

Text File produced by Ronald J. Goodden in memory of Royal G. Goodden




THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND FIELD FORCE

AN EPISODE OF FRONTIER WAR


By Sir Winston S. Churchill




 "They (Frontier Wars) are but the surf that marks the edge
    and the advance of the wave of civilisation."

                         LORD SALISBURY, Guildhall, 1892







CONTENTS

     Preface
     Chapter I:     The Theatre of War
     Chapter II:    The Malakand Camps
     Chapter III:   The Outbreak
     Chapter IV:    The Attack on the Malakand
     Chapter V:     The Relief of Chakdara
     Chapter VI:    The Defence of Chakdara
     Chapter VII:   The Gate of Swat
     Chapter VIII:  The Advance Against the Mohmands
     Chapter IX:    Reconnaissance
     Chapter X:     The March to Nawagai
     Chapter XI:    The Action of the Mamund Valley, 16th September
     Chapter XII:   At Inayat Kila
     Chapter XIII:  Nawagai
     Chapter XIV:   Back to the Mamund Valley
     Chapter XV:    The Work of the Cavalry
     Chapter XVI:   Submission
     Chapter XVII:  Military Observations
     Chapter XVIII: The Riddle of the Frontier
     Appendix



                   THIS BOOK
                IS INSCRIBED TO
     MAJOR-GENERAL SIR BINDON BLOOD, K.C.B.
   UNDER WHOSE COMMAND THE OPERATIONS THEREIN
   RECORDED WERE CARRIED OUT; BY WHOSE GENERALSHIP
   THEY WERE BROUGHT TO A SUCCESSFUL CONCLUSION;
   AND TO WHOSE KINDNESS THE AUTHOR IS INDEBTED
   FOR THE MOST VALUABLE AND FASCINATING EXPERIENCE
                  OF HIS LIFE.






PREFACE


   "According to the fair play of the world,
    Let me have an audience."

                   "King John," Act v., Sc. 2.



On general grounds I deprecate prefaces. I have always thought that if
an author cannot make friends with the reader, and explain his objects,
in two or three hundred pages, he is not likely to do so in fifty lines.
And yet the temptation of speaking a few words behind the scenes, as it
were, is so strong that few writers are able to resist it. I shall not
try.

While I was attached to the Malakand Field Force I wrote a series of
letters for the London Daily Telegraph. The favourable manner in which
these letters were received, encouraged me to attempt a more substantial
work. This volume is the result.

The original letters have been broken up, and I have freely availed
myself of all passages, phrases, and facts, that seemed appropriate. The
views they contained have not been altered, though several opinions and
expressions, which seemed mild in the invigorating atmosphere of a camp,
have been modified, to suit the more temperate climate of peace.

I have to thank many gallant officers for the assistance they have given
me in the collection of material. They have all asked me not to mention
their names, but to accede to this request would be to rob the story of
the Malakand Field Force of all its bravest deeds and finest characters.

The book does not pretend to deal with the complications of the frontier
question, nor to present a complete summary of its phases and features.
In the opening chapter I have tried to describe the general character
of the numerous and powerful tribes of the Indian Frontier. In the last
chapter I have attempted to apply the intelligence of a plain man to the
vast mass of expert evidence, which on this subject is so great that it
baffles memory and exhausts patience. The rest is narrative, and in it I
have only desired to show the reader what it looked like.

As I have not been able to describe in the text all the instances of
conduct and courage which occurred, I have included in an appendix the
official despatches.

The impartial critic will at least admit that I have not insulted the
British public by writing a party pamphlet on a great Imperial question.
I have recorded the facts as they occurred, and the impressions as
they arose, without attempting to make a case against any person or any
policy. Indeed, I fear that assailing none, I may have offended all.
Neutrality may degenerate into an ignominious isolation. An honest and
unprejudiced attempt to discern the truth is my sole defence, as the
good opinion of the reader has been throughout my chief aspiration, and
can be in the end my only support.


                                  Winston S. Churchill

          Cavalry Barracks,
    Bangalore, 30th December, 1897






CHAPTER I: THE THEATRE OF WAR


    The Ghilzaie chief wrote answer: "Our paths are narrow and
      steep.
    The sun burns fierce in the valleys, and the snow-fed streams run
      deep;
   . . . . . . . . . .

    So a stranger needs safe escort, and the oath of a valiant friend."

                                   "The Amir's Message," SIR A. LYALL.



All along the north and north-west frontiers of India lie the Himalayas,
the greatest disturbance of the earth's surface that the convulsions of
chaotic periods have produced. Nearly four hundred miles in breadth and
more than sixteen hundred in length, this mountainous region divides
the great plains of the south from those of Central Asia, and parts as
a channel separates opposing shores, the Eastern Empire of Great Britain
from that of Russia. The western end of this tumult of ground is formed
by the peaks of the Hindu Kush, to the south of which is the scene of
the story these pages contain. The Himalayas are not a line, but a great
country of mountains. By one who stands on some lofty pass or commanding
point in Dir, Swat or Bajaur, range after range is seen as the long
surges of an Atlantic swell, and in the distance some glittering
snow peak suggests a white-crested roller, higher than the rest. The
drenching rains which fall each year have washed the soil from the sides
of the hills until they have become strangely grooved by numberless
water-courses, and the black primeval rock is everywhere exposed. The
silt and sediment have filled the valleys which lie between, and made
their surface sandy, level and broad. Again the rain has cut wide,
deep and constantly-changing channels through this soft deposit; great
gutters, which are sometimes seventy feet deep and two or three hundred
yards across. These are the nullahs. Usually the smaller ones are dry,
and the larger occupied only by streams; but in the season of the rains,
abundant water pours down all, and in a few hours the brook has become
an impassable torrent, and the river swelled into a rolling flood which
caves the banks round which it swirls, and cuts the channel deeper year
by year.

From the level plain of the valleys the hills rise abruptly. Their steep
and rugged <DW72>s are thickly strewn with great rocks, and covered with
coarse, rank grass. Scattered pines grow on the higher ridges. In the
water-courses the chenar, the beautiful eastern variety of the plane
tree of the London squares and Paris boulevards, is occasionally found,
and when found, is, for its pleasant shade, regarded with grateful
respect. Reaching far up the sides of the hills are tiers of narrow
terraces, chiefly the work of long-forgotten peoples, which catch the
soil that the rain brings down, and support crops of barley and maize.
The rice fields along both banks of the stream display a broad, winding
strip of vivid green, which gives the eye its only relief from the
sombre colours of the mountains.

In the spring, indeed, the valleys are brightened by many flowers--wild
tulips, peonies, crocuses and several kinds of polyanthus; and among the
fruits the water melon, some small grapes and mulberries are excellent,
although in their production, nature is unaided by culture. But during
the campaign, which these pages describe, the hot sun of the summer had
burnt up all the flowers, and only a few splendid butterflies, whose
wings of blue and green change colour in the light, like shot silk,
contrasted with the sternness of the landscape.

The valleys are nevertheless by no means barren. The soil is fertile,
the rains plentiful, and a considerable proportion of ground is occupied
by cultivation, and amply supplies the wants of the inhabitants.

The streams