mabel had seen in
Cabul--greatly exasperated all ranks against him.
Hearing that our troops had begun their march, this man, whose
nationality and sympathies led him to favour their interests, when
making his way towards them, was overtaken, and brought before Ackbar
in the castle of Buddeeabad, and was there bitterly upbraided as a
traitor.
"Throw him down," he cried to his Haozir-bashes, and then drew his
sabre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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