The Coming Conquest of England

A >> August Niemann >> The Coming Conquest of England


"Pray do not let us talk about it now, and not here, Mr. Heideck," she
begged, raising her eyes to him imploringly. "You cannot have any idea
how terribly I suffer from these dreadful thoughts. I feel as if before
me lay only dark, impenetrable night. And when I reflect that some day I
may be again forced--"

She did not finish her sentence, but Heideck knew well enough what she
had omitted to say. An irresistible impulse made him answer--

"You must not allow yourself to be driven to take any course repugnant
to your heart, Mrs. Irwin. And who is there who would dare to attempt to
force you?"

"Oh, Mr. Heideck, you have no idea what regard for so-called 'GOOD FORM'
means for us English people. No scandal--for Heaven's sake, no scandal!
That is the first and prime law of our Society. Kind as the Colonel and
his wife have been to me until now, I am very much afraid they would
drop me, without question of my guilt or innocence, if I should allow
anything to take place which they consider a scandal."

"And yet you must obey solely your own feeling--only the commands of
your heart and conscience, Mrs. Irwin; not the narrow views of
the Colonel or any other person. You must not become a martyr to a
prejudice--I simply cannot hear the idea. And you must promise me--"

He stopped short. A sudden lull in the general conversation caused him
to be silent also. And he fancied he saw the intelligent and penetrating
eyes of Mrs. Baird directed upon himself with an expression of mistrust.
He was displeased with himself. Displeased, because the intoxicating
proximity of the adored being, and his aversion for her husband, that
had almost increased to passionate hatred, had led him into the danger
of compromising her. But when, soon afterwards, he took his leave,
together with the other guests, a soft pressure of Edith's hand gave him
the delightful assurance that she was far from being angry with him.




XI

THE MOBILISATION


Every day now brought fresh news, and the threatening spectre of war
drew nearer and nearer. The order for mobilisation had been given.
The field-troops were separated from the depot, destined to remain in
Chanidigot. The infantry were provided with ammunition, and were daily
exercised in firing and bayonet drill. Horses were bought up and a
transport organised, which comprised an enormous number of camels. The
commissariat stores were replenished, and the officers eagerly studied
the maps of Afghanistan.

According to Heideck's ideas of mobilisation progress was much too slow,
and the Maharajah appeared still less in a hurry with the equipment of
his auxiliary troops.

Military trains from the South passed without cessation through
Chanidigot, carrying horses and troops further north. Their immediate
goal was Peshawar, where Lieutenant-General Sir Bindon Blood,
Commander-in-Chief of the Punjab Army Corps, had concentrated a large
field-army. Heideck noticed with surprise that the regiments which were
being hurried up had been drafted from the most heterogeneous corps,
so that, therefore, the tactical union of these corps, as well as their
organisation, had been destroyed. No doubt the Government wished, at
any cost, to mass large bodies of troops as rapidly as possible on the
frontier, and to this end left all calculation of later events out of
consideration. Viscount Kitchener, the Commander-in-Chief of India,
as well as the Viceroy and the Cabinet Ministers in London, seemed to
entertain no doubt that the English army would be victorious from
the very beginning, and could not possibly be forced to retire to the
fortresses of the North-west provinces. The contempt with which the
officers in Chanidigot talked about the Russian army and the Afghans
sufficiently confirmed this general belief.

At last it was clear that war had become a fait accompli. On the tenth
day after the announcement of the Russian invasion of Afghanistan
uncertainty was at an end.

The Cabinet in London had inquired in St. Petersburg as to the meaning
of that invasion, and it received the answer that Russia felt compelled
to come to the rescue of the Ameer at his request, for the Afghan ruler
was anxious for his independence, in view of the measures which were
taken by England. Nothing was further removed from the intention of the
Russian Government than to challenge England, but she felt it impossible
to look on at the embarrassment of the Ameer with equanimity, and so
determined to fight for the independence of Afghanistan.

Thereupon England declared war, and Lieutenant-General Blood received
the order immediately to advance through the Khyber Pass into
Afghanistan. Further, Lieutenant-General Hunter, the Commander-in-Chief
of the Bombay Army Corps, was ordered to march with an army from
Quetta towards Kandahar. At the same time an English fleet was to leave
Portsmouth.

Although the English papers published in India had evidently been
instructed to maintain silence about matters which might place England
in an unfavourable light, they furnished a good deal of news which gave
the intelligent reader all manner of clues as to the present warlike
situation. It could be seen that England was also arming against France.
Only as to the attitude of Germany in the universal war that threatened
every clue was wanting.

The intention of removing the families of the military and civil
officers, stationed in Chanidigot, south to Bombay, or to Calcutta in
the east, had soon been dropped. The spreading of the plague in both
cities and the difficulties of the journey were against it; for the
railways were completely given over to the transport of troops. It
was determined that the women and children should, for the time being,
remain with the depot in Chanidigot. Captain Irwin, who had returned
from Lahore and who, apart from his duty, in which he displayed an
almost feverish zeal, led the life of a hermit, was appointed to
command this depot. But his wife, whom he had not yet once met since his
arrival, was not to be placed with the others under his charge. Colonel
Baird, who had given way to his wife's urgent entreaties to be allowed
with her children to accompany him to Quetta, had asked Edith Irwin to
join them.

Orders had been given that the detachment should start in conjunction
with the forces of the Maharajah of Chanidigot. Heideck had obtained
permission to accompany it. The Colonel was well disposed towards him,
and it was evidently pleasant for the former to have about him, as
protector to the ladies, such a chivalrous man, upon whom he could
always implicitly rely when his military duties prevented him from
looking after them. On the day preceding the start Heideck was at tiffin
with the Colonel, and coming events were being discussed in a serious
manner, when from outside the dull screech of an automobile's horn
caught their ears. Two minutes later, covered with dust and with his
face a dark red from the heat, an officer appeared on the verandah who
introduced himself as Captain Elliot, General Blood's adjutant.

"The General," he said, adopting the proper military attitude, "has sent
me to report that all the plans have been altered. Your orders are not
to march to Quetta, but to hasten your preparations and start as soon as
possible for Mooltan."

"And what is the reason for this change of orders?" asked the Colonel.

"The Russians are coming down from the Hindu-Kush, and are marching down
the valley of the Indus, thus taking our army in the rear. General Blood
is marching south, so as not to be cut off. I am sent round to direct
all detachments upon Mooltan."

"No! is that possible? Is there not perhaps some mistake? How can the
Russians cross the Hindu-Kush?"

"I have myself seen Russian infantry in the gorges of the Indus Valley,
Colonel. The march upon Herat and the occupation of Cabul under General
Ivanov were mainly blinds. Ivanov, with twenty thousand men under his
command, and reinforced by a like number of Afghans, is advancing from
Cabul upon the Khyber Pass. But the main attack will be made from the
Pamirs in the direction of Rawal-Pindi and Lahore."

"Rawal-Pindi?" exclaimed the Colonel. "If the Russians come down the
Indus, they will first of all arrive at Attock, and this strong fortress
will check their advance long enough."

"Let us hope so, but we must not absolutely reckon upon it. The strength
of the Russian army is not at present known to us; but their advance
has evidently been magnificently planned. Their engineers must have done
perfect wonders in the difficult passes of the Hindu-Kush; and these
Russian soldiers are like iron."

"Well," said the Colonel, "we will soon show them that we are of steel."

The adjutant handed over the written instructions, and after having read
them, the Colonel replied--

"To-morrow morning early I start for Mooltan, and expect to arrive there
with my detachment by tomorrow evening. The commissariat and ammunition
columns will, of course, not be able to get there until a few days
later, and then only in part. What in all the world can have possessed
the General not to meet the enemy in Rawal-Pindi? That town is fortified
and surrounded by strong forts; it is one of the greatest depots in
India. Why must the General retire so far back, so far as Mooltan?"

"The General is expecting a decisive battle, and intends for the purpose
to co-operate with the army of General Hunter. But both armies are, at
present, equidistant from Mooltan, and the Russians would, the General
thinks, hesitate to advance so far, from fear of having their left
flank attacked from Lahore. In Lahore there is at present a force of ten
thousand men, which is being reinforced every day from Delhi."

With the departure of the adjutant, who, owing to the exigencies of
duty, was obliged to decline the Colonel's offer of a seat at table, the
luncheon-party broke up, and the Colonel made apologies to his guest for
being unable, under existing circumstances, to devote more time to him.
His officers accompanied him, and soon after Mrs. Baird was also called
away. Quite unexpectedly Heideck and Edith Irwin found themselves alone.

For a few moments neither spoke, as though neither wished to give
expression to the feelings that filled their hearts. The young wife
first broke silence.

"You were intending to go with us into the field, Mr. Heideck, and I
know that your decision was prompted by a desire to assist us women with
your protection. But now all the arrangements are altered, and I beg of
you to abandon your intention."

He looked at her surprisedly. "What, Mrs. Irwin? do you intend to
deprive me of the pleasure I had looked forward to of accompanying you,
and being your protector? And why?"

"You also have just heard that all the arrangements are altered. Had we
gone to Quetta, then, as soon as our army had crossed the frontier, you
would have been easily able to find another place; but if the battle
takes place on Indian soil you will find yourself in constant danger."

"In my quality as foreigner? Certainly. I should, under the
circumstances, be exposed to much unpleasantness, but before I change my
plans, I should like to hear from you if you, too, intend to remain with
the troops under these altered conditions?"

"Since Mrs. Baird has given me permission to accompany her, yes."

"And you believe that I shall show less courage than you, who will also
certainly be exposed to serious risks?"

"How could I doubt your courage, Mr. Heideck? But that is, after all,
something quite different. The place of us soldiers' wives is at the
side of our husbands, whom we have followed to India. And, moreover, we
are, perhaps, nowhere safer than with the army. But you have no concern
with this war and with our army. If you, now, were to leave here to take
up your quarters in one of the hill stations far from the seat of war,
and where you were not exposed to the risks of battle and the plague,
you would be certainly allowed, as a German merchant, to remain there
unmolested."

"And why do you not yourself go to such a hill station, Mrs. Irwin? I
should suggest Simla, if it were not so near to the seat of war. But
do, pray, go to Poona, or into one of the other mountain stations in the
south."

The young lady shook her head.

"I expect that that would be going straight to destruction."

"And what, may I ask, makes you think this?"

"I have already told you that in case of war English women are, here
in India, only tolerably safe when in the immediate neighbourhood of
soldiers. If we were to be defeated, the revenge the people would
take on its oppressors would be terrible. Are you aware of the
cruel instincts which slumber in these men, apparently so polite and
submissive? The defenceless women and children would, without doubt, be
their first victims. It was so in the Mutiny of 1857, and so it will be
again under similar conditions. Nana Sahib and his crew wallowed at
that time in the fiendish tortures of white women and children, and shed
streams of innocent blood. And the civilisation of the lower classes has
certainly since then not improved."

"You speak as if you considered a defeat of your army probable."

"I cannot get rid of my melancholy forebodings. And you, yourself,
Mr. Heideck--please be straightforward with me! When the adjutant was
standing there a little while ago, and when every one of his words
showed the want of circumspection in our generals, I watched your face,
and I read more from its expression than you have any idea of. I will
not try to enter into your secrets, but I should be grateful if you
would be candid with me. You are not the person for whom you here give
yourself out."

He did not hesitate for a moment to confess to her the truth.

"No, I am a German officer, and have been sent here by my superiors to
study the Anglo-Indian army."

Edith's surprise was evidently not great.

"I had an inkling of it. And now please answer my question quite
as straightforwardly. Do you believe that the British army will be
victorious?"

"I would not permit myself to give an opinion on this point, Mrs.
Irwin."

"But you must have an idea. And I would give a great deal to know what
it is."

"Well, then--I believe in English bravery, but not in English victory."

She heaved a deep sigh, but she nodded her head in assent, as if he had
only expressed her own conviction. Then she gave him her hand and said
softly--

"I thank you for your confidence, and as a matter of course no one shall
ever learn from me who you are. But now I must insist more than ever
that you leave us for your own safety's sake."

"And if I were to refuse? Supposing that in my position as soldier I
were to consider it to be my duty not to leave you in the lurch?
Would you be angry with me? Would you no longer permit me to enjoy the
happiness of your society?"

Her breast heaved, but she bowed her head and was silent. Heideck
plainly saw the glistening tears which stole from under her eyelids, and
slowly rolled down her delicate cheek.

That was answer enough for him. He bowed, and kissing both her hands,
whispered--

"I knew that you would not be so cruel as to drive me from you. Wherever
fate may lead me, it will find me at your side as long as you require my
protection."

For a few seconds she let him keep her hand. She then gently withdrew it
from his grasp.

"I know that I ought to forbid you for your own safety to follow me;
but I have not the strength to do so. Heaven grant that you may never
reproach me for having acted as I have done."




XII

THE CAMP OF LAHORE


An unusually beautiful and dry spring favoured the advance of
the Russian army through the mountains. In the north of India the
temperature kept at an average of 68 degrees F., and day after day the
sun streamed down from a cloudless blue sky upon the broad plains of the
Punjab, through the bright green of which the Russian troops, in their
white summer uniforms, pushed on like long streaks of silver.

Everything pointed to the fortune of war being on their side, for they
had overcome the difficult and dreaded passage at Attock with unexpected
ease.

The commander of this lofty fortress received orders not to break
down the bridge across the Indus until General Blood's army, which was
directed to hold Peshawar and the Khyber Pass, had effected its retreat
and had to the last man passed the river.

The bridge at Attock, which is a high structure built across the narrow
bed of the Indus, which here foams down with swirling swiftness, is
considered a masterpiece of engineering. It is built in two tiers, the
upper of which carries the railway, while the lower forms a road for
carriages, beasts of burden, and foot-passengers. On either side of the
river is a fortified gate. The English commander of Attock trusted to
the strength of the forts standing some 800 feet above the river, and
imagined the Russians to be still far away.

The Russian vanguard had crossed the river Cabul, which joins the Indus
at Attock, at a point a few miles above the city, and thus appeared
simultaneously with General Blood's troops before the fortress.

Blood's troops were passing the bridge in endless long columns. Their
movement was often checked by blocks, caused by the dislocation of
the several units, and so it came about that, in the early morning,
a superior Russian force had, unperceived by the English, reached the
northern end of the bridge just as a gap had been caused in the English
columns.

The thick fog of the morning had hidden the approach of the Russians
from the English outposts. The Russians at once occupied the bridge, and
so cut off the remainder of the English that were on the northern bank
from their main body that had already crossed the bridge. The commander
of the Russian advance guard was himself quite astounded at the success
that the fortune of war had thrown into his lap: had not the fog
rendered the scouting on both sides illusory, and had not chance allowed
him to fall in with this gap in the English columns, the chances would,
considering the narrowness of the road, have been much more favourable
to the English than for him, and the battle would probably have ended
with the defeat of his forces. As it was, General Ivanov, who had
crossed the Khyber Pass, came upon the English rearguard, and five
thousand men of the Anglo-Indian troops had to surrender after a short
struggle. Two thousand English and three thousand Mohammedans fell
into the hands of the Russians. As soon as the Mohammedan-Indians were
informed by the victors that they were fighting for the true faith
against the infidels, they went over without more ado to the Russian
side.

The commander at Attock refused to surrender the fortress, and trained
his guns upon the Russian columns; but, in consequence of the fog, the
batteries did not inflict much damage upon the Russians, who being now
in possession of the bridge continued their advance to the south.

But, however, before the march that had thus been so successfully begun
was continued, the Russian commander-in-chief collected, not far
from Attock, all the troops that had crossed the Hindu-Kush in small
detachments, and united them with the army corps advancing from
Afghanistan, so that he now disposed of an army of seventy thousand men.

It was a blood-stained road upon which this host travelled behind the
retreating English army. This was the road upon which Alexander the
Great in days of yore entered India. Here, at the beginning of the
sixteenth century, the Afghan sovereign Ibrahim Lodi had fought with the
Grand Mogul Baber; here, a few decades later, Mohammed Shah Adil, the
generallissimo of the Afghans, when at the head of fifty thousand horse,
five hundred elephants, and innumerable infantry, was defeated by the
youthful Grand Mogul Akbar. Still more bloody was the battle, which
about the middle of the eighteenth century the Afghan Sultan Ahmed Shah
Durani fought with the great Mahratha princes, Holkar Sindhia, Gaekwar
and the Peschwas; and here, once again, all the horrors of war raged,
when in the year 1857, the English Generals Havelock, Sir James Outram,
Sir Colin Campbell, Sir Hugh Rose, Sir John Lawrence, and Sir Robert
Napier, crushed with pitiless severity the dangerous sepoy mutiny. East
and West had, in gigantic struggles, fought together on this spot so
full of legends, this the cradle of mankind. Hundreds of thousands of
human lives had been sacrificed on this blood-drenched soil, and yet
again was a decisive battle impending, destined to be engraved with a
steel pencil on the tablets of the world's history.

The movements of the Russian army had upset the plan of the English
generals. The English corps which had collected at Mooltan were quickly
pushed on to Lahore, as soon as the Russians' intention to proceed to
the south-east became clear. The time which General Ivanov required for
concentrating his troops at Attock rendered it possible for the English
to reach Lahore. Here their forces were considerably increased by the
strong garrison, and each day new regiments came in from Delhi and
Lucknow, which brought the strength of the army commanded by Sir Bindon
Blood up to the number of one hundred thousand combatants.

The English prepared for a decisive battle, for already the head of
the Russian columns was no further than ten English miles north of
the mausoleum of the Emperor Jahangir at Shah Dara, a military station
scarcely eight English miles north-west of Lahore.

The English troops advanced in their concentrated formation in single
line; their left wing occupied the Shah Dara plantations and the pontoon
bridge across the river Ravi that flows close to Lahore. It extended
thence five English miles further eastwards to a canal which flows
past the Shalimar Park towards the south. This park and a place called
Bhogiwal, lying next to it, formed the right wing. Before their front
stretched a tributary of the sinuous Ravi with its marshy banks. To the
rear of their position lay the fortress of Lahore with its brick wall,
fifteen feet in height, pierced by thirteen gates.

The Ravi, a tributary of the Indus, had at this time but little water.
The bed of the river was for the most part dry, and only consisted of
rapid, irregular rivulets, which here and there exposed between them
larger and smaller, but for the most part, muddy islands. The bed of
this river formed the chief obstacle to the Russian attack, for they had
to pass it before reaching the English front and the city of Lahore.

Heideck occupied a small tent that he had brought with him from
Chanidigot. Morar Gopal's horse had carried it on its back during the
march from Mooltan to Lahore, for the lancers, whom Heideck had joined
as being a friend of their officers, had not covered the distance by
railway. They were now encamped in the Shalimar Park, an extensive
enclosure surrounded by a wall and full of the most beautiful mango
trees, and among them many small fountains and pretty pavilions. As
Heideck wore a khaki suit and a cork helmet, he looked, in spite of his
having no distinctive military dress, quite like an English officer, the
resemblance being increased by his martial bearing.

During the march and during his stay in the camp he had had an
opportunity of closely observing the British system of campaigning. But
he took good care not to mention it to the English officers, for they
were not very favourable conclusions at which he had arrived. He
had gained the impression that the troops were neither well led, nor
displayed any special knowledge of campaigning. The men both in bivouac
and in camp were often in want, and, indeed, frequently suffered real
distress, because the necessary material was not always at hand, and
their food was not regularly supplied; the greatest confusion reigned in
the commissariat department.

Not alone there, but also in the tactical units serious confusion was
everywhere apparent, in consequence of the unpractical and heterogeneous
composition of the detachments. First of all, the regiments which were
to make up the army corps in Peshawar and Quetta were all jumbled up
together, because as soon as ever they appeared to be ready to march,
they were separately taken away from their garrisons and placed upon the
railway. Concentration upon Mooltan and the hurried march to Lahore had
resulted in downright inextricable confusion.

Heideck found himself in the middle of an army which had never engaged
in a great war and certainly never in one against regular troops. It
is true that the English were accustomed to fighting, for they had
been constantly obliged to measure themselves with barbarous and
semibarbarous peoples. They had made expensive expeditions and gained
dearly purchased victories; but it was always the undisciplined,
dark-skinned, and black hordes with whom they had had to deal. The
experiences of the Boer War had not entered into the flesh and blood
of the troops. The personal bravery of the individual had almost always
been regarded as the main thing, and it was easy to understand why all
the officers should be puffed up with vanity. They looked down with
contempt upon all foreigners, because they had, as a matter of fact,
almost always gained their victories over superior numbers.