WITH THE INDIANS IN FRANCE By GENERAL SIR JAMES WILLCOCKS G.C.M.G., K.C.B., K.C.S.L., D.S.O., LL.D. LONDON CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD. 1920 TO MY BRAVE COMRADES OF ALL RANKS OF THE INDIAN ARMY I DEDICATE THIS BOOK WHICH IS AN EARNEST ENDEAVOUR TO RECORD THEIR LOYALTY AND UNPERISHABLE VALOUR ON THE BATTLEFIELDS OF FRANCE AND BELGIUM _From BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE December 1917._ HURNāM-SINGH BY GENERAL SIR JAMES WILLCOCKS I Beneath an ancient pipal-tree, fast by the Jhelum’s tide, In silent thought sat Hurnām-Singh, A Khalsa[1] soldier of the King: He mused on things now done and past, For he had reached his home at last, His empty sleeve his pride. II Five years before a village lout, beneath the self-same tree, He met the Havildar, who’d come With honeyed words and beat of drum, Cajoling all who glory sought, And telling how the regiment fought The Zakha and the Mohmand clans, With shouts of victory. III Wah Guru Ji! rang in his ears, the famous battle cry, And since those days Hurnām had seen, On Flanders plains, from fierce Messines, To Festubert and Neuve Chapelle, ’Mid festering bogs and scenes of hell, How Khalsa soldiers die. IV The village yokels round him flocked to hearken to his tales, How he had crossed the Kala[2] sea, From India’s strand past Araby, Thro’ Egypt’s sands to Europe’s shores, Where the wild stormy mistral roars, And anchor’d in Marseilles. V “Is it the truth,” said one more bold than village yokels be, “That men with wings ascend on high And fight with Gods in yonder sky? That iron monsters belching wrath, Beneath their wheels of Juggernaut, Claim victims for Kali?” VI “Now list all ye,” said Hurnām-Singh, “the aged and the youth, The tales they told in bygone days, Of Gods and Ghouls in ancient lays, Are true, not false; mine eyes descried, Mine ears have heard as heroes died, The Mahabharut’s[3] truth. VII