Private Journal of Henry Francis Brooke: Late Brigadier-General Commanding 2nd Infantry Brigade, Kandahar Field Force, Southern Afghanistan, from April 22nd to August 16th, 1880 — John Shaqi
Private Journal of Henry Francis Brooke: Late Brigadier-General Commanding 2nd Infantry Brigade, Kandahar Field Force, Southern Afghanistan, from April 22nd to August 16th, 1880Brooke, Henry Francis
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Private Journal of Henry Francis Brooke: Late Brigadier-General Commanding 2nd Infantry Brigade, Kandahar Field Force, Southern Afghanistan, from April 22nd to August 16th, 1880
Brooke, Henry Francis
Afghan Wars; Brooke, Henry Francis, 1836-1880
It is fortunate that the tribes in
the vicinity of the Bolan Pass are fonder of rupees than of fighting,
as they could easily prevent anyone passing up if they so desired it,
but for a consideration (a very heavy subsidy, I fancy) they agree
not only not to resist our advance, but to act as the police of the
Pass, and so enable us to dispense with any great strength of soldiers
here.--I must digress for one moment to describe the circumstances
under which I write, so that allowances may be made for bad writing and
stupidity. First of all, I am in a large tent, permanently pitched, as
there is no rest hut here (Beebee-Nani, April 6th), the thermometer
is at 96°, a gale of wind is howling outside, and shaking the tent
so violently that I watch the poles with apprehension; everything is
gritty with the clouds of dust that are flying about; the flies, which
are in millions, I should say, are gifted with a pertinacity which is
quite marvellous, and insist on settling on your nose, or in your eyes
or ears; my four companions are stretched on the ground fast asleep
(I never sleep myself in the day time), and by some curious fatality
have, one and all, established themselves on their backs, and are
snoring most awfully; and last, but not least, the heat is making the
ink quite thick and preventing it running freely, and with it my ideas
also I fear. I think it will be acknowledged that any one or two of
these drawbacks would be fair excuses for not doing much writing,
so I hope the lot together will bear me harmless from criticism now
and hereafter.--To return to my story now: As the sun began to rise
the whole scene changed, and what had seemed weird and desolate now
got a color that made the scene one that I would not have missed for
any consideration; the effect altogether, of course, of the beautiful
coloring which sunrise always bring with it in the East, but which
rapidly fades as the sun gets higher. At nine miles from Pir-Chokey
I came to one of the transport stages, which I found in charge of a
sergeant of the 66th Foot, with a guard of 12 native soldiers; not
another European within ten miles of him on either side. He said it
was, of course, lonely, but he had lots to do, and that all his spare
time was given to fishing in the Bolan River, which swarms with fish of
the most confiding nature, as they greedily seize any sort of bait, and
can even be caught in the hand at night by the use of a light--a way
of catching fish not quite unknown in our own part of the world. Five
miles further on I inspected another depot, which is situated at the
end of the first part of the enclosed portion of the
[Sidenote: March into Kirta.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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