Private Journal of Henry Francis Brooke

Maidenhair Fern – Sir-i-Bolan

Thursday, 8th April.– The place (i. e. Sir-i-Ab) is covered with Maidenhair Ferns, a piece of which I enclose; I have also taken a root of it, and intend to send it to Florence to see if she can force it back into life, as a plant of Maidenhair Fern from the source of the Bolan would be a kind of curiosity, I dare say.1 After passing Sir-i-Bolan, the road led through a very narrow valley, with high and precipitous cliffs on both sides, quite overhanging the road, and not more than 50 yards apart at some places. The effect is wild, and the morning air being sharp and fresh, with a bright sun, the ride was quite enjoyable. Our halting place for the day was Dozan (or the place of thieves), which is a good sized Commissariat and Transport Station, possessing a good rest-house and quite a large number of people of sorts. There is not, however, naturally any water here, but we have brought it by an aqueduct from some spring 2 miles off, and there is now a plentiful and excellent supply – the last really good water we shall see for some days. This station is in charge of a very nice young fellow of the 83rd, named Adye, quite a boy, but a very good style of fellow, and one who does his work well, as his bullocks, carts, and everything in his charge shows. The life these young fellows lead does not seem very delightful, but it is wonderful how clearly one can see which are the really good officers who take interest in their work, and have no time or inclination for grumbling about themselves, and I am delighted to say the great majority are of this sort, indeed it is the exception when the reverse is the case, and as the same can truly be said of the Sergeants similarly employed (all quite young men), I don't think the army is going to the dogs quite so much as dismal prophets would have us think. It is also most satisfactory to see how well our native soldiers (non-commissioned officers and men) on this detached and independent employment get on, as they develope in intelligence and readiness in a remarkable way, and show that what they really want (as do our English soldiers) is less nursing and coddling, and care, and being made at all times to do more for themselves than they now are.

Dozan – Cantonment – Abandoned

Friday, 9th April.– After starting off our baggage we took a detour to the right to visit a plateau about 1,000 feet higher than Dozan, where, during last summer, General Phayre's brigade had been encamped, and where, thinking the place would become a permanent station, he had expended much labor and trouble in making roads and laying out the future cantonment. Now, however, the troops are withdrawn and the place is deserted. Among other things which had been made was an excellent lawn tennis ground which looked very English and civilized in the midst of the desolation. At this place are the springs from which the halting place is supplied with water, and here, as elsewhere in this extraordinary country, it is wonderful to see the rush of water which pours out of the solid rock, reminding one (all the surrounding circumstances having also a considerable similitude) of the water rushing out of the Rock when struck by Moses during the travels of the Israelites in the Wilderness. We rejoined the road about 4 miles from Dozan, and for 4 miles our way continued through the narrowest and wildest part of the Bolan Pass, till at 8 miles from Dozan we crossed an abrupt ridge of hills which lie across the mouth of the Pass, and descended into a plain surrounded by mountains the tops of which were still tipped with snow. Two miles farther on we came to our halting place, which is called Darwaza, or the door or gate, this being the entrance to the Bolan Pass, the journey through which we had then completed. There was a good rest-house at Darwaza, and a small fort, inside of which we were glad to find shelter for our horses and servants, as a piercingly cold wild wind was coming from the mountains, and there were decided threatenings of snow or rain, and very shortly after we arrived it did begin to rain. I had an anxious day with my Australian horse as he was very ill, and, being almost without medicines, I was afraid I should have lost him. He had not taken at all to the bad grass or hay which we have had through the Pass, and had not been really well for some days. This was what I feared in bringing him with me, as Australian horses are notoriously dainty about their food, whereas Arabs eat anything and seem to flourish on anything. We tried all the native remedies at our disposal, and the old horse pulled through all right, and before night was able to eat a bran mash and was quite out of danger. He has, however, got a cracked heel, the result of the cold dry wind after crossing the numerous fords which we have had to pass over daily, and I fear I shall not get much riding out of him, which is a disappointment, as he is a steady old boy who goes along without any trouble, while the other two are young and foolish, and as yet not contented to plod along at a walking pace for any time. The evening at Darwaza turned out very wet and cold, and the night threatened to be so bad that we had to give up the idea of an early march which we had intended to make, so as to get over the long and wearisome journey which lay between us and our next halting place. Darwaza is one of the highest points on the road to Kandahar (the highest except the crossing of the Khojak Pass), being 6,000 feet above the sea level, and until a month ago the whole country round had been covered with 18 inches of snow, some of which still remained on the mountains near.

March across the Dusht-i-Bedaulat Plain

Saturday 10th April.– We started at 6 a.m. to march to Sir-i-ab, to reach which place we had to cross a great plain (16 miles across) which, owing to its miserable and wretchedly desolate appearance, is called the Dusht-i-bedaulat (the au has the sound of ow) or the plain of poverty or wretchedness, and certainly it well bears out its name, as for mile after mile nothing is to be seen but sand and stones, and desolation everywhere. No one lives in the place, and no one crosses it except when obliged to do so, as almost always a howling wind, which is either hot as a furnace or cold as ice, drives across it, carrying clouds of dust with it, and making the journey not only wretched but even, to weakly people and animals, dangerous. There is no water from Darwaza to Sir-i-ab, a very serious consideration in the hot weather. We, however, were singularly fortunate, as the storm of the previous day had spent itself, and the rain had laid the dust, and we crossed the Dusht without the slightest inconvenience, indeed with some enjoyment, as the morning was lovely and fresh, and the mountains covered with the snow, which had fallen in the night on their higher peaks, were looking beautiful, and took away in a great degree from the otherwise desolate appearance of the scene. As we approached Sir-i-ab, we saw more signs of civilization (though of a very rude kind) than we had met since we left Jacobabad, as there were numerous villages to be seen, each surrounded by its orchards, containing peach, plum, and mulberry trees, which were all in full leaf, and looked green and bright to us who had not seen a patch of green for so many days. At Sir-i-ab we put up in a deserted village, in which was established our Commissariat and Transport Depot, and a few houses which were set apart and kept clean for the use of officers and men passing through. The people to whom the village belong had migrated to the lower regions during the winter, and were now on their way back, and had sent word that after the middle of this month they would require the place for their own residence, and we were, in consequence, clearing out our Commissariat Stores and Transport animals into a camp outside the village. Although the people had left the village for their own convenience, as they would have done whether we had been there or not, we had actually been paying them rent for the empty houses, and now at their request were quietly submitting to be turned out. This is the curious way we make war, and add to the terrible expenses of it quite unnecessarily. An Afghan village is a collection of mud huts, with flat mud roofs, and so arranged, and the huts joined together with high walls, as to form a kind of Fort, as in this country every man's hand is against his neighbour's, and every one goes armed and prepared for treachery and violence. The people are a distinctly warlike race, and fight bitterly among themselves.

March into Quetta

Sunday, 11th April.– A short march of 7 miles took us into Quetta, which looked charming as we rode into it at 8 o'clock in the morning, the air bright and fresh, and the sun shining just sufficiently to take the sharpness out of the air. There were quantities of purple crocuses in flower, and the hawthorn was covered with flower and looked very home-like indeed. Quetta lies in a small circular plain about 5 miles across, surrounded by high mountains, and well watered by streams of clear water which come down from the mountains and enable the people to cultivate their orchards and fields most successfully. Originally there was only a moderately sized native town at Quetta, with, from a native point of view, a very strong Fort to defend it; but since we have occupied the place (now some 4 years ago) houses after the English fashion have sprung up, and the place is assuming the appearance of an Indian Station. We have taken over the Fort and use it as an Arsenal, for which purpose it serves sufficiently well, though it would be quite useless as a Fortification against any enemy who possessed guns of any kind. The native name of Quetta is Shawl or Shalkot, and it is by the latter name that natives generally know it. It is not in Afghanistan, but belongs to the Khan of Khelat, who has lent it or ceded it and the surrounding country temporarily to us on the understanding that we pay him as much revenue as he used to get out of it, which we find we can do, and have a good balance for ourselves without oppressing the people in any way, which shows that the Khan must have been very much cheated by his officials formerly. We have established a regular civil government, and administer the country exactly as if it were India. The civil authorities of course say the people like our administration, but I confess I doubt it, as they are a very independent lot, and prefer, I think, injustice and oppression from their own people than justice and order after an English pattern. The revenue is paid in a very primitive manner still in these parts; one-sixth of the whole produce of the land goes to the Government, and as soon as a field of wheat or an orchard of peaches is ripe, and the crop collected, Government officials go and put on one side what they consider the Government share, which is then sold by auction, the farmer taking away the remaining five-sixths; and I am told the system works well, and there is very seldom any attempts to cheat the Government of their dues. There is a club at Quetta, of which we were made honorary members, and where we lived during our stay. The club has managed to get up a capital library, and have all the English and Indian papers and most recent telegrams, so we felt quite back in civilization again after our wanderings in the deserts and wilds of the Bolan Pass.

Visit to hospital at Quetta

April 11th & 12th.– The chief civil authority at Quetta is Sir Robert Sandeman, who has an extremely nice house, very well furnished, and will eventually have very nice gardens and grounds round it. He asked me to go and put up with him, but as we had agreed not to break up our party while at Quetta, but to keep together, I refused his invitation, but dined with him one night. He is a great supporter of the policy of pushing forward our frontier into Afghanistan, and interfering in the internal arrangements of that country, and as I think we have gone much too far in that direction he and I had a good deal of warm discussion. I went with him to the hospital to see the 2 native soldiers who were wounded when Captain Showers was killed, and I heard from them the whole particulars of the catastrophe. It appears that poor Showers (whom I have known well for many years) was warned by some friendly native chiefs not to take the road he did, but he told them an Englishman never turned back, and he would not do so. He had only 12 or 14 men, all natives, with him, and at a very narrow gorge in the mountains, through which the road passed, they came upon a party of some 30 or 40 men posted up among the rocks in a position quite inaccessible from the road. These men received |Account of attack on Captain Showers.| Showers' party with a volley which killed him and a couple of his men. There was some desultory fighting between the rest of the escort and the enemy, but the unfortunate escort without their officer and down in the valley mounted could do nothing, and so the remnant had to retire, leaving 3 or 4 dead, and the two wounded men I was talking to, on the ground. The men told me that poor Showers' death must have been instantaneous, as he was hit by 3 bullets at the same minute, and never spoke or groaned. Sir Robert Sandeman said to one of the men who happened to be a sergeant, that he was glad to see he was getting better, and adding "you see your fate is good" (N.B. – This is a kind of usual expression when a person has been fortunate, as all Mohammedans are great believers in "Kismet" or fate), on which the poor fellow, with tears in his eyes and with wonderful energy and spirit, said, "Ah, Sahib, don't say that; don't say my fate is good, for I am filled with shame to think that my Sahib is dead and I am alive. It is a great shame to me that I am alive; my fate is bad." It was very touching, and there was no doubt of the man's sincerity and honesty, as we who heard him could testify to. What he said loses greatly by translation, and by not being heard, but it was really a most impressive sight. This wild Beloochie, with his long black hair all about his face, which was quite pale from pain and loss of blood, getting, in his excitement, on his elbow as he lay in his bed and speaking with the greatest earnestness, and then falling back on his pillow quite overcome with weakness and agitation. The men all liked Showers greatly, as his pluck and dash appealed to their feelings strongly. This man was the senior of the party, and he told me he said to Showers that he had better not go by that route, but that the Sahib only laughed and asked him if he was afraid. I asked him what he did then, and he said "Oh, the Sahib was only joking; he knew I was not afraid; but I wanted to save him, but of course, as he was determined to go on, we said nothing more." When the rest of the party retired, the enemy came down and stripped the two wounded men of all their clothes, except their linen shirts and drawers, and there they lay for 2 nights in the piercing cold. This man said, "Oh, Sahib, it was so cold and I had such pain, I prayed all night to God, and said 'let me die,' but God would not let me die, and here I am. No, my fate is not good!!!" It is a long story, but I tell it to you to show the sort of fellows many of our native soldiers are, men that anyone might be proud to serve with. For myself I would go into action with our native troops without a hesitation (especially men of certain races), assured of their fighting well and gallantly. This man of whom I have been telling you was a countryman of the people who killed Showers, and yet he was perfectly loyal, even to losing his own life, in the service he had taken. There is no doubt Showers ought not to have gone the way he did, and in no case ought he to have gone so weakly escorted. His body was recovered, and he is buried at Quetta, and punishment has been awarded to the men who attacked him.

Tuesday, April 13th.– We left Quetta on our first march out to Kandahar at ¼ to 6 a.m., having, I am sorry to say, left behind at Quetta Captain Cooke-Collis, who was ordered by a telegram, that was awaiting him at Quetta, to remain there until the arrival of General Phayre, whose staff officer he is to be. We were very sorry to lose him, as he is a pleasant companion, active, energetic, and most obliging. I was in hopes that he was to be my Brigade Major, which he wished to be, so the arrangement now made is a disappointment to us both. As the country between Quetta and Kandahar is more or less disturbed, and the tribes along the route are not friendly, I thought it well to increase my escort, so have added to it half a company of Infantry who will furnish sentries at night and guard the baggage on the road, while the Cavalry escort will accompany me. With our 5 selves and ½ troop of Cavalry and ½ company of Infantry, I feel quite safe, and only fear we won't be given a chance of exchanging compliments with the tribes on our route. A wing of the 30th N.I. is one march ahead of us, and the 7th Fusiliers escorting £100,000 of treasure leave Quetta to-morrow, so they will be one march behind us, so we have plenty of troops on the road.

April 21st.– It is more than a week since I have been able to write up my journal, as I have, I may say, hardly been out of the saddle since the 16th, and have slept in my clothes for 4 nights. – April 13th, continued. – Metarzai, the first march out from Quetta, is a wretched place, nothing but sand and stones, no rest-house, so we had to pitch tents for the first time, and found them very hot during the day-time. The water was far from good.

March to Dina-Kharez

April 14th.– Marched to Dina Kharez, a word which signifies "bitter waters," and most richly the place has earned its name, as more disgusting water I never tasted. Our party is a singularly temperate one, and we all prefer cold tea to any drink, but here it was quite impossible to drink the tea, as the water is quite salt, and tea made of it bore a most painful likeness to a black draught, or the senna and salts of one's youth. – By the way, why is it that the children of the present day have not to drink the great big tumblers full of senna and salts which we used to have periodically! – The road between Metarzai and Dina-Kharez (distance 12 miles) is, as usual, very uninteresting, except that it crosses what is called the Ghazerbund Pass, a moderately high range of hills, with an ascent and descent of about 700 to 800 feet. There was a rest-house at Dina-Kharez, but we all (including the horses) suffered much inconvenience for want of some decent water.

April 15th.– Marched to Segi (10 miles) the country still most uninteresting and desolate, no inhabitants and no cultivation. The heat in the day-time is very considerable, and we are all very glad when evening comes. We always dine outside in the cool, and at Segi we very nearly lost our dinner, as the soup, which is the great stand by, had just been placed on one of our rickety camp tables, when 2 great bull dogs who belong to members of our party, thought fit to commence a most violent fight under the tables and chairs which were scattered in all directions. Fortunately we managed to snatch the dishes off first, and so saved our dinner. I may as well here give the routine of our days, which are one just like another. We are woke at 4 a.m., dress, pack up our beds, tents, &c., &c., put them on the carts or camels, placing materials for breakfast on a pony, as he travels much faster than camels. – March at 5 a.m., and are generally in at 8 a.m. Shortly after the pony comes up with some servants, and we have a pic-nic breakfast; about the time it is done the baggage comes in, and tents are pitched and boxes opened, and we dress and wash, read, write and talk till 5 o'clock, when we go out for a stroll and visit the horses, &c. Dinner at 6, and we are all fast asleep at ½ past 8.

March to Gulistan Kharez

Friday, 16th April.– Marched to Gulistan Kharez (10 miles) through the usual uninteresting desert, but the place itself, which literally interpreted, means "place of roses," is much better than any place we have been at yet on this side of Quetta, as there is plenty of good water (a bright flowing stream), and a few trees. Here there is in course of completion, what there ought to be at each of the stages, a small fort and enclosure for the commissariat stores. The fort would be quite sufficient to resist any attack the Afghans (without artillery) could bring against it, but to my surprise I found it had no gate or no means of closing the entrance. The engineer officer in charge of all the works on the road happened to be at Gulistan, and I sent for him and told him that I did not at all like the state of things, and that he must, at any cost, make a gate or other arrangement. The difficulty was getting wood, of which there is none in this desolate wilderness. As a makeshift I caused the native officer in command of the post to be shown how to make a temporary barricade with carts and sand bags, and so to secure himself against a sudden rush. I dare say at the time I was thought a desperate nuisance and over particular, but if that was the idea then the next day's events quite altered their opinions.

Saturday, April 17th.– Marched to Killa Abdoola, which is 11½ miles from Gulistan, and 5 miles from the foot of the Pass across the Khojak range of mountains which are there 7000 feet high. We got to the end of our march about half-past 8 o'clock, and about 10 o'clock, as we had just finished breakfast, the telegraph clerk (there is a telegraph office here) brought me an urgent message from General Phayre, who was at Chaman, on the other side of the Khojak range (16 miles off), to say that disturbances, the extent of which he did not yet know, had broken out between Chaman and Kandahar, and that all communication with Kandahar was closed. He asked me to come to him at once. Our baggage animals having only just completed 11 miles, and the heat being very great, it was clear the whole party could not go on, so I decided to ride forward myself, accompanied only by one officer and 5 native cavalry, leaving all my baggage behind. Major Greig, of the R. A., having a fresh horse, I selected to go with me, and we started at 11.30 to ride across the Khojak |Forced ride on to Chaman.| to Chaman. The Pass is a very narrow and difficult one, offering many opportunities for organised resistance or ambushes, but I thought on the whole it was better for me to take quite a small escort, as if the Pass was held the whole of my escort could not have forced it, and if there were only a few of the enemy about we had a better chance to pass through unobserved going a small party. The proceeding was a little risky, and had it not been successful would have been disapproved, I dare say; but for myself, I confess I never expected to meet resistance, as I knew General Phayre's account of the disturbances were not at all likely to suffer by emanating from him, as he is a man of extremes, and I thought it quite possible that things were not as bad as they seemed. The road from Killa Abdoola to the foot of the Pass is through the bed of a mountain torrent, the low hills on either side being too far off to afford cover for anyone trying to hold the Pass. The ascent to the mouth of the Pass is quite gentle, and then it rises in very steep gradients 2,500 feet. We have made an excellent zig-zag road up one side and down the other, and the view from the top is very extensive and curious. About ¼ to 3 I rode into Chaman, having come across under 3 hours, which was not bad, as the cavalry soldiers I had with me had already done 11 miles more, and I had to save their horses in case of necessity either for a charge or a bolt on the road. I found General Phayre much exercised in mind, and greatly impressed with the fact that there was a general, not a local, hostile movement against us. His information came from Quetta from Sir R. Sandeman, who is not, I think, as a rule very dependable in his news. However, of one thing, there was no doubt that there had been, the night before, an attack in force on a small commissariat depot about 26 miles from Chaman, and that there an officer and 17 or 18 men (principally commissariat servants) had been killed, and that another depot, 16 miles from Chaman, had been partially looted, but no one killed. To this depot, named Gatai, General Phayre had sent on a wing of a native regiment, and had a troop of native cavalry ready to go with me if I would go on at once there, and then act as I thought best, but he recommended my waiting at Gatai until he sent me as reinforcements 2 guns of a mountain battery, and a couple of hundred of the 7th Fusiliers. Of course I was all anxiety to get on, so, borrowing horses from the native cavalry for Major Greig and myself, we started again an hour after we had reached Chaman, escorted by the troop of native cavalry. The distance between the 2 |Push on to Gatai.| places is 17 miles, and the road lies over a stony, sandy plain, without a village or a living being to be seen. I pushed on as fast as I could, as I wanted, if possible, to get to Gatai and see all the necessary arrangements for the defence of the post made before dark. On arriving, I found that all had been done by the officer in command which was possible, but the means at his disposal were very limited, and so had been his time. He had, however, closed up the greater portion of the entrance with bags of grain, and had raised the walls in a temporary fashion by laying along them rows of grain bags and making temporary loop holes. The necessary sentries and picquets were posted, but the night passed quietly, all of us, however, sleeping in our clothes. I had no luggage, clothes, or bedding, except the breeches, and boots, and Norfolk jacket I stood in, but the officers made a subscription of blankets for me; and one young fellow insisted on my sleeping on his camp bed, which unwillingly I had to do, he was so kindly urgent about it.