India. Army; World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Regimental histories -- India
So far so good, but something more was needed. Did our immediate
commanders grasp the fact that our strength in bare numbers as compared
with a British Army Corps was 5400 bayonets short? Did they realise that
our reinforcements were precarious, and had to come thousands of miles
across the seas? They could not know what I did, viz. that a very large
proportion of our reservists, which must form a great part of such
reinforcements, were quite useless for European warfare, owing to the
pernicious reserve system then prevailing in India. Could they tell that
the drafts, before many months had gone by, would begin to consist of
recruits enlisted immediately before or during the war?
A former War Minister in England had once told me that in four months
Britishers could be turned into good soldiers, fit to fight in Europe.
Perhaps he was right; perhaps this great war has proved it; but “East is
East and West is West,” and notwithstanding my admiration for the
Indians and believing them to be first-class fighting material, I can
positively assert that it is impossible to make good soldiers of them in
four months or even in a much longer period. Education, temperament, the
difference between having and not having a cause in the quarrel, must
perforce be considered. From the day I left India I had revolved all
these matters in my mind, and now the time had come when we must put our
whole soul into the battle.
The day of my arrival at St. Omer, the British Headquarters, was indeed
one to be remembered. Asia had dropped into Europe; the descendants of
Timour, of Guru Govind, of the ancient Hindus, had come to fight the
Huns on the historic plains of Flanders. Seventy miles in a direct line
from us lay the immortal field of Waterloo; seventy-five miles away were
the cliffs of Dover. The man must have been carved out of wood who would
not have rejoiced at his good fortune; the heart atrophied that did not
beat the faster at the thought that he was given a chance, however
humble, of taking his share in the greatest conflict of all times.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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