The Indian Army in the Two World Wars History of Warfare

Home , 101st Grenadiers, 10th Baluch Regiment, 11th Army Group, 3rd Corps (Turkey), Alan Brooke (priest), Alan Hartley

Editors Kelly DeVries Loyola University Maryland John France University of Wales, Swansea Michael S. Neiberg United States Army War College, Pennsylvania Frederick Schneid High Point University, North Carolina

VOLUME 70

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.nl/hw The Indian Army in the Two World Wars

Edited by Kaushik Roy

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012 Cover illustration: The Mesopotamia Campaign 1914–1918. (Description: 1/8th Grukha Rifles, 21st Brigade (7th Division) occupying captured Turkish trenches near Tikrit, 7 November 1917, following the capture of the town two days earlier. Following confirmation that the Turks had pulled back to prepared positions at the Fat-ha Gorge, the British withdrew south from Tikrit having destroyed stores left behind by the Turks). (ID No: Q 24431) With kind permission of the Imperial War Museum, London UK

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The Indian Army in the two World Wars / edited by Kaushik Roy. p. cm. — (History of warfare ; 70) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-18550-0 (hbk. : alk. paper) 1. World War, 1914–1918—Participation, East Indian. 2. World War, 1939–1945—Participation, East Indian. 3. India. Army—History— 20th century. 4. Great Britain. Army. British Indian Army—History—20th century. 5. World War, 1914–1918—India. 6. World War, 1939–1945—India. 7. World War, 1914–1918— Campaigns. 8. World War, 1939–1945—Campaigns. I. Roy, Kaushik, 1971– II. Title. III. Series.

D547.I5I54 2011 940.4’1254—dc23

2011029235

ISSN 1385-7827 ISBN 978 90 04 18550 0

Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. CONTENTS

List of Maps ...... ix Preface ...... xi List of Abbreviations ...... xiii Glossary ...... xvii Notes on Contributors ...... xxi

Introduction: Warfare, Society and the Indian Army during the Two World Wars ...... 1 Kaushik Roy

SECTION I THE INDIAN ARMY AND CONVENTIONAL WARFARE

1. The Indian Cavalry Divisions in Somme: 1916 ...... 33 David Kenyon

2. Command in the Indian Expeditionary Force D: Mesopotamia, 1915–16 ...... 63 Andrew Syk

3. Logistics of the Indian Expeditionary Force D in Mesopotamia: 1914–18 ...... 105 Ross Anderson

4. The Indianization of theEgyptian Expeditionary Force, 1917–18: An Imperial Turning Point ...... 145 Dennis Showalter

5. The Indianization of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force: Palestine 1918 ...... 165 James Kitchen

6. Indian Cavalry from the First World War till the Third Afghan War ...... 191 Kaushik Roy vi contents

7. From the Desert Sands to the Burmese Jungle: The Indian Army and the Lessons of North Africa, September 1939–November 1942 ...... 223 Tim Moreman

8. The War in Burma, 1942–1945: The 7/10th Baluch Experience ...... 255 Daniel Marston

9. The Officer Corps and the Training of the Indian Army with Special Reference to Lieutenant-General Francis Tuker ...... 285 Alan Jeffreys

10. The Prime Minister and the Indian Army’s Last War ...... 311 Raymond Callahan

SECTION II THE INDIAN ARMY AND INTERNAL SECURITY OF INDIA

11. The Indian Army and Civil Disorder: 1919–22 ...... 335 Nick Lloyd

12. The Indian Army and Internal Security: 1919–1946 ...... 359 Rob Johnson

SECTION III WARFARE, SOCIETY AND THE INDIAN ARMY

13. Morale of the Indian Army in the Mesopotamia Campaign: 1914–17 ...... 393 Nikolas Gardner

14. Army, Ethnicity and Society in British India ...... 419 Tarak Barkawi contents vii

15. Allies to a Declining Power: The Martial Races, the Second World War and the End of the British Empire in South Asia ...... 445 Gavin Rand

16. From Loyalty to Dissent: Punjabis from the Great War to World War II ...... 461 Rajit K. Mazumder

17. “Breaking the Chains with Which We Were Bound”: The Interrogation Chamber, the Indian National Army and the Negation of Military Identities, 1941–1947 ...... 493 Gajendra Singh

Select Bibliography ...... 519 General Index ...... 527 Military Unit Index ...... 550

LIST OF MAPS

Map 1: Punjab ...... 25 Map 2: North Africa ...... 26 Map 3: Lower Mesopotamia ...... 27 Map 4: Algeria-Tunisia ...... 28 Map 5: Burma ...... 29 Map 6: Amritsar City ...... 30

PREFACE

One day in the summer of 2009, after working in the British Library, while strolling in the streets of central London, the idea of editing a volume on the Indian Army during the two World Wars suddenly hit me. I immediately entered into the nearest net surfing booth and sent off an e mail to Mr. Julian Deahl about whether he will be interested in a volume on the Indian Army. Despite being ill, he responded positively within twenty-four hours. Next, in a seminar at the Imperial War Museum when I discussed the idea with Profs. Hew Strachan, Dennis Showalter and Michael Neiberg, all of them encouraged me. Initially, I was anxious whether I will get adequate number of contributors for the project. Beyond my wildest imagination, across several continents both established and young scholars agreed to contribute essays. The result is the present volume. The 10,000 words long Introduction by the editor does not merely summarize the essays but attempts to introduce the essays within the historiographical matrix. The different methodologies of research and the various dimensions of the Indian Army in the two World Wars are discussed in details. The Introduction also points out the future avenues of research. The seventeen essays based on primary sources deal with the military, political, social and cultural dimensions of the Indian Army during the two world wars. The exhaustive bibliography will aid both the specialists as well as newcomers.

Kaushik Roy Kolkata, 2011

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

AA Anti-Aircraft AG Adjutant-General AHQ Army Head Quarter AITM Indian Army Training Memorandum AT Army Transport ATM Army Training Memorandum Bde Brigade BEF British Expeditionary Force BGS Brigadier General Staff BL British Library, London Bns Battalions BO British Officers C-in-C Commander-in-Chief C-in-CI Commander-in-Chief India CCA Churchill College Archives Cambridge CGS Chief of the General Staff CGSI Chief of the General Staff India CID Criminal Investigation Department CIGS Chief of the Imperial General Staff CIH Central India Horse CLA Central Legislative Assembly CO Commanding Officer Coy Company CRA Commander Royal Artillery CSDIC(I) Combined Services Detailed Interrogation Centre (India) DAK Deutsches Afrika Korps DAQMG Deputy-Adjutant and Quartermaster General DCGS Deputy Chief of General Staff DIC Disorders Inquiry Committee DMI Directorate of Military Intelligence DMT Director of Military Training ECO Emergency Commissioned Officer EEF Egyptian Expeditionary Force FSR Field Service Regulation GHQ General Head Quarter xiv list of abbreviations

GOC General Officer Commanding GOI Government of India GS General Staff GSO General Staff Officer HKSRA Hong Kong and Singapore Royal Artillery HQ Head Quarter IAOC Indian Army Ordnance Corps ICO Indian Commissioned Officer ICS Indian Civil Service IEFA Indian Expeditionary Force France IEFD Indian Expeditionary Force Mesopotamia IGC Inspector-General of Communications IGS Imperial General Staff IJA Imperial Japanese Army IMA Indian Military Academy DehraDun INA Indian National Army also known as Azad Hind Fauj INC Indian National Congress IOR India Office Records, now called Asia and Africa Collection IWM Imperial War Museum, London JIFFS Japanese-Indian Fighting Forces or Japanese-Inspired Fifth Columnists KCO King’s Commissioned Officer LHCMA Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College, London Lt. Col. Lieutenant-Colonel MACP Military aid to the civil power MD Military Department MGC Machine Gun Corps MGCC Machine Gun Corps Cavalry MT Motor/Mechanical Transport MTP Military Training Pamphlet NAI National Archives of India, New Delhi NAM National Army Museum NCO Non-Commissioned Officer OCTU Officer Cadet Training Unit OTS Officer Training School PBF Punjab Boundary Force Pl. Platoon POW/PW Prisoner of War list of abbreviations xv

PRO Public Records Office, Kew Surrey, UK Pt. Point QMG Quarter-Master General RAF Royal Air Force RAM Royal Artillery Museum Regt. Regiment RHA Royal Horse Artillery RIASC Royal Indian Army Service Corps RMC Royal Military College Sandhurst SEAC South-East Asia Command SSI Secretary of State for India TNA The National Archives, Kew, Surrey, United Kingdom, New name of PRO UK United Kingdom VCO Viceroy’s Commissioned Officer WO War Office

GLOSSARY

Akali Sikh religious fanatic; also means Sikh holy warrior Anna 4 anna is 25 paise. 16 anna is equivalent to 1 Rs. Assami The monetary deposit required of asilladar in the silladari regiment Azad Hind Fauj Indian National Army organized by Subhas Chandra Bose in Singapore Babu A derogatory term used by the British to refer to the urban educated middle class Indians who were considered as ‘non-martial’ hence unfit for military service Badmash Ruffian, criminal Bania Hindu businessman BATTLEAXE ‘Archie’ Wavell launched this operation in June 1941 against Erwin Rommel’s frontier defence in Cyrenaica Bharat Mata ki Jai Victory goes to Mother India Caliph Spiritual and temporal head of the Muslim community Chapattis Bread made of flour. It is also known asroti s. Chapatti is the basic diet of the north Indians and the Punjabis. Interestingly, in the history of British-India chapattis were circulated just before a rebellion by the Indian soldiery Chowkidar Village guard COMPASS The operation launched by General Archibald Wavell of the Western Desert Force (comprising 7th Armoured and 4th Indian divisions) in December 1940 against the Italian forces in North Africa CRUSADER Wavell’s successor General Claude Auchinleck launched this operation against Erwin Rommel’s Deutsche Afrika Korps in 18 November 1941. This operation saw a series of armoured battles xviii glossary

between the Germans and the British Common- wealth forces around Sidi Rezegh Dacoity Armed robbery Dhobi Washerman Durbar Court of an Indian prince/ruler Durwan Servant Dyarchy Dual government; Indian political parties ruled the provinces and the British held power at the centre Faqir A poor Muslim holy man Ghadar Literal meaning war. This term refers to those Punjabi revolutionaries who operated from North America Ghadarites Members of the Ghadar revolutionary party Gora log Slang for sahib, i.e. white man, i.e. a Christian foreigner Granthi Sikh religious teacher Gurdwara Place of Sikh worship Hartal Strike Hindutva Ideology of the aggressive right wing Hindus Indianization Entry of educated urban middle class Indians in the aftermath of First World War into the commissioned ranks of the Indian Army is termed as Indianization. These commissioned officers are above the VCOs Izzat Personal honour/prestige Jat Middle caste hardy peasants who inhabits western Uttar Pradesh, Haryana and Punjab Jathas Armed Sikh bands Jawan Indian private was called by this term during the Second World War Jihad Holy war by the Muslims against the unbelievers Jirga Tribal assembly Josh Energy, spirit Khalifat/Khilafat Establishment of Islamic rule i.e. Caliphate Khalsa The Sikh armed brotherhood started by the Sikh Guru Govind Singh Khassadar A tribal levy in the North-West Frontier which in return for guarding the passes for the government received certain compensations glossary xix

Krishna-ity Worship of Lord Krishna, a branch of Bhakti (devotion) movement which originated in Hinduism during the medieval period Lambardar Village Headman Lance Dufadar A non-commissioned Indian officer in the cavalry branch Lashkar Tribal war band Lathi Walking stick made of wood Mahant Manager or caretaker of the gurdwara Mahela Country boat in Mesopotamia Maulvis Muslim preachers Mlechchas Unclean foreigners Mullah An Islamic preacher Netaji Literal meaning of the term is the leader. This title was taken by Subhas Chandra Bose during World War II as imitation of the title Fuehrer. Nullah Dry stream PAIFORCE Persia-Iraq Force Panchayat The word is derived frompanch i.e. five village elder. The head among them is known assar panch. Elected village elders constitute a sort of village governing body known as panchayat Panzer German armoured formation during the Second World War Pariah Literal meaning outcaste; untouchable, i.e. those outside the four caste system comprising of Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaisyas and Sudras Pir Muslim holy man Pushto Language of the Pathans or Pashtuns Raj British government in India after the 1857 Uprising Sangar Defensive fortification made on the hill top with the help of stones Sari Traditional dress of a Hindu woman. It comprise of a long cloth wrapped around the body of the female Satyagraha M.K. Gandhi’s non-violent mass movement based on truth-force Sepoy The term sepoy is derived from the Persian term sipahi (soldier). Indian infantry trained, disciplined and equipped in the Western military style is described by this term xx glossary

Shaikh Arab chief Shikar Hunting wild game Silladar A cavalryman in the irregular cavalry regiment of the Indian Army Silladari regiment An irregular cavalry regiment of the Indian Army which was trained, equipped and organized along traditional lines and led by the minimum number of British officers Sowar Indian cavalryman Swaraj Self-rule/ dominion status. Purna swaraj means independence Tehsil An administrative unit comprising of a few hundred villages. Several tehsils constituted a district Turban Also known as pugri. It is the traditional head dress of the Indians. It comprise of a cloth folded and wrapped over the head U-GO The campaign launched on 6 March 1944 by the Japanese General Renya Mutaguchi with three divisions to capture Imphal and Kohima in India VCO They were Indian officers who were for most of the time promoted from the ranks. Hence, they were quite old, mostly uneducated and unfit for command. A few Indian chieftains were directly appointed as VCOs. Technically, even the oldest VCOs were below the junior most British officer. However, the VCOs were considered essential in man management and functioned as a link between the British officers and the Indian rank and file. The highest VCO rank in the cavalry was resaldar-major and in the infantry was subedar- major. Below them came resaldar and subedar respectively. Vilayet Ottoman province Yilderim Army ‘Lighting’ Army organized by the Ottomans with German aid to fight the British in the Middle East during 1917 Zaildar The Indian official in charge ofzail a . Zail is an administrative unit which comprised of a group of villages for collection of revenue NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Ross Anderson has a BA (Hons) in History from the Royal Military College of Canada and a PhD from the University of Glasgow. He spent much of his career as an infantry officer serving in a variety of countries. His books include the Battle of Tanga 1914 and The Forgotten Front: The East African Campaign 1914–18. His research interests include the British and Indian armies of the early 20th century as well as the peripheral fronts of the First World War. He is an Honorary Research Fellow at the University of Birmingham and is currently working on a history of campaign in Mesopotamia 1914–18.

Tarak Barkawi is Senior Lecturer in the Centre of International Studies, University of Cambridge. He specializes in the study of war, armed forces and society, with a focus on relations between the West and the non-European world.

Raymond Callahan is Professor Emeritus at the University of Delaware and a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. The military history of the British Raj has been one of his career-long interests. His most recent book Churchill and his Generals was published by the University Press of Kansas Modern War Studies Series in 2007. He is currently working on a study of the Battle of Imphal.

Nikolas Gardner is Associate Professor of Strategy at the USAF Air War College, Montgomery, Alabama. He is the author of Trial by Fire: Command and the British Expeditionary Force in 1914 (Praeger: 2003) and numerous articles and book chapters on the British, Indian and Canadian armies in the First World War.

Alan Jeffreys is a Senior Curator in the Imperial War Museum and author of The British Army in the Far East: 1941–45 (Oxford: 2005) and the forthcoming Training the Indian Army (Ashgate) and joint editor of The Indian Army, 1939–47 (Ashgate forthcoming 2012).

Dr. Rob Johnson is Lecturer in the History of War at the University of Oxford, England. A former army officer with operational experience xxii notes on contributors in counter-insurgency, Rob is the author of several books including A Region in Turmoil: Conflicts in South Asia since 1947(Reaktion: 2005), Spying for Empire: The Great Game in Central and South Asia 1757–1947 (London: 2006) and Oil, Islam and Conflict: Central Asia since 1945 (Reaktion: 2007). He is currently working on a history of conflicts astride the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.

Dr. David Kenyon is a freelance military historian and archeologist. His doctoral research concentrated on cavalry during the First World War and he has a wider interest on mounted troops of other eras as well as in the history of military horse. In addition, he has involved in field archeology for over 20 years and currently concentrates on exca- vation of the Western Front in the First World War. He has published on this subject as well as presenting several television series on Great War archaeology.

James E. Kitchen is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at University College Dublin working on the ‘Limits of Demobilization: Paramilitary Violence in Europe and the Wider World, 1917–23’ European Research Council Project. He recently completed his D.Phil on ‘Morale and the Role of Military Identity in the Egyptian Expeditionary Force: The Sinai and Palestine Campaigns, 1916–18’, at Balliol College, Oxford.

Dr. Nick Lloyd is Lecturer in Defence Studies at King’s College London, based at the Joint Services Command and Staff College in Wiltshire. He has taught previously in the Department of Modern History, University of Birmingham, where he was the founding editor of the Journal of the Centre for First World War Studies. He is the author of Loos 1915 (Tempus: 2006).

Daniel Marston, DPhil (Oxon) FRHistS, holds the Ike Skelton Distinguished Chair in Counterinsurgency at the US Army Command and General Staff College. He was previously a Research Fellow at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at the Australian National University and a Visiting Fellow with the Changing Character of War Programme at Oxford University. He is the author of Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Campaign, 1942–45 and winner of the 2003 Field Marshal Templer Medal, and is completing another book on the Indian Army’s experience at the end of the Second World War until Independence for Cambridge University Press. notes on contributors xxiii

Rajit K. Mazumder is Assistant Professor at DePaul University in Chicago. He previously taught at Eastern Illinois University, the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, St. Stephen’s College, University of Delhi, and the Doon School, Dehra Dun. He is the author of The Army in the Making of Punjab and is currently writing a monograph on veterinary science in colonial India.

Tim Moreman is a freelance writer and academic military historian who previously lectured in the Department of War Studies at King’s College, London from where he obtained his MA and PhD. He also held a 6 month appointment at the Army Staff College, Camberley as Resident Military Historian. His research interests include the British- Indian Army, counterinsurgency and more recently the Second World War in Burma. He is currently completing a detailed study of the Second Arakan Campaign.

Gavin Rand teaches history at the University of Greenwich, London. He has previously published on the impact of the 1857 Rebellion, the origins of the Martial Race theory and the relationship between liber- alism and empire in the nineteenth century. He is currently working on a monograph charting the cultural history of the Indian Army in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Kaushik Roy is a Senior Researcher at the Centre for the Study of Civil War (CSCW) at Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO) and Reader, Department of History, Jadavpur University, Kolkata, West Bengal, India. He has written and edited 14 books. His most recent publication is the The Oxford Companion to Modern Warfare in India.

Dennis Showalter is Professor of History at Colorado College and past President of the Society for Military History. He is the joint editor of War in History. He specializes in comparative military history. Showalter’s recent monographs include The Wars of German Unification (London: Arnold: 2004), Patton and Rommel: Men of War in the Twentieth Century (New York: Berkeley, 2005) and Hitler’s Panzers (New York: Berkeley, 2009).

Gajendra Singh is currently completing a PhD titled ‘Between Self and Soldier: Testimony, Dissent and being a Sepoy during the two World Wars’ at the University of Edinburgh. His interest lies in the issues xxiv notes on contributors associated with testimony, resistance and collaboration in the colonial context.

Dr. Andrew Syk recently completed his D.Phil on ‘Command and the Mesopotamia Expeditionary Force, 1915–18’ at Harris Manchester College, University of Oxford. He is currently researching state- sponsored paramilitary violence in the British Empire after the First World War as ERC Post-Doctoral Fellow at University College Dublin and is Visiting Research Fellow at the Royal United Services Institute, London. INTRODUCTION: WARFARE, SOCIETY AND THE INDIAN ARMY DURING THE TWO WORLD WARS

Kaushik Roy

One of the principal props of the British Empire in India was the Indian Army1 which gobbled up more than 30% of the state’s income in peacetime. The British officered Indian Army was the largest volunteer force in the world. The rank and file were small farmers. They joined the army for regular pay and pension in cash as well as due to their martial traditions. The Indian Army was the largest government employer in colonial India. During peacetime, about 20,000 recruits were annually absorbed in the army. And during the two World Wars, the Indian Army numbered more than a million. Besides policing India, the Indian Army played an important role as an imperial reserve. During the Great War, the Indian units held certain critical sectors in France. In East Africa, Egypt and Palestine, the imperial war effort to a great extent was sustained by the Indian units. It would not be incorrect to say that the war in Mesopotamia was mostly conducted by the Indian divisions. And during World War II, the Indian units fought in Egypt and South-East Asia against the Axis powers. From 1943 onwards, the war in Burma was conducted mostly by the Indian Army. In addition, military service had enormous impact on Indian society. Besides monetization of the rural economy, martial stereotypes propagated by the army got embedded in the collective consciousness of certain social groups. And these collective constructs have socio- political ramifications even in the post-colonial era.

1 This term refers to the British-Indian Army, Indian States Forces and the units of the British Army stationed in India. The British-Indian Army comprised of Indians as rank and file and as VCOs and the British as officers. The rank and file Indians were called sepoys and sowars and during World War II came to be known as jawans. The Indian States Forces also known as Imperial Service Troops were the elite units of the princely states armies which were officered by the British and regarded as effective enough to be deployed alongside the British-Indian Army both inside and outside India. The Indian Army is a simplistic term than the Army in India. Hence, the former term is used throughout this volume. 2 kaushik roy

Despite the central importance of the army in British imperial and modern Indian history, military history remains marginal within the academic circuit. There are a few scattered articles, chapters in the edited volumes and a few monographs dealing with the Indian Army in the two World Wars. The poverty of British-Indian military history is proved by the fact that the only edited volume dealing with India and the First World War was published more than 3 decades ago. The collection of essays in this edited volume deals with the social, political and economic impact of the war on India2 rather than the Indian Army. Kaushik Roy’s edited volume from Oxford University Press follows the war and society approach. This edited volume has 4 essays which deal with the effect of colonial society on British-India’s military establishment during World War II.3 However, there is not a single essay on the First World War. A recently published edited volume on South Asia’s military history has 6 essays which cover the period between 1914 and 1947. These essays provide a general overview rather than pushing any new interpretation. This assertion holds true for the volume on the Indian Army edited by Alan J. Guy and Peter B. Boyden in 1997.4 There is no single volume which covers the Indian Army’s experiences during the two World Wars. And this is what the present edited volume attempts to do. This collection of 17 essays (each of them between 9,000–13,000 words and based on archival sources) by both young as well as senior established historians analyze the army as an institution and also touch upon the cultural ethos of the army and related social issues. Thus, this edited volume is a cross between ‘traditional military history’ (study of campaigns, tactics, leadership) and ‘new military history’ (impact of warfare on society and culture). While some of the essays take a pan Indian perspective, a few essays also focus on those regions within India (like Punjab) which were inti- mately related with the army. A few contributors also turn the spotlight on the overseas theatres where the Indian Army played a very important role. Several themes like the Indian Army in Mesopotamia

2 DeWitt C. Ellinwood and S.D. Pradhan (eds.), India and World War I (Delhi: 1978). 3 Kaushik Roy (ed.), War and Society in Colonial India: 1807–1945 (Delhi: 2006). 4 Daniel P. Marston and Chandar S. Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia: From the East India Company to the Nuclear Era (Westport, CT: 2007); Alan J. Guy and Peter B. Boyden (eds.), Soldiers of the Raj: The Indian Army, 1600–1947 (London: 1997). introduction 3 and Palestine during First World War, etc which this volume addresses are absent in the Marston-Sundaram volume. However, this volume does not purport to cover all the aspects regarding overseas operational details of the Indian Army. For instance, there is no essay dealing with the Indian Army’s experience in East Africa during the two World Wars. Similarly, the role of the Indian infantry in Flanders during World War I is also not addressed. The battlefield performance of the Indian Army in North Africa is just touched upon. As yet, no significant research has been done on the Indian Army’s deployment in Italy and Greece during World War II. A strongpoint of the present edited volume is that while some essays focus on the two World Wars, a few essays also focus on the interwar period to show the legacies of First World War and the effect of ‘peace’ during the interwar period on the Indian Army. The contributors of this volume follow both ‘history from top’ and ‘history from below’ approaches. For instance, while Raymond Callahan portrays the perceptions of Britain’s Prime Minister Winston Churchill from Number 10 Downing Street about the Indian Army, Daniel Marston evaluates the experience of 7th Battalion of 10th Baluch Regiment in Burma between 1942 and 1945. Since some of the issues discussed by the contributors originated before 1914 and the legacies continued after 1945, a few essayists deal with the period before 1914 and after 1945. The Introduction by the editor does not merely summarize the essays but attempts to introduce the essays within the historiographical matrix. The different methodologies of research and the various dimensions of the Indian Army in the two World Wars are discussed in details. The essays in this edited volume are organized under 3 themes. The first theme deals with the Indian Army’s military effectiveness in the two World Wars. The emphasis of the essays under this theme is on tactics, strategy and generalship. In recent times, under the influence of social history and culture studies (the effect of post-modernism), an idea is gaining among most of the academicians that battlefield history is merely chronological and dated. The essays included in this section are a corrective. These essays show that analytical military history is very much in. This section has the largest number of essays for two important reasons. First, because conventional combat was the primary aim of the army and second, to challenge the academic orthodoxy that battlefield history is merely ‘drum and button’ history. The second section deals with the Indian Army and internal security during the era of two World Wars. After the end of the Cold War and rising number 4 kaushik roy of peacekeeping operations by the NATO and US armed forces, studies of unconventional warfare is coming to the fore. Internal security duty by the Indian Army during and in between the two World Wars is also an aspect of unconventional warfare. The point to be noted is that unlike the other armies, the Indian Army was not always preparing to engage enemies in conventional warfare. Policing India against internal unrest and guarding the Indus frontier against the ‘unruly’ tribes were important functions of the Indian Army down to 1947. And finally the third section follows the war and society approach, one which is most favoured by the university academicians. The essays in this section deal with the interactions between culture, social mores, morale and military loyalty. The dialectical interrelationship between the military organization and society which spawned it are studied in details. Overall, the essays in the three sections highlight the role of the Indian Army in the British Empire. The essays in the first section by pointing out the far flung overseas deployment of the sepoys and sowars emphasize the role of the Indian Army in the British Empire beyond India. The essayists in the second and third sections by noticing the functions of the Indian Army in policing India and the complex dialectics between the indigenous society (anti-national forces plus the collaborators) and the imperial agencies highlight the role of the Indian Army within the British Empire in the subcontinent. In the sections below, the arguments advanced by the contributors in this volume are located against the historiographical background and the existing debates.

The Indian Army and Conventional Warfare

There are a few monographs and articles dealing with the Indian Army’s experience in the two World Wars. As regards the combat effectiveness of the Indian Army in the two World Wars, the historians are divided into two camps. The traditional argument is that the Indian Army with its sepoys and sowars was suited for frontier soldiering only. Faced with mass industrial slaughter during the two World Wars, the ‘Sepoy’ Army crumpled.5

5 Jeffrey Greenhut, “The Imperial Reserve: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–15”, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 12 (1983), 54–73. Lieutenant-General S.L. Menezes in his narrative account of the Indian Army titled introduction 5

In contrast, modern scholarship asserts that the Indian Army despite its material weakness, performed creditably during the two World Wars. Some examples of modern scholarship are the works of Pradeep P. Barua, Gordon Corrigan, Douglas Ford, Robert McLain, Roy, etc. McLain in an essay notes that not racial inferiority of the Indians or cold weather of West Europe but heavy loss of the VCOs resulted in indifferent performance of IEFA at various moments in the Western Front during the First World War.6 Corrigan’s monograph portrays the organizational history of the Indian Corps in France during 1914–15.7 However, Corrigan’s narrative style for most of the time eschews analysis of the battlefield effectiveness of the Indian units. Roy, in two articles show that the Indian units fought badly in Mesopotamia during 1914–15 but exhibited a high learning curve from mid 1916 onwards due to improvement of the logistical infrastructure and introduction of innovative combined arms tactics.8 In another article, Roy argues that during the later stages of Second World War, the combat effectiveness of the Indian units in Burma was higher than the British units.9 Barua in an article and in his general history of warfare in India devotes two chapters for narrating the Indian Army’s role in the two World Wars. Barua asserts that though the Indian Army lagged behind the British Army in hardware; in terms of training and doctrine, the British Army was far behind its colonial cousin. The Indian Army did not concentrate merely on expeditions along the North-West Frontier

Fidelity and Honour: The Indian Army from the Seventeenth to the Twenty-First Cen- tury (Delhi: 1993) devotes four chapters for the period between 1914 and 1945. He writes that the Indian Army was conceptually and materially unprepared to fight the two World Wars. Byron Farwell, Armies of the Raj: From the Great Indian Mutiny to Independence, 1858–1947 (London: 1989), 248–66, 303–17. 6 Robert McLain, “The Indian Corps on the Western Front: A Reconsideration”, in Geoffrey Jensen and Andrew Wiest (eds.),War in the Age of Technology: Myriad Faces of Modern Armed Conflict (New York and London: 2001), 167–93. 7 Gordon Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–15 (Kent: 1999). 8 Kaushik Roy, “The Army in India in Mesopotamia from 1916 to 1918: Tactics, Technology and Logistics Reconsidered”, in Ian Beckett (ed.), 1917: Beyond the West- ern Front (Leiden: 2009), 131–58; Roy, “From Defeat to Victory: Logistics of the Cam- paign in Mesopotamia, 1914–18”, First World War Studies, vol. 1 (2010), 35–55. 9 Kaushik Roy, “Discipline and Morale of the African, British and Indian Army Units in Burma and India during World War II: July 1943 to August 1945”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 44 (2010), 1255–82. 6 kaushik roy but was progressive in its outlook. Thanks to institutional and organizational reforms, the Indian Army evolved combined arms tactics.10 Let us turn the focus first to the Indian Army’s combat worthiness during the First World War. In general, the traditional interpretation of the First World War notes that some elements within the British Army were backward looking and they overemphasized the use of cavalry. However, the later stages of war in France witnessed the emergence of modern war which was characterized by the use of artillery, machine guns and tanks.11 The general view is that the Indian Army with its cavalry force and antiquated artillery stood no chance in the mass mechanized slaughter of the First World War. In recent times, a minority opinion emerging among the scholars claim that cavalry played an important role during the Great War.12 In a similar tune, 4 contributors of this volume (David Kenyon, Dennis E. Showalter, James E. Kitchen and Kaushik Roy) assert that the Indian cavalry played an important role in France, Palestine, Mesopotamia and Afghanistan between 1914 and 1919. Andrew Syk’s essay in this collection turns the spotlight on the ‘dark’ days of the IEFD in Mesopotamia during the early period of the war. By taking a comparative approach, Syk asserts that the problem of command in IEFD was not an unique Indian problem but representative of the wider problem which the imperial armies faced. In the Western Front, Gallipoli and in East Africa, the imperial armies faced severe problems in the spheres of command, control, logistics and intelligence. Syk divides his essay into 2 sections: command and logistics, and problems of tactical command and intelligence. Instead of putting the whole blame on Major-General J.F. Nixon and Major- General C.V.F. Townshend (the commander of Kut garrison), Syk tries to put their actions within the wider context of command problems in the British imperial forces.

10 Pradeep P. Barua, “Strategies and Doctrines of Imperial Defence: Britain and India, 1919–45”, Journal of the Imperial and Commonwealth History, 25 (1997), 240– 66; Barua, The State at War in South Asia (Lincoln: 2005), 130–56. 11 Gerard J. De Groot, “Educated Soldier or Cavalry Officer? Contradictions in the pre-1914 Career of Douglas Haig”, War & Society, vol. 4 (1986), 51–69; Tim Travers, How the War was Won: Command and Technology in the British Army on the Western Front, 1917–18 (London: 1992). 12 Stephen Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918 (Alder- shot: 2008). introduction 7

Syk’s argument about the problems of command and control in the imperial forces is also supported by various historians like Nikolas Gardner, Geoffrey Till, Ross Anderson, etc. Gardner writes that most of the commanders of the BEF in France in 1914 had no idea about the scale and scope of the war which unfolded in front of them. Moreover, the British high command was faction ridden. Factionalism was further aggravated by power struggle among the senior commanders. Dissension in the GHQ and bad relationship between the commander of the BEF and his 2 corps commanders was a sure recipe for catastrophe.13 Besides Gardner, Geoffrey Till points out the faulty British command structure in case of a joint action in a maritime environment by making a case study of the Gallipoli Campaign. No joint force commander was appointed. And there was no inter-service planning staff. Further, the British officers were not equipped for implementing Auftragstaktik (mission oriented command system).14 S.D. Pradhan’s monograph and Ross Anderson’s article point out the problems of command in a multi-national imperial force by making a case study of IEFB which went to East Africa. The IEFB was defeated by the Germans and the askaris at the Battle of Tanga on 2–4 November 1914 in East Africa. The imperial command failure occurred from highest to the lowest levels: lack of coordination between the British Government at London and the GOI, inadequate planning for conducting a joint operation, lack of training for amphibious warfare among the battalions involved, etc. Pradhan emphasizes that the British officers were strangers to the men in the units and the units lacked uniform training.15 Anderson’s piece in this volume focuses on logistical aspects and relates it with battlefield performance of the Indian Army in Mesopotamia. He notes the adverse influence of sudden expansion of the army, shortages of officers and trained replacements and especially the harsh environment in which the army functioned. He com- pares the 6th Division which was initially deployed in Mesopotamia with the 3rd and the 7th divisions which were sent to Mesopotamia

13 Nikolas Gardner, “Command in Crisis: The British Expeditionary Force and the Forest of Mormal, August 1914”, War & Society, vol. 16 (1998), 13–32. 14 Geoffrey Till, “The Gallipoli Campaign: Command Performances”, in Gary Shef- field and Geoffrey Till (eds.),The Challenges of High Command: The British Experi- ence (Basingstoke: 2003), 34–56. 15 S.D. Pradhan, Indian Army in East Africa (Delhi: 1991); Ross Anderson, “The Battle of Tanga, 2–5 November 1914”, War in History, vol. 8 (2001), 294–322. 8 kaushik roy from France during 1915 and 1916. He also harps on the negative impact of the tussle between the theatre commander and the War Office as regards the control over the campaign. In the first half of the twentieth century, the Indian Army faced two contradictory demands. On one hand, the Indian Army was tasked to save India from an Afghan invasion and on the other hand, to provide divisions for fighting Britain’s war in the extra-Indian theatres. Roy’s essay shows how the Indian Army tackled these different jobs. The Indian Army showed flexibility in learning the techniques of warfare from one theatre and implementing it in another theatre in a different context. For instance, the use of infantry-cavalry-artillery coordination learnt in Mesopotamia during 1917–18 was put to good use during the Third Afghan War (1919). As regards the campaigns in the overseas theatres of the Indian Army during World War II, there are several studies on Burma. Most of the books are anecdotal in nature and concentrate on the British units. The Indian Army deployed in South-East Asia fought badly in the first half of the Second World War. The performance of both the British and Indian units was below average. The collapse of British imperial military establishment in this region culminated in the fall of Singapore on 16 February 1942. One group of historians point out that the Singapore debacle was more due to faulty British strategy rather than tactics. The ‘Singapore Strategy’ based on political brinkmanship and military bluff, was followed by Britain from the 1920s in order to appease the Dominions like Australia and New Zealand and to portray to USA about the British resolve to hold the Far East.16 Brian P. Farrell concludes: ‘Singapore was really lost at the planning table.’17 However, only the faulty British grand strategy in the Far East cannot really explain why the Aussies, jawans and the Tommies failed to put

16 Andrew Gilchrist, Malaya 1941: The Fall of a Fighting Empire (London: 1992); Raymond Callahan, The Worst Disaster: The Fall of Singapore (1977, reprint, Singa- pore: 2001); Malcolm H. Murfett, “Reflections on an Enduring Theme: The ‘Singapore Strategy’ at Sixty”, Greg Kennedy, “Symbol of Imperial Defence: The Role of Singa- pore in British and American Far Eastern Strategic Relations, 1933–41”, and Ray- mond Callahan, “Churchill and Singapore”, in Brian Farrell and Sandy Hunter (eds.), Sixty Years On: The Fall of Singapore Revisited (2002, reprint, Singapore: 2003), v–xiii, 42–67, 156–72; Brian P. Farrell, The Defence and Fall of Singapore 1940–42 (Stroud, Gloucestershire: 2006). 17 Farrell, The Defence and Fall of Singapore 1940–42, 438. introduction 9 up a stiff fight in the jungles and creeks of Malaysia (then Malaya) and Burma. Tactics, command and leadership of the armies involved in ground warfare cannot be neglected. Several articles note the absence of proper equipments and tactical inefficiency of the British and the Indian troops send to defend the Singapore ‘fortress’.18 Inadequate training and tactics on part of the British and Indian units are highlighted by Jon Latimer in his narrative account of the war in Burma.19 Two historians (Tim Moreman20 and Daniel Marston21) examine the training methods of the Indian Army between 1942 and 1945 which enabled it to defeat the IJA in Burma. Ford in two articles asserts that from 1944 onwards the Commonwealth forces’ tactical skills improved against the Japanese in Burma. This was the product of not only increasing material resources at the disposal of the Allies but also the innovative techniques evolved by the British military establishments. The latter development occurred due to acquisition and utilization of better intelligence about the IJA’s capabilities in Burma. The British intelligence emphasized that the Japanese took advantage of terrain to such an extent that mere application of superior firepower would not crack the Japanese defence. What was required was use of combined arms tactics and mopping up operations by the infantry. This in turn necessitated realistic training to raise the morale and skill of the infantry for attritional close quarter battle. In contrast, the Japanese military culture held acquisition and analysis of intelligence about the enemy in low esteem and they also lacked a proper administrative mechanism for intelligence collection and assessment.22

18 Some examples are Akashi Yoji, “General Yamashita Tomoyuki: Commander of the Twenty-Fifth Army”, Clifford Kinvig, “General Percival and the Fall of Singapore”, and Alan Warren, “The Indian Army and the Fall of Singapore”, in Farrell and Hunter (eds.), Sixty Years On, 185–207, 240–69, 270–89; Frank Owen, The Fall of Singapore (1960, reprint, London, 2001). 19 Jon Latimer, Burma: The Forgotten War (London: 2004). 20 T.R. Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and the British Commonwealth Armies at War, 1941–45, Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (London: 2005). 21 Daniel P. Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Cam- paign (Westport, CT.: 2003). Unlike Moreman, Marston studies some elite units of the Indian Army which were deployed in Burma. 22 Douglas Ford, “‘A Conquerable yet Resilient Foe’: British Perceptions of the Imperial Japanese Army’s Tactics on the India-Burma Front, September 1942 to Sum- mer 1944”, Intelligence and National Security, vol. 18 (2003), 65–90; Ford, “Strategic 10 kaushik roy

Marston’s essay in this edited collection focuses on a particular Indian battalion (7th Battalion) of a particular regiment (10th Baluch) of the 17th Indian Division. Marston’s microanalysis points out the realistic training and tactical innovations it experienced between late 1943 and early 1945. This battalion which can be taken as a micro- cosm of the rejuvenated Indian Army enabled it to defeat the IJA in Burma during late 1944. Marston covers the learning and adaptation of the Indian Army to turn the defeats of 1942–3 into victory in 1945. Besides tactical reforms, he also emphasizes the importance of the ICOs. Marston concludes that reforms occurred from the bottom level upto the senior ranks which made the Indian Army a more combat effective military organization by late 1944. The Indian Army during the Second World War fought from the desert of North Africa to the jungles and creeks of Burma. Tim Moreman’s essay in this edited collection highlights how the Indian Army adapted and changed its basic organizational framework and training regimen to meet the distinct requirements of desert warfare in North Africa and jungle war in Burma. He emphasizes the organizational flexibility and tactical innovations initiated as a result of the Indian Army’s wide combat experience in the battlefields. Contrary to established wisdom, the experience which the Indian Army gained in conducting mobile mechanized battle groups in North African desert, asserts Moreman, aided the 4th Army in conducting mechanized pursuit operations in central Burma during early 1945. Tactical effectiveness against both theAfrika Korps and the IJA was possible due to intensive training of the Indian Army’s officer corps. The officer corps constitutes the ‘brain’ of an army. Alan Jeffrey’s essay in this volume by emphasizing the training curricula, officer training institutes and the officers (with special emphasis of Francis Tuker) shows that officer training programmes were quite successful during the Second World War. In terms of doctrine and tactical training, due to the superior training curriculum and the training institutions, the officer corps of the Indian Army was more advanced than the officer corps of the British Army. The superior quality of officer corps made possible the tactical and operational success of the Indian Army during the later stages of World War II.

Culture, Intelligence Assessment, and the Conduct of the Pacific War: The British- Indian and Imperial Japanese Armies in Comparison, 1941–45”, War in History, vol. 14 (2007), 63–95. introduction 11

Raymond Callahan’s piece in this collection discusses two themes: what Winston Churchill thought about the Indian Army especially his ‘negative’ views on India and contrasting those views and the policies based on them with what the Indian Army actually accomplished. Callahan highlights the vital role played by the Indian Army during World War II touching upon expansion, training and retraining the personnel, leadership and finally battlefield performance. In Callahan’s essay Field-Marshal ‘Bill’ Slim comes up with flying colours. The innovative military leadership displayed by Slim and other British officers of the British-Indian Army in contrast to the British officers of the British Army has been developed by Callahan in an earlier article.23 Slim’s contribution in maneuver warfare and at the operational level of warfare has been rated quite highly by Duncan Anderson and Robert Lyman.24 The Indian Army when deployed in the extra-Indian theatres during both the World Wars had to fight Britain’s enemies with one eye riveted to the internal situation within the subcontinent—the subject of our next section.

The Indian Army and Internal Security of India

You may say what you like about not holding India by the sword but you have held it by the sword for 100 years and when you give up the sword you will be turned out. You must keep the sword ready to hand and in case of trouble or rebellion use it relentlessly. Montagu calls it terrorism, so it is and in dealing with natives of all classes you have to use terrorism whether you like it or not. . . . You can’t govern an Empire like this without wars and wars are nothing else but terrorism pure and simple. General Henry Rawlinson C-in-CI from 1920–25 to Major-General Archibald Montgomery, 15 July 1920.25

23 Raymond Callahan, “Were the ‘Sepoy Generals’ any Good? A Reappraisal of the British-Indian Army’s High Command in the Second World War”, in Roy (ed.), War and Society in Colonial India, 305–29. 24 Duncan Anderson, “The Very Model of a Modern Manoeuvrist General: Wil- liam Slim and the Exercise of High Command in Burma”, and Robery Lyman, “The Art of Manoeuvre at the Operational Level of War: Lieutenant-General W.J. Slim and Fourteenth Army”, in Sheffield and Till (eds.),The Challenges of High Command: The British Experience, 73–112. 25 Rawlinson in India, Selected and ed. by Mark Jacobsen (Stroud, Gloucestershire: 2002), 12. 12 kaushik roy

Besides preparing to fight enemies of Britain outside India, the Indian Army had two more important tasks. One task was to conduct frequent campaigns against the tribes in the regions west of River Indus and east of River Brahmaputra. And another task was MACP. There have been few studies of the Indian Army’s campaigns along the North- West Frontier but almost none about the Indian Army’s conduct of ‘small war’ against the tribes of north-east India.26 Charles Chenevix- Trench in his monograph provides a romanticized view of the different paramilitary formations raised by the GOI for combating the Afghan and Pathan tribes.27 For the tactical level, T.R. Moreman’s volume on North-West Frontier warfare devotes a few pages to the Second World War. Moreman, Alan Warren and Brian Robson rightly conclude that modernization of the Indian Army did not raise its military effectiveness vis-a-vis the Indus tribes in the interwar period.28 Rob Johnson and Nick Lloyd’s essays bring to the fore the issue of MACP. Though this was an unpopular duty, it was probably the most important for maintaining colonial rule. Lloyd focuses on the period between 1919 and 1922, i.e. the period between Amritsar ‘incident’ and M.K. Gandhi led INC’s First Civil Disobedience Movement. Johnson turns the focus on the deployment of troops during the 1942 Quit India Campaign. He argues that the very British concerns for maintaining internal security paved the way for abrupt ending of the Raj in 1947. The aid to civil duties by the Indian Army especially during the Jallianwala Bagh massacre raises the question of nature of COIN campaigns conducted by the British imperial forces. And here the ‘minimum force’ debate comes in. The role of Protestantism, Victorian cultural values and the public school system in generating the ‘humane’ minimum force philosophy with a high overtone of ethics, is the sub-

26 Marcus Franke in War and Nationalism in South Asia: The Indian State and the Nagas (London: 2009) deals with the political aspects. 27 Charles Chenevix-Trench, The Frontier Scouts (London: 1985). 28 T.R. Moreman, The Army in India and the Development of Frontier Warfare: 1849–1947 (Houndmills, Basingstoke: 1998), 179–83; Moreman, “‘Passing it On’: The Army in India and Frontier Warfare, 1914–39”, in Roy (ed.), War and Society in Colonial India, 275–304; Alan Warren, “‘Bullocks treading down Wasps’? The British Indian Army in Waziristan in the 1930s”, South Asia, vol. 19 (1996), 35–56; Warren, Waziristan: The Faqir of Ipi and the Indian Army, The North-West Frontier Revolt of 1936–37 (Karachi: 2000); Brian Robson, Crisis on the Frontier: The Third Afghan War and the Campaign in Waziristan, 1919–20 (Kent: 2004). introduction 13 ject of Rod Thornton’s essay.29 A cross-cultural comparative analysis will bring into focus whether the British in India used minimum force during COIN campaigns. Moreman asserts that when the British Army units were deployed for aid to civil power duties in Egypt, Palestine and Cyprus during the interwar era, employment of minimum force and close civil-military cooperation were the characteristic features.30 In contrast, Matthew Hughes asserts that the concept of minimum force was not always followed by the 25,000 British troops when the Arab revolt occurred in Palestine between 1936 and 1939. Both authorized and unauthorized reprisals by the soldiers resulted in significant collateral damage of the Arab people and Arab property. Most of the abuses committed by the Tommies on the Arab civilians went unre- ported. By 1939, due to the rising German threat, Britain wanted to regain control of Palestine. Hughes writes: Most of the repression was legal by the letter of the military law and the emergency regulations in force in Palestine after 1936. . . . Lawlessness was the law. Servicemen were guided by a legal system that meant that they could accept the premises of their government that allowed for brutal actions, and they could do so with all the energy of good bureaucrats obeying orders.31 Despite some aberrations, the British in Palestine were brutal but did not commit atrocities. To take a detached view, writes Hughes, the British in general observed restraint. Overall, British COIN was quite humane in comparison with COIN campaigns of other imperial powers which conducted ethnic cleansing, genocide, etc.32 Lloyd in an article comments that Brigadier-General “Rex” Dyer’s Jallianwala Bagh ‘massacre’ was not merely a failure of the minimum force philosophy but the very concept of minimum force was an elastic one, allowing considerable latitude to the commanders on

29 Rod Thornton, “The British Army and the Origins of its Minimum Force Phi- losophy”, Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 15 (2004), 83–106. 30 T.R. Moreman, “‘Small Wars’ and ‘Imperial Policing’: The British Army and the Theory and Practice of Colonial Warfare in the British Empire, 1919–39”,Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 19 (1996), 105–31. See especially 110. 31 Matthew Hughes, “A Very British Affair? British Armed Forces and the Repres- sion of the Arab Revolt in Palestine, 1936–39”, Part Two, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. 87 (2009), 372. 32 Matthew Hughes, “A Very British Affair? British Armed Forces and the Repres- sion of the Arab Revolt in Palestine, 1936–39”, Part One, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. 87 (2009), 234–55, Part Two, 357–73. 14 kaushik roy the spot. Lloyd somewhat like Hughes writes: “The use of the word ‘minimum’ is a relative concept and can only ever be understood in relation to ‘maximum’ force, the greatest possible use of force that can be employed to achieve the stated objective.” Dyer panicked and opened fire and there was a danger of large scale uprising in Punjab. So, implies Lloyd, Dyer’s deterrent action probably averted a rebellion. In that context, Dyer’s action was justified.33 Lloyd differs from George Boyce who in an article notes that exemplary punishment was necessary for maintaining British rule. Swift decisive action was the only way to check spread of rebellion. This was because force lay at the basis of British rule. British authority was backed by drastic but not arbitrary use of force. Dyer made an error of judgement. There was no possibility of a pan Indian anti-British rebellion in 1919. Dyer’s attempt to display power rather than restore authority in cooperation with civil government was a serious error in judgement which undermined British authority in India.34 Somewhat like Boyce, Nigel Collett in his biographical study of Brigadier-General Rex Dyer writes that though in military and civil-criminal law, there was space for minimum force philosophy, Dyer’s intention was to display raw force to frighten the Indians at Jallianwala Bagh.35 Gyanesh Kudaisya, Srinath Raghaven, Robin Jeffrey and Daniel P. Marston assert that the Indian Army used minimum force when deployed for aid to civil duties. Raghaven writes that every time the troops opened fire during civil disturbances, the GOI in India inves- tigated such cases. Kudaisya writes that in the 1920s about 22 Indian infantry battalions and 28 British infantry battalions were deployed for internal security duties. The GOI emphasized on civil-military liaison at the local level to prevent large scale breakdown of public order. Display of military force was used to deter the ‘miscreants’ from causing trouble. During communal disturbances, flag marches by the troops proved to be quite effective.36 Raghaven continues that minimum force became the established doctrine especially after the Jallianwala Bagh

33 Nick Lloyd, “The Amritsar Massacre and the Minimum Force Debate”,Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 21 (2010), 382–403. For the quote see 397. 34 George Boyce, “From Assaye to the Assaye: Reflections on British Government, and Moral Authority in India”, Journal of Military History, vol. 63 (1999), 643–68. 35 Nigel Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar: General Reginald Dyer (Delhi: 2005). 36 Gyanesh Kudaisya, “‘In Aid of Civil Power’: The Colonial Army in Northern India, c. 1919–42”, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 32 (2004), 41–68. introduction 15

‘tragedy’ in Amritsar. And the principle of civilian supremacy was enforced while deploying the army during civil disturbances to curb any excess on part of the army. Bombing by aircraft was not allowed in order to avoid unnecessary collateral damage. Only in 1935, the use of tear gas to disperse the riotous mob was approved by Britain’s Cabinet.37 Jeffrey writes that when in August 1947, large scale rioting between Sikhs versus the Muslims broke out during Partition of the subcontinent, the PBF (comprising of elements from the 4th Indian Division) requested air support for tackling the armed Sikh jathas. However, the GOI did not accede to that request. Air power was used not for offensive but only for reconnaissance purpose.38 In contrast, during the interwar period in the North-West Frontier, as a recent work shows, the British were quite willing to use the RAF.39 Jeffrey and Marston note that the collapse of civil authority and breakdown of the police resulted in ineffectiveness of the PBF in maintaining public order during the stormy days of Partition. However, Marston differs from Jeffrey in asserting that though some units of the PBF suffered communalization, as a whole the PBF and the Indian Army (which was then in the process of getting divided into Indian and Pakistan armies) did not disintegrate but retained their professionalism.40 Loyalty and discipline, which to a great extent shaped professionalism of the Indian Army were also influenced by wider social and cultural factors, the subject of the next section.

Warfare, Society and the Indian Army

The Indian Army was not a ‘national army’. It was a force comprised of the colonized but mostly directed by the colonizers. Nationalism was not an important motivational force for the different South Asian communities who volunteered for long term military service in the Indian Army. Besides being partly mercenary, certain characteristics

37 Srinath Raghaven, “Protecting the Raj: The Army in India and Internal Security, c. 1919–39”, Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 16 (2005), 253–79. 38 Robin Jeffrey, “The Punjab Boundary Force and the Problem of Order, August 1947”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 8 (1974), 491–520. 39 Andrew M. Roe, Waging War in Waziristan: The British Struggle in the Land of Bin Laden, 1849–1947 (Kansas: 2010). 40 Daniel P. Marston, “The Indian Army, Partition, and the Punjab Boundary Force, 1945–47”, War in History, vol. 16 (2009), 469–505. 16 kaushik roy of the social fabric and cultural norms of the inhabitants of South Asia shaped the Raj’s military organization. This in turn created unique problem related with the culture of command and loyalty of the sepoys and sowars. David Omissi’s monograph detailing the social history of the Indian Army between the post 1857 Mutiny and the beginning of the Second World War devotes two chapters on the morale and discipline of the Indian Army in France during the Great War.41 The traditional interpretation was that the sahib-sepoy relationship was the lynchpin of British-Indian Army.42 The revisionist view as propounded by Omissi, George Morton Jack, Roy,43 Callahan44 and others is that the sepoys were not devoted to the regimental officers. Rather, the C-in-CI, the British monarch, etc, functioned as fountains of loyalty. Further, the British used clan, caste networks and religion in establishing loyalty bonds among the sepoys and sowars who volunteered for soldiering and served in particular regiments for more than 20 years. Moreover, the provision of logistical support by the impersonal military bureaucracy was a crucial integer of loyalty in midst of the firefight. Jack asserts that there was an unwritten contract between the sepoys and the British-Indian military bureaucracy. The sepoys fought for the British in exchange for material and non-material incentives. When the sepoys felt that the psychological and material rewards were not adequate, then their combat motivation declined. Then, the British had to raise the quantum of benefit for the Indian soldiers in order to make the contract functional.45 Nikolas Gardner’s essay in this volume examines the morale and discipline of the Indian soldiers in Mesopotamia between 1914 and 1917 and links these two issues with the logistical shortages and the

41 David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (Houndmills, Basingstoke: 1994), 76–152. 42 Philip Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army, Its Officers and Men (1974, reprint, Dehradun: 1988); Jeffrey Greenhut, Sahib“ and Sepoy: An Inquiry into the Relationship between the British Officers and Native Soldiers of the British Indian Army”, Military Affairs, vol. XLVIII (1984), 15–8. 43 Kaushik Roy, “Military Loyalty in a Colonial Context: A Case Study of the Indian Army during World War II”, Journal of Military History, vol. 73 (2009), 497–529. 44 Raymond Callahan, “The Indian Army, Total War, and the Dog that didn’t Bark in the Night”, in Jane Hathaway (ed.), Rebellion, Repression, Reinvention: Mutiny in Comparative Perspective (Westport, CT.: 2001), 119–28. 45 George Morton Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–15: A Por- trait of Collaboration”, War in History, vol. 13 (2006), 329–62. introduction 17 problems of fighting a Muslim i.e. Ottoman Army in the Middle East. Most of the ‘martial races’ who provided personnel for the Indian Army were Punjabi Muslims, Pathans and Hindustani Muslims. The issue of ‘questionable loyalty’ of the Muslim soldiers of the Indian Army during the First World War is raised by Philip Stigger in an article. He shows, though the quantum of desertion and absence without leave was not high, still the British command was anxious about the hold they had over the Muslim sepoys and sowars. As a result, the British high command was eager to pull out the Muslim soldiers from high intensity combat zone (i.e. France), where the units could suffer a heavy level of casualty and might have to retreat. Rather, the Muslim soldiers were sent to Palestine where Turkish opposition was considered to be weak and the prospect of British advance was quite strong. Also, the British transformed the mono-class regiments into multi-class regiments.46 Gardner in an earlier article showed how dietary culture of the sepoys aggravated the logistical problems during the Siege of Kut between December 1915 and April 1916. Lack of proper nutrition resulted in decline of morale and decreased military effectiveness of the Indian soldiers.47 Rather than in Mesopotamia, the Indian Army during the First World War faced a more serious disciplinary problem in Singapore where the 5th Light Infantry mutinied on 15 February 1915. The 5th Light Infantry was a class unit composed of only Muslim soldiers. Ian Beckett’s analysis of the Singapore Mutiny highlights grievances of the soldiers due to bad rations, factionalism among the VCOs and ineffective leadership of the British officers. Beckett does not give much attention to the German agents and Pan Islamic feelings in generating this mutiny.48 Byron Farwell claims that the Singapore Mutiny was the product of a combination of several factors: lackadaisical attitude of the British officers towards the cultural sensibilities of the sepoys, and the Ghadar revolutionaries who were in touch with the German government.49

46 Philip Stigger, “How far was the Loyalty of Muslim Soldiers in the Indian Army more in Doubt than usual throughout the First World War?”, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. 87 (2009), 225–33. 47 Nikolas Gardner, “Sepoys and the Siege of Kut-al-Amara, December 1915–April 1916”, War in History, vol. 11 (2004), 307–26. 48 Ian F.W. Beckett, “The Singapore Mutiny of February 1915”,Journal of the Soci- ety for Army Historical Research, vol. LXII (1984), 132–53. 49 Farwell, Armies of the Raj, 236–47. 18 kaushik roy

The only book length study of the Singapore Mutiny is by a Japanese historian named Sho Kuwajima. He focuses on the extraneous factors behind the mutiny. Kuwajima writes that the Komagata Maru incident along with the anti-British activities of the Ghadr revolutionaries alienated the sepoys in Singapore. Many of Komagata Maru’s passengers were ex-soldiers from Punjab. On racial ground they were denied entry into Canada and this claims Kuwajima, had a negative effect on the sepoys’ loyalty. Further, the refusal of the Malay States Guides (which comprised of Sikh and Punjabi Muslim soldiers) in December 1914 to serve outside Singapore had an unsettling effect on the sepoys in Singapore. The Malay States Guides were asked to serve in East Africa. A similar rumour spread among the 5th Light Infantry that they were destined for East Africa when in reality they were bound for Hong Kong. In addition, some pro-Turkish Muslim emissaries also visited the 5th Light Infantry. These incidents seem a rerun of the prelude to 1857 Mutiny when the disgruntled Bengal Army’s regiments were visited by agents of the nawab of Awadh. And the Muslim sepoys believed that the Germans had converted to Islam. Kuwajima, unlike Beckett concludes that wider societal factors external to the military organization resulted in the generation of anti-British feeling. Further, an unwillingness to participate in the imperial war in which India had no stake, was another factor behind the Singapore Mutiny.50 To sum up, there were some scattered and minor disturbances in the Indian Army during World War I. And none of these disturbances were political in nature but related with service conditions. It is to be noted that the Indian Army did not experience a complete breakdown of discipline and morale as was the case with the Russian Army in 1917.51 The Russian Army had several similarities as well as dissimi- larities with the Indian Army. The rank and file of both these armies comprised of mostly illiterate peasants. However, the Russian Army depended on conscription and the Indian Army relied on volunteer recruitment. The British officers who served in the Indian Army while writing their memoirs and certain historians as well as the British officers who are considered as experts on the Russian Army came to a

50 Sho Kuwajima, The Mutiny in Singapore: War, Anti-War and the War for India’s Independence (Delhi: 2006). 51 For mass desertion and collective indiscipline resulting in politicization of the Russian soldiery during 1917 see Marc Ferro, “The Russian Soldier in 1917: Undisci- plined, Patriotic, and Revolutionary”, Slavic Review, vol. 30 (1971), 483–512. introduction 19 similar conclusion. Both the Russian soldiers and the Indian sepoys were over reliant on their officers and did not display initiative and flexibility during attacks. This was because of the limited mental hori- zons of the peasantry who constituted the Russian soldiers and the sepoys of the Indian Army.52 A recent book highlights the role of India in providing logistical support to the Indian Army during the re-conquest of Burma between 1943 and 1945.53 However, British mobilization of India’s manpower and economic resources proved to be a double edged sword. C. Bayly and Tim Harper’s volume and Bayly’s essay show that the adverse effects of British mobilization and defeat in the hands of the Japanese weakened the fragile British Empire in Asia.54 Anirudh Deshpande’s work dealing with the colonial military establishment during World War II argues that the very demands of mobilizing for Total War between 1939 and 1945 sounded the death knell of the Raj.55 F.W. Perry in his monograph devotes a chapter which traces the expansion of the Indian Army during the two World Wars.56 Perry’s treatment is mechanical as he charts the various units that were raised between 1914 and 1918 and 1939 and 1945. Within India, Punjab is the most intensively studied region. The largest number of jawans came from Punjab. Two historians following the war and society approach studies the impact of the colonial military establishment on Punjab. Tan Tai Yong in his articles and PhD turned monograph describes the administrative measures taken by the GOI in Punjab during the two World Wars, to keep the recruiting base of the Indian Army stable. In 1919, the demobilized Punjabi soldiers faced an economic crisis. The GOI provided land, administrative posts and other economic benefits to keep the demobilized soldiers and their families satisfied. Under

52 For the Russian Army of First World War see Keith Neilson, “Watching the “Steamroller”: British Observers and the Russian Army before 1914”, Journal of Stra- tegic Studies, vol. 8 (1985), 199–217. For the Indian Army see Mason, A Matter of Honour. 53 Graham Dunlop, Military Economics, Culture and Logistics in the Burma Cam- paign: 1942–45 (London: 2009). 54 C. Bayly and Tim Harper, Forgotten Armies: The Fall of British Asia, 1941–45 (London: 2004); Bayly, “‘The Nation Within’: British India at War, 1939–47”,Proceed- ings of the British Academy, 125 (2004), 265–85. 55 Anirudh Deshpande, British Military Policy in India, 1900–45: Colonial Con- straints and Declining Power (Delhi: 2005). 56 F.W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organization in two World Wars (Manchester: 1988), 82–123. 20 kaushik roy the stress of Second World War, the collaboration between the middle farmers (whose sons joined the Indian Army) and the colonial state started to unravel and this also made decolonization a necessity by the end of 1945.57 Rajit K. Mazumder in his PhD turned monograph (following Clive Dewey’s line58) claims that military expenditure had a multiplier effect on Punjab’s agrarian economy. Mazumder’s assertion challenges the Marxist historians’ argument that military expenditure had a negative effect on Indian economy. Mazumder studies the impact of the Indian Army on Punjab’s society and economy during the First World War. The Raj provided certain material inducements for mobilizing military manpower. Revenue assessments were lighter on those regions which provided most of the manpower. Mazumder shows the role played by the Indian Soldiers’ Board vis a vis the soldiers and their families and special litigation which protected the absentee servicemen from court cases.59 Mazumder’s essay in this edited volume traces the loyalty of the Punjabi soldiers and the impact of wider politics and economic forces on their loyalty between the end of the Great War and World War II. Mazumder shows that the GOI was quite successful in insulating the soldiers from wider disruptive forces operating in the Punjabi society. Neither the Ghadar revolutionaries nor the INC had much success in turning the Sikhs and the Punjabi Muslims against the colonial state. However, the stress and strain during World War II and the ensuing resource crunch on part of the Raj resulted in the disintegration of the symbiotic relationship between the Punjabi soldiers and their British employer. Along with the disintegration of the loyalty mechanism of the GOI’s most loyal sword arm, grievances within the Indian officer corps sounded the death knell for the Raj. T.A. Heathcote’s book charting the evolution of British armies in South Asia devotes two chapters for dealing with the two World Wars.

57 Tan Tai Yong, “Maintaining the Military Districts: Civil-Military Integration and District Soldiers’ Boards in the Punjab, 1919–39”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 28 (1994), 833–74; Yong, “Mobilization, Militarization and ‘Mal-Contentment’: Punjab and the Second World War”, South Asia, vol. 25 (2002), 137–51; Yong, The Garrison State: The Military, Government and Society in Colonial Punjab, 1849–1947 (Delhi: 2005). 58 Clive Dewey, “Some Consequences of Military Expenditure in British India: The Case of the Upper Sind Sagar Doab, 1849–1947”, in Dewey (ed.), Arrested Develop- ment in India: The Historical Dimension (Delhi: 1988), 93–159. 59 Rajit K. Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab (Delhi: 2003). introduction 21

Heathcote’s narrative gives an account of the high politics as well as the problems of creating an Indian officer corps for the Indian Army during the two World Wars.60 Stephen P. Cohen’s monograph dealing with the emergence of professionalism in the Indian Army’s officer corps between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries asserts that during World War II, professionalism developed among the Indian officers of the Indian Army.61 Unlike Barua,62 Deshpande, Chandar S. Sundaram and P.S. Gupta claim that due to the concept of racial supremacy, the GOI did not open up the officer corps for the university educated middle class Indians influenced by nationalism. And this proved to be a serious handicap for the Indian Army during World War II.63 Why did the Indian soldiers fight for the British during World War II? Tarak Barkawi highlights the dialectical role between ethnicity and battlefield realities by making a case study of the Indian Army during World War II. In an article, Barkawi minimizes the role of indoctrination and notes the linkages between deliberate misinformation/disinformation about the enemy by the high command and the realities of combat in the battlefield.64 Thus, Barkawi challenges Omer Bartov’s overemphasis on ideology in enhancing combat motivation of the soldiers.65 Barkawi’s piece in this edited collection critiques both the organizational theorists as well as the societal determinists. He asserts that both the military organization and societal conditions were equally important. Thus, Barkawi challenges American political

60 T.A. Heathcote, The Military in British India: The Development of British Land Forces in South Asia, 1600–1947 (Manchester: 1995). 61 Stephen P. Cohen, The Indian Army: Its Contribution to the Development of a Nation (1971, reprint, Delhi: 1991), 138–68. 62 Pradeep Barua, The Army officer Corps and Military Modernization in Later Colo- nial India (Hull: 1999). 63 Anirudh Deshpande, “Military Reform in the Aftermath of the Great War: Inten- tions and Compulsions of British Military Policy, 1919–25”, and P.S. Gupta, “The Debate on Indianization: 1918–39”, in P.S. Gupta and Anirudh Deshpande (eds.), The British Raj and its Indian Armed Forces: 1857–1939 (Delhi: 2002), 179–269; Chan- dar S. Sundaram, “Grudging Concessions: The Officer Corps and its Indianization, 1817–1940”, in Marston and Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia, 88–101. 64 Tarak Barkawi, “Peoples, Homelands, and Wars? Ethnicity, the Military, and Battle among the British Imperial Forces in the War against Japan”, Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 46 (2004), 134–63. 65 Omer Bartov, The Eastern Front, 1941–45, German Troops and the Barbarization of Warfare (1985, reprint, Hampshire: 2001). 22 kaushik roy scientist Stephen Peter Rosen66 who asserts that the caste ridden Indian society shaped the structure of Indian military organization throughout the two millennia. Barkawi’s argument also indirectly challenges Richard G. Fox’s work67 which gives premium to indigenous cultural system rather than the military organization, while explaining the construction of the Sikh stereotype in colonial India. The military organization shapes the social context in which they were embedded and the social context also configures the military organization. Ethnicity lies at the conjunction of society and military. Barkawi questions Cynthia H. Enloe, Lionel Caplan68 and DeWitt C. Ellinwood’s assertion that ethnicity was the product of imperial state politics and military security. Ethnicity, writes Barkawi, provides cultural resources for military identities and also provides a pathway for the politics of communalism which had the potential to disrupt discipline. The army was thus both the object as well as the instrument of British policy of divide et impera. Barkawi studies how the ethnic organization of the army shaped colonial society and vice versa. The recruitment policy of the Indian Army to a great extent was shaped by the Martial Race theory which originated in the second half of the nineteenth century. In accordance with this theory, certain ethnic groups were ascribed martial status. The groups favoured by the Raj were the Gurkhas, Garhwalis, Sikhs, Pathans, Punjabi Muslims, etc. The Martial Race theory was an attempt to segregate divisive Indian social fabric into different artificial groupings as part of the imperial policy of ‘divide et impera’. Then, the selected groups were co-opted in the imperial military machine and showered with favours. However, Omissi reminds us that in the interwar era, the Martial Race theory also became a ‘habit of mind’ for the British officers.69 Gavin Rand’s essay in this edited volume explores the role of the ‘martial races’ during World War II. He focuses on the manpower demands during war and effect of war time recruitment on the ideologies of the ‘martial races’ recruitment programme. He shows the tension between the demands of war time recruitment, and colonial stereotypes about the

66 Stephen Rosen, Societies and Military Power: India and its Armies (Delhi: 1996). 67 Richard G. Fox, Lions of the Punjab: Culture in the Making (Delhi: 1990). 68 Lionel Caplan, Warrior Gentleman: “Gurkhas” in Western Imagination (Oxford: 1995). 69 David Omissi, “‘Martial Races’: Ethnicity and Security in Colonial India, 1858– 1939”, War & Society, vol. 9 (1991), 1–27. See especially 22. introduction 23

‘martial’ recruits. The nationalist critiques and the changing postures of the ‘loyal martial’ communities were reflected in the recruitment policy, which itself was the prelude to decolonization. The Axis powers created several auxiliary satellite armies in the course of Second World War. The Japanese set up the INA in the aftermath of British surrender of Singapore. Some of the Indian personnel who joined the INA were motivated by nationalist feelings, while others joined to escape boredom, hardship and drudgery of life in the POW camps. At times, the Japanese also forced the Indians to join the INA. To a great extent, the mirror image of the Indian Army was the INA or the Azad Hind Fauj. The British called them JIFS. In combat, the INA proved to be ineffective. However, the very formation of the INA created adverse political consequences for the British in India in the immediate aftermath of the war.70 Gajendra Singh’s essay investigates the interrogation of captured INA personnel by British intelligence agency during and after the Second World War. Singh shows how the purposes behind these interrogations were subverted by the captured sepoys. And the very act of these sepoys in countering interrogation techniques played an important part in challenging the British attempt to delegitimize the motivations and actions of the INA personnel.

Conclusion

From 189,000 soldiers in 1939, the Indian Army numbered to about 2 million by 1945. It was the largest multi-ethnic volunteer army in the world. This radical transition was possible because certain ethnic groups who were considered unmartial before 1939 were recruited. However, the very recruitment of these communities in large numbers and their subsequent demobilization from August 1945 created fissures in the loyalty structure of the Indian Army. Such an expansion also occurred during the First World War. However, in the immediate aftermath of World War II, unlike after the end of the First

70 Sibylla Jane Flower, “Allied Prisoners of War: The Malayan Campaign, 1941–42”, in Farrell and Hunter (eds.), Sixty Years On, 208–17; Kaushik Roy, “Axis Satellite armies of World War II: A Case Study of the Azad Hind Fauj, 1942–45”, Indian Historical Review, vol. 35 (2008), 144–72; Chandar S. Sundaram, “Soldier Disaffection and the Creation of the Indian National Army”, Indo-British Review, vol. 18 (1990), 155–62, Sundaram, “A Paper Tiger: The Indian National Army in Battle, 1944–45”, War & Society, vol. 13 (1995), 35–59. 24 kaushik roy

World War, the Raj lacked economic resources to satisfy the demobilized jawans. Moreover, after 1945, unlike in 1919, large numbers of commissioned Indian officers were available. In the end, Rawlinson’s ‘nightmare’ became a reality. The moment Britain lost control over the Indian Army, decolonization became a stark reality. In the era of two World Wars, the Indian Army had to conduct three types of campaigns simultaneously: conventional wars against the Central powers and Axis powers during the two World Wars, frontier wars against the Indus tribes and aid to civil duties as part of policing the subcontinent. The Indian Army’s experience as regards the aid to civil campaigns was inherited by the Indian and the Pakistan armies which with certain modifications continue to use that experience in maintaining ‘peace’ in north-east India, Kashmir, Sind, Baluchistan and the North-West Frontier. And the infantry tactics which were used in Burma during 1944 and 1945 proved useful for the Indian Army during the First India-Pakistan War in 1947–48. And at the ‘stroke of midnight hour’ as India became independent, both the Indian and Pakistan armies retained the colonial Indian Army’s regimental fabric and the recruitment policy. Here lies the legacy and importance of studying the British led Indian Army. introduction 25

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THE INDIAN ARMY AND CONVENTIONAL WARFARE

CHAPTER ONE

THE INDIAN CAVALRY DIVISIONS IN SOMME: 1916

David Kenyon

The Marquis of Anglesey opened the final volume of hisHistory of the British Cavalry in 1997, with the words ‘Justice has never been done to the part played by the cavalry in France and Flanders during the years 1915 to 1918.’1 Thirteen years later that justice still remains to be served, for while Anglesey provided a fine narrative account of the efforts of the British (and Indian) Cavalry on the Western Front, a detailed modern analytical investigation of the cavalry remains to be published.2 A similar observation might be made concerning Indian forces on the Western Front in general, and the Indian cavalry in particular. The exception to this is Gordon Corrigan’sSepoys in the Trenches published in 1999,3 although even he acknowledged that he deliberately concluded his study with the withdrawal from France of the Indian Infantry Corps at the end of 1915 and decided not to continue with the on-going story of the Indian cavalry up to 1918. Thus, much of the story of the Indian cavalry in France remains to be told in detail in a modern account. What is more the few occasions when cavalry do appear in Great War literature, coverage tends to be both critical and dismissive of the arm, concluding that they were out-of-touch, ill prepared for the coming conflict, and ultimately useless. Richard Holmes put the point rather succinctly when he observed ‘There are few subjects where prejudice has a clearer run than with the mounted arm in the First World War.’4 One of the few historians

1 Marquis of Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, The Western Front 1915–1918; Epilogue 1919–1939 (London: 1997), xix. 2 The present author’s doctoral thesis: David Kenyon, British Cavalry on the West- ern Front 1916–1918 (2008, Unpublished Cranfield University) although available online, awaits formal publication. 3 G. Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front 1914– 15 (Staplehurst: 1999). 4 R. Holmes, “The Last Hurrah: Cavalry on the Western Front, August–September 1914”, in H. Cecil and P. Liddle (eds.), Facing Armageddon: The First World War Experienced, (London: 1996), 285. 34 david kenyon to make a detailed study of the cavalry is Steven Badsey in his thesis on the ‘Arme Blanche controversy’,5 recently published as Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry 1880–1918.6 Even he, however, concluded with the remark: ‘The metaphor of the charge against machine guns, or of the incompetent Victorian cavalry general attempting to control a tank battle, has spread beyond military studies into the general vocabulary of historians and readers of history, as a touchstone of all that is reactionary, foolish, and futile. It is probably too well established ever to be removed.7 Superimposed on this prejudice against the mounted soldier, is an element of racial prejudice against Indians as soldiers at all. This was of course prevalent in the imperialist outlook of Europeans at the time, for example the Indian cavalry were nicknamed within the BEF ‘“The Iron Rations”8 ‘to be used only as a last resort’. This view has evolved with time in a subtle but important way. Increasingly since the 1960s the Great War soldier has been presented as victim rather than combatant, at the mercy of a callous and ultimately incompetent government and military establishment. In this context the Indian soldier, far from home, fighting a ‘White man’s war’ which he did not fully understand, to defend imperial interests which were at least irrelevant and at worst prejudicial to his own, is often used as a metaphor for this. Such a view ignores the fact that the Indian Army, constantly in action on the North-West Frontier for many years, was at least as combat experienced as its British counterpart, and unlike the BEF remained an all- volunteer force throughout the war. Losses in the cavalry were made up by voluntary drafts from other mounted regiments still in India.9 A ‘fact’ that is often quoted to support the status of the Indian soldier as exploited victim is that the Indian regiments arrived in Marseilles in late 1914 still dressed in tropical clothing and without warm winter kit.10 This was indeed the case, but in the cavalry at least such gear was

5 S. Badsey, Fire and the Sword: The British Cavalry and theArme Blanche Con- troversy 1871–1921 (1981, Unpublished Cambridge University Thesis). 6 S. Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry 1880–1918 (Aldershot: 2008). 7 Badsey, Fire and the Sword, 359. 8 Marquis of Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 7, The Curragh Inci- dent and the Western Front 1914 (London: 1996), 217. 9 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 7, 218. 10 Indian Voices of the Great War: Soldiers’ Letters 1914–18, ed. with an Introduc- tion by David Omissi (London: 1999), 2. indian cavalry divisions 35 rapidly issued,11 and critics overlook the fact that to ship such equipment out to India in order to issue it and ship it straight back is obvious nonsense. Issue of equipment in theatre remains common practice in the British Army to this day. Captain Roly Grimshaw of 34th Poona Horse even commented on what he saw as the excessive issue of blankets (4 to a man) in his regiment as early as October 1914.12 It is the purpose of this article to attack these perceptions of the Indian soldier, and of cavalry in the Great War, and to show that the Indian Cavalry divisions were an effective and modern fighting force, fully capable of the tasks put before them. It is not possible in a short piece to cover all the activities of the Indian cavalry in France from 1914 to 1918, but instead their role in the Somme fighting of 1916, and in the battle of 14 July in particular will be examined in detail as an exemplar of their wider performance. How this performance has been represented in later literature, and their effectiveness obscured, will also be examined. First it is necessary to examine the structure and character of the Indian cavalry divisions as they appeared on the Western Front. On the outbreak of war in August 1914, as is well known, the 6 Divisions of the BEF were mobilized for service in France. At that time the ‘Army in India’ numbered some 236,000 men.13 Of these roughly two thirds were Indian Army troops, and one third British Army units based in India. The primary functions of this force were the protection of India’s frontiers, particularly the North-West, and the maintenance of civil order within India itself. However, the provision of an expeditionary force to serve outside India had already been anticipated and the mobilization of this force began immediately in August 1914. Indian Expeditionary Force A, intended for France, initially consisted of 2 infantry divisions and an attached cavalry brigade. Smaller Expeditionary Forces B, C, and D were also assembled for East Africa, Egypt, and Mesopotamia. At the same time, expansion of IEFA to include an additional 2 divisions of cavalry was also taken in hand, orders being received by the relevant regiments on 31 August.14 These 2 cavalry divisions reached France in November 1914; 1st Indian Cavalry Division arriving on 7 November, and 2nd Indian Cavalry Division arriving on the 14th.

11 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 7, 219. 12 R. Grimshaw, Indian Cavalry Officer 1914–15 (Tunbridge Wells: 1986), 27. 13 Indian Voices of the Great War, 1. 14 G. Sandhu, I Serve: Saga of the Eighteenth Cavalry (Delhi: 1991), 34. 36 david kenyon

The Indian Cavalry Corps was formed from the 2 divisions under the command of Major-General Rimmington, a man with a high reputation for his command of cavalry in the Boer War, but a bad choice to command Indian units due to his poor opinion of colonial troops.15

Table 1: Composition of the Indian Cavalry Divisions (Indian units shown shaded) 1st Indian Cavalry Division Sialkot Brigade 17th Lancers 6th Cavalry 19th Lancers Q Battery RHA Ambala Brigade 8th Hussars 9th Horse 30th Lancers A Battery RHA Lucknow Brigade 1st (Kings) 29th Lancers 36th Horse U Battery RHA Dragoon Guards 2nd Indian Cavalry Division Mhow Brigade 6th Dragoons 2nd Lancers 38th Horse Y Battery RHA (Inniskilling) Secunderabad 7th Dragoon 20th Horse 34th Horse N Battery RHA Brigade Guards Meerut Brigade* 13th Hussars 3rd Skinners 18th Lancers V Battery RHA Horse * Removed to Mesopotamia in spring 1916 and replaced by Canadian Cavalry Brigade Canadian Cavalry Royal Canadian L. Strath. Hse Ft Garry Hse RCHA Brigade Dragoons

Each division consisted of 3 brigades, each of 3 regiments. In accordance with standard practice each brigade had 2 Indian Army regiments and one British Army regiment. Artillery for each brigade was provided by British RHA units, and much of the logistic tail of each division was assembled on arrival in France as the units had sailed quite ‘light’ and had to receive significant allocations of equipment and personnel on arrival. The consequence of this was that each division, and the corps as a whole was formed only of between a half and two thirds of ethnic Indian personnel. Three of the 9 regiments in each division, as well as artillery and support units were British, and the Indian regiments themselves were partially officered by British officers (around a dozen per regiment). This ethnic balance was further altered by the addition of a Canadian Brigade in 1916, as will be

15 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 7, 223. indian cavalry divisions 37 discussed below, but for the purposes of this article no distinction is made between the nationalities of the individual units or soldiers, and the ‘Indian Cavalry Divisions’ will be considered as a whole. Each regiment had a combat strength of around 400 men. These were divided among 4 squadrons (Lettered A–D), each of three troops. This organization differed from UK based cavalry regiments which had 3 squadrons each of 4 troops, but the 4 squadron system allowed for the ethnic and religious mix within India to be more easily accommodated. Taking for example the 2 Indian regiments most closely involved in the Somme fighting; 20th Deccan Horse had one squadron of Sikhs, one of Jats, and 2 of Deccani Muslims. The 34th Poona Horse meanwhile, had 2 squadrons of Rathor Rajputs, one of Kaimkhanis, and one of Punjabi Muslims.16 The potential for religious and ethnic diversity was reduced, however, by a strong recruiting bias towards the north and north-west of India. The great majority of soldiers originated from the Punjab, and North-West Frontier districts, it being received wisdom among the British that these were the ‘martial races’ of the subcontinent, unlike their urbanized southern compatriots.17 The first task of the Indian Cavalry Corps after it completed its assembly in December 1914 was to support the Indian Infantry Corps on foot in the Bethune area near the Franco-Belgian border. This proved to be its lot for the remainder of 1914 and much of 1915. Units were broken down into working parties to carry out construction tasks, or were rotated through the trenches to give respite to infantry units. The only favourable aspect of this period was the impression Indian soldiers made on their hosts when billeted on French farmers, who developed a strong rapport with their guests.18 ‘Les Hindous’ as Indian soldiers were universally known, were often preferred to troops of other nations by the local populace, including in some cases their own.19 Mounted forces were assembled in anticipation of a breakthrough of German defences during the offensives at Neuve Chapelle in April and Loos in September, but no call was made on their services. In short, as Anglesey puts it:

16 Indian Voices of the Great War, 364. 17 Indian Voices of the Great War, 2. 18 Sandhu, I Serve, 49. 19 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 7, 219. 38 david kenyon

During the whole of 1915 the cavalry was virtually never employed in action other than as infantry or pioneers . . . In the course of the year’s three large scale allied offensives of Neuve Chapelle, Festubert and Loos, it had to look on impotently for nothing approaching an exploitable breakthrough was ever achieved.20 After Loos, the Indian infantry component of the BEF was withdrawn from France. It had taken massive losses in the fighting of the past year and was proving difficult to sustain and reinforce at so long a distance from India. The Indian units within the Corps alone had suffered 21,000 casualties.21 Shortage of shipping was acute and Lord Curzon (Chair of the Shipping Control Committee) argued for the removal of the Indian Cavalry divisions as well, as far as Egypt. Douglas Haig, however who had taken over from Sir John French in December 1915 as Commander-in-Chief of the BEF argued strongly for the retention of as many cavalry as possible in France. In the event, he lost only the Meerut Cavalry Brigade from 2nd Indian Cavalry Division which was sent back to India and subsequently to Mesopotamia, and this was replaced by the Canadian Cavalry Brigade.22 In addition, following, and possibly reflecting the lack of mounted action by the cavalry at Loos, on 3 March 1916 both the British and the Indian Cavalry Corps were broken up and the divisions were attached to the headquarters of the individual armies.23 Badsey has interpreted this as a change in Haig’s conception of the rôle of the cavalry, a move towards more devolved forces exploiting local advantages rather than a decisive, multi-division cavalry breakthrough.24 It should also be seen, however, in the context of the political pressure Haig was under to reduce his cavalry force in France, and it may have been a way of making cosmetic changes without losing actual fighting power. Notable in the orders for the abolition of the 2 corps is the retention of a skeleton corps headquarters staff, available to allow its rapid re-creation if required (as indeed happened in September 1916).25 In spite of these ‘anti-cavalry’ pressures Haig was keen to see mounted forces play a significant part in future operations. On 1 April

20 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 20. 21 Sandhu, I Serve, 51. 22 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 38. 23 GHQ OA 512, 3 March 1916, WO95/574, PRO, TNA, Kew, UK. 24 Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry, 394. 25 GHQ GS 1428, 9th March 1916, WO95/574, PRO, TNA. indian cavalry divisions 39

1916, he appointed General Gough as Temporary Inspector General of Training of Cavalry Divisions.26 Haig urged Gough to be vigorous in instilling his combined-arms ideas through the ranks of the cavalry, recording in his diary “Above all he is to spread the ‘doctrine’ and get cavalry officers to believe in the power of their arm when acting in co-operation with guns and infantry.”27 Any officers who were deemed insufficiently flexible were removed.28 As a consequence, undismayed by the disappointments of Loos, preparations were made within both the British and Indian cavalry divisions through the spring and summer of 1916, in the form of reorganization, new equipment, and training, for a renewed offensive which was expected in the course of the year. Many of the new techniques prepared for the 1 July 1916 attack were successfully applied by the Indian units engaged on 14 July. A variety of organizational changes in the cavalry had already taken place by March 1916, and others were to follow during the period leading up to the Somme offensive. This reorganization took place within all 5 cavalry divisions, both British and Indian (mirroring in some cases similar changes in the infantry). These can be examined with reference to one of the Indian divisions in particular; 2nd Indian Division, as this formation was later to play a key rôle in the fighting on 14 July. Preparations in the division began in the spring of 1916. The first of these changes took place in February. This was the withdrawal of the regimental machine gun sections and the establishment of centralized brigade machine-gun squadrons. These squadrons were formed into the separate MGCC. This mirrored an equivalent process taking place in the infantry brigades to form MGC Companies. Initially, these squadrons consisted simply of the guns, horses and men detached from the regiments, but over time their establishments were made up by drafts, and horses as well as other equipment could be returned to the parent regiments.29 These squadrons had a final establishment of 6 sections, each consisting of 2 Vickers machine-guns, carried on pack horses and commanded by a lieutenant. This provided a centralized force of 12 Vickers machine-guns for each cavalry brigade. In addition,

26 S. Badsey, “Cavalry and the Development of Breakthrough Doctrine”, in P. Griffith (ed.), British Fighting Methods in the Great War, (London: 1996), 154. 27 Haig Diary, 9 April 1916, WO256/9, PRO, TNA. 28 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 40. 29 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade HQ War Diary, 8 February 1916, WO95/1187, PRO, TNA. 40 david kenyon

Hotchkiss machine-guns were issued to the regiments themselves along the same lines as the issue of Lewis guns in the infantry. This was a gradual process but by the time of the 1 July attack, the 2nd Indian Division had been brought up to strength with 16 Hotchkiss guns per regiment.30 The machine guns in the brigade MG squadrons, combined with the Hotchkiss guns integral to the regiments, represented a marked increase in the firepower available to cavalry, both defensively, and offensively since the guns were all pack mounted, and were as mobile as the regiments themselves. The guns also served to counter the lack of firepower available to cavalry regiments due to the relatively small number of men available to form a dismounted firing line. One MGCC section was to play a notable rôle in the battle on 14 July. Secondly, towards the end of June the 9th Light Armoured Car Battery was attached to 2nd Indian Division with its 6 Rolls Royce armoured cars.31 Again, this represented a boost to the firepower available to the division, and this asset was devolved down to brigade level as the cars were divided in pairs between the individual brigades. Unfortunately, the armoured cars found difficulties dealing with the mud, and even on roads were unable to live up to their full potential. In spite of this, however, the addition of the ‘Lambs’ (as they became known) to the cavalry can be seen as representative of the forward thinking combined-arms culture evolving within the cavalry arm. Also, much has been made of the supposed miss-match between cavalry and armour by supporters of the latter, but it should not be forgotten that cavalry-armour co-operation had its roots in working with armoured cars long before the first tank made its appearance. Further, when these changes are considered alongside the other existing assets within each cavalry brigade, including a battery of horse artillery, and integral mounted signal and engineer troops, it can be seen that these formations were becoming increasingly mobile and potent units. In addition to these organizational changes, Gough instituted a vigorous training programme, which was carried out both in divisional level manoeuvres, and at regimental level. TheWar Diary of the 2nd Indian Division record this process; on 9 May a divisional ‘scheme’ was undertaken including ‘Practice in passing through Trench system

30 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 18 June 1916, WO95/1180, PRO, TNA. 31 9th LAC Battery War Diary, WO95/1182, PRO, TNA. indian cavalry divisions 41 and concentrating beyond.’ On subsequent days exercises included the (perhaps a little optimistic) ‘Action against a beaten enemy’, as well as ‘Tactical exercise against an enemy in position’, and ‘Practice in crossing trenches by blowing up with explosive and by filling in with picks and shovels.’32 The Secunderabad Brigade Diary for May also records “Training in mounted and dismounted work, bomb throwing, trench warfare, Hotchkiss gun, bayonet fighting and physical training continued throughout the month.”33 A feature of this training that shows the new seriousness with which it was undertaken, was that for the first time on exercise troops were allowed to ride through standing crops.34 It is perhaps more surprising that such constraints on training had earlier been enforced, even after nearly 2 years of war. A further change to the organization and training of 2nd Indian Cavalry Division was the addition of the Canadians. The Canadian Cavalry Brigade was briefly attached to the division in March, then reverted to direct command from GHQ before being permanently allocated to 2nd Indian Division in June (after the removal from the division of the Meerut Brigade).35 The Canadian cavalry had been formed into a mounted brigade in the UK in 1915, but were initially sent to France on foot to reinforce the depleted Canadian infantry after losses during the German attack at Ypres in April of that year.36 Only in January of 1916 was the brigade reconstituted as a mounted unit.37 Prior to their permanent attachment to the division the Canadian Brigade had been a part of Gough’s training regime, and they took to one aspect of their training with particular vigour. This was the question of trench crossing. On 27 May, “Experiments were made in the various methods of crossing trenches with cavalry and guns, by bridging and filling in.”38 This led on the 31 May to the testing of 2 specially designed portable bridges; an ‘RCHA Bridge’ weighing 550 lbs (250kg), constructed for use by guns or wagons, and a ‘Fort Garry Bridge’, with a weight of 202 lbs (90kg) devised for horses in single file. Tests were carried out and times recorded; the artillery bridge could be assembled and in position in just under three and a half minutes,

32 34th Poona Horse War Diary, 9 May 1916, WO95/1187, PRO, TNA. 33 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade HQ War Diary, 28 May 1916, WO95/1187. 34 Sandhu, I Serve, 304. 35 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 18 June 1916, WO95/1180. 36 J. Seely, Adventure (London: 1930), 221. 37 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 48. 38 Canadian Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 27 May 1916, WO95/1083, PRO, TNA. 42 david kenyon while the Fort Garry Bridge could be thrown across a trench in less than 45 seconds. Both bridges were formally demonstrated before Haig at Helfaut on 3 June.39 His response is not recorded but it is likely to have been favourable as the Fort Garry Horse was adapted as a specialist bridging unit and its squadrons dispersed among the individual brigades of 2nd Indian Division. Besides training, specific preparations for the upcoming offensive were also carried out. It was necessary for the cavalry to have a properly reconnoitred and prepared line of advance in the event of an attack. To this end, the 2nd Indian Cavalry Division spent the latter part of June preparing and marking 2 tracks from their assembly areas, around Meaulte, north-eastwards around either side of Bécourt Château woods, and on up to the British front line in Sausage Valley.40 This task was not made any easier by the fact that they were specifically proscribed from using any roads usable by wheeled traffic, but had to cut a new track across country. On the day of the offensive these tracks were to be extended across the British and German trenches as far as just beyond Pozières. The Secunderabad Brigade, forming the advanced guard of the division was to be specifically responsible for establishing and manning 4 trench crossing points suitable for both cavalry and guns in Sausage Valley. In this they were to be assisted by detachments of Canadians equipped with their mobile bridges, to ‘make and indicate’ trench crossings and to handle any prisoners.41 It is clear from this wealth of training and logistical preparation that the cavalry divisions were far from idle in the period leading up to the Somme Battle. Inevitably, the limitations of this preparation became apparent when battle was joined, but many of these faults were only readily apparent in hindsight. At a regimental level, the Indian cavalry should be seen as at least as well prepared for the Somme Battle as its British infantry counterparts, and in some respects more sanguine and realistic about forthcoming events. Unlike many of the ‘New Army’ divisions for whom the Somme would be their first taste of offensive fighting, the Indians had been ‘out since 14’ and had significant combat experience.

39 Canadian Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 3 June 1916. 40 ‘Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Order No. 30’ included as appendix in Secun- derabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 1 July 1916, WO95/1187. 41 2nd Indian Cavalry Division Operation Order No. 3, 28 June 1916, paragraph 2, included as appendix in 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, WO95/1180. indian cavalry divisions 43

In the event, the cavalry played no part in the fighting on 1 July 1916, the first day of the Somme offensive. Broader failures in the opening infantry phase of the battle meant that they were not able to advance in their exploitation rôle as planned. Sadly, writers on the battle have not generally examined the rôle of these mounted forces, or their lack of one, in any more detail than this. The cavalry tend only to appear in narratives of the Somme Battle as waiting hopefully behind the lines, their presence serving as a metaphor for the wider failures and ‘loss of innocence’ which the offensive has come to represent. For example, John Keegan observed “Haig had three cavalry divisions [one Indian] brought up to the Somme front, but they were neither expected to, nor did they, play any part on July 1st or any other day in 1916.”42 Many writers see it as self-evident that cavalry would be both immobile, and hopelessly vulnerable on the modern battlefield of 1914–18. Thus it is not necessary to investigate their activities any further. This prejudice has its roots as early as the Official Historyof the war compiled in part by engineer officer Sir James Edmonds. Therein he quoted the observation by an anonymous American officer that “you can’t have a cavalry charge until you have captured the enemy’s last machine-gun.”43 The veracity of this remark is not borne out by the facts of a number of successful cavalry engagements, including the 14 July fighting considered later, nonetheless it appears repeatedly in the literature. John Terraine extracted Edmonds’ opinion from the Official History and quoted as if it were a substantial fact both in To win a War in 197844 and again in White Heat in 1982.45 Terraine extended this argument to provide a blanket assessment of the cavalry’s contribution on the Western Front; that cavalry was out-dated and vulnerable and that its contribution to the outcome of the war was insignificant. In his discussion of the battle of Neuve-Chapelle in 1915 he observed: To exploit a success, five divisions of cavalry were brought up behind the offensive front; this would also continue to be standard procedure. Occasion after occasion on the Western Front would show, until the

42 J. Keegan, The Face of Battle: A Study of Agincourt, Waterloo and the Somme (New York: 1976), 242. 43 J.E. Edmonds (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Mili- tary Operations France and Belgium 1918, vol. 5, 26th September–11th November, The Advance to Victory (London: 1945), 196. 44 J. Terraine, To Win a War: 1918, The Year of Victory(1978, reprint, London: 2000), 190. 45 J. Terraine, White Heat: The New Warfare 1914–18 (London: 1982), 317. 44 david kenyon

changed conditions of the very last days, that cavalry were quite incapable of performing this function.46 This same dismissal of the cavalry as self-evidently useless, and requiring of no further comment or investigation has also continued to permeate other more recent analytical studies of the war. R. Prior and T. Wilson’s Command on the Western Front (1992) has been widely praised as an important and penetrating work, yet their attitude to ‘Horse soldiers’ (by which epithet the cavalry are frequently described in their book), is dismissive. Indeed, their keenness to denigrate the cavalry led the authors to offer an interpretation of events which undermines the credibility of the remainder of their work. In commenting on the action at High Wood on 14 July 1916 they observed: Unhappily a regiment of cavalry which had reached the front in the late afternoon accompanied the attack. The cavalry were soon dealt with by German machine-gunners. The infantry by contrast initially made good progress.47 This action will be examined in detail in later, and the falseness of this assertion will become apparent. Nonetheless, while such distor- tions reflect little credit on their authors, they are typical of the curious historical blinkers by which many historians seem constrained when dealing with cavalry matters. The failure of these writers to examine fully the relationship between mounted soldiers and machine-guns also leads to a failure to appreciate the further point that this new technology was applied as often by the cavalry as at them. Even before the war Cavalry Training stated “the characteristics of machine guns as described in the previous section render them valuable for employment with cavalry . . .”48 This potential was further enhanced, as discussed above, after the creation of the MGCC in 1916, and the issue of Hotchkiss guns to regiments. Thus, in the later part of the war a cavalry brigade had a large and highly mobile source of potential firepower. The wider point often missed, is that the machine-gun was at least as much the friend of the mounted soldier as his enemy. The clearest way to refute these allegations, and to demonstrate the battlefield effectiveness, and individual competence of cavalry on the

46 Terraine, White Heat, 147. 47 R. Prior and T. Wilson, Command on the Western Front: The Military Career of Sir Henry Rawlinson 1914–18 (Oxford: 1992), 201. 48 Cavalry Training (London: 1912), 305. indian cavalry divisions 45

Western Front, and of the Indian cavalry in particular, is to examine their performance in action. Such a chance for action came on during what has become known as the ‘Battle of Bazentin Ridge’ on 14 July 1916, roughly 2 weeks after the start of the offensive. On this occasion the Indian cavalry would come to grips with the enemy; at High Wood. The small part played by the cavalry in this battle was probably no more significant in terms of the overall outcome of the Somme Campaign than their part in the 1 July attack, but a detailed examination of this action sheds light on the tactical effectiveness or otherwise of the arm, and on the appropriateness of their preparations. In particular, a detailed analysis of the movements of the cavalry forces involved demonstrates their battlefield mobility, which was a key part of their overall tactical effectiveness. Detailed reconstruction of the course of events on that day is also salutary in demonstrating how the actions of the cavalry have been misrepresented in many subsequent accounts of the battle. How the Official History painted an erroneous picture of the cavalry, stuck in the mud, unable to arrive at the scene of the action until the evening, has already been described.49 This image has been accepted uncritically by most of those subsequently dealing with the battle.50 On the basis of this supposed immobility and ineffectiveness, many historians have gone on to criticize the senior commanders for having unrealistic expectations of what the cavalry could achieve. Others have gone even further and suggested that General Rawlinson’s (Commander of the 4th Army and overall commander on 14 July) inclusion of any cavalry in his plans was a grave error. Prior and Wilson argue that: These orders [for the cavalry] do no credit to Rawlinson’s command. . . . The result could only be a slaughter of the mounted force. Rawlinson’s orders therefore only make any sense if he was expecting the enemy to flee. And if that was his expectation then the boundaries of cloud cuckoo-land should be moved down a stage from their usual location around G.H.Q.51 Harsh words indeed, and as will be shown, not an observation borne out by the facts of the battle. In the aftermath of 1 July, Haig was

49 J.E. Edmonds (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Mili- tary Operations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 1, Sir Douglas Haig’s command to the 1st July: The Battle of the Somme (London: 1932), 84. 50 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 49. 51 Prior and Wilson, Command on the Western Front, 193. 46 david kenyon keen to exploit the success on the right of the attack front, in particular Congreve’s 13th Corps gains around Montauban. In brief, the overall plan for the attack on 14 July comprised an attack northwards from Montauban (captured on 1 July), into and through the German Second Line position on the Ginchy—Pozières ridge.52 The main attacking front was to be approximately 3,500 yards (3.2 km) wide, with its flanks defined by Mametz Wood to the east, and Trones and Delville Woods to the west. The initial objective was the German Second Line itself, followed by the villages of Bazentin-le-Petit to the west, Bazentin-le-Grand in the centre, and Longueval in the east. These 3 villages lay immediately behind the German line. If the attack was successful up to this point, cavalry would be pushed through with the immediate objective of High Wood, in order to make a lodgement in the as yet only partially constructed German Third (or ‘Switch’) Line. Potential further exploitation by additional divisions of cavalry was also postulated. The initial infantry attack would be conducted by four divisions, from right to left: 9th and 3rd Divisions of the 13th Corps, and 7th and 21st Divisions of the 15th Corps. The initial assault would be made at first light of dawn, 3.25 am, from forming up positions out in no-man’s land, as close to the German positions as possible. To reinforce the element of surprise this would be preceded by only 5 minutes of ‘Hurricane’ bombardment (although a less intense wire-cutting bombardment had already been taking place for several days).53 The cavalry force to take part in the attack was the same as for 1 July, 2nd Indian Division, and 1st and 3rd cavalry divisions. The 2nd Indian Division was to start immediately to the south of Albert, in the vicinity of Meaulte (9 km i.e. 5 miles from Montauban), but by ‘Zero’ (i.e. 3.25 am on the 14th) would have one brigade immediately behind the infantry attack to the south of Montauban. One regiment of this brigade was to support each of 13th and 15th corps in their attacks on their second objectives, the villages behind the line, and the third regiment was to be ready to seize High Wood by ‘coup de main’ as soon as an opportunity arose.54 As always on the Western Front the primary difficulty was communications. Rawlinson and the

52 Fourth Army Operation Order no. 4, 8 July 1916, Fourth Army file, WO158/234, PRO, TNA. 53 Fourth Army Operation Order no. 4, 8 July 1916, Fourth Army file. 54 Fourth Army Operation Order no. 4, 8 July 1916, Fourth Army file, paragraph 4. indian cavalry divisions 47

4th Army HQ were 25 km (15 miles) behind the front at Querrieu. General Congreve in command of 13th Corps was based at Chipilly, some 14 km (9 miles) from Montauban, while the 15th Corps HQ was at Heilly, roughly between the two. In turn, the headquarters of the 3 cavalry divisions would start the battle in their points of concentration, but the commanders would soon be on the move with their divisions. In order to overcome this problem the headquarters of the 3rd (Infantry) Division, was nominated as an advanced reporting centre. This division, under Major-General Haldane, formed the left of 13th Corps’ line, roughly in the centre of the attack. Haldane’s main headquarter was initially located about 1 km (1,100 yards) north-east of Bray-sur-Somme.55 Subsequently, an advanced headquarter was established at Billon Farm 1km (1,100 yards) south of Carnoy.56 This placed it only about 4 km (5,000 yards) behind the start line of the attack. As the attack began, the commander of the Cavalry Advanced Guard, Brigadier-General Gregory, and subsequently the GOC 2nd Indian Division, Major-General MacAndrew were both to establish themselves at these headquarters. Cavalry liaison officers were also sent to all the other attacking infantry divisions, (with motor cyclists and mounted despatch riders) with orders to report to MacAndrew at 3rd Division Headquarters. It was at the advanced headquarter that much of the immediate business of fighting the battle was conducted through ad hoc conferences among the commanders at divisional and brigade level. The second difficulty faced by the cavalry divisions was their line of advance. As on the 1 July the route to be taken up to the start line of the attack was prepared in advance by the construction of cavalry tracks. These were formally defined in 2nd Indian Division operation orders of 12 July: Four new routes across country have been marked by flags from the new bivouack towards Carnoy and thence towards Montauban. . . . It is extremely important that all units should be thoroughly familiar with these tracks. They will be referred to in future orders as A, B, C, and D from south to north.57

55 Instructions to Brigadier-General C.L. Gregory, commanding Advanced Guard, 2nd Indian Cavalry Division, 14 July 1916, paragraph 3 WO95/1180, PRO, TNA. 56 XIII Corps Operation Order no. 25, 13 July 1916, para 8, in XIII Corps War Diary, July 1916, WO95/895, PRO, TNA. 57 Order no. GS301/4, included as appendix to 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 12 July 1916, WO95/1180. 48 david kenyon

This must have been a substantial undertaking as each track ran for between 10 and 15 km across country. Much of the route in the rear areas would have required relatively little repair, but the portions between Carnoy and Montauban would have crossed the former British and German front lines of 1 July, and the devastated area resulting from the British bombardment. The Secunderabad Brigade, at least, must have been ‘thoroughly familiar’ with the tracks as working parties detailed for their construction are recorded in the brigade War Diary on 7, 9, 10 and 11 July.58 Once the start line of the attack had been crossed, similar provision was to be made for the cavalry advance over the German second line trenches, and it was the responsibility of the attacking infantry to provide this. The attack orders for Haldane’s 3rd Division include: The 8th Infantry Brigade will arrange to cut ramps 12 feet wide down to the captured German trenches in two places for the passage of cavalry in such a way as not to block the passageway in the trenches. The wire opposite these ramps will be cleared away by the infantry and the gaps clearly marked by flags.59 In addition, the leading cavalry brigade would once again be accompanied by the Canadians with their portable bridges. Thus, comprehensive preparations had been made to get the cavalry into position for their rôle in the attack, all that remained was for the infantry corps commanders to launch them forward into battle. The infantry attack began, on schedule at 3.25 am on 14 July. The part played by mounted troops in the battle can be reconstructed from reports contained within the War Diaries of the formations concerned. Although at times vague and contradictory these accounts, taken as a whole, provide a fairly comprehensive narrative of the events of the day. This narrative is somewhat at variance with that typically appearing in published accounts of the battle. During the battle itself there was a good deal of confusion among the other arms concerning the progress of the cavalry. Bodies of horsemen were reported in various locations when in fact these were only patrols, or in some cases no cavalry were present at all. This confusion has been perpetuated in accounts of the action which refer loosely and interchangeably to the 7th Dragoon

58 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, July 1916 WO95/1187. 59 3rd Division Operation Order no. 84, 13 July 1916, para 26, in 3rd Division War Diary, July 1916, WO95/1377, PRO, TNA. indian cavalry divisions 49

Guards, the Secunderabad Brigade, 2nd Indian Division, or even simply ‘the Cavalry’ as if these terms represented a single body of troops. This was not the case. Operational orders split the division into a series of separated bodies,60 each moving on a different timetable and by different routes, only when the path of each is followed does the situation become clear. At midnight on the night of 13–14 July, the 2nd Indian Division was in billets around Meaulte, to the south of Albert and perhaps 5 km (3 miles) closer to the front than the other 2 wholly British divisions. The infantry attack was scheduled to begin at 3.25 am, but deployment by the lead infantry brigades into no-man’s land began several hours before. In keeping with this the first elements of 2nd Indian Division were also on the move soon after midnight, so as to be as close to the front line as possible at the moment when they might be needed. It is something of a misrepresentation to refer to the location of large forces in precise terms as these formations took up large amounts of ground. For example a cavalry division moving in road column (half sections) is estimated to have formed a column up to 12 miles (19 km) long.61 It is possible, however to break down the 2nd Indian Division into some of its component parts and follow these parts individually, recording the locations of the head of each column at various times. The division was divided up as follows:62 The 2nd Indian Division Headquarters party, including Major- General MacAndrew (GOC 2nd Indian Division)

• Secunderabad Brigade Headquarters party, including Brigadier- General Gregory (GOC Secunderabad Brigade) • The ‘Vanguard’ formed from elements of Secunderabad Brigade, consisting of 7th Dragoon Guards, 1 squadron Fort Garry Horse (with trench bridges), 2 sections Brigade MG Squadron (with 4 Vickers guns) • The ‘Advanced Guard’, formed of the remainder of Secunderabad Brigade, consisting of 20th Deccan Horse, 34th Poona Horse, 4 sections Brigade MG Squadron (with 8 Vickers guns), N Battery

60 2nd Indian Cavalry Division Operation Order No. 7, 13 July 1916, included as appendix to 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, WO95/1180. 61 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 43. 62 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Order no. 32, included as appendix to Secundera- bad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 50 david kenyon

RHA (with 6 13-pounder guns), 1 Field Troop RE, 2 Rolls Royce armoured cars from 9th LAC Battery, 1 Squadron Fort Garry Horse (with portable trench bridges) • The remainder of 2nd Indian Cavalry Division, consisting of Ambala Cavalry Brigade, Canadian Cavalry Brigade (less 2 squadrons), remainder 9th LAC Battery (4 cars)

At some time shortly after midnight, the Ambala Brigade, and the Canadian Cavalry Brigade moved from billets to their divisional point of concentration at Morlancourt. This was 4 km (2.5 miles) south of Meulte, and actually marginally further from the front line. This assembly was complete by 3.30 am. Here they were to stay until around 8.00 am.63 Also, at around midnight the 2 HQ parties set out from Meaulte, MacAndrew arrived at Main HQ 3rd Division, just outside Bray, at 3.30 am.64 Gregory went ahead arriving at advanced HQ 3rd Division at Billon Farm by about the same time.65 At about 1.30 am, the two portions of the Secunderabad Brigade completed their assembly at Meaulte and moved off, Vanguard leading, towards Bray. The advance guard halted just to the north-west of Bray, near 3rd Division Main HQ arriving at about 3.45 am.66 The vanguard pushed on, crossing the Albert-Peronne Road (just south of Carnoy) at 5.05 am and moving on to a position in a valley immediately to the south of Montauban. Once across the old front lines the 7th Dragoon Guards (part of the vanguard) closed up into column of squadrons, (B Squadron leading) and advanced through moderate shelling, 4 horses being wounded.67 It is not clear at what time the vanguard reached Montauban, but it is not likely to have been later than about 7.00 am. In due course after resting and watering the horses at Bray, the advance guard moved off at 6.15 am and had arrived at 3rd Division advanced HQ at Billon Farm by 7.15 am.68 Thus, by 7.00 am the cavalry advance was proceeding on schedule, with the various portions of the 2nd Indian Division advancing

63 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1180. 64 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 14 July 1916. 65 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 66 20th Deccan Horse War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 67 7th Dragoon Guards War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 68 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. indian cavalry divisions 51 by stages along its prepared routes. The vanguard of the division had crossed the old 1 July front lines without difficulty and was in a position of support behind the infantry attack at Montauban, the remainder of the advance guard was 4 km (2.5 miles) to the rear at Billon Farm, and the balance of the division still at Morlancourt. At this stage the infantry attack was proceeding well on many parts of the front, and for the first time that day a report reached Rawlinson (at around 7.00 am) that Longueval, the key objective on the right hand side of the attack, had been captured.69 Eager to begin the next phase of the battle, Rawlinson (via 13th Corps) ordered the remainder of the 2nd Indian Division to close up to the front and for the advance guard to proceed with its attack towards High Wood. These orders were received at 7.40 am and the advance guard moved up from Billon Farm across the old front lines to the position south of Montauban occupied by the vanguard, mostly arriving probably around 8.30 am. Meanwhile, the other brigades of the division, at Morlancourt, received orders at around 7.45 and were on the move by 8.20, advancing through Bray to positions in the vicinity of Billon Farm.70 It was at this stage that the division encountered its first difficulties. The 2 armoured cars attached to the advance guard set off from Billon at about 9.00 am. Unfortunately, the road across the old front lines was bad, a situation no doubt made worse by the recent bad weather and the passage a few minutes before of the hooves of a brigade of cavalry, and the 2 armoured cars became hopelessly bogged in the mud. It was to be midday before the 2 armoured cars had been dug free and returned to Billon.71 Some wheeled transport was, however, able to make the passage as N Battery RHA was able to join the brigade concentrated behind Montauban by 9.30 am.72 At about this time MacAndrew and the 2nd Indian Division HQ group also moved up from Bray to the 3rd Division Advanced HQ at Billon Farm, joining Gregory and the Secunderabad Brigade HQ.73 Sadly, the reports reaching Fourth Army did not reflect the real situation, as a see-saw battle was taking place for the possession of

69 W. Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Operations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 2nd July 1916 to the End of the Battles of the Somme (London: 1938), 82–3. 70 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1180. 71 9th LAC Battery War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1182, PRO, TNA. 72 N Battery RHA War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1188., PRO, TNA 73 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1180. 52 david kenyon

Longueval, which would last all day, reports of capture or loss coming in every few hours, usually hopelessly out of date by the time they were read. Also from about 8.00 am onwards there occurred one of the fatal breakdowns of communications and confidence which were the hall- mark of British attacks on the Western Front. At about 8.15 am, as the struggle for Longueval continued, 7th Dragoon Guards sent out two patrols to reconnoitre their route towards High Wood.74 Unfortunately, the route proposed for the advance was via the trench crossings prepared immediately to the west of Longueval, and on approaching the village the patrols came under machine-gun fire from it, and from machine-guns surviving in the German second line trenches to the west. These patrols returned reporting the route impassable to the brigade, and on this information reaching Congreve at 13th Corps “it was decided by the Corps Commander not to push on to the allotted objectives until the situation became more favourable.”75 At this point, the 13th Corps attack was effectively halted, halting the cavalry with it, waiting for the complete capture of Longueval. On the left flank of the attack, on 15th Corps front, however, the situation was rather different. By 9.00 am all of the first and second phase objectives had been secured and the ground between Bazentin- le-Grand and High Wood was mostly clear of Germans. Indeed at about 10.00 am Brigadier-General Potter of 9th Brigade was able to make his famous walk, unmolested up the hill to High Wood.76 In the course of the morning, several of the infantry divisional commanders proposed attacks into this gap, both Watts, commanding 7th Division (15th Corps) and Haldane, commanding 3rd Division (13th Corps) offered their reserve brigades, but were told by their respective corps and by the 4th Army that these brigades were required as a reserve in case of counter attack, and to ‘wait for the cavalry.’77 Ironically, that very cavalry was also waiting, behind Montauban, for renewed orders to advance from the 13th Corps. Further, cavalry patrols were sent out in the course of the morning to the west around Bazentin-le-Grand and into Bazentin-le-Petit. These

74 7th Dragoon Guards War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 75 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1180. 76 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 83. 77 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 84. indian cavalry divisions 53 patrols were able to witness a German counter-attack on the north end of Bazentin-le-Petit at around 11.45 am,78 but must also have been able to determine the viability of an attack along the more westerly line, still, no orders were given. Indeed, the presence of mounted men advancing and then withdrawing in the vicinity of the Bazentins was reported to 15th Corps as the failure of the cavalry advance guard attack.79 Meanwhile, the Secunderabad Brigade itself, with elements of 7th Dragoon Guards out patrolling, occupied its Indian regiments by sending work parties to repair the cavalry tracks across the old front lines.80 By noon, it seems to have become apparent to Rawlinson at 4th Army that no cavalry advance had taken place on High Wood. Indeed, no advance of any sort had taken place beyond that of a lone brigadier at around 10.00 am. He therefore authorized the infantry attack on High Wood by 7th Division (15th Corps) originally proposed by its commander Major-General Watts earlier that morning. It was now the turn of Lieutenant-General Horne, commanding 15th Corps, to develop the same concern over Longueval that had constrained Congreve at 13th Corps from ordering the cavalry forward in the morning. Horne delayed 7th division’s attack on 15th Corps’ front until such time as Longueval had fallen to 13th Corps.81 It is difficult to see the justification for this decision. Horne may have felt that with German troops still in positions immediately to the north and west of Bazentin-le-Petit, as well as in Longueval, an attack on High Wood would be exposed to fire from both flanks. On the other hand, the capture of High Wood could equally be seen as a method of out- flanking and rendering untenable the position of the German forces in Longueval itself. Either way, Horne’s decision once again stalled the attack as a whole, while 9th Division on the right continued to struggle for Longueval. At 3.10 pm, reports of the capture of Longueval by 13th Corps, reached the 15th Corps. Once again these reports were out of date,

78 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916 included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 79 T. Norman, The Hell they called High Wood: The Somme 1916(Wellingborough: 1984), 89. 80 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14th July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 81 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 85. 54 david kenyon as the struggle for the village continued.82 Nonetheless, Horne authorized the attack on High Wood by 7th Division for 5.15 pm. Word of this attack reached Gregory, who was with Secunderabad Brigade behind Montauban, at 4.35 pm, via a telephone line laid by the brigade signal squadron from 3rd Division Advanced HQ at Billon Farm to the brigade position at Montauban.83 He returned to Billon Farm, and was briefed by MacAndrew on the attack orders passed down by the 13th Corps. The Secunderabad Brigade was to provide flank protection to 7th Division’s attack, with the objective of the German Third Line trenches east of High Wood, while the infantry attacked into the wood itself. During the briefing orders were received that the attack was postponed until 6.15 pm. Gregory had returned to the brigade by 5.40 pm at which time he received a final version of his orders. Under these, he was to take 2 regiments, 7th Dragoon Guards, and the 20th Deccan Horse (plus the machine-guns and the Canadian bridging squadron) north-west to Sabot Copse, where they would be placed under command of the 15th Corps. From that point they would move on their objectives to the east of High Wood. The third regiment, 34th Poona Horse would stay at Montauban.84 The 2 regiments left Montauban at 6.00 pm, crossing the British front line of that morning in ‘Montauban alley’ via ramps prepared during the day by the brigade field squadron RE. The regiments had arrived at Sabot Copse, some 3 km (2 miles) away in a straight line, by 6.25 pm. Here, Gregory attended further briefings with Brigadier- General Minshull-Ford, the commander of 91st Brigade, 7th Division, and the whole force moved off at around 7.00 pm.85 The advance was conducted with 91st Brigade on the left, advancing on High Wood. On their right came 7th Dragoon Guards, in column of squadrons, with B Squadron leading. In turn, on the right of the Dragoons was the Deccan Horse in similar order (with A squadron leading).86 The

82 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 86. 83 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade, Signal Squadron War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1188, PRO, TNA. 84 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 85 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 86 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. indian cavalry divisions 55

N Battery RHA deployed in support on a reverse slope to the south of the German second line position, with a forward observer in the German reserve trench. However, although the first round was fired by the battery at 8.10 pm, failing light restricted observation and only 21 rounds were fired in total in support of the cavalry.87 As the cavalry advanced across the broad valley behind the German second line they were visible to observers on the ridge behind, and to the Germans in Longueval and Delville Wood, as well as to scattered parties of the enemy in the fields. The regiments came under machine- gun and rifle fire, but sustained relatively few casualties. The lead squadron of 7th Dragoon Guards came abreast of the eastern side of High Wood at about 8.00 pm. Here, a larger concentration of Germans was encountered sheltering in shell holes within a crop of standing corn. The lead squadron, under Lieutenant Pope, charged these troops, who immediately fled. Sixteen Germans were ridden down and ‘speared’ (the leading squadron of all Indian-based regiments being armed with lances), while another 32 were made prisoner.88 In order to retain contact with the infantry attack the dragoons then halted and taking advantage of a bank along the side of the road from the southern corner of High Wood to Longueval established a defensive line. This position came under machine-gun fire from Longueval at about 9.00 pm, and the brigade machine guns were pushed out to the right flank to deal with this. The German guns were silenced, but not before one gun horse had been hit. Second-Lieutenant Hartley, commanding one of the sections made an attempt to retrieve the gun, but was killed in the process, while the gun itself was found to be damaged beyond repair. Second-Lieutenant Anson, who took over command of the party was also wounded while withdrawing the remainder of the machine-gun squadron.89 The Deccan Horse advanced on the right of the dragoons. Meanwhile, the true situation in Longueval had become clear as the High Wood attack was being prepared, and new orders were issued to the Deccan Horse at 7.30 pm.90 According to these, while the regiment

87 N Battery RHA War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1188, PRO, TNA. 88 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14th July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 89 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. 90 Army Message ‘OC XX Deccan Horse, from SCB 119’ attached to 20th Deccan Horse War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 56 david kenyon was to maintain contact with the Dragoon Guards on the left, their new objective was to support a renewed attack by 9th Division into Longueval village and Delville Wood. The Deccan Horse was to advance right around the north end of Delville Wood as far as the German third line towards Flers. This maneuver was carried out successfully, and 10 prisoners (of the 16th Bavarian Regiment) were captured. This advance, and its moral effect on the enemy, was described by a participant, Lieutenant-Colonel Tennant: As each squadron cleared the defile it formed line and advanced at a gallop in the direction taken by the advanced guard, which lay through a broad belt of standing corn, in which small parties of the enemy lay concealed. Individual Germans now commenced popping up on all sides, throwing up their arms and shouting ‘Kamerad’ and not a few, evidently under the impression that no quarter would be given, flung their arms around the horses necks and begged for mercy—all of which impeded the advance.91 A notable feature of this account is the exaggerated fear that a few mounted men could inspire in the enemy. This is was an additional factor in the tactical effectiveness of cavalry which should not be underestimated. Due to enemy fire from Flers and from Delville Wood, the regiment could not advance further than about 500 metre short of the German Third Line trenches, also as no sign of progress into Delville Wood by 9th Division was evident, to attack it unsupported would have been useless. In due course as darkness fell at around 9.30 pm, the Deccan Horse withdrew and took up a defensive position extending the line already established by 7th Dragoon Guards along the High Wood to Longueval road.92 In the course of the night the Secunderabad Brigade was relieved, and the position taken over by infantry. The 7th Dragoon Guards and the Deccan Horse began a gradual withdrawal at 3.30 am on the 15th, and were able to depart without further loss.93 Meanwhile, the remainder of the division had also been withdrawn. The Ambala Brigade was ordered up to Sabot Copse in the early hours of the 15th to be available to support the renewed infantry attack on High Wood, but as the

91 E. Tennant, The Royal Deccan Horse in the Great War(Aldershot: 1939), 48. 92 Tennant, The Royal Deccan Horse in the Great War, 49. 93 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade Narrative of Events 14 July 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916. indian cavalry divisions 57 day wore on the impracticality of any further cavalry action became apparent and the 2nd Indian Division was stood down at 6.15 pm on the 15 July.94 It is instructive to compare the course of events contained in this narrative with the way the battle has been described in published accounts. It rapidly becomes clear that preconceptions about the capabilities and vulnerabilities of cavalry have clouded these accounts from the outset. In short, the tactical effectiveness of the cavalry has been ignored. Some of these preconceptions have been touched on earlier, however two in particular stand out. The first of these is the lack of mobility of cavalry in the face of trenches and shell-damaged ground. The Official History states that: At 7.40 am the XIII Corps had ordered forward the 2nd Indian Cavalry Division from its place of assembly around Morlancourt (4 miles south of Albert). The division moved at 8.20 am, but its progress across slippery ground cut up by trenches and pitted with shell holes proved very slow: it was well past noon when its advanced guard, the Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade (Brigadier-General C.L. Gregory) with attached troops, arrived in the valley south of Montauban.95 It is true that the weather had deteriorated since 1 July, a factor which was to halt the advance of the armoured cars, but there is no evidence that it interfered with the planned timetable of cavalry movement. The above account conflates the movement of the 2nd Indian Cavalry Division’s main body, which left Morlancourt at 8.20 am but only to march as far as Billon Farm, where it was formed up and halted as ordered by about 9.30 am, and the Secunderabad Brigade, which had its Vanguard (7th Dragoon Guards) ‘south of Montauban’ by 7.00 am and was closed up in that location as a complete brigade including supporting artillery, by 9.30 am. TheOfficial History also observes that “. . . the brigade did not begin to cross the old British front line until the evening.”96 Assuming this remark refers to the front line of 14 July, not 1 July, this is strictly true, but it fails to point out that this was after the whole day had been spent waiting behind Montauban. Taken in the context of the previous quoted statement it is easy to infer that this

94 2nd Indian Cavalry Division War Diary 14 July 1916, WO95/1180. 95 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 85. 96 Miles (ed.), History of the Great War Based on Official Documents, Military Oper- ations France and Belgium 1916, vol. 2, 84. 58 david kenyon late advance was due to difficulties experienced in the cavalry getting forward. It was not. Sadly once errors of this sort reach print, they tend to be replicated. Anglesey falls into this trap, suggesting: It was now that the daunting nature of progress by mounted troops across soft and slippery terrain cut up by the elaborate trench system and pitted with innumerable shell-holes made itself painfully clear. It was a long time past midday before the leading squadrons began to show near Montauban.97 Similarly, Liddle suggests that “. . . it took the Deccan Horse four hours to move the six-seven miles [from Bray] to Montauban.”98 In fact, this move was done in two stages; 3.5 km (2 miles) from Bray to Billon Farm, achieved in under an hour (6.15 am–7.15 am) and 4.5 km (3 miles) Billon Farm to Montauban, carried out in 50 minutes (7.40 am–8.30 am). Unfortunately, this erroneous picture of the cavalry stuck in the mud continues to recur, appearing most recently in Peter Hart’s work on the Somme, published in 2005.99 It should not be inferred from these movement schedules that the cavalry were free to roam over the battlefield unhindered. All of the above writers were correct to state that shell holes, trenches, and particularly wire, were a serious obstacle to cavalry. What is incorrect is to suggest that somehow the cavalry commanders were surprised by this, and were seriously delayed by it. Liddle also suggests that “During the morning infantry commanders were waiting for the cavalry to arrive, although nothing had been done to speed up their movement for example, by clearing the road.”100 On the contrary, the cavalry had spent most of the previous fortnight clearing a road, and on the day of the attack infantry battalions were specifically tasked with continuing this work through the German line. After its arrival at Montauban, the Secunderabad Brigade also spent much of the day dispersed in working parties. The result of this detailed preparation was a relatively smooth and timely advance. The success of this work on trench crossings carried out by the cavalry itself and by the infantry is indicated by the fact that the squadron of the Fort Garry Horse attached to Secunderabad

97 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 49. 98 P. Liddle, The 1916 Battle of the Somme: A Reappraisal(1992, reprint, London: 2001), 74. 99 P. Hart, The Somme(London: 2005), 274. 100 Liddle, The 1916 Battle of the Somme, 74. indian cavalry divisions 59

Brigade specifically to provide trench bridging returned to billets on 15 July with its portable bridges unused.101 The second aspect of the battle which has been frequently misrepresented is the extent to which the cavalry were vulnerable to enemy machine-gun fire, and the casualties they suffered in their advance across the open ground towards High Wood. The casualties suffered by the Secunderabad Brigade were not high. A breakdown of these is included in the Brigade War Diary.102 Lieutenant Anson of the 7th Dragoon Guards suffered wounds while rescuing the machine-gunners, and 2 other ranks killed and 20 wounded. Sixteen horses were killed or missing with a further 23 wounded. 20th Deccan Horse suffered a higher loss, mostly probably when bumping up against the German third line trenches; 2 Indian officers were wounded, and 3 other ranks killed and 50 wounded. Eighteen horses were killed or missing and 52 wounded. The machine-gun squadron lost Lieutenant Hartley killed, 10 other ranks wounded and lost 12 horses. The N Battery was shelled briefly at around 11.00 pm, 3 shells falling on the wagon lines killing 2 men and wounding 12, and killing 12 horses.103 Two other men in the brigade were wounded. When compared with an initial brigade strength of probably in excess of 1,500 men, 8 killed and slighly fewer than 100 wounded might be considered a trifling loss by Western Front standards. The loss in horses was slightly greater, with roughly 50 killed and 100 wounded. This situation is a long way from the outcome for cavalry in the open on the Western Front, both as predicted at the time and assumed by subsequent historians. Prior and Wilson’s remark that “The cavalry were soon dealt with by the German machine-gunners”104 is clearly wide of the mark, to say the least. Indeed, on the basis of the successful suppression of German fire from Longueval by the cavalry machine- gun sections, it is tempting to suggest that the reverse was true. It might be argued that the brigade was not very seriously engaged, the enemy soldiers charged by the 7th Dragoon Guards seem to have been mostly occupied in surrendering and running away. The 2 regiments were, however, deployed under fire and in sight of the enemy

101 Canadian Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 15 July 1916, WO95/1083, PRO, TNA. 102 Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade—Casualties 14 August [sic] 1916, included as appendix to Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1187. 103 N Battery RHA War Diary, 14 July 1916, WO95/1188, PRO, TNA. 104 Prior and Wilson, Command on the Western Front, 201. 60 david kenyon for at least two hours, from around 7.00 pm until it got dark at around 9.30. They also occupied a position that was not entrenched, at least initially, and had to rely for cover on folds in the rolling ground, and the height of the standing crops. Yet, the idea that cavalry were somehow doomed to fail seems to have become rooted in popular imagination. One eye-witness, Lieutenant Beadle, an artillery observer with 33rd Division (15th Corps Reserve) allegedly observed the cavalry attack on High Wood: It was an incredible sight, an unbelievable sight. They galloped up with their lances and with pennants [sic] flying, up the slope to High Wood and straight into it. Of course they were falling all the way . . . I’ve never seen anything like it! They simply galloped on through all that and horses and men dropping on the ground, with no hope against machine guns, because the Germans up on the ridge were firing down into the valley where the soldiers were. It was an absolute rout, a magnificent sight. Tragic.105 This account appeared originally in Lyn Macdonald’sSomme , and was subsequently quoted in a number of published sources where it was accorded the weight due to eye-witness testimony.106 It should be noted however that Lieutenant Beadle was listed by Macdonald as a ‘Direct contributor’ to her work, i.e. an interviewee recalling events around 60 years later, and the ‘Valley of death’ tone of his account is notable, especially when the number of casualties in the overall operation is considered. With all due respect to a veteran of the battle, it would appear that Lieutenant Beadle was letting his preconceptions and his poetic imagination get in the way of his powers of recollection. A clue to this is the fact that he saw ‘pennants flying’ when lance pen- nons had been discontinued for active service since before 1914,107 and that the horsemen are described riding into the woods, a feat which was never attempted. To be charitable the squadrons may have been carrying trench crossing marker and signal flags, but the impression is of a recollection coloured by romantic expectations of what a cavalry charge on the Western Front ought to have been like, rather than the reality. Other historians have found the romantic idea of senseless cavalry sacrifice equally hard to resist. A.J.P. Taylor described “. . . a sight unique on the Western Front; cavalry riding into action through the

105 L. Macdonald, Somme (London: 1983), 137–8. 106 Anglesey, A History of the British Cavalry, vol. 8, 53. 107 Field Service Pocket Book (London: 1914), 189. indian cavalry divisions 61 waving corn with bugles blowing and lances glittering. The glorious vision crumbled into slaughter as the German machine guns opened fire.”108 A powerful image, but not one borne out by the facts. Perhaps, the most spectacular of the descriptions of the fighting that day comes from another supposed eye-witness, Lieutenant-Colonel G. Seton Hutchison, who in his memoirs recorded the advance of the Deccan Horse: I describe a squadron of Indian cavalry, dark faces under glistening helmets, galloping across the valley towards the slope. No troops could have presented a more inspiring sight than these natives of India with lance and sword, tearing in mad cavalcade onto the skyline. A few disappeared over it: they never came back. The remainder became the target of every gun and rifle. Turning the horses heads with shrill cries these masters of horsemanship galloped through a hell of fire, lifting their mounts lightly over yawning shell holes; turning and twisting through the barrage of great shells: the ranks thinned, not a man escaped. Months later the wail of the dying was re-echoed among the Himalayan foothills . . . “weeping for her children and would not be comforted.”109 The assertion that ‘. . . not a man escaped’ is a poor description of an engagement where the regiment in question suffered only 3 fatal casualties. Caught between cynicism within other arms of the BEF itself (and indeed its historians), and the popular demand for tragic heroism it is easy to see how an exaggerated idea of cavalry casualties could develop, and become embedded in subsequent interpretation of their rôle. Seton-Huchison’s account also demonstrates how an unspo- ken, but nonetheless influential view of Indian forces as somehow ‘exotic’ and inappropriate to a European battlefield colours his version of events. The Indian soldier is depicted as tragic victim rather than competent and effective combatant. Equally little effort appears to have been expended in investigating just how immobile or otherwise mounted troops were on the hostile terrain of the Western Front. Contrary to what is widely reported the Indian cavalry divisions were not surprised by the nature of the battlefield, but prepared and trained for it in advance, built tracks across it, and were able to be in their appointed positions on time and in good order. Not only that but

108 A.J.P. Taylor, The First World War: An Illustrated History (1963, reprint, London: 1966), 140. 109 G. Seton, Footslogger: An Autobiography (London: 1931), 164. 62 david kenyon when confronted by their supposed scourge; German machine-guns, they were able to counter effectively with their own automatic weapons and win the fire-fight. Finally, they were able to close with the enemy and engage him with the ‘arme blanche’ inflicting both casualties and a significant amount of fear and panic in enemy ranks. There is space in this essay only to cover a very small part of the activities of the Indian cavalry divisions, and indeed much of the detail here is drawn from a larger study covering the war as a whole. Indian cavalry were also to play a significant role in the advance to the Hindenburg Line in the spring of 1917, and in the Battle of Cambrai in November and December of that year, in particular in the successful containment of the German counter attack around Gauche Wood. However, it is only by examining each of these actions in detail and with reference to contemporary source material (if not perhaps the testimony of spectators) that the weight of prejudice and misappre- hension about the effectiveness of Indian cavalry, and of mounted troops as a whole can be overcome. A participant in the events of 14 July, Mirza Ahmed Baig, wrote in a letter to another retired soldier at home in India, how, . . . our Government obtained a victory over the enemy and the regiment secured much renown. Perhaps you have read in the Indian newspapers how gallantly the Deccan Horse swept over the trenches and how the Germans, being alarmed at the sight turned and fled?110 Sadly that renown has been obscured, and the stories of that gallantry forgotten by a historical consensus which has ignored or sidelined mounted troops. It is perhaps time, some of that credit was reclaimed.

110 Letter of 2 August 1916 quoted in Indian Voices of the Great War, 214. CHAPTER TWO

COMMAND IN THE INDIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE D: MESOPOTAMIA, 1915–16

Andrew Syk

Consisting of no more than one infantry brigade, IEFD was ordered to occupy the head of the Persian Gulf prior to the outbreak of war with Turkey in October 1914. By November, Basra was occupied. The immediate objectives had been outlined in Brigadier-General W.S. Delamain’s initial instructions: to protect for the Admiralty the refineries, tanks and pipelines of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company at Abadan and to assure pro-British Arab shaikhs of the Persian Gulf of Britain’s support against Turkey.1 These stated aims were underpinned by a determination to maintain British supremacy in an area deemed vital to the defence of India and communications to the east in general.2 The growth of German influence within the Ottoman Empire, prominent after the turn of the century and manifested in the construction of the Baghdad Railway, threatened British influence and trade in the Persian Gulf and moreover was viewed as a threat to India.3 British intervention in Mesopotamia in 1914 appeared to mark a departure from the previous governmental policy of preserving the Ottoman Empire. In reality, however, it underlined a continuity of strategic and economic policy that sought overwhelmingly to protect both India’s land and maritime frontiers from rival European powers.4 Dovetailed to this policy were factors of ‘face’ or ‘prestige’, maintained

1 F.J. Moberly, Official History of the Great War: The Campaign in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918, 4 vols (London: 1923–27), vol. 1, 99–102. 2 M. Kent, “Great Britain and the End of the Ottoman Empire, 1900–23”, in Kent (ed.), The Great Powers and the End of the Ottoman Empire (London: 1984), 172. 3 U. Trumpener, “Germany and the End of the Ottoman Empire”, in Kent (ed.), Great Powers, 117. 4 S.A. Cohen, British Policy in Mesopotamia: 1903–1914 (London: 1976), 308; Kent, “Great Britain”, in Kent (ed.), The Great Powers and the End of the Ottoman Empire, 172–4. 64 andrew syk by a reputation for military strength. This, as David French declares, became almost an end in itself.5 War with Turkey nonetheless concerned the British policymakers. The Turkish sultan as caliph provided political and religious leadership for the British Empire’s considerable Sunni Muslim population in both Egypt and India. Fears of possible Turkish and German activity to incite pan-Islamism through subversion and military missions were confirmed by thecaliph ’s declaration of jihad on 14 November 1914. The British policymakers considered that if “Britain took steps to uphold her established position in the Gulf and perhaps expand it, such seditious activity would be less likely to be of real significance.”6 These strands of unstated policy underpinned much of the subsequent decision making in London. And the GOI at Delhi was first to accept and then to advocate a forward policy in Mesopotamia during 1915. Major-General Charles Townshend’s defeat of Colonel Nurettin (Nur-ud-Din) and the Turkish 35th and 38th infantry divisions at Kut-al-Amara on 28 September 1915 created the very real possibility of Baghdad’s capture. However, Townshend’s subsequent defeat at Ctesiphon in November 1915 was followed by a 4 month siege that extensive relief operations failed to dislodge, and culminated in the surrender of over 13,000 British and Indian soldiers in April 1916. It marked the nadir of Britain and India’s military efforts in Mesopotamia. Those who occupied positions of command in the IEFD during the 1915 offensive to capture Baghdad and the subsequent failed efforts to effect Townshend’s relief, have not fared well in subsequent analyses. The 1917Report of the Mesopotamia Commission, established to investigate the origin, inception and conduct of the campaign to April 1916, cited Indian mismanagement of medical and transport provision, outdated equipment in consequence of pre-war retrenchment, and confused policy due to division of responsibility between London and India. The Commission, however, heavily criticized poor decision making amongst India’s senior military command for exacerbating material shortages, and so served to reinforce and illuminate the critical perception of command.

5 D. French, British Strategy and War Aims, 1914–1916 (London: 1986), 32–3. 6 B.C. Busch, Britain, India and the Arabs: 1914–21 (London: 1971), 8. command in the indian expeditionary force 65

The Mesopotamia Commission held the ‘man on the spot’, Sir John Nixon, “whose confident optimism was the main cause of the decision to advance (on Baghdad in 1915)”, responsible for the military reverses and suffering of soldiers that followed insufficient attention to questions of logistics.7 Of the failed efforts to relieve Townshend in March 1916, the Viceroy, Lord Hardinge, asserted privately, “. . . our troops could easily have broken through and joined hands with Townshend. It was not the fault of our soldiers, but the fault of our generals.”8 A post-war account by Edmund Candler, the official ‘eyewitness’ in Mesopotamia, declared of the failed relief operations: “The common verdict is, after all allowances have been made, that generalship was to blame.”9 More recently, John Laffin severely condemned the generalship of both Nixon and Townshend during 1915–16. Laffin cited Norman Dixon’s view that from a psychological standpoint they were comparable with certain Nazi war criminals, “who were also able to carry out their job without apparently experiencing guilt or compassion.”10 Thus, the Indian Army commanders do not emerge from the First World War with a great degree of credit, and are viewed with less regard than their British counterparts. This essay aims to revise this perception through an exploration of command in the IEFD during 1916–18 and the important role played by a new generation of Indian Army commanders.11 In a great many of the instances the problems of 1915–16 were the consequences of poor decisions made by commanders: but existing studies have offered little beyond assessments of individual culpability. It is the aim of this essay to move beyond the narrow confines of who was at fault and consider why flawed decisions were made by and what this can tell us about the system in which Indian Army commanders operated. Through an exploration of the nature of Indian Army command in Mesopotamia—the exploration of, in contemporary parlance, C3I— command, control, communications and intelligence12—we can begin

7 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 48, 111–4, CAB19/26, PRO, TNA Kew, UK. 8 Hardinge to Cox, 14 March 1916, GB165-0341/1/4 (Cox), Letter, Middle East Centre, St Antony’s Oxford (MEC). 9 E. Candler, The Long Road to Baghdad, 2 vols (London: 1919), vol. 1, 43. 10 J. Laffin,British Butchers and Bunglers of World War One (Stroud: 1988), 60. 11 Andrew Syk, Command and the Mesopotamia Expeditionary Force, 1915–18, D.Phil thesis (University of Oxford, 2009). 12 M. van Creveld, Command in War (Cambridge, Massachusetts: 1985), 6–7; T.P. Coakley (ed.), C3I: Issues of Command and Control (Washington: 1991). 66 andrew syk to arrive at a new understanding of the ultimate failure of the Indian Army in Mesopotamia during 1915–16. There is no doubt that, as an Indian Army expeditionary force, the majority of officers occupying senior positions of command were from the Indian establishment. In February 1916, 31 officers commanded formations of brigade size or larger or artillery at divisional level and above. Of these, 17 (54.8 per cent) were officers from the Indian establishment. And in February 1917, seven months after the War Office had taken over direct control, 27 (79.4 per cent) from a total of 34 officers serving in General Staff positions at division, corps and army level were from the Indian establishment.13 But, a detailed exploration of command demonstrates parallels with other theatres, particularly the command difficulties experienced on the Western Front. In the Western Front and in Mesopotamia, efficient exercise of command was handicapped by poor logistical structure, limited intelligence collection, and the emergence of trench warfare. The first ensured less notice was paid to logistic matters than was necessary, the second and third undermined a commander’s ability to plan and then control operations at the tactical level after an attack’s commencement in consequence of poor communications. Outdated views and inflexibility of Indian commanders should be carefully weighed against the inherent difficulties posed by the nature of warfare emerging during 1914–16. In operational terms it mirrored the loss of control experienced by Western Front commanders once soldiers went ‘over the top’. But, these factors also underlined defects inherent within the existing and pre-war command system—both in Indian and in the overall imperial forces all over the world. Poor co-operation and coordination between operational planning and logistical reality stemmed from this defective structure, the origins of which derived from a combination of the Indian Army’s pre-war practice and military regulations. Effective operational decision-making was rendered extremely difficult as a consequence of the varying quality of intelligence and inexperience at the level of analysis due to a focus on the North-West Frontier, rather than training Indian commanders and

13 IEFD Officers holding Staff Appointments, Feb. 1916, L/MIL/5/833, Composi- tion; AHQ India, L/MIL/17/15/85, IOR, BL; The Quarterly Indian Army List January 1919, 4 vols (Calcutta: 1919); Who’s Who 1942 (London: 1942); G. O’Moore Creagh and E.M. Humphris, The Distinguished Service Order, 1886–1923, 2nd edn (London: 1978). command in the indian expeditionary force 67 staff in analysis of conventional campaigns. The commencement of static and semi-static warfare during the relief operations proved to be a defining moment in the course of the Mesopotamian Campaign and was, as Priya Satia has observed, “the campaign’s rite of passage to a modernity no longer diminished by its colonial quality.”14 Problems of command and control evident during the relief operations of January to April 1916 emerged because of a pre-war ethos towards an ‘inspirational’ command style that did not reconcile with static warfare conditions. The transition from a personalized/inspirational model to one more akin to the managerial style before the defences at Kut- al-Amara was a necessarily painful experience. An astute observer underlined the effects of trench warfare’s advent on command method in Mesopotamia early in 1916: The good old days when the general advanced with his troops, and indicated the point of attack with a wave of his hand, are no more. His business is with maps and wires in a screened tent; he is the brain, not the pulse, of the machine.15 This essay divides its examination of command—as the army staff in Mesopotamia was divided—into a consideration of logistics and operations. The former proved a matter of great importance in Mesopotamia, and despite its unglamorous nature, requires consideration. An examination of the Mesopotamia Campaign through this lens offers an alternative interpretation of the problems of 1915–16 than that advocated by the Mesopotamia Commission and subsequent historical analyses, and one that can offer new interpretations on a commander’s decisions.

Command and Logistics

Existing historiography has rightly highlighted the inadequacy of river transport, the absence of railways and the lack of capacity at the port of Basra as crucial in undermining the operational effectiveness of the IEFD during 1915–1916. To differing degrees, accountability has largely been apportioned between system failure and individual culpability.

14 P. Satia, “Developing Iraq: Britain, India and the Redemption of Empire and Technology in the First World War”, Past and Present, no. 197 (2007), 223. 15 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 79. 68 andrew syk

However, a more complete understanding of the administrative difficulties experienced by the IEFD can be arrived at through an examination of the logistic principles and administrative organization of the pre-1914 Indian Army and their application in Mesopotamia. Lack of capacity on the lines of communication was substantially aggravated by a failure to integrate the administrative command structure within the overall command system, both in Mesopotamia and in pre-war India, and thus materially affected the reconciliation of strategic and operational planning with logistic capability. This ‘managerial’ fault can be explained in terms of continuity with pre-war administrative principles and organizational structure. The Tigris and the Euphrates rivers dominate any consideration of the Mesopotamia Campaign. Prior to the construction of railways from late 1916, these two rivers were the only means of conveying supplies and munitions after discharge at Basra. Furthermore, the Tigris and Euphrates provided the only constant and reliable source of water for troops. The lines of communication and, therefore, both the British and Turkish forces operating between Basra and Baghdad, were largely confined to the vicinity of these waterways. The Tigris provided the most reliable line of communication, and the principal operations after mid-1915 were concentrated in the vicinity of this river.16 It is evident that between November 1915 and April 1916 the administrative services verged on the edge of breakdown and operations suffered accordingly. Lack of river transport dictated that two months were required to assemble the necessary supplies for Townshend’s initial advance on Kut-al-Amara, and a further delay was caused for similar reasons prior to the advance from Kut-al-Amara to Baghdad in November 1915, during which time the disorganized Turkish forces were reformed and reinforced. The Mesopotamia Commission rea- soned that, “but for the shortage of river transport, the Turkish Army would have been destroyed between Amara and Ctesiphon.”17 Major- General K.S. Davison, IGC, reported to the Commission that the river fleet in July 1915 consisted of 20 river steamers supplemented by the mahelas. This, he declared, “was barely adequate for the needs of two

16 L.J. Hall and R.H.W. Hughes, The Inland Water Transport in Mesopotamia (London: 1921), 1–4; G. MacMunn, “The Lines of Communication in Mesopotamia”, Army Quarterly, vol. 15 (1927), 46–7. 17 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 43. command in the indian expeditionary force 69 divisions. It was just enough for minor movements of troops and the conveyance of stores, but not for big strategical moves.”18 The situation became even more acute during the relief operations conducted between January and April 1916. In the words of Sir William Robertson this was a direct consequence of allowing operations in 1915 “to develop without proper regard to the vital questions of supply and maintenance.”19 Figures provided by Major-General M. Cowper, DAQMG, underline the inadequate quantity of supplies delivered by the river transport to the Tigris Front. In November 1915, daily requirements amounted to 208 tons but only 150 tons could be transported to the front; in April 1916 this had increased to 598 tons, of which only 250 to 300 tons could be delivered.20 Moreover, lack of riverine capacity also hindered the movement of reinforcements to the front during an increasingly desperate situation. In his evidence to the Commission, Davison asserted that 10,000 men who had arrived in Mesopotamia were prevented from participating in the Battle at Hanna on 21 January 1916 due to the shortage of river transport. He declared that in March 1916 the situation was worse still, “we could not get them up and we could not have fed them if we had got them there.”21 The arrival of 3rd and 7th Indian Divisions from France in December 1915 and January 1916, despatched to support the Baghdad offensive without the necessary supply and transport units, and of 13th British Division in March 1916, caused the supply situation to become even more acute. Lieutenant-Colonel A.E. Dallas, Deputy Director Supply and Transport Tigris Corps, reported to the Commission that 13th Division’s arrival, “further increased the strain on the river transport, and though new steamers and barges arrived up river, there was nothing like enough to build up any reserve of rations.”22 Major-General Webb Gillman, the War Office liaison officer, reported to his superiors in May 1916 that, although river craft were arriving, there was at present only “enough to admit of the Tigris Corps being fed from hand to mouth. When any tug or steamer breaks down the men have to go without something for a day or two.”23

18 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 598. 19 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 60. 20 CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 43. 21 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 603. 22 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 382. 23 (Gillman), Diary, May 1916, MD/1161/15, RAM. 70 andrew syk

Logistical difficulties not only seriously hampered operations during 1915–1916, but also undermined the fighting efficiency. A letter written by Lieutenant J.G. Byrne, 37th Dogras, on 16 January 1916 was published in The Times on 17 March: we were very short of rations in the last fight and we were nearly reduced to a state of starvation . . . comforts absolutely nil. We consider ourselves lucky if we get our daily bread. I suppose things will improve. I sincerely trust so, for we can’t fight on an empty stomach.24 Gillman concurred with the view of this company officer: . . . everyone is very hungry here owing to the river craft being used to bring up troops, and food being therefore short. The men are not nearly so well fed as they are in France or Gallipoli, and as in addition they do not get all they are entitled to.25 A breakdown in medical arrangements, particularly the inability of the river fleet to evacuate casualties quickly and efficiently during the operations for the relief of Kut-al-Amara, further diminished fighting efficiency, primarily in terms of morale. As late as 2 July 1916, Brigadier-General O’Dowda, 38th Infantry Brigade, recorded in his diary: The medical arrangements in this theatre are pretty bad and we are unable to get the sick away. Our Field Ambulances . . . . the capacity of each being 150 sick with full complement of medical staff present, have respectively 700, 698 and 650 patients. . . . We can’t get them evacuated down the river and so save more lives . . .26 A deficiency in river transport was mirrored by lack of capacity at the port of Basra, the only port of entry and the base depot for the expeditionary force. Sir George Buchanan on arriving in January 1916 came to the conclusion that, “I had never before in my life seen such a hopeless mess and muddle . . . It seemed incredible to me that we should have been in occupation of Basra for over a year.”27 Lack of infrastructure, particularly wharves and storage space, and shortage of labour undermined Basra’s ability to function efficiently as the base depot for an expanding expeditionary force. With the exception of the

24 The Times, 17 March 1916, p. 9. 25 (Gillman), Diary, April 1916. 26 (O’Dowda), Diary, 2 July 1916, CKS-WKR/B1/Z14, Centre for Kentish Studies (CKS). 27 G. Buchanan, The Tragedy of Mesopotamia (London: 1938), 51–2. command in the indian expeditionary force 71 temporary pre-war German railway wharf, the port was essentially a river anchorage, where transports discharged to indigenous crafts and thence to shore. The first ocean wharf was not completed until October 1916.28 Major-General G.F. MacMunn, who replaced Davison as IGC in April 1916, observed that on his arrival, “twenty ocean steamers loaded with supplies and military stores lay awaiting unloading and had been so for weeks, so devoid was Basra of wharfage, port labour, or port craft.”29 The amount of tonnage that could be unloaded at the port was barely enough to maintain the force, let alone build up a reserve.30 It was not simply lack of external supply. Shortage of river transports and a lack of capacity at Basra, however, only assumed paramount importance when such factors were not reconciled by the command structure with strategic and operational plans. Both the decision to advance on Baghdad in November 1915 and the decision to reinforce the IEFD with the 3rd and 7th Indian Divisions were made without sufficient consideration of the capacity of the existing administrative services. Commander A. Hamilton, Royal Indian Marine, who was responsible for river transport in Mesopotamia throughout 1915, considered that only a very few weeks’ experience of Mesopotamia was required to become an expert in questions relating to river craft.31 Nevertheless, there was a delay of 3 months between Nixon assuming command in March 1915 and the drawing up of a memorandum on river transport. Nixon, now aware of the deficiencies, in July 1915 sent a memorandum outlining the immediate requirements. The memorandum was drawn up, not by an officer of the administrative staff, but by Nixon’s then CGS Major- General G.V. Kemball. The memorandum lacked essential technical information, such as the current tonnage capacity of the river fleet and future requirements based on realistic scenarios, which would allow the military authorities in India to immediately grasp the logistical situation. George Buchanan observed that this was a simple question of arithmetic, involving the requirements of the army at the front in tons per day, and the tonnage capacity of the fleet and number of vessels available, and if the former exceeded the latter, “something unpleasant

28 Report of Major-General H.F.E. Freeland, p. 10, MUN4/6517, TNA. 29 G. MacMunn, Behind the Scenes in Many Wars (London: 1930), 208. 30 MacMunn, “The Lines of Communication”, 52. 31 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), 391. 72 andrew syk was bound to happen.”32 Such a calculation was not undertaken until July 1916. Instead, the 1915 memorandum concluded with a warning and general request for “more powerful light draft steamers and plenty of them—and not only ships, but personnel and material for their maintenance—are regarded by the General Staff of this force as our principal need.”33 Despite this, neglect of logistics continued to be apparent in Nixon’s plan for an advance on Baghdad, forwarded to India on 30 August 1915. It contained a detailed appreciation of the military situation but not, as the Mesopotamia Commission highlighted, of the logistic question, and the crucial point that this would be considerably worsened by an advance that prolonged the line of communications by over 200 miles.34 Nixon did continue to urge that additional transport resources were required, but these requests were never made a condition of the proposed advance.35 As J.S. Galbraith has observed, troop reinforcements, rather than improvements to the supply and transport situation, consequently became the primary concern of Chamberlain, Hardinge, Duff and, crucially, Nixon.36 Nixon wired India on 5 October, “with reference to my suggestion to open by another general action the road to Baghdad, will you kindly let me know whether my force is to be reinforced to the extent of another division from France in order that my position there may be maintained.”37 In truth, an appreciation made by the GS in London in October similarly affirmed that reinforcements were central to the capture and retention of Baghdad; the question of logistic support was barely considered.38 Thus, their arrival during relief operations without any comparable increase in river transport or facilities for discharging stores at Basra generated an almost overwhelming strain on the administrative services. In the view of Davison, this doubling, and by February 1916 almost trebling

32 Buchanan, Tragedy of Mesopotamia, 62. 33 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), pp. 1002–03. 34 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 20. 35 CAB19/26 (MCR), pp. 44–5. 36 J.S. Galbraith, “No Man’s Child: The Campaign in Mesopotamia, 1914–1916”, International Historical Review, vol. 6 (1984), 368. 37 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 21. 38 The Present and Prospective Situation in Syria and Mesopotamia: A Paper prepared by the General Staff in Consultation with the Admiralty War Staff, 19 Oct. 1915, AC46/7/5 (Chamberlain), Birmingham University Special Collections (BUSC). command in the indian expeditionary force 73 of the force, without any corresponding increase in transport was at the heart of all subsequent difficulties.39 The conclusions and wealth of evidence produced by the Mesopota- mia Commission have heavily influenced all subsequent literature on the campaign. Galbraith has enlarged upon the Commission’s view that a division of responsibility between Whitehall, which managed policy, and the GOI, which managed the expedition, created obstacles in directing and particularly supplying the expedition.40 Such a division, which prevented clear objectives from being defined in advance, ultimately affected the development of infrastructure within the Mesopotamia theatre.41 Certainly this lack of definite policy had filtered down to the military leadership in Mesopotamia and fundamentally affected development of operational plans. In response to a memorandum outlining improvements of the Basra Port in January 1916, Nixon observed: . . . in regard to the regularization and permanent improvement of the port of Basra, this would appear to be a question which will have to be deferred, in view of the possible large expenditure entailed, until it is definitely decided whether the BasraVilayet is to become an integral part of the British Empire.42 Similarly, the Commission highlighted the decision by the GOI not to proceed with the construction of a military railway to Nasiriya during 1915. Two reasons were detailed; the first highlighted its strategic worthlessness once Baghdad was captured, and the second, according to a telegram from the CGS India, was “on the ground of expense.”43 Considerable emphasis too was placed upon the failings of individuals. Nixon was held responsible “for making the respective advances with insufficient transport and for the military reverses, discomfort of the troops and abnormal suffering of the sick and wounded which resulted from such insufficiency.”44 Sir Beauchamp Duff, C-in-CI, and the Indian General Staff were censured for authorizing and even

39 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 601. 40 Galbraith, “No Man’s Child”, 375–84. 41 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 97. 42 War Diary Port Administration and River Conservancy, Letter, Nixon to CGS, Jan. 1916, WO 95/4993, PRO, TNA. 43 War Diary Director of Railways, Summary of Papers relating to Railways, pp. 2–3, WO 95/4984, PRO, TNA. 44 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 48. 74 andrew syk recommending the various advances without satisfying themselves that the expedition was properly equipped.45 Later accounts have supported the verdict of individual culpability, particularly Nixon’s.46 Kaushik Roy, in the most recent assessment, concurs with this view: “[Nixon’s] failing was that he never took administrative and logistical aspects of campaigns into account while planning operations.”47 These assessments of individual culpability, however, fail to address the key thematic question of why strategy and operations were not reconciled with logistics by the Mesopotamia high command. It is clear that in addition to lack of infrastructure and capacity, ‘managerial’ problems seriously affected the performance of the administrative services during 1915–1916. It is essential, therefore, to consider the logistical doctrine and command structure existing in the Indian Army before 1914. The breakdown between administration and operations, which was manifested in Mesopotamia, originated from shortcomings in these two spheres. During the Commission’s investigation senior administrative officers drew attention to a failure on the part of Nixon and the General Staff to keep the administrative staff fully informed of strategic and operational decisions which fundamentally affected their ability to maintain the army. In the first place, and contrary toField Service Regulations Part II (FSRII), Cowper declared that Nixon preferred not to have more than two officers on his staff. Thus, the two administrative posts of AG and QMG remained combined and Cowper served as DAQMG from November 1915 to September 1916 despite a considerable expansion to the force.48 Further, Cowper considered the General Staff branch was . . . unduly secretive as regards imparting information generally to the Administrative branches of GHQ . . . I was forced to bring this fact to the

45 CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 48. 46 Anon, Critical Study of the Campaign in Mesopotamia up to April 1917: Compiled by officers of the Staff College, Quetta. Oct.–Nov.1923, 2 vols (Calcutta: 1925), vol. 2, 328; A.T. Wilson, Loyalties: Mesopotamia 1914–20: A Personal and Historical Record, 2 vols (London: 1930–31), vol. 1, 177; T. Wilson, The Myriad Faces of War: Britain and the Great War, 1914–1918 (Oxford: 1986), 277; P.K. Davis, Ends and Means: The British Mesopotamian Campaign and Commission (London: 1994), 222. 47 K. Roy, “The Army in India in Mesopotamia from 1916–1918: Tactics, Technol- ogy and Logistics Reconsidered”, in I.F.W. Beckett, (ed.), 1917: Beyond the Western Front (Leiden: 2009), 148. 48 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 1030. command in the indian expeditionary force 75

notice of Sir John Nixon and point out to him that it was impossible for either myself, or the subordinate officers under me to properly carry out our functions if we were kept so much in the dark.49 While Cowper was made aware of the impending arrival of the 3rd and 7th Indian Divisions, he maintained that he was prevented from divulging this information to his subordinate administrative officers until after Ctesiphon, which in his view was far too late.50 Moreover, neither Davison nor Commander Hamilton was consulted with regard to the river transport necessary for the advance on Baghdad.51 Hamilton, the most experienced technical officer capable of assessing transport requirements, was not consulted with regard to the July memorandum on river transport.52 Buchanan drew attention to perceived obstruc- tion from the military authorities that prevented him from carrying out his duties as Director-General of Port Administration and River Conservancy in January 1916, “such was the prejudice against employing civilian experts where anything to do with ‘war’ was concerned.”53 Failure to reconcile strategy and operations with logistic capability highlighted a division within the command system between commanders and General Staff branch on the one hand and the administrative branch on the other. The imperial wideFSRII deemed that the staff of a headquarters be divided. The GS, under the direction of the CGS, was responsible for planning and directing operations. The Administrative Staff branch consisted of the Deputy Adjutant-General (DAG), responsible for discipline, spiritual welfare and medical provision, and the Deputy Quartermaster-General (DQMG) responsible for the supply and maintenance of the army. A third administrative officer IGC, was charged with the efficient running of the lines of communication from the port of entry to the advanced base, but did not serve on the staff of headquarters.54 Ian Brown contends that these regulations actively discouraged ‘command’ officers from concerning themselves with administrative affairs, and further had an insulating effect on administrative staff officers, creating the potential for a

49 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 989. 50 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 989. 51 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 608. 52 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 396. 53 Buchanan, Tragedy of Mesopotamia, 40–53. 54 General Staff,Field Service Regulations Part II: Organization and Administration, 1909 Reprinted with amendments, 1913 (London: 1913), 32–42. 76 andrew syk tiered staff where each branch worked independently.55 Certainly in Mesopotamia, Major-General Money, CGS from December 1915, was keen to emphasize the limited role of the GS in logistic matters. On 19 February 1916 he observed in a letter, “our man Cowper [DAQMG] though pretty slow, is a perfect genius compared with the Inspector General of Communications [Davison]. He’s very nearly the senior fellow out here but is a hopeless fellow.”56 Responding to negative press coverage, Money remarked: there’s a certain amount of truth in what they say about shortcomings in Mesopotamia, but they’re not my shortcomings! They all either deal with events before I got there, or else concerned with ‘administrative staff ’ failings which of course have nothing to do with ‘general staff.’57 The ethos and instruction at both Camberley and Quetta staff colleges further contributed to the subordinate position occupied by the administrative services in the pre-war command system. It was a condition of its establishment in 1905 that teaching at the Indian staff college should mirror that of Camberley, and to ensure uniformity graduates of Camberley were appointed as instructors at Quetta.58 In addition to those Indian service officers already educated at Camberley prior to 1905, by 1914 Quetta had produced 218 graduate officers, two-thirds of whom were Indian Army officers.59 Ian Brown’s analysis of the Quetta Staff College syllabus for 1912–1913, while revealing that students were grounded in the practicalities of the administrative services, reinforces the view that the instructional emphasis was on strategy and operations. The focus was clearly weighted in favour of preparing students for GS branch rather than the Administrative Staff.60 The Senior Division at Quetta in 1912 received 4 lectures and 3 hour-long discussions on the lines of communication, 13 lectures on railways, 5 of which were military history lectures examining the role of railways in the Franco-Prussian War and Manchurian War, and

55 Ian M. Brown, British Logistics on the Western Front: 1914–1919 (London: 1998), 11. 56 (Money), Letter, Money to wife, 19 Feb. 1916, 9211-19, NAM, London. 57 Letter, Money to wife, 7 Sept. 1916. 58 B. Bond, The Victorian Army and the Staff College: 1854–1914 (London: 1972), 200; W.P. Braithwaite, “The Staff College, Quetta”,Army Review, vol. 3 (1912), 419. 59 Bond, Victorian Army and the Staff College, 207. 60 Brown, British Logistics on the Western Front, 22. command in the indian expeditionary force 77 one devoted to mechanical transport.61 A Clausewitzian inspired lecture on the ‘Principles of Strategy’ delivered to the Senior Division of the college by Thompson Capper, Staff College Commandant, Quetta, 1906–11, devoted only one paragraph of a 25 pages lecture to the question of logistics. Crucially, this was to remind students not to limit operations on account of administrative difficulties.62 This ‘Eurocentric’ focus of staff college instruction, and particularly logistic guidance, whereby lines of communication could, on occasion, be neglected in favour of freedom of maneuver and reliance on the rich resources of the European continent, was a consequence of the mirrored syllabus of both staff colleges. This was highlighted in an article by Capper’s successor, W.P Braithwaite, which underlined the difficulty of practical illustrations of European warfare, for “no battlefields that have been the scene of conflicts between forces armed and organized according to modern principles [were] nearer than Manchuria or South Africa.”63 This European focus was a serious anomaly for a General and Administrative Staff whose likely employment was to be in colonial campaigns. Even C.E. Callwell’s Small Wars (1896), which examines the principles of colonial campaigning, and acknowledges the degree to which logistics must govern operations, devotes only 2 chapters out of a total of 27 to logistic considerations.64 That administrative instruction was a weak point in the syllabus of both Camberley and Quetta was highlighted in the memoirs of Colonel W.N. Nicholson, an administrative staff officer on the Western Front. He observed that on the outbreak of war, “notwithstanding two years at the Staff College and two years on the staff at the Cape of Good Hope, I started practically from scratch, and proceeded to blunder my way forward.”65 Nicholson further stated that the most able graduates of the Staff College were rightly appointed to General Staff branch; “to be recommended for administration was in the nature of a

61 (Montgomery-Massingberd), 4/1–2, Orders by Brigadier-General W.P. Braith- waite for the Staff College, Quetta, India, 5 Jan. 1912–12 Dec. 1913, LHCMA, London. 62 (Capper), 2/4/1 Lecture text, “Principles of Strategy to Senior Division by T. Cap- per”, undated (c. 1906–1911), LHCMA; See Hew Strachan, Carl von Clausewitz’s On War: A Biography (London: 2007), 122. 63 Braithwaite, “The Staff College, Quetta”, 419. 64 C.E. Callwell, Small Wars, 3rd edn (London: 1906). 65 W.N. Nicholson, Behind the Lines: An account of Administrative Staff Work in the British Army 1914–18 (London: 1939), 172. 78 andrew syk backhanded compliment.”66 The pre-eminence of General Staff officers was highlighted in a complaint made by Capper to a conference of staff officers held in 1909. He deplored the appointment process of staff college graduates to positions in the Indian Army, particularly the lack of attention paid to his reports on the abilities of students. Capper stated: the consequence is that officers I have recommended as good art of war staff officers find themselves doing routine work and vice versa. . . . It seems to me that if my square pegs are, in the commands, put into round holes . . . we cannot be working on the same lines.67 Staff tours were utilized as a means of providing staff officers with experience of their duties in the field without incurring the expense of inter-divisional maneuvers. The report of the 1911–12 staff tour underlined the need for greater understanding between commanders, the General and Administrative Staffs in the pre-war Indian Army. The directing staff included Braithwaite who served alongside Brigadier- General A. Hamilton-Gordon, Director Military Operations, and Brigadier-General J. Headlam, Director of Staff Studies and Military Training. Significantly, the tour was framed to consider the scenario of the Indian Army being ordered to send a contingent for imperial purpose to co-operate overseas with other portions of the imperial army. Of 12 questions contemplated, only 2 were devoted to issues of a logistical nature: the organization of a sea base and the substitution of mechanical transport to replace animal transport. The former was considered in some detail, but the remaining ten points were of a purely tactical and strategic nature.68 Through the combination of FSRII, staff college instruction and practical staff tours, a framework was created which negated the position of the administrative branches within the command system and did not sufficiently recognize the importance of logistics in relation to the successful conduct of operations. These ‘imperial wide’ factors served to contribute not only to the division of the General and Administrative Staffs in Mesopotamia, but

66 Nicholson, Behind the Lines, 170. 67 Report of a Conference of Staff Officers held at Agra under the direction of Lieutenant-General Sir Beauchamp Duff, Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1909, p. 20, L/MIL/ 17/5/1810, IOR, BL. 68 Report of a Staff Tour 1911 held by the Chief of the General Staff, L/MIL/17/11/46, IOR. command in the indian expeditionary force 79 also in Gallipoli, East Africa and on the Western Front, where similar difficulties were experienced.69 With specific regard to the pre-1914 Indian Army, the administrative branches suffered from conflicting opinions as to its purpose during the decade preceding the First World War. While the perceived Russian threat was effectively removed by the Anglo-Russian agreement of 1907, Douglas Haig, on his appointment in 1909 as CGS in the newly established Indian General Staff, determined to prepare the Indian Army for imperial needs and specifically for service on the European continent. To Kiggell he declared the importance of having: the machinery available in India trained as soon as possible to turn out Staff Officers who may be of use when the time comes, and the resources of that country organized for Imperial need, instead of only for India as at present.70 Haig’s attempts at planning and preparing for the despatch of an Indian expeditionary force overseas to fight German or Turkish opponents were, however, peremptorily squashed by Hardinge, who ordered his plans to be destroyed.71 Haig’s attempt to recast the Indian Army as part of a larger imperial force was further undermined by the 1912 Army in India Committee. This sought to reduce military expenditure by dictating that the army need only be equipped for internal security and a war with Afghanistan in combination with border tribes. The Committee declared that India would “not be called upon to maintain troops for the specific purpose of placing them at the disposal of the Home Government for wars outside the Indian sphere.”72 The effect on administrative policy was serious. Tim Moreman has observed how continental schemes continued to be studied under the guise of academic staff exercises.73 Significantly, however, preoccupation with

69 T. Travers, “Command and Leadership styles in the British Army: The 1915 Gallipoli Model”, Journal of Contemporary History, vol. 29 (1994), 412; Hew Strachan, The First World War, vol. 1, To Arms (Oxford: 2001), 603; Brown, British Logistics on the Western Front, 45–54. 70 (Kiggell), 1/2 Letter, Haig to Kiggell, 27 April 1909, LHCMA. 71 G.J. De Groot, Douglas Haig: 1861–1928 (London: 1988), 137; “Lord Hardinge and the Mesopotamia Expedition and Inquiry, 1914–1917”, Historical Journal, vol. 19 (1976), 921. 72 Proceedings of the Army in India Committee, 1912, Majority Report, vol. 1, p. 57, L/MIL/17/5/1751/1, IOR. 73 T. Moreman, “Lord Kitchener, the General Staff and the Army in India, 1902– 1914”, in D. French and B. Holden Reid (eds.), The British General Staff: Reform and Innovation, c. 1890–1939 (London: 2002), 70. 80 andrew syk

Russia, Afghanistan and warfare on the North-West Frontier remained. Hew Strachan has asserted that in 1914, “if the Indian Army had any European army in its sights, that enemy was still Russia.”74 When combined with the rulings of the Army in India Committee, which assessed logistic problems only in regard to maintaining a field army against Afghanistan, the development of administrative principles and lessons for deployment abroad were materially hindered.75 Lord Kitchener, as C-in-CI (1902–1909), determined to transform the Indian Army into a modern army capable of confronting a Russian invasion. The establishment of an Indian staff college in 1905 and the division of AHQ into an ‘Art of War’ branch and a ‘Routine’ branch, a forerunner of the GS system that replaced it in 1910, were integral parts of this modernization process.76 So too were the abolition of position of Military Member of the Viceroy’s Council in 1906, and the concentration of power in the hands of the C-in-CI, who became entirely responsible for all aspects of the army in both peace and war. This highly contentious reform was highlighted by the Mesopotamia Commission, which declared that the overly centralized nature of AHQ was detrimental to the efficient supervision of any overseas expedition. The C-in-CI was unable to exercise his proper functions of inspection and of testing the efficiency and wants of the troops under him, and additionally, as Member of the Viceroy’s Council, had been tied to Simla and overwhelmed with a mass of detail from below.77 In his evidence, Duff admitted that after the outbreak of war his dual position had prevented him fulfilling the special duties of C-in-C.78 Duff highlighted his inability to leave Simla or Delhi in a letter to Robertson on 28 March 1916: I wish Mesopotamia were more accessible. It would assist me enormously if I could pay a visit to the front to see things myself . . . that, however, would take six weeks and I have no one who could carry on in my absence. The Government of India is habitually suspicious of their

74 H. Strachan, “The British Army, its General Staff and the Continental Com- mitment, 1904–1914”, in French and Holden Reid (eds.), The British General Staff, 84–5. 75 Proceedings of the Army in India Committee, 1912, Majority Report, vol. 1, pp. 164–6. 76 Moreman, “Lord Kitchener”, in French and Reid (eds.), The British General Staff, 58–62. 77 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 98. 78 CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 100. command in the indian expeditionary force 81

soldier advisors. I have been able to gain their confidence, which is a good thing in itself, but it keeps me tied up here as the only way of preventing things going wrong.79 This view of system failure is undermined, however, when evidence from Sir Charles Monro, Duff’s replacement, is considered. Responding to a conference held in London on 22 September 1916, regarding questions of Indian military administration, Monro remarked: . . . a fundamental difficulty exists in dealing with this paper owing to the erroneous conception which the members entertain as to the rigidity with which the commander-in-chief is tied to his office by pressure of work.80 He had already visited Mesopotamia, Bombay and other stations before reaching AHQ and he observed that the machine had worked quite smoothly in his absence. Further, he intended shortly to visit the North-West Frontier and the majority of troops stationed in the north of India before the end of the cold weather, “and so far as I can see there does not appear to be any reason why I should not do so.”81 While admitting that an over-centralization of business did exist, it was not so serious that a drastic change to the organization created by Lord Kitchener was necessary during the period of the war. In reality, however, it was a restructuring of the Indian Army’s field formations by Kitchener that most hindered the development of a professional and experienced medium level Administrative Staff, accustomed to interacting with commanders and the GS, and vice- versa. Ian Brown maintains that in the British Army the professionalism, pragmatism and experience of the administrative services were crucial in bridging the gap between shortcomings in doctrine and training and the preparation for war.82 The Indian Army was handicapped in this respect through its organizational structure. In 1907, Kitchener abolished the system of four regional commands in favour of the Indian Army divided into two armies: Northern and Southern. Simultaneously he delegated administrative powers to divisional commanders, thereby removing responsibility for administrative functions

79 (Robertson), 8/1/18 Letter, Duff to Robertson, 28 March 1916, LHCMA. 80 Indian Military Administration: 1916 Papers, Letter, Monro to Viceroy, 4 Dec. 1916, L/MIL/7/5470, IOR, BL. 81 Indian Military Administration: 1916 Papers, Letter, Monro to Viceroy, 4 Dec. 1916. 82 Brown, British Logistics on the Western Front, 35–6. 82 andrew syk from the commanders of both the Northern and Southern Armies. Kitchener maintained that the retention of administrative responsibility by army commanders would merely lead to repetition and delay in the despatch of business. The two army commanders were confined to the duties of command, inspection and training and provided with a staff for such, but were accorded no administrative responsibilities nor provided with any administrative staff officers with whom to co- ordinate the administrative services.83 The Army-in-India Committee (1919–1920) observed that: The elimination of administrative responsibilities from the higher command of armies entailed an additional burden on Army Headquarters where the administrative machine was clogged by a mass of minor detail. Floating in the background . . . were the two army commanders, whose duties were confined to questions of training, discipline and efficiency of units . . . but who were without any responsibility whatever for administration.84 The crucial point, however, was recognized by the British AG, C.W. Douglas, as early as 1906. In effect the reforms created two ‘Inspector- Generals’ with hardly any staffs and no administrative responsibility. Douglas prophetically pinpointed the defects inherent in Kitchener’s scheme: . . . the appointment of two Inspectors who will apparently having nothing to do with the administration of the troops . . . will, with their staffs command the two main armies in the field. These will apparently take the field without knowledge of higher administration of their commands, which is an essential qualification for commanders in war.85 As a consequence the Inspector-Generals at the head of the Northern and Southern armies, who on the outbreak of war were expected to command the divisions in the field, had for the previous 7 years been relieved of any responsibility for the administrative functions of their commands. The limited number of inter-divisional maneuvers held before 1914 could not rectify this organizational defect which ensured that would-be commanders in the field were unused to considering logistics or interacting with an administrative staff in the routine

83 Report of Army in India Committee (Esher’s Committee), 1919–20, vol. 3, pp. 3–4, L/MIL/7/5510, IOR. 84 Report of Army in India Committee (Esher’s Committee), 1919–20, vol. 3, p. 4. 85 Indian Military Administration: Notes on Conference held on 22 September 1916, Memorandum, 20 Nov. 1906, L/MIL/7/5494, IOR. command in the indian expeditionary force 83 of command. When Nixon assumed command in Mesopotamia in April 1915, he had spent the previous 3 years commanding first the Southern and later the Northern Army. Moreover, there were no administrative positions at army level where the administrative staff could develop and refine their craft, and thus on the outbreak of war there was a crucial gap in the practical knowledge of administrative officers above divisional level. On his promotion to command of the renamed Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force (MEF) in August 1916, Stanley Maude identified resolving this as a priority, observing to Sir John Cowans: One of my main difficulties is that under the Indian organization the staff seem to know little or nothing about transport arrangements, and in this and other ways I have had to train the staff, not only here, but with the Corps, so that the General Staff control the war organization and the Administrative Staff work out the details in consultation with the Directors concerned. But, I think we are getting this right, though it is a big job to tackle.86 Both Beauchamp Duff and Douglas Haig recognized that inter- divisional maneuvers provided the best method of fostering this relationship and for training the administrative services for war. Haig as CGS India wrote in his ‘Memorandum on Army Training’ in 1911 that, “endeavours have been continued to make the work of the Supply and Transport Corps on maneuvers conform more nearly to what will be required of it in war.”87 Duff noted of the 1912 Northern Army exercises that: . . . such maneuvers give to the administrative services (on whose arrangements success in war must so greatly depend) their only opportunity of practising their work in war and to the staff of dealing with the organization and control of the columns in the rear of the fighting troops.88 While the importance of training higher formations for war, and thereby simultaneously improving the relationship between the administrative staff and services and the general staff, was beginning to be understood by the high command, economic factors limited the impact such

86 Letter, Maude to Cowans, 10 Sept. 1916, (Correspondence: QMG Dept, IGC Mesopotamia), WO107/49, PRO, TNA. 87 Memorandum on Army Training in India, 1910–1911, p. 12, L/MIL/17/5/2198, IOR. 88 Report on the Inter-Divisional Manoeuvres, Northern Army, 1912, p. 22, L/MIL/ 17/5/1814, IOR. 84 andrew syk manoeuvres could achieve before 1914. Sir O’Moore Creagh (C-in-CI, 1909–1914), stated in his evidence to the Mesopotamia Commission that his requests to increase the training grant had been refused, first by the Finance Department in India, and later by the India Office. He remarked that only through observing such maneuvers was it possible for him to judge the capacity of senior officers for command in war; “the consequence was that the Indian Army in this war took the field, as it did in the South African War, with its higher formations untrained.”89 Wedgwood’s ‘Minority Report’ stated that a considerable part of the Southern Army, which was commanded by Nixon from October 1912 to February 1915, had no training in maneuvers at all.90 During late 1915 and early 1916 the failure of the high command to appreciate the limitations logistic capability would place on the conduct of operation seriously exacerbated the lack of infrastructure and capacity. This, however, should not be viewed in terms of individual culpability; rather it should be seen as a logical outcome of pre-1914 ethos, instruction and organization which negated the importance of logistics and Administrative Staff duties in the Indian Army.

Operational and Tactical Command

The process of command function, as Martin van Creveld defines it, is cyclical. It involves first the collection and utilization of information regarding the enemy’s dispositions and one’s own forces. Lack of intelligence data and inexperienced analysis in Mesopotamia undermined this process prior to the Battle of Ctesiphon in November 1915, and continued to hinder operations between January and April 1916. The second stage involves the application of gathered intelligence to form the basis of plans and orders and their transmission by the headquarters organization to subordinate formations, followed by a process of monitoring subsequent operations through feedback.91 The rapid expansion of trench warfare during the operations to relieve Townshend undermined this process by exposing the limitations of existing communications and by revealing command’s adherence to a more inspirational command style.

89 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), pp. 553–4. 90 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 122. 91 van Creveld, Command, 6–7. command in the indian expeditionary force 85

Ctesiphon: November 1915 The duties of military intelligence are twofold and both of these functions relate to the enemy. The first is to obtain information about the enemy’s organization, strength, distribution, resources and intended or actual movements. The effectiveness of a commander’s decisions depends very greatly on the accuracy, quality and timeliness of this information.92 The second function is to prevent the enemy obtaining comparable information. In October and November 1915, prior to the Battle of Ctesiphon, GHQ Intelligence was unable to meet the first, and arguably most important, of these functions. On 4 October 1915 the newly formed Turkish 18th Corps, commanded by Khalil Bey, 15,000 strong and composed of 51st and 52nd divisions, had been ordered from the Caucasus to Baghdad to counter the advance of IEFD. In addition, 45th Turkish Division was formed in the vicinity of Baghdad during August from pre-war infantry battalions from western Anatolia and Constantinople.93 Edward Erickson observes that, “the timely arrival of 45th, 51st and 52nd Infantry divisions in Mesopotamia tilted the balance in favour of the Turks.”94 Failure on the part of military intelligence to detect the arrival of substantial reinforcements to the Turkish order-of-battle prior to the Battle of Ctesiphon on 22 November 1915 was a significant factor in the operational failure that followed. Commencing with the Mesopotamia Commission’s report a consensus emerged among both contemporaries and later historians that Nixon failed to heed accurate strategic intelligence warnings from external sources in London, Cairo, and the Caucasus. The Commission observed, “Sir John Nixon, having confidence in his own staff, was not disposed to subordinate their information to that which came from outside”, concluding, “. . . he seriously under-estimated the number of his opponents and miscalculated the dates at which they would arrive.”95 A.J. Barker’s analysis of intelligence input highlighted Nixon’s refusal to credit Whitehall’s wire on 22 November (actually 18 November) that 30,000 troops under Khalil Pasha “were en route for Baghdad,

92 G. Sheffield, “Introduction”, in G. Sheffield (ed.),Leadership and Command: the Anglo-American Military Experience since 1861 (London: 1997), 1. 93 E.J. Erickson, Ottoman Military Effectiveness in the First World War (University of Leeds Ph.D. thesis, 2005), 116–25. 94 Erickson, Ottoman Military Effectiveness in the First World War, 125. 95 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 108. 86 andrew syk and that the German General Von der Goltz was on his way out to Mesopotamia to take command.”96 Richard Popplewell, in his article examining British intelligence in Mesopotamia during 1914–16, noted that, “Nixon’s disregard of strategic intelligence reports in November 1915 shows that he regarded Secret Service activity against the Turks as fundamentally useless.”97 Moreover, improved reliability of Russian intelligence in the Caucasus by October–November 1915 ostensibly provided British intelligence with advanced warning of Turkish troop movements from the Caucasus; information that GHQ failed to act upon.98 Careful analysis of strategic intelligence communications during October-November 1915 reveals a considerably more confusing intelligence picture, and one that in part explains Nixon’s reliance on intelligence sources within Mesopotamia. During the first 3 weeks of November, 9 telegrams were received by the high command in Mesopotamia from the War Office and Major Frank Marsh, serving as liaison officer with Russian headquarters in the Caucasus. All differed in content and made corroboration quite impossible. For instance, on 4 November the high command in Mesopotamia received a telegram dated 1 November from Marsh stating that the Russian General Staff had received information to the effect that Khalil Bey with a force of 7,000–8,000 might proceed to Mesopotamia, but that its movements were being watched.99 On 7 November, information was received that this force was still definitely located in the Caucasus, and a minimum of 36 days march distant from Baghdad.100 These reports were further devalued by a succession of conflicting communiqués after 10 November, including a further 4 from the Russian General Staff. The first, that 15,000–20,000 infantry were at Dair-az-Zor on the upper- Euphrates; another that 40,000 troops were lately at Mosul; that Khalil had actually left Bitlis for Baghdad as early as 16 October, contradict-

96 A.J. Barker, The Neglected War: Mesopotamia 1914–1918 (London: 1967), 118. 97 R. Popplewell, “British Intelligence in Mesopotamia, 1914–16”, in M.I. Handel (ed.), Intelligence and Military Operations (London: 1990), 160. 98 Y. Sheffy,British Military Intelligence in the Palestine Campaign: 1914–18 (Lon- don: 1998), 173. 99 War Diary, AHQ, IEFD, vol. 16:1, 4 Nov. 1915, Telegram 4 Nov., CGS India to GOCD, WWI/238/H, NAI, New Delhi. 100 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 8 Nov. 1915, WO 157/781, PRO, TNA; War Diary, AHQ, IEFD, vol. 16:1, 9 Nov. 1915, Situation in Mesopotamia by MO1, 8 Nov. 1915, WWI/238/H, NAI. command in the indian expeditionary force 87 ing the earlier report of 7 November; and finally that 50,000 troops had arrived in Baghdad from Aleppo.101 The most accurate strategic intelligence communication, a War Office report, stating that von der Goltz had departed for Baghdad and 30,000 men were marching there from the Caucasus, was only received on 18 November, 4 days before the battle.102 While analysis of this contradictory data was clearly the responsibility of Intelligence Branch, little more could be drawn from these reports than the conclusion entered in the intelligence summary for 5 November; “They give strong evidence of reinforcements but [we] do not yet accept them all.”103 On 18 November, the IEFD Intelligence did construct a possible Turkish concentration of 9 divisions from all possible quarters.104 Popplewell has suggested these reports did not amount to a failure of intelligence at the strategic level.105 Their ambiguity and conflicting nature, however, does explain why high command placed greater reliance on the very limited intelligence resources of the IEFD to provide confirmation and early warning. Training for staff officers to perform intelligence-related tasks at the operational level, particularly that of analysis, appears to have been surprisingly deficient in pre-war India. Thomas Fergusson’s assertion that the pre-war Indian Army remained the most fertile ground for the development of tactical intelligence specialists and the best place for an officer to acquire practical experience of field intelligence is open to question.106 While progress did occur it was in the field of collection, particularly sources of human intelligence, rather than at the level of analysis. Thus, the Frontier Intelligence Corps raised in 1905 by Lieutenant Philip Howell sought to develop the Indian Army’s human intelligence network on the North-West Frontier and Afghanistan, but

101 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 12 Nov. 1915, WO 157/781; War Diary, AHQ, IEFD, vol. 16:1, 11 Nov. 1915, Telegram, CGS India to GOCD, WWI/238/H; War Diary, AHQ, IEFD, vol. 16:2, 16 Nov. 1915, Telegram, CGS India to GOC‘D’; 18 Nov. 1915, Telegram 18 Nov., CGS India to GOCD, 18 Nov. 1915, WWI/238/H, NAI. 102 War Diary, AHQ, IEFD, vol. 16:2, 17 Nov. 1915, Telegram 16 Nov., Secretary WO to C-in-CI and GOCD; 18 Nov. 1915, Telegram 17 Nov., Secretary WO to C-in- CI and GOCD, WWI/238/H. 103 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 5 Nov. 1915, WO 157/781, PRO, TNA. 104 TNA, 18 Nov. 1915; CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 436. 105 Popplewell, “British Intelligence in Mesopotamia, 1914–16”, in Handel (ed.), Intelligence and Military Operations, 159. 106 T.G. Fergusson, British Military Intelligence, 1870–1914: The Development of a Modern Intelligence Organization (London: 1984), 190. 88 andrew syk was in no manner a transferable organization or an analytical body.107 Analysis was provided by the Indian Army’s own Intelligence Branch at AHQ, but this organization was unable to meet the demands of Mesopotamia on the outbreak of war. Composed of 20 officers, as Popplewell has noted, it was barely sufficient in size to meet the needs of the North-West Frontier.108 Similarly, the intelligence efforts of Kitchener’s newly created divisional commands were directed not towards improving analysis at the operational level, but were largely confined to training Indian NCOs and men as interpreters and guides preparatory to a campaign on the frontier, reflecting wider Indian policy.109 Colonel W. Malleson, responsible for intelligence at AHQ, responding to a criticism from Thompson Capper made in 1910 that British officers were not being trained for intelligence duties in war, supported the existing focus. He declared: It is true that very little has been done in the matter of training officers for intelligence work . . . [while] every desire to assimilate our methods to those adapted by the general staff at home, we must recognize that conditions in this and neighbouring oriental countries differ . . . Here the native must be the agent employed . . . Our existing class is primarily for the instruction of our native agents. To turn it into a class for the instruction of British officers would be to defeat its purpose.110 This missed Capper’s point. In 1909, Capper had questioned the training provided for British officers as intelligence analysts, declaring: I wonder whether we are doing enough to train sufficient good field intelligence officers to supply our needs in war. . . . The collection of evidence in the field is very difficult. The sifting of that evidence is even harder. . . . This, to my mind, can only be properly done by a very well and highly trained officer. . . . At the Staff College we do endeavour to give officers some training for intelligence duties, but naturally the time at our disposal for this purpose is not very great.111

107 Howell, 4/1/1/1-13, LHCMA; Formation of Nucleus of an Intelligence Corps, L/MIL/7/7811, IOR; Fergusson, British Military Intelligence, 168–9. 108 Popplewell, “British Intelligence in Mesopotamia, 1914–16”, in Handel (ed.), Intelligence and Military Operations, 144. 109 Report of a Conference held under the direction of the Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1910, pp. 39–42, L/MIL/17/5/1811, IOR. 110 Report of a Conference held under the direction of the Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1910, p. 42. 111 Report of a Conference of Staff Officers held at Agra under the direction of Lieutenant-General Sir Beauchamp Duff, Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1909, p. 85, L/MIL/ 17/5/1810, IOR. command in the indian expeditionary force 89

While certain progress was achieved prior to 1914, it is clear that it was neither comprehensive nor widespread. A 24 day intelligence course, based upon that held by Eastern Command in the UK, was instigated in some divisions at the prompting of Capper, and in 1913 AHQ held an intelligence exercise for GS officers.112 None of those listed as attendees, however, were serving in Mesopotamia’s Intelligence Branch in 1915. The consequences at the level of intelligence analysis in Mesopotamia were significant. T.E. Lawrence observed in April 1916 after a visit to Mesopotamia that “[while] they are good men . . . all [are] begin- ners, or amateurs at intelligence work.” He concluded, “We should henceforward take anything they send us, such as train time tables, march dates, agents’ information, and identifications of units opposed to them (other than by contact) with reserve.”113 Nixon’s appointment of Major W.H. Beach as his intelligence chief in April 1915 certainly reinforces the impression regarding the low priority accorded to training staff officers for intelligence analyst posts and the position accorded military intelligence within both the Indian Army and the IEFD. As an officer of the Royal Engineers, Indian establishment, Beach’s previous staff experiences entailed 4 years as Deputy Assistant Adjutant-General Garwhal Brigade between 1907 and 1911 and from 1912 as Nixon’s Assistant Military Secretary when the latter was GOC Southern Army.114 With practical experience Beach proved an excellent choice. Sir Percy Lake later highlighted his “cool, well balanced judgment of no mean order.”115 It is clear, however, that in 1915 Beach’s intelligence experience, along with that of his military intelligence colleagues, was limited. Lawrence noted in early 1916, “[he] is very excellent, but he has never been in Turkey, or read about it, and he knows no Arabic. This would not necessarily matter, but unfortunately his staff do not supply the necessary knowledge. . . . None of them knows a word of Turkish, only one can speak Arabic.”116 Furthermore, Major W.H. Gribbon, Beach’s deputy during 1915,

112 Report of a Conference held under the direction of the Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1910, p. 42, L/MIL/17/5/1811; Report on Intelligence Exercise, AHQ India 1913, L/MIL/17/11/47, IOR. 113 Cited in J. Wilson, Lawrence of Arabia: The Authorized Biography of T.E. Law- rence (London: 1989), 949. 114 The Quarterly Indian Army List January(Calcutta: 1907–15). 115 P. Lake, “Despatch, 12 Aug. 1916”, London Gazette, 29782 (10 Oct. 1916), p. 9857. 116 Cited in J. Wilson Lawrence, 949. 90 andrew syk considered the Intelligence Branch entirely undermanned. He asserted in his evidence to the Commission that it, “did not appear to have been realized at first that, although we were a small force, the Intelligence Service would have to deal with a large area as well as two distinct elements, viz., the Turkish regular forces and Arab tribes.”117 In addition, it was not until January 1915, 4 months after the commencement of the campaign that the then intelligence chief, Major C.C.R. Murphy, was accorded the position of GSO at headquarters, having previously only occupied the post of Special Service Officer.118 Problems existed too with organizational structure. In contrast to the Egyptian theatre, military and political intelligence was not united under a single intelligence chief.119 Political intelligence was the responsibility of Sir Percy Cox, Chief Political Officer (CPO), who while ultimately answerable to the GOC was quite independent of Intelligence Branch at GHQ. Those Indian Army officers with experience of intelligence work were posted to the Political Department in Mesopotamia. In December 1915, 14 of the 15 Political Department officers had a fluent knowledge of Arabic and had travelled in Arabic speaking countries.120 Lawrence noted that while Beach and Cox kept each other somewhat ‘au fait’, their staffs were “quite separate and hardly knew each other.”121 Thus, where intelligence related experience did exist, it was largely denied to the military and operations branch due to defective structure. Problems at the level of analysis were exacerbated from insufficient data to assess. In 1905, the Mesopotamia theatre was divided between the War Office and GOI for purposes of intelligence collection.122 The Commission declared that, by the outbreak of war, Mesopotamia had suffered neglect as a consequence of falling on the periphery of both organizations.123 It did, but not in regard to the limited pre- war knowledge of the region, rather in the failure to tap the sources prior to the outbreak of hostilities. Serving officers travelled widely

117 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 435. 118 CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 437. 119 Sheffy,British Military Intelligence in the Palestine Campaign, 136. 120 Wilson, Loyalties: Mesopotamia 1914–20, vol. 1, 78. 121 Cited in J. Wilson, Lawrence, 949. 122 Redistribution of Intelligence duties between Departments at the War Office and India, 1905, L/MIL/7/7812, IOR. 123 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 26. command in the indian expeditionary force 91 throughout Mesopotamia prior to the war, not least W.H.I. Shakespear, G.E. Leachman, and R. Meinertzhagen.124 The publication ofField Notes on Lower Mesopotamia in October 1914 by the Indian GS led Peter Morris to suggest that force commanders were in possession of “reasonably accurate information at the outset of the campaign.”125 W.H. Gribbon observed that as a consequence there were no ‘fixed’ agents behind Turkish lines, “and we had to depend on Arabs getting to these places and back again.”126 Thus, in 1924 Beach placed the value of paid agents last on a list of sources in order of reliability.127 In short, the Intelligence Branch, itself undermanned and inexperienced, lacked an integrated intelligence collection network capable of providing sufficient intelligence to allow accurate assessment. And so, for 3 weeks prior to the Battle of Ctesiphon, Intelligence Branch daily summaries reveal that the sum total of the tactical intelligence effort consisted of reports from 8 local agents and informers and 4 aerial reconnaissance flights over Baghdad, the last being on 7 November. The accuracy of human intelligence reports varied wildly. The one accurate report on 4 November, which reported 8,000 men encamped about Baghdad, was nevertheless contradicted by 2 further agents who reported ‘Baghdad empty’ about the same date.128 Espionage activity in Mesopotamia was deficient in one vital aspect that of continuity in observation of Turkish rear areas. Aerial reconnaissance flights undertaken over Ctesiphon and Baghdad on 1, 5 and 7 November did reveal the erection of 70 tents at Baghdad station between 1 and 5 November.129 However, the loss of one aircraft north of Baghdad on 13 November forced Nixon to

124 R. Meinertzhagen Army Diary: 1899–1926 (Edinburgh: 1960), 57–69; P. Satia, Spies in Arabia: The Great War and the Cultural Foundations of Britain’s Covert Empire in the Middle East (Oxford: 2008), 24–39; H.V.F. Winstone, The Illicit Adven- ture: The Story of Political and Military Intelligence in the Middle East from 1898 to 1926 (London: 1982), 17–81. 125 P. Morris, “Intelligence and its Interpretation: Mesopotamia 1914–1916”, in C. Andrew and J. Noakes (ed.), Intelligence and International Relations 1900–1945 (Exeter: 1987), 92–3; Field Notes on Lower Mesopotamia (Simla: 1914), L/MIL/17/15/48, IOR. 126 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 436. 127 W.H. Beach, “Note on the Military Intelligence in Mesopotamia”, in Moberly, The Campaign in Mesopotamia, vol. 2, 537. 128 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 4, 7 Nov. 1915; Memorandum, Statement no. 7, 4 Nov. 1915, WO157/781, PRO, TNA. 129 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 5, 7 Nov. 1915, WO157/781, TNA. 92 andrew syk restrict long distance reconnaissance flights in an attempt to conserve the surviving aircraft for approaching operations, thus further restricting available sources of intelligence.130 On 21 November an aerial reconnaissance by Major Reilly identified the presence of substantial Turkish reinforcements but he was shot down and captured before he could report.131 With limited photographic capability, reliability of the intelligence picture depended greatly on the judgment of observers. A second aerial reconnaissance on 21 November was undertaken by an observer ‘untrained in air observation’ and whose report predictably did not reveal any changes to Turkish dispositions.132 Moreover, the benefits derived from frontline intelligence, particularly captives, in identifying the presence of reinforcements was denied to intelligence analysts due to the nature of operations; Townshend only closed with Turkish forces on 19 November. Frontline intelligence obtained from prisoners did, however, reveal the arrival of 45th and 51st divisions, but too late to influence command’s decision-making.133

Kut-al-Amara Relief Operations: January–April 1916 The inability to overcome Turkish entrenchments and defensive firepower to effect Townshend’s relief between January and April 1916 has drawn considerable comment by contemporary officers and later historians. The Commission underlined a consensus amongst witnesses that the relief force was poorly equipped, particularly in terms of artillery and ammunition, “without which attacks on modern entrenchments seem absolutely futile.”134 It highlighted the unpreparedness of the Indian Army to conduct anything other than frontier warfare, but acknowledged that this was a consequence of the British and Indian governments’ policy of retrenchment outlined in the 1912 Army in India Committee Report.135 To these factors were added insufficiency in numerical superiority over a strongly entrenched enemy, exceptionally unfavourable weather rendering movement difficult and the

130 H.A. Jones, The War in the Air: Being the Story of the part played in the Great War by the Royal Air Force, 6 vols (Oxford: 1922–37), vol. 5, 262–3. 131 Muhammed Amin, “Battle of Ctesiphon (Suliman Pak) 1915 Nov.–Dec.” (translation), p. 30, CAB44/33, TNA. 132 Jones, The War in the Air, vol. 5, 264. 133 GHQ Intelligence Summary, 23 Nov. 1915, WO157/781, TNA. 134 TNA, CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 35. 135 CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 112. command in the indian expeditionary force 93 need to conduct attacks prematurely due to Townshend’s uncertainty regarding his food reserve.136 Edwin Latter has sought to shift the traditional emphasis on external factors. He emphasizes both a decline in the quality and efficiency of Indian Army units, whose unique internal organization of British officers and class composition battalions and companies was particularly vulnerable to casualties, and evidence of poor generalship and primitive tactical understanding among Tigris Corps’ commanders.137 Thus, while a plethora of explanations has been advanced to provide a greater understanding of the failed relief operations, there is little consideration of the difficulties posed to the exercise of command, despite Latter’s assertion that “from Ctesiphon commanders faced conditions similar to the Western Front.”138 The emergence of static and semi-static trench warfare imposed, as G. Sheffield observes in relation to the Western Front, profound limitations on the effectiveness of existing methods of communication— telephone, runner and visual.139 This materially affected the traditional ability of a commander and his headquarters to exercise effective command and control during operations and specifically to co-ordinate the various formations and arms. Further, conflict existed at the very heart of a commander’s role. The expanding size of forces accumulated for relief operations and the danger posed by defensive firepower ensured a general could no longer perform the duties of inspirational leader whilst simultaneously exercising effective command. Analysis of the Tigris Corps’ battles between January and April 1916, reveals the extent to which existing communications technology undermined the function of command at divisional level, rendering close co-ordination between infantry and artillery so essential in trench warfare, extremely problematical. TheCritical Study observes that the tactical advantage “inclined strongly to the side of the troops whose object it would be to prevent the junction of the two British forces.”140 Shortage of land transport to carry supplies and drinking water prevented maneuver away from the river and confined the Tigris Corps to

136 CAB19/26 (MCR), p. 35. 137 E. Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–18”,Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. 72 (1994), 160–77, 241–2. 138 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–18”, 172. 139 D. Todman and G. Sheffield, “Command and Control in the British Army on the Western Front”, in G. Sheffield, and D. Todman (eds.) Command and Control on the Western Front (Staplehurst: 2004), 7. 140 Anon, Critical Study, 92–3. 94 andrew syk frontal assaults upon entrenched positions. Moreover, the Turkish left wing between Hanna and Sannaiyat was protected by the Suwaikiyah Marsh. This had the effect of funnelling British attacks on the left bank into a space of little more than a mile width between Suwaikiyah Marsh and the Tigris River. A report by 7th Indian Division’s commander, Major-General G.F. Younghusband, on the failed attack at Hanna on 21 January underlines the extent to which effective command was rendered difficult by the new conditions. Two deep and well traversed trench lines with good communication trenches all protected by barbed wire opposed the British advance. The initial morning assault failed in consequence of heavy casualties from Turkish rifle and machine-gun fire whilst crossing no-man’s-land, uncut barbed wire due to the weakness of the artillery bombardment, and a strong Turkish counter-attack that rapidly recaptured occupied positions.141 Poor communications, however, undermined attempts to reinforce or co-ordinate further efforts and also ‘militated against effective ranging’, so handicapping artillery fire. Moreover, general co-ordination of units following failure of the initial assault proved impossible for divisional and corps’ headquarters. Younghusband reported: Communication from the beginning of the attack had been difficult. Brigades were in telephonic communication with Divisional Head- quarters, but in the Brigades, messages to units had to be sent by hand and this led to much delay, and there could be no certainty of the messages arriving at their destinations as casualties amongst the orderlies employed were numerous. When the rain began telephonic communication between the Division and Brigades also broke down and though the lines were mended from time to time they could not be kept in working order and communication between Division and Brigades also had to be made by orderly.142 Similar difficulties plagued commanders even during the more mobile operations on the Tigris River’s right bank at Dujaila Redoubt on 8 March. Criticism was levelled at the commander, Major-General G.V. Kemball, for his strict adherence to the timetable dictated by Tigris Corps orders. After a night march of 16 miles, Kemball’s refusal to occupy the lightly held Dujaila Redoubt, despite clear intelligence

141 A.T. Wilson, Loyalties: Mesopotamia 1914–20, vol. 1, 109–10; Anon, Critical Study, 150–67. 142 War Diary 7th Division GS, Report of Action of 20 and 21 Jan. 1916, p. 5, WO95/5127, PRO, TNA. command in the indian expeditionary force 95 and repeated requests by his subordinate commanders to do so before Turkish reinforcements arrived, has been highlighted as an example of inflexibility. “Unfortunately the occasion produced no leader with the vision to seize the opportunity,” observed Barker.143 Increasingly, however, particularly in the light of operations during January, adherence to timetable tactics was viewed as a means of overcoming the paraly- sis of command and control.144 When operations did commence they were still characterized by poor co-ordination between the varying columns and between infantry and artillery in consequence of poor communications. TheCritical Study pointed to “centralized control of very widespread movements with most inadequate means of communication, and the extremely detailed nature of orders which apparently had a paralyzing effect on some of the subordinate commanders.”145 Defensive firepower continually handicapped the exercise of command by interrupting the flow of essential information. The 2nd Black Watch recorded 2 sergeants, 3 corporals and 5 men all killed in an unsuccessful effort to maintain visual communication during one attack in January 1916.146 Describing 9th Infantry Brigade’s assault at Dujaila Redoubt, it was noted: the position and extent of the enemy trenches south-west of the Redoubt were not accurately known and the artillery forward observing officer with 9th Brigade who could have directed the fire of his guns on to the brigade objective was killed during the advance . . . by 2 p.m. the attack had been everywhere held up . . .147 The Brigade Signal Officer recorded that, while communication with the 1/1st Gurkha Rifles was maintained via telephone, that with 93rd Infantry could only be effected by runner, and “all visual was impossible owing to heavy rifle fire which swept all ground about and in rear of brigade headquarters.” At 1 pm 1st Highland Light Infantry were ordered up to front line, “two cable lines were run out with them. Of this party one linesman was killed and the other very seriously

143 Barker, The Neglected War, 238. 144 J.E. Shearer, “The Battle of Dujailah”,Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. 55 (1927), 51. 145 Anon, Critical Study, 180. 146 A.G. Wauchope, A History of the Black Watch (Royal Highlanders) in the Great War, 1914–18 (London: 1925), 213. 147 History of the 1st Sikh Infantry, 3 vols (London: 1929), vol. 3, 69. 96 andrew syk wounded.” When the brigade assaulted at 2 pm, only 2 cable linesmen remained.148 Signal unit war diaries underline that certain commanders were yet to grasp the fundamental necessity of remaining stationary at headquarters if effective command was to be exercised during static and semi-static warfare and of resisting the temptation to exercise real- time command by advancing with the infantry. The substitution of inspirational command by the necessary managerial model required for the new conditions took time. During 8th Brigade’s assault at Dujaila, a 3rd Indian Division signal officer noted: GOC advanced with support line so that there was no fixed position for brigade headquarters from where I could send lines out to regiments. The brigade retired as soon as GOC got up to his position.149 At Beit Aieesa, on 17 April 7th Brigade’s signal officer recorded: At 6.30 a.m. attack commenced and lines were carried on with battalions as they advanced. But brigade headquarters also moved forward at same time making communication by telephone very difficult. . . . Heavy hostile shelling and rifle fire caused lines to be very frequently cut.150 Nikolas Gardner noted a similar paradoxical approach to command amongst the senior commanders of the BEF in 1914.151 Gardner traced this tendency towards personal leadership amongst senior personnel to experience as regimental officers combined with a desire to maintain morale.152 Clausewitz’s stress on moral factors in war, particularly at the command level, had achieved widespread acknowledgement in pre-war literature and teaching.153 FSRI Subsection 1.1 “Application of general principles to the leading of troops,” asserted, “success in war depends more on moral than on physical qualities. Skill cannot compensate for want of courage, energy and determination . . .”154 Keith

148 War Diary 3rd Division Signal Company, 8 March 1916, WO 95/5101, PRO, TNA. 149 War Diary 3rd Division Signal Company, 8 March 1916. 150 War Diary 3rd Division Signal Company, 17 April 1916. 151 N. Gardner, Trial by Fire: Command and the British Expeditionary Force in 1914 (London: 2003), 15–27. 152 Gardner, Trial by Fire, 24–6. 153 M. Howard and P. Paret (eds.), Carl von Clausewitz On War (Princeton: 1976), 100–1; Strachan, Carl von Clausewitz’s On War, 126–8; U. Kleemeier, “Moral Forces in War”, in H. Strachan and A. Herberg-Rothe (eds.), Clausewitz in the Twenty-First Century (Oxford: 2007), 110–16. 154 General Staff,Field Service Regulations, Part I Operations 1909, Reprinted 1912 (1912), 13–4. command in the indian expeditionary force 97

Simpson observed that, while the British Army did not have a doctrine for war, many British officers did believe in the offensive spirit, “the man who personified [this] was Tommy Capper.”155 Whilst commandant at the Staff College, Quetta, Capper was a prominent exponent of this view. He declared in the same lecture that negated logistics, “. . . the principle is ‘that determined courage in leaders and men is [an] absolutely necessary foundation of all successful warlike action.’ Such courage sustains the ‘offensive’, and therefore, preserves the ‘initiative’.” Capper exclaimed at one point, “What says Clausewitz on this subject? Happy the army in which untimely boldness frequently manifests itself; it is an exuberant growth, showing rich soil. Even foolhardiness, that is boldness without object, is not to be despised.”156 He repeated similar sentiments in a lecture delivered to the 1910 staff conference.157 General Hubert Gough remarked that Capper whilst an instructor at the Staff College, Camberley, “revolutionized the teach- ings of staff duties. . . . Moreover, he always inculcated a spirit of self- sacrifice and duty.”158 Operational commanders throughout the relief operations had Townshend’s own example before them. Following the capture of Qurna, Townshend was keen to underline his personal role in Amara’s capture with little over 25 sailors and soldiers onboard H.M.S. Espiegle. He observed, “I left Colonel Gamble, my GSO1, and other staff officers with orders to unite the division there and send them on to Amarah by echelons of brigades as rapidly as possible.”159 He repeated the process following Kut-al-Amara’s capture in September 1915, leaving his senior brigadier “to re-organize the Division.”160 An undoubted exponent of the inspirational model, Townshend’s spectre loomed large, increasingly so as operational failures mounted. Candler declared: . . . there was no confidence in the higher command. . . . Nixon, Aylmer, Gorringe, went down river in melancholy succession. In Townshend alone we had faith, and the general impression was that the only way to

155 K.R. Simpson, “Capper and the Offensive Spirit”,Journal of the Royal United Service Institution, vol. 118 (1973), 51. 156 (Capper), 2/4/1 Lecture text, ‘Principles of Strategy to Senior Division by T.Capper’ undated (c. 1906–1911), p. 15, LHCMA. 157 Report of a Conference held under the direction of the Chief of the Staff, Jan. 1910, pp. 57–8, L/MIL/17/5/1811, IOR, BL. 158 H. Gough, Soldiering On (London: 1954), 93. 159 C.V.F. Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia (London: 1920), 68–71. 160 Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia, 121. 98 andrew syk

save Kut was to extricate him by aeroplane and place him in command of his own relieving force.161 In truth, however, operational and tactical conditions had evolved from 1915. Increasingly, operational orders produced during April 1916 highlight a more ‘managerial’ command style and the recognition that command at divisional and, indeed, brigade level could most effectively be exercised during the preparation stages in seeking measures to improve co-operation between infantry and artillery. Latter highlighted Maude’s focus on planning and preparation whilst commanding 13th British Division, prior to that division’s offensive at Hanna on 5 April 1916.162 This was preceded by a memorandum underlining points to be considered by infantry officers undertaking trench attacks.163 Preliminary instructions were issued one week in advance. Brigadier-General O’Dowda noted in his diary on 28 March, “Started at 1 p.m. for divisional conference where plans were revealed, and we were able to think out our own plans.”164 Although the assault fell on largely empty trenches after a Turkish evacuation, it was nevertheless characterized by detailed operational orders whereby Maude sought to exercise command through a prescriptive timetable during the initial stages followed by a degree of decentralization. These underlined the importance of surprise, instructing that everything to be kept as normal in the trenches as regards machine guns and rifle fire, etc., so as not to excite the enemy’s suspicions. Special precautions to be taken against talking by telephone in trenches close to the enemy, which should be reduced to a minimum. No preparatory bombardment was detailed, but 40 flags were provided to the infantry for purposes of improving artillery support. The artillery were to open fire on the enemy’s third line two and a half minutes after the initial assault and this expected outburst of heavy fire to be carefully explained to the troops before starting, so that they may realize at once that it is friendly not hostile fire. Prior measures were also undertaken to aid infantry-artillery co-operation by the allocation of one howitzer and

161 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 162. 162 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–18”, 176. 163 Some points for regimental officers to bear in mind previous to and during an attack from trenches, 28 March 1916, War Diary 13th Division GS, Memorandum, WO 95/5147, PRO, TNA. 164 CKS-WKR/B1/Z14 (O’Dowda), Diary, 28 March 1916, CKS. command in the indian expeditionary force 99

2 18-pounder batteries to each infantry brigade for close decentralized support in addition to those detailed for barrage and counter- battery work. Artillery commanders were placed in direct telephonic communication with the infantry brigade commanders, while “there will also be an artillery liaison officer at each infantry brigade headquarters and an artillery forward observing officer with each infantry battalion.”165 Maude’s orders highlighted the beginnings of a clear shift in the method of exercising command in conditions of trench warfare in Mesopotamia, certainly at divisional level, and reflect both Maude’s and his divisional staff’s application of practical experience of static conditions gained in Gallipoli and France. By abdicating real-time inspirational command during actual operations and focusing instead on predetermined plans and preparation, commanders, in anticipation of loss of control, sought to trade in flexibility for greater certainty. The 7th Indian Division’s failed attack at Sannaiyat the following day with the loss of 1,807 killed and wounded, however, has been highlighted by Latter as a particular example of the outdated methods of Indian commanders. Latter cites Brigadier-General T. Fraser’s comments: . . . this is the result of disregarding the lessons of the present war. In January, February and March we paid the penalty over and over again but still Gorringe, Aylmer, Lake and Co would not believe. Yesterday correct methods were adopted with immediate reward of success. This morning Gorringe reverts to the old way. Result failure.166 These comments relate not to 7th Indian Division’s more conventional tactics during the assault, as Latter asserts, but rather to the method of exercising command. The methodical approach adopted by 13th British Division ensured command at divisional level was exercised during the planning and preparation stage as a means of successfully influencing operations. Gorringe’s determination, as Tigris Corps commander, to renew the attack on 6 April at Sannaiyat provided no such opportunity for 7th Indian Division’s headquarters. Following a night march through 13th Division’s position, the assault was launched without prior reconnaissance, and operational orders were necessarily limited in detail. A later report noted:

165 Operation Order No. 22, 2 April 1916, War Diary 13th Division GS. 166 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–18”, 177. 100 andrew syk

. . . as no reconnaissance of the position or the ground could be made, and as the maps differed, there was considerable uncertainty at the time as to the distance between this position of deployment and the position to be attacked. It was afterwards found to be about 2,300 yards.167 In such circumstances it was impossible successfully to co-ordinate infantry and artillery. Even when greater preparation time was available and a methodical formula employed the result remained uncertain. The 13th British Division’s operational orders for an assault at Sannaiyat on 9 April again sought surprise, but costly failure resulted when the infantry were held up by machine-gun fire in no-man’s-land unsupported by artillery.168 By April 1916, the IEFD commanders, particularly at divisional level, had arrived at a clear understanding, comparable with their counter-parts on the Western Front, regarding the function of command in trench warfare conditions. Focus was increasingly devoted to prior preparation and facilitating the coordination of infantry and artillery and this represented a more ‘managerial’ approach to command. Nevertheless, a considerable evolution in tactical doctrine was required to achieve operational success. Difficulties in command and control created by Turkish defensive measures during January–April were exacerbated by the ad hoc nature of the command organization itself. Percy Lake, previously CGS India, replaced John Nixon for reasons of ill-health as GOC IEFD at Basra on 18 January 1916. On the Tigris front Tigris Corps was hastily formed during December 1915 for Townshend’s relief under the command of Sir Fenton Aylmer who had vacated the post of AG, India. Despite occasional visits to the Tigris Front and the appointment of an experienced GS, consisting of 10 officers employed in operations and intelligence branches, Lake and GHQ remained in Basra and thus exerted little influence on operational planning.169 Aylmer declared later to the Commission that “the Commander in Mesopotamia was a sort of Base Commandant without responsibility for operations.”170 In contrast Tigris Corps’ staff organization, in Aylmer’s view, was not satisfactory until the middle of February. Brigadier-General

167 Report on Preparations for, and Operations carried out during Period 5 to 22 Apr. 1916, 3 May 1916, p. 6, War Diary 7th Division General Staff, WO 95/5127, PRO, TNA. 168 Summary of Operations by 13th Division from 1 to 30 Apr. 1916’; Operation Order No. 24, 8 April 1916, War Diary 13th Division General Staff. 169 IEFD Officers holding Staff Appointments, Feb. 1916, L/MIL/5/833, IOR, BL. 170 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 874. command in the indian expeditionary force 101

H.H. Austin who served as Brigadier-General General Staff (BGGS) was replaced after January’s operations, for “he was certainly not the man for such an appointment”, by Major-General G.F. Gorringe who in turn replaced Aylmer as Tigris Corps commander in March 1916. Furthermore, it was only after mid-January that Aylmer was provided with a senior artillery officer at Tigris Corps headquarters, Brigadier- General L.A.C. Gordon.171 Aylmer declared to the Commission, “My deficiencies it will be seen were fairly awful. . . . I was particularly weak on the administrative side, and this was very bad, as much organization was required every day as units of every description were hurried up to the front from Basra.”172 It was Major-General Money’s view that greater success might have been achieved had the Indian Corps’ “well trained staff ” who were “‘accustomed to working together” not remained in France and instead been transferred together with 3rd and 7th Indian Divisions to Mesopotamia late in 1915.173 The difficulty in obtaining capable staff officers experienced above divisional level reflected similar problems to those occurring in the administrative sphere. Commenting in 1906, Sir Neville Lyttleton, then British CGS, stated of Kitchener’s reforms: There will be no staffs higher than those of Divisions, the staffs which would be wanted for armies in the field, will be non-existent in peace and serious inconvenience may be anticipated in war from want of experience and training of newly constituted staffs.174 Below corps level a similar ad hoc approach was adopted. At the critical battle of Dujaila Redoubt on 8 March 1916, Major-General G.V. Kemball was appointed from command of a brigade to command the 3 infantry brigades drawn from 3 different formations. The experienced 3rd and 7th Indian Divisional staffs were rendered irrelevant. The staff element organized for Dujaila did not assemble under Kemball’s orders until 6 March.175 The Critical Study observed, “the commander of this force was not known to his troops nor were his staff; the latter were hastily collected with no previous experience of working together

171 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), pp. 858–9. 172 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), pp. 858–9; Moberly, Campaign in Mesopotamia, vol. 2, pp. 203–05. 173 (Money), Typescript autobiography, p. 48, 9211–19, NAM. 174 Notes on Conference held on 22 September 1916, Memorandum, CGS N.G. Lyttleton, 20 Nov. 1906, L/MIL/7/5494, IOR, BL. 175 TNA, CAB19/8 (Statements), p. 821. 102 andrew syk and with very little time for preparation.”176 Wilson declared, “had the 3rd Division been used for the decisive assault, all these disadvantages would have been avoided, and the result would in human probability have been different.”177 Command performance undermined relief operations to a greater degree than has previously been appreciated. Latter’s comments regarding the inflexibility and primitive tactical understanding of senior Indian Army’s Tigris Corps commanders, however, serves to mask the wider issue of command and control difficulties affecting all British armed forces engaged in theatres where static and semi- static warfare emerged. On the Western Front, 1915 was, as Sheffield observes, a period that came close to the popular perception of the war as the British Army sought to adapt to the conditions of modern warfare. Of the senior Tigris Corps officers, only Keary had exercised senior command in France during 1915. Poor operational command performance between January and April 1916 therefore reflected the problematical efforts of Mesopotamia’s command system to come to terms, in view of its existing ethos, with the campaign’s ‘rite of passage’ into modern, or static, warfare.

Conclusion

Eliot Cohen and John Gooch have observed that “the urge to blame military misfortunes on individuals runs as deep as the inclination to blame human error for civil disasters.”178 This urge to blame was very much confirmed by contemporary comment, the Mesopotamia Commission Report and subsequent historical accounts. But, this line of investigation offers little beyond assessments of incompetence. Poor individual decision-making should instead be examined within the context of the organization within which these individuals served; and here investigation reveals inherent problems within IEFD’s command system during the campaign of 1915–16. Organizational defects within the existing command system undermined the performance of the IEFD during late 1915 and early 1916 to a much greater extent than

176 Anon, Critical Study, 180. 177 A.T. Wilson, Loyalties, vol. 1, 119. 178 E.A. Cohen and J.Gooch, Military Misfortunes: The Anatomy of Failure in War (London: 2006), 156–63. command in the indian expeditionary force 103 has been appreciated. Close scrutiny of the pre-war Indian Army’s organization, instruction and ethos explains inefficient command performance when manifested in the Mesopotamian Campaign. The subordinate position accorded to logistics and to intelligence analysis at the operational level, and the continued emphasis on inspirational leadership at the higher tactical level of war, undermined performance and exacerbated material shortages. So too did the problems of command and control in consequence of the advent of trench warfare. Modern defensive firepower and the ability to mount only frontal trench to trench assaults severely hampered existing communications and the means successfully to exercise real-time command. While it is impossible to deny that Nixon, in his determination to advance without due consideration of logistics or intelligence derived from external sources, was fundamentally at fault, it is now possible, in the light of this research, to explain his decisions in the context of the existing command system and the manifestation in Mesopotamia of problems deriving from the Indian Army and wider imperial ethos and principles. Similarly, the failure of Tigris Corps commanders during early 1916 does not point solely to the tactical incompetence of Indian establishment generals or to shortages of equipment, but rather to the difficulties experienced in adapting the pre-war model of command to conditions of static warfare and finding the tactical formula necessary to overcome the defensive firepower and entrenchments. These inherent difficulties mirrored closely the problems of logistics and command and control which were revealed by the emergence of static warfare during the early stages of the BEF’s deployment on the Western Front, and should not, therefore, be viewed in isolation.

CHAPTER THREE

LOGISTICS OF THE INDIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE D IN MESOPOTAMIA: 1914–18

Ross Anderson

Introduction

On 6 November 1914, the landing of the Indian Army’s 16th Infantry Brigade at Fao, in the Vilayet of Basra in Mesopotamia initiated land hostilities between the British and the Ottoman empires. Part of the IEFD, these 4,700 soldiers, succeeded in their task of subduing the shore battery and garrison before moving up the Shatt-al-Arab riverway and latter occupying Basra.1 The mission was to protect the oil fields in nearby Abadan, in ostensibly neutral Persia, to protect British hegemony and to reassure the local Arab tribes of its support against the ruling Ottomans. Rapidly reinforced to divisional strength, IEFD began with early and easy successes, before overreaching itself in late 1915, then recovering and conquering most of Mesopotamia and ultimately triumphing in 1918 against an exhausted foe. For the Indian Army, the campaign would provide the greatest challenge it had yet faced. Apart from bitter fighting against a tenacious opponent, it would have to endure some of the most difficult climatic and health conditions while operating at the end of a very long and precarious supply chain. Despite the serious setback represented by the surrender of Kut-al-Amara and the failed relief attempts in early 1916, the British emerged victorious with the Indian Army making the lion’s share of the effort. Yet, it would be a long and difficult route as IEFD grew from that single brigade to an army that peaked in April 1918 at 2 corps of one cavalry and 4 infantry divisions with 155,078 fighting soldiers, supported by another 162,000 civilian labourers.2 It

1 Official History of the War, Mesopotamia Campaign, vol. 1 (henceforth OH Meso- potamia, I) (1923, reprint, London: n.d.), 346. 2 Statistics of the Military Effort of the British Empire During the Great War 1914– 1920 (henceforth Statistics) (1922, reprint, Uckfield: n.d.), 28, 64; Telegram B1535, 106 ross anderson also forced the transformation of a hitherto inward looking Indian Army that had concentrated on maintaining internal order and fighting with lightly armed tribesmen on the North-West Frontier to that of a recognisably modern force. The Indian Army’s performance in the Mesopotamian Campaign was heavily influenced by its recent past, notably the Kitchener reforms of 1904–1909, and official unwillingness to reconcile India’s military means with Britain’s strategic interests. As well, the Indian Army had two sets of masters, political and military. The governor-general/viceroy ran the GOI and through the C-in-CI, the army, but the secretary of state in London was the true master, setting higher policy on behalf of the British Cabinet. Also, the CIGS and his staff in the War Office had authority over the British forces on the Indian establishment and were highly influential on matters of strategy, equipment and tactics. The C-in-CI had autonomy over operations and administration within the boundaries of the Indian Empire, but could not ignore the War Office. This system of dual control worked in peacetime, although not without friction, but was to buckle under the strains of a world war that required the coordination of all the British Empire’s resources and power. It was to be a critical factor in the Mesopotamian Campaign. Particularly in the early stages of the war, the first concerns of the GOI were internal order, the security of the North-West Frontier and then Mesopotamia. Up until early 1916, the there was little coordination between London’s world-wide priorities and the needs of India’s semi-independent campaign in Mesopotamia. This led to a dangerous combination of wishful strategic thinking and poor planning that produced the disaster of Kut. It took the assumption of strategic control by the CIGS, General Sir William Robertson, in February 1916 to rectify these deficiencies and provide the resources needed for victory. This was ably supported by the effects of a new and more energetic viceroy and C-in-CI who were to mobilize India’s resources to unprecedented levels.

3rd Echelon, Basra to WO, 21 April 1918, no. 9649, WO 33/947, PRO, The National Archives (TNA). logistics of the indian expeditionary force 107

The Indian Army in 1914

While the Indian units provided the largest contingent in IEFD, the British units in India also played a considerable role throughout the campaign. The force in India included the regular Indian units comprising of 2,561 British officers, 366 British NCOs and 152,496 Indians plus the 75,000 officers and soldiers of the British Army stationed in India.3 The Indian Army reserve had 34,000 soldiers on its books while there were also 23,000 Imperial Service Troops of varying quality and readiness. The small British community could provide barely 40 officers in the reserve and, although there were some 40,000 European volunteers available, many of whom held key civilian positions and could not easily be extracted. There were also some 34,000 Frontier Militia, Levies and Military Police, but these were semi-trained local forces that could not be deployed overseas.4 The memories of the Indian Mutiny of 1857–58, over 60 years prior, heavily influenced policy makers and British bayonets were seen as the ultimate guarantor of the Raj. This had resulted in maintaining the British contingent at one infantry battalion to 3 Indian battalions with the overwhelming bulk of the artillery in its hands; the Indian Army had only 12 batteries of light, mountain guns while the British Army retained the other 91 batteries.5 In 1904, Lord Kitchener launched his programme of army reorganization and modernization in order to counter the perceived Russian threat. He sought to minimize the troops dedicated to internal security so as to produce a more capable and balanced field army.6 While he implemented significant changes, financial austerity, bureaucracy and competing priorities had prevented the whole of his scheme from being carried out by his departure in 1909. Moreover, the strategic underpinnings of his policy were altered by the signing of the Anglo- Russian Convention of 1907. This agreement was intended to reduce

3 Statistics, 156–57, 777; The Evolution of the Army in India (Calcutta: 1924), 219. 4 India’s Contribution to the Great War (henceforth India’s Contribution) (Calcutta: 1923), 17; CID Meetings and Defence of India, Report 105D, dated 11 May 1911, Table 1—Establishment of the Army in India, 1 November 1905, L/MIL/5/726; Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 82, L/MIL/17/5/1751, V/27/281/32, Africa, Pacific and Asia Collections (APAC), BL. 5 Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 83–4, L/MIL/17/5/1751, APAC, BL. 6 Army in India Committee—Majority Report, vol. 1, 28–30. 108 ross anderson tension in Central Asia and divided Persia into spheres of influence while acknowledging British primacy in Afghanistan. While it certainly did not eliminate mistrust between the two empires, the Convention reduced some friction and provided a framework in the resolution of disputes. This, plus Russia’s military weakness after 1905, lessened the requirement for a strong field force capable of fighting a modern opponent.7 Lord Hardinge, Viceroy from November 1910 to April 1916, was a diplomat who strongly supported the Convention and had a certain lack of sympathy for the Indian Army. He considered it inefficient owing to poor management and had a low opinion of Kitchener’s successor, General Sir O’Moore Creagh.8 In 1910, Lieutenant-General Douglas Haig, the newly appointed and first CGS, brought a fresh influence to India. He understood that the growing rivalry with Germany might lead to a British continental commitment and that the Indian Army could provide a valuable imperial reserve. He also believed that war with Turkey was a distinct possibility and that the Indian Army should have a suitable expeditionary force capable of fighting in the Persian Gulf region. But, Hardinge not only rejected Haig’s views, quashing any discussions with London about possible expeditionary forces, but then in 1912 convened the Army in India Committee, to reconsider India’s current defence needs with the implicit aim of finding savings in the military budget.9 But, if the menace of Russian invasion had largely disappeared, the threat of raids or large scale risings by up to 60,000 trans-border tribesmen living between British-India and Afghanistan had not. While certainly capable of inflicting heavy losses, the armed tribes were a traditional foe, armed only with rifles, local knowledge and cunning. On the other hand, the viceroy was highly concerned about the growth of Indian nationalism with its perceived risks of internal civil disorder or even a mutiny of Indian units. Having narrowly escaped assassination himself, he was worried about the threat posed by ‘sedition’ and

7 Committee of Imperial Defence Meetings, Report 94D dated 6 December 1906, citing Meeting 88 of 25 May 1906, L/MIL/5/726, APAC, BL. 8 Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 30; Letter Hardinge to Crewe, 30 July 1914, vol. 120, Hardinge Papers (HP), Cambridge University Library (CUL). 9 Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 1, 30; CUL, HP, vol. 120, Letter Hardinge to Crewe, 9 April 1914; Tim Moreman, “Lord Kitchener, the General Staff and the Army in India 1902–1914”, in David French and Brian Holden Reid (eds.), The British General Staff: Reform and Innovation, c. 1890–1939 (London: 2002), 68–70. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 109

‘terrorism’. This ranged from the activities of violent Hindu nationalists, the disaffection of the Sikh community through theGhadarite movement and, after the outbreak of war, a generalized worry about Muslims heeding the Ottoman sultan’s call to jihad. Even ordinary civil disorder, be it inter-communal or political, was commonplace with the military frequently called out to support the civil power.10 The report was not completed until the summer of 1914 and came up with two diametrically opposed views about future defence policy. Hardinge’s view prevailed and the maintenance of internal security was then placed above that of external defence.11 However, this was overtaken by the outbreak of war, and the viceroy quickly assented to sending the Indian Corps to France before more reluctantly supporting expeditions to East Africa and then Mesopotamia.12

Readiness for War

In 1914, the field army was organized in 9 divisions and 8 cavalry brigades that were focused on the North-West Frontier.13 But, even this was less than it seemed as pre-war financial retrenchment meant that only 6 divisions and 6 cavalry brigades had been fully equipped for mobilization.14 In reality, the Indian Army was underequipped for a local frontier campaign let alone an overseas one.15 A field division consisted of 3 infantry brigades, each with one British and 3 Indian infantry battalions, one Indian cavalry regiment, one brigade of field artillery (eighteen 18-pounder guns) and 2 mountain batteries (twelve 10-pounder guns), 2 companies of sappers and miners, one pioneer battalion, one divisional signal company plus a number of transport and supply units. An independent cavalry brigade comprised one battery of horse artillery of six 13-pounders, one British and 2 Indian cavalry regiments and a brigade ammunition column.

10 M.N. Das, India under Morley and Minto (London: 1964), 104–22; Letter Hardinge to Crewe, 17 September 1914, vol. 120, HP, CUL; Lord Hardinge, My Indian Years 1910–1916 (London: 1948), 14, 116–8; M.S. Leigh, The Punjab and the War (Lahore: 1922), 17–2. 11 Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 30. 12 Letter Hardinge to Crewe, 6 August 1914, vol. 120, HP, CUL; Hardinge, My Indian Years, 31–3; Mesopotamia Commission Report (London: 1917), 10, Cd 8610. 13 The Evolution of the Army, 219. 14 The Evolution of the Army, 28–9; OH Mesopotamia, vol. 1, 59. 15 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 37–8. 110 ross anderson

In contrast, a British division had more firepower with 3 brigades of 18-pounders (48 guns) plus a brigade of 4.5” howitzers (12 or 16 howitzers). To make matters worse, by September 1914, India had been stripped of its artillery reserves, having sent 117 field and horse guns back to Britain to help meet its shortfalls.16 Furthermore, pre-war manning of the artillery was well below establishment so there were considerable shortfalls on mobilization. The infantry was also caught in the process of reorganization from the old 8 single company to the new 4 double company system which required a number of tactical and organizational changes. On the positive side, the Indian Army had adopted field service regulations, the field service pocket book and various British training manuals by 1911 giving it common techniques and procedures.17 Above divisional level, there was little organization for war as there was no corps organization and large scale maneuvers were usually limited to a couple of divisions annually. There were two nominal army headquarters, Northern and Southern, but they were small and had no administrative staff, forcing divisions to deal direct with the AHQ. In 1914, a new C-in-CI, General Sir Beauchamp Duff, one of Kitchener’s protégés, had just taken office from Creagh and promised to overhaul AHQ even further. The supporting services were underdeveloped too with the medical system being a particular source of weakness. By 1914, it was still short of nearly 400 medical officers, over 200 medical assistants and 344 ward orderlies for war establishments. The requirement for trained medical bearers to evacuate casualties was worse as there were only 1,500 available to fill 6,000 places as a planned reserve scheme had foundered. Pre-war reductions in the number of medical units further reduced the army’s ability to operate in the field.18 Although motor vehicles had been ordered for experimental purposes, none were available for the transport service which remained entirely animal-drawn. The supply department lacked large stocks of equipment, clothing and material while the signal service had no wireless apparatus or suitable field telephones.19 On the other hand, there was a nascent air service with a Central Flying School with four air-

16 Telegram H943, Viceroy to SSI, 18 September 1914, L/MIL/17/5/1618, APAC, BL. 17 Moreman, “Lord Kitchener”, in French and Reid (eds.), British General Staff, 71. 18 Army in India Committee—Majority Report, vol. 1, 19. 19 OH, Mesopotamia, vol. 1, 63, 67. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 111 frames although this was closed on the outbreak of war and sent back to Britain. The situation in arms and ammunition was not favourable either. There was still no reserve of rifles while the new short Lee-Enfield rifle had only reached the field army, and the Imperial Service Troops still had ageing Martini-Henrys. Machine-guns were present on the planned scale of 2 per field unit and one for internal defence units giving only 540 for the entire army.20 Moreover, the manufacture of weapons and ammunition in India was completely inadequate for even a small war.21

IEFD’s Operations in Mesopotamia

A detailed account of IEFD’s operations in Mesopotamia is beyond the scope of this article and brief sketches will be used to highlight key points regarding transport and medical infrastructures. For analytical purposes, the campaign may be divided into 4 distinct phases: The first was from the landings at Fao in November 1914 to the advance inland culminating in the Battle of Ctesiphon and subsequent encirclement at Kut in December 1915; the second was the Siege of Kut, the relief operations and regrouping that lasted until August 1916; the third was the overhaul of the lines of communication followed by the offensive operations that led to the clearance of the Baghdad Vilayet in May 1917; and the fourth was from June 1917 until the end of hostilities in October 1918 which mainly comprised limited operations, the diver- sion into Persia and the final capture of Mosul.

The First Phase (November 1914–December 1915) While the 6th Division was not considered the best in the Indian Army, it was capable enough to send on what appeared to be a limited mission in Mesopotamia.22 Little thought had been given to coping with the difficult conditions of a hot and arid country with virtually no infrastructure. Supply was provided by the traditional animal drawn

20 Army in India Committee—Majority Report, vol. 1, 16. 21 Kaushik Roy, “Equipping Leviathan: Ordnance Factories in British India, 1859– 1913”, War in History, vol. 10 (2003), 422. 22 Telegram 923, Kitchener to Duff, 8 September 1914; Telegram 5S, Duff to Kitchener, 9 September 1914, L/MIL/17/5/1618, APAC, BL. 112 ross anderson transport that was slow, inefficient and severely limited by the requirements to provide fodder and water.23 With no real roads or railways, IEFD was effectively tied to the major river lines of the Tigris and Euphrates. Furthermore, all manpower, equipment and supplies had to pass through the Basra Port which before the war had received 2 to 3 steamers per week. There were no docks, cranes, storehouses, or workshop facilities and ships had to anchor in the river before unloading manually via small local sailing craft.24 On arrival in November 1914, IEFD had a total of 3 steamers and 16 lighters available for service.25 Despite the obvious need for steamers of the right draft and the fact that they could take up to a year to construct, Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Barrett only asked for an additional 7 steamers and 2 lighters followed by a demand for 4 river tugs in January 1915. These arrived in May, but it was quickly found that the steamers and tugs had too deep a draft to work the river beyond Qurna.26 A civilian expert had been sent out to take charge of the port, but was given short shrift by the military and had to appeal to the viceroy for support in his mission. Furthermore, the lack of a local skilled labour force to build the necessary infrastructure made it essential to import labourers, but the first 2 Coolie Corps of 500 men would not arrive until July 1915.27 Reports of approaching major Ottoman reinforcements towards Basra, led to serious concerns that IEFD might be overwhelmed and by March 1915 Duff had sent out 2 brigades from India and another from Egypt, but without any artillery or other divisional troops.28 The viceroy also wanted a more aggressive commander than Barrett so General John Nixon, hitherto commanding the Southern Army, was brought in to take command of IEFD. A new division, the 12th, was formed under Major-General George Gorringe, but it was far from

23 Field Service Regulations 1906 (Calcutta: 1906), 11. 24 A Critical Study of the Campaign in Mesopotamia up to April 1917, (henceforth Critical Study) Staff College Quetta, 1923, vol. 1, 252–4, WO 106/923, PRO, TNA. 25 Lieutenant-Colonel L.J. Hall, Inland Water Transport in Mesopotamia (henceforth Inland Water Transport) (1919, reprint, Uckfield: n.d.), xiii–xvi, 217–20. 26 George Buchanan, The Tragedy of Mesopotamia (Edinburgh: 1938), 12–4; Meso- potamia Commission Report, 44–5. 27 GOCD to CGSI, 16 July 1915, Telegram 762/1A, WO 106/655, TNA. 28 Duff to Kitchener, 4 February 1915, Telegram 6D, no. 54; No. 58, Duff to Kitchener, 8 February 1915, Telegram 8D, L/MIL/17/5/1618, APAC, BL; Letter 71/1A, GHQ IEFD to GOC 12 Division, 13 April 1915, WO 106/655, PRO, TNA; OH, Mesopota- mia, vol. 1, 188–90. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 113 complete with an extemporized headquarters, no cavalry, 3 batteries of old and obsolete guns, 2 companies of sappers and miners, no pioneers or medical services.29 Nonetheless, the IEFD was now about 20,000 strong and the extra troops were largely in place by the time of the large Ottoman counter-attack against the flank of 6th Division’s position at Shaiba, near Basra in mid-April 1915. This was heavily repulsed and Barrett went home, officially sick, and his place was taken by the ambitious and hard-driving Major-General Charles Townshend.30 At the same time, IEFD received its first aerial resources when 2 flights of Number 30 Squadron arrived and despite having a handful of aircraft, they were put to constant use in reconnaissance and liaison. The medical situation was dire as each of the 2 divisions had only 50 of the 125 beds authorized in their field ambulance sections while at the base in Basra there were only beds for 250 British and 600 Indian troops.31 This must be balanced against the 1,800 wounded and 7,100 sick that had been treated prior to Shaiba. These totals were inadequate and worse, GHQ failed to ask for motor ambulances, motor launches, hospital river steamers and additional medical units.32 In April, a separate Ottoman force had advanced down the Tigris River to Amara before marching into Persia and threatening the oilfields at Ahwaz. Gorringe’s 12th Division was despatched up the Karun River to counter this movement and spent all of May maneuvering against the Ottomans as well as hostile tribesmen. Once again, the lack of medical resources was exposed; despite suffering few battle casualties, the force had over 3,000 cases of sickness with a serious lack of ambulances with which to evacuate them to the river.33 In mid-May, with the 12th Division appearing successful, Nixon ordered Townshend’s 6th Division to attack the enemy positions outside of Qurna and to advance as far as Amara. The attack was a great success and the Ottoman defenders fled precipitately to Amara. Townshend followed up in river boats, and using considerable bluff, convinced the garrison at Amara to surrender prior to the arrival of his main force.

29 Critical Study, vol. 1, 16. 30 Telegram 71/2A, GHQ IEFD, copying Telegram S-7466, CGSI to GOCD, 13 April 1915, WO 106/655, PRO, TNA. 31 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 142. 32 OH, Medical Services of the War, vol. 4 (London: 1924), 180–2. 33 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 189–90; Memorandum no. 111/2, 21 June 1915, Appendix, War Diary 12th Division, WO 95/514–2, TNA. 114 ross anderson

The result was the securing of the vital oil supplies in Persia and command of the Tigris up to Amara. The Qurna operation was conducted at a time of relatively high water levels and Townshend had ordered the use of specially prepared local craft to ferry the wounded to river steamers which were prepared with improvised beds. But, Basra was only 46 miles down a broad river and the unexpected advance to Amara caused greater stress particularly as the river became more difficult to navigate. During the summer, the 6th Division was to have over 4,200 hospital admissions of which over 1,300 were due to malaria; these numbers understate the level of sickness as many soldiers had to be treated at regimental as the field ambulances could not cope with the additional patients. It was not until mid-July that 2 stationary hospitals were moved forward to deal with the growing sickness.34 In late June, the 12th Division launched an attack, but stiff resistance by the Ottoman defenders in the overwhelming heat and humid- ity meant that the town only fell in late July. The British suffered 746 wounded as well as taking 1,000 Ottomans prisoner, but had only 150 out of the required 500 beds available. The shallowness of the water made evacuation slow and difficult while lack of planning meant that arriving barges that had brought animals, men and stores forward were not cleaned before being loaded with the wounded.35 As the official historian noted: Under ordinary circumstances this journey, even to a healthy man, was a most uncomfortable experience; but to the many wounded crowded on board, surrounded by insanitary conditions, lying on the hard decks and receiving the minimum of attention or comforts, it must have been a torture.36 Thereafter, Nixon continued to press for an attack on Kut-al-Amara as a precursor to moving on to Baghdad. But, his plans were built on sand as his transport remained completely inadequate. In late May 1915, he had asked for 7 tugs to replace the unsatisfactory craft, but these would take time to buy and despatch to the Mesopotamian theatre. With his forces extended along 2 river lines, each over 130 miles long and with water levels due to drop to their summer lows, it was clear that

34 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 187–9. 35 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 191–2. 36 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 193. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 115 he needed more river craft for any future advance. It was only in July that a further 9 steamers, 8 tugs and 43 barges were requested from India, which being unable to help, forwarded the request to London in August.37 However, it would be months before the vessels could be bought and transported to Mesopotamia; the first arrived in April and the last in December 1916. Furthermore, the lack of dedicated hospital ships was becoming more pressing; the lone hospital barge sent out in February 1915 had sunk en-route to Basra, forcing reliance on ordinary steamers and barges which were unclean and unequipped. It was not until December 1915, in response to the GOI’s suggestion that bespoke hospital ships were formally requested by IEFD. The first of these only arrived in April 1916, 4 months too late for the Battle of Ctesiphon.38 Facing supply difficulties on the Euphrates, in August Nixon sent a detailed request for railway material back to India. However, he never really pressed the military necessity of the case and the bid was turned down on the grounds of expense. This marked the pattern of the initial phases of the campaign; requests for transport and medical staff were passed to India, which could not meet them, and were in turn sent to London. But, there was a serious lack of drive or urgency and Nixon carried on his operations without them. Internally, things were bad as there was no coordination between the divisional medical staff and that of GHQ so that plans of evacuation were not drawn up or medical convoy parties established. This meant that things had to be extemporized in the heat of battle which was usually too late. Senior medical officers failed to ask for either motor boats or river hospital steamers; a request to the IGC for a steamer capable of carrying 150 cases or even a tug able to tow 2 mahelas was actually turned down.39 As the 6th Division formed up for its attack on Kut-al-Amara in late September 1915, it still had less than half its authorized medical units with 350 of 750 field ambulance beds while the medical personnel were themselves exhausted by sickness and extra work. A hospital ship had now been aside, but the land evacuation was limited to 100 AT

37 Hall, Inland Water Transport, xiv–xv; Mesopotamia Commission Report, 145. 38 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 56–7. 39 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 193; Mesopotamia Commission Report, Vincent Bigley Report, 146. 116 ross anderson carts, 32 mules, one motor ambulance and 2 armoured cars.40 Ignoring these difficulties and shuffling his limited fighting force, Nixon moved forward in August and launched his attack on Kut in late September, securing the town 2 days later. With over 1,100 casualties to evacuate and treat, the suffering was tremendous. With the Ottomans in retreat, his cavalry pursued them as far as Aziziya, some 61 miles by land and 102 miles by river from Kut. They had been beaten in battle and now occupied the strong defensive position of Ctesiphon, some 18 miles downriver from Baghdad. But, with the river very low, the 6th Division was forced to pause at Aziziya while the weak 12th Division remained strung out from Nasiriya to Amara.41 Furthermore, the lack of troops meant that the 2 divisions had to share an infantry brigade as well as artillery, engineers and transport.42 A major hospital was established at Amara with plans to send new units up to Kut, but as so frequently happened, there was insufficient equipment available and rearward units had to give up theirs.43 Preparing to attack Ctesiphon, Nixon asked again in October for more shallow draft steamers and tugs, but India could not supply anything before the beginning of 1916.44 A comparison is instructive: in May 1915 a force of 2 weak divisions and a cavalry brigade operating the 46 miles zone from Basra to Qurna was supplied by 8 paddlers, 3 sternwheelers and 9 tugs. By the end of November, the lines of communication reached 285 miles to Kut and 465 to Ctesiphon while Nasiriya remained 134 miles up the Euphrates; by early 1916, 3 additional divisions were arriving with no increase in vessels.45 But, desperate for a victory somewhere, and unaware that Nixon had underestimated both the strength and calibre of the Ottomans as well as ignoring his substantial river transportation limitations, the British Cabinet authorized the advance. Despite vague promises to despatch the 2 Indian divisions from France, sufficient shipping was not immediately available and AHQ was forced to generate its own divisional ‘Emergency Force’ to cover the period between the expected

40 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 195–6. 41 Advance on Baghdad, I, Telegram 3071, SSI to Viceroy, 4 Oct. 15, p. 17; Telegram 308-203-O, GOCD to CGSI, 6 October 1915, pp. 18–19, WO 106/893, PRO, TNA. 42 Critical Study, vol. 1, 17, WO 106/923, TNA; Erroll Sherson, Townshend of Chi- tral and Kut (London: 1928), 262–3. 43 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 198–9. 44 Hall, Inland Water Transport, xv–xvi. 45 Buchanan, The Tragedy of Mesopotamia, 59–60; Hall, Inland Water Transport, 253. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 117 capture of Baghdad and the arrival of the reinforcements.46 The first brigade from India could not arrive before 8 December and the 2 from Egypt would need until the third week of the month.47 Despite the absence of these reserves, the Battle of Ctesiphon took place on 22–24 November and resulted in Townshend’s retreat back to Kut. Once again, medical planning was poor and with 3,800 wounded to evacuate, every available vessel had to be used for evacuation, regardless of the filth or dung in them.48 With the 6th Division encircled at Kut on 5 December and barely a brigade left in the field to face the enemy, the situation was dire. Nixon immediately requested a third division, so that he might renew the advance against Baghdad.49 With already inadequate transport, heavy casualties and the winter weather coming, it was no more than a dream.

The Second Phase (January to August 1916) With his plans in tatters and Lieutenant-General Fenton Aylmer the newly appointed Tigris Corps commander at the front, Nixon now lost his spark and fell sick. There were a few glimmers of light, but they were scant; there now sufficient machine-guns to provide Indian cavalry regiments and infantry battalions with 4 weapons each and British battalions with 8 each.50 Significantly, the first Mechanical Transport Company arrived in January 1916 with 110 Packard lorries while the first motorized ambulances, 50 strong, reached Basra in May of the same year.51 The new commander, Lieutenant-General Percy Lake, inherited an exhausted and battered force trying to break through the Ottoman lines in terrible conditions that had turned into trench warfare. The IEFD was barely numerically superior to the enemy and lacked the necessary mortars, heavy guns and stores while the Ottomans

46 Minute CGSI to C-in-C, 13 October 1915, pp. 6–7, WO 106/893, PRO, TNA. 47 CGSI to GOC Divisions, 25 October 1915, Telegram 25251; Memorandum, Col. Talbot to CGSI, 25 November 1915, pp. 34–35, WO 106/893, PRO, TNA. 48 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 198–9, 201–02. 49 GHQ War Diary, Entry 4 December 1915, WO 95/4965, TNA; Letter Chamber- lain to Hardinge, 9 December 1915, vol. 121, HP, CUL. 50 Tigris Corps (TC) War Diary, Appendix 25, TC Letter 345/22/O dated 21 Decem- ber 1915, WO 95/5061, PRO, TNA. 51 Lieutenant-Colonel F.W. Leland, With the M.T. in Mesopotamia (1919, reprint, Uckfield: n.d.), 5. 118 ross anderson had tightened their stranglehold on Kut and were building a strong defensive line forward of the major marshes to the east. With the hope of a dramatic victory shattered, the British Cabinet ordered the viceroy to relieve Townshend and then go over to the defensive without further reinforcements.52 Belatedly, the AHQ realized that the Ottoman organization had improved considerably and was quite capable of supplying adequate drafts to the front-line divisions.53 It also realized that IEFD’s supply system was now overwhelmed; the original 20,000 men were reinforced by the 139,000 troops who arrived between December 1915 and end of March 1916. There was simply not enough transport simultaneously to reinforce the front and keep it adequately fed and supplied. In the period from November 1915 to April 1916, the river fleet could not meet the daily requirements; the best it could attain was 72 per cent (4,500 tons) and the worst, in April 1916, was barely 50 per cent (9,300 tons) of daily requirements. The number of vessels was miniscule with a total of 30 of which only 10 had engines.54 Considering that a fully equipped infantry division could easily consume 350 tons a day, the levels were totally insufficient. With no additions to the already inadequate transport force and under-developed port of Basra, it was all too late.55 Thus, as the reinforcements arrived, Nixon was ordered to reduce the amount of artillery ammunition being fired as India’s stocks were virtually empty.56 Arguments about tactical necessity could not overturn the physical lack of ammunition.57 The critical relief effort was badly undermined by poor planning and inadequate staff arrangements as shipping was in short supply and insufficient river transport further delayed the arrival of the reinforcements at the front. The Tigris Corps had no proper medical staff while medical supplies such as surgical dressings, drugs, stretchers, tentage,

52 War Committee Minutes, 28 December 1915, CAB 22/3, PRO, TNA. 53 Estimate of Turkish Forces, n.d. December 1915, File 14066, WO 106/903, PRO, TNA. 54 Hall, Inland Water Transport, xiii–xvi, 217–20; Mesopotamia Commission Report, 43. 55 Buchanan, The Tragedy of Mesopotamia, 59–60; Hall, Inland Water Transport, 253; Mesopotamia Commission Report, 54–5. 56 Duff to Nixon, 20 December 1915, Telegram S31381, Nixon Evidence, CAB 19/20, PRO, TNA. 57 Nixon to Lake, 22 December 1915, Telegram 1108–4Q; Lake to Nixon, 23 Decem- ber 1915, Telegram 31802; Nixon to Lake, 25 December 1915, Telegram 1108–5Q, Nixon Evidence, CAB 19/20, PRO, TNA. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 119 clothing and firewood were very scarce. In the rush, the brigades of the 3rd and 7th Divisions were mixed up and the medical units arrived last.58 When the 7th Division did arrive, it was pushed too quickly into battle without time to consolidate or plan effectively. Of its brigades, only one was experienced, another was improvised and the third drawn from the internal security troops in India. Aylmer was forced to attack before he was ready owing to Nixon’s impatience and Townshend’s pleas; consequently the first attack of the still nascent Tigris Corps in early January pushed the Ottomans out of Sheikh Saad, but failed to achieve a breakthrough and cost 4,000 casualties. With 3 medical officers trying to treat 2,000 casualties in the forward area, the suffering was horrific and it took nearly 2 weeks to move a stationary hospital forward and evacuate all the casualties.59 Aylmer understood the problem, but at this late stage, he could do little: “I have the greatest trouble in evacuating wounded for as you know my medical equipment is entirely inadequate.”60 Strong Ottoman opposition, heavy rain and the rising river combined to make the task increasingly onerous while the overburdened transport system could not deliver sufficient supplies or move the arriving reinforcements quickly enough. The 3rd Division arrived in time for the follow-up assault on the Wadi position in mid-January which was initially successful, before stalling upriver at the Hanna defences. Another attack at the end of the month incurred another 2,700 casualties who suffered under the appalling conditions of rain and mud made that exhausted the stretcher bearers and made life a misery. There was still a major shortage of hospital beds at Basra owing to a lack of suitable buildings while flooding made tents impractical. Fortunately, hospital ships began to arrive from India and by the end of January, the worst was over with all of the casualties from the Hanna operations being suitably treated.61 February 1916 was relatively quiet as the Tigris Corps consolidated its units and stores began to arrive. Now, in the wet and cold conditions

58 Letter Callwell to Robertson, 9 December 1915, 7/2/38, Robertson Papers, LHCMA; Letter Chamberlain to Hardinge, 16 December 1915, vol. 121, HP, CUL; OH, Naval Operations, vol. 3 (London: 1923), 229. 59 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 205–6. 60 TC War Diary, Appendix 112, Telegram 11/99/G, Corps to GHQ & 6 Division, 10 January 1916, WO 95/5061, PRO, TNA. 61 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 212–6. 120 ross anderson with inadequate rations, sickness was a major factor and there was a steady stream of troops to the rear. The next major attack was launched on the right bank against the Es Sinn position, but failed with 2,500 casualties suffered. Having to be evacuated some 14 miles over two nights in AT carts, the wounded were in agony and suffered more from lack of water. Equally bad, was the plan to evacuate the wounded forward to the objective and, when it failed to be captured, there were no other alternatives.62 Faced with a potential disaster, the CIGS, General Robertson, took control of the operations from the C-in-CI in February before sending a trusted personal liaison officer to report on the situation. The result was an order for a substantial increase in the support provided by the War Office which included sending the battle hardened British 13th Division, recently returned from the Gallipoli Operations, to reinforce IEFD as well as a number of support units.63 Tellingly, the new division brought a full complement of medical units while 50 ambulance wagons and 4 motor ambulances also reached the front. The beleaguered air arm, which was often reduced to a single flying aircraft, was strengthened by the sending of another flight in February 1916, but reconnaissance remained inadequate.64 Even more important was the augmentation of the support services as substantial staffs were sent out from Britain for the Inland Water Transport, Railways and Mechanical Transport branches. A small party of officers arrived in July 1916 and by September there were over 7,000 personnel employed in the Inland Water Transport. However, this was not a quick process as the need to identify and ship the reinforcements meant that it would take at least 6 months to produce real effects. The CIGS also doubted General Lake’s fitness for command, thinking him old for his years and tired, but left him in place.65 By March, Lake was in a very difficult situation as the Ottomans were entrenched, Kut’s food supplies were dwindling and conditions at the front deteriorating badly. His substantial losses needed replacing urgently and

62 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 223–4. 63 CIGS to C-in-C, 2 February 1916, Telegram 12778, no. 3686, CIGS to C-in-C, 24 February 1916, Telegram 13729, No. 3869, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA; Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 3 May 1916, enclosing extract of letter General Gillman to CIGS, 25 March 1916, Chelmsford Letter, MSS, EUR 264/2, BL. 64 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 38–9. 65 CIGS to C-in-C, 11 February 1916, Telegram 13112, no. 3749, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 121 in a series of complicated maneuvers, the War Office sent a Territorial brigade out to India to release troops there for Mesopotamia.66 The IEFD also needed more artillery and at least 142 more machine-guns to enable it to fight in the trench warfare conditions now prevailing.67 Finally, faced with imminent starvation and the failure of the final attack to break through the Ottoman line at Sanniyat, Townshend surrendered his 9,000 troops on 23 April 1916. Those unsuccessful attacks had resulted in a further 4,000 battle casualties and continuing high levels of disease elsewhere strained the medical services to the utmost. The only good news was the arrival of a dedicated hospital ship from India that could ply the River Tigris.68 After the early successes, Kut was a military disaster and humili- ation for British arms. Now with the 6th Division in captivity, there was no longer any need for further offensive efforts and IEFD began the process of resting the shattered divisions while building up supply stocks and improving the lines of communications.69 Units, both Indian and British, needed to absorb a major influx of newly trained recruits into skeletal and under-officered battalions. The medical situation continued to improve with approval of 2 hospitals with 1,400 beds and the flow of trained personnel increased.70 Robertson’s fears were confirmed following the visit of a medical expert to the theatre. Although he reported serious deficiencies in rations, sun protection, malaria nets, safe drinking water and transport, by now IEFD was alive to the problem and was taking measures to change it.71 Lake also pressed for authority to construct railways and gained War Office approval although it would be July before the necessary men and material could arrive.72 Lake had not been helped by the failure of the C-in-CI to ensure that IEFD was properly supported from the outset. General Duff was not up to the demands of his position or able to adopt the radical solutions

66 C-in-C to CIGS, 3 February 1916, Telegram 37264, no. 3691, CIGS to C-in-C, 5 February 1916, Telegram 12868, no. 3697, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA. 67 C-in-C to CIGS, 23 February 1916, Telegram 40325, no. 3859, WO 33/768. 68 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 228–31. 69 CIGS to C-in-C, 3 May 1916, Telegram 16065, no. 4394, WO 33/768. 70 C-in-C to WO, 23 June 1916, Telegram 61376, no. 4741, WO 33/809, PRO, TNA. 71 Surgeon General O’Donnell to Director of Medical Services, 3 July 1916, Tele- gram 1/10/15, no. 4793, C-in-C to CIGS, 29 July 1916, Telegram 68554, no. 5020, WO 33/809, PRO, TNA. 72 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 59–60. 122 ross anderson that the war required.73 It was decided that he should be replaced by General Charles Monro who would first conduct an inspection of Mesopotamia.74 But, with well documented shortcomings in the medical services, the transportation network and the lack of any material reserves, Lake’s days were also numbered.75 His successor was Lieutenant-General Stanley Maude, only recently appointed as Tigris Corps Commander, who took up the reins on 27 August 1916.76

Third Phase (September 1916 to May 1917) Operationally, IEFD was aided by the Ottoman decision to split their force into two and to send a corps on an expedition into Persia. Maude persuaded the CIGS to abandon plans to withdraw the force back to Amara and switch to the strategic defensive.77 Citing the importance of maintaining a threat to Baghdad in order to support their faltering Russian ally, he worked hard to reconstitute his force while building up his supply lines. Maude was a superb organizer and fully understood the importance of providing adequate logistic support before attempting any major offensive action. Instructed to make his force efficient primarily through greater administrative foresight and improved lines of communications, he was quickly at work.78 He was aided by the new and first-rate IGC Major-General George MacMunn, and the leading elements of the transport, supply and medical services provided by London. A fundamental overhaul of the administrative services ensued while the forward units were rested and re-trained. With the energetic support of the War Office as well as a new Viceroy, Lord Chelmsford, and General Monro, supply began to improve markedly in the second half of 1916, especially armaments

73 Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 23 March 1916, Letter 61/252, Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 29 March 1916, Letter 61/253, Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 27 May 1916, Letter 61/9, Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 26 April 1916, Letter 61/257, Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 3 May 1916, Letter 61/258, Sir Austen Chamberlain (AC) Papers, Bir- mingham University Library (BUL). 74 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 29 July 1916, Letter 61/21, AC Papers, BUL. 75 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 4 August 1916, Letter 61/22; Chelmsford to Cham- berlain, 11 August 1916 Letter 61/23, Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 11 August 1916, 61/24, Letter AC Papers, BUL. 76 GOCD to CGSI, 27 August 1916, Telegram 129/538/O, no. 5251, WO 33/809, TNA. 77 CIGS to C-in-C, 12 September 1916, Telegram 22698, no. 5394; CIGS to GOCD, 12 September 1916, Telegram 22669, no. 5395, WO 33/856, PRO, TNA. 78 CIGS to GOCD, 29 August 1916, Telegram 22176, no. 5275, WO 33/809, PRO, TNA. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 123 and ammunition.79 Despite this, the CIGS was still dissatisfied and instructed Maude to continue improving his rail and river links.80 This was balanced by Monro’s own personal assessment that many of the old ills, particularly the medical services, had been cured and greater reserves could be accumulated.81 By November 1916, the strength of IEFD had reached 64,800 British and 156,350 Indians plus 74,312 animals in November 1916, making these improvements essential.82 The expanding railway line were already moving over 1,000 tons a week between Basra and Nasiriya while the light line connected Qurna to Amara with 2 complete ambulance trains being prepared in India.83 By the end of the year, the Basra- Nasiriya line carried 2,000 personnel and 5,500 tons of material while the Qurna-Amara line moved 576 tons; and the Sheikh Saad-Sinn line some 3,400 tons weekly.84 These totals continued to grow so that by mid-April 1917, the Basra-Nasiriya line could carry 1,700 personnel, 1,800 animals and 11,800 tons; Qurna-Amara 656 tons and Sheikh Saad-Sinn 1,895 tons of stores weekly.85 The MT saw similar spectacular growth as Maude accelerated the move away from pack animals and AT carts to motor vehicles. Five more MT companies had arrived by September 1916 to enable operations away from the river.86 Maude duly requested another 950 Ford vans to make up 5 supply columns to give one per division to complement the 9 companies already requested.87 He also centralized his transport so as provide greater flexibility and to provide a surge for major operations; this resulted in the MT column allocated for specific missions. Importantly these ambulances were now equipped with small, agile Ford vans having shock absorbers the ease the movement

79 CGSI to CIGS, 28 October 1916, Telegram 87312, no. 5695, WO 33/856, PRO, TNA. 80 CIGS to C-in-C, 30 September 1916, Telegram 23374, no. 5510, WO 33/856. 81 C-in-C to CIGS, 14 October 1916, Telegram S27, no. 5599; C-in-C to CIGS, 19 October 1916, Telegram S50, no. 5636; C-in-C to CIGS, 26 October 1916, Telegram S78, no. 5673, WO 33/856. 82 GOCD to WO, 2 December 1916, Telegram 717, no. 5964, WO 33/856. 83 Director of Railways to WO, 26 October 1916, Telegram T1670, no. 5678, WO 33/856. 84 GOCD to WO, 31 December 1916, Telegram 10017, no. 6146, WO 33/856. 85 GOCD to WO, 21 March 1917, Telegram X1366, no. 6741, WO 33/856. 86 CIGS to C-in-C, 6 October 1916, Telegram 23582, no. 5549, WO 33/856. 87 GOCD to WO, 26 December 1916, Telegram 990, no. 6104, WO 33/856. 124 ross anderson of casualties.88 By the year’s end, 3 more MT companies and a motor ambulance convoy had arrived. Likewise, the river transport fleet continued to grow with the arrival of previously ordered boats; in October 1916, there were 41 paddlers, 7 sternwheelers, 18 tugs, 4 hospital steamers, 14 towing launches, 37 steam launches, 95 motor launches and 81 barges of which 38 were exclusively for Basra.89 By April 1917, there over 300 barges in Mesopotamia with India having sent a further 42 and another 66 under construction.90 For its part, the War Office sent 41 tugs, 10 hospital steamers, 39 barges, 100 launches and 14 naval lighters plus railway material for the Kut-Baghdad line.91 By January 1917, IEFD had 5,014 British and 1,983 Indian officers, 64,637 British other ranks and 78,356 Indian other ranks plus 100,113 followers for a grand total of 250,103 personnel.92 The growth in Basra’s monthly tonnage was dramatic, rising from September 1916’s 9,000 tons to 39,000 in November to 83,000 in April 1917.93 The bottlenecks in the port were alleviated by reinforcing the existing 4 porter corps that provided stevedoring services for ships and river vessels and the 4 labour corps that worked on camp, road and railway construction with a further 5 Coolie corps.94 With greatly expanded jetties, cranes and warehouses, the port was much more efficient while the river traffic capacity now exceeded the number of troops to transport by October 1916.95 Never satisfied, Maude requested another 3,000 labourers to work on the expanding road and railway network.96 By July 1917, monthly port capacity had reached 91,000 tons with it taking an average of 8 days to unload supply vessels and 16 days for railway vessels.97

88 Leland, With the MT, 63–4, 81–3. 89 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 18 October 1916, Letter, 61/35, AC Papers, BUL. 90 C-in-C to WO, 10 April 1917, Telegram 23328, no. 6917, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. 91 WO to GOCD, 21 April 1917, Telegram 33220, no. 6999, WO 33/931. 92 3rd Echelon Basra to WO, 21 January 1917, Telegram AG581/2/285, no. 6305, WO 33/856. 93 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 43. 94 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 18 Oct. 1916, Letter, 61/35, AC Papers, BUL. 95 GOCD to WO, 30 September 1916, Telegram Q1152/59, no. 5518, WO 33/856. 96 GOCD to WO, 25 January 1917, Telegram X436, no. 6333; WO to GOCD, 7 March 1917, Telegram 30610, no. 6641, WO 33/856. 97 GOCM to War Section, India, 22 July 1917, Telegram X2934, no. 7573A, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 125

The artillery had been upgraded with modern 4.5” howitzers to replace the obsolete 5” versions and there were now 21 batteries of 18-pounders (124 guns), with 11 of 4.5” howitzers (44 howitzers) plus 2 heavy howitzer batteries (eight howitzers).98 This equipment would provide suitable firepower although considerable training was required to bring the force up to standard. Importantly, it was also assisted by reforms back in India including a reorganization of AHQ and the overhaul of armaments manufacture.99 With the War Office providing the British soldiers, arms, equipment and transport that IEFD needed, AHQ now concentrated on providing the Indian manpower needed to expand the armies in the field.100 By December 1916, with 2 corps astride the River Tigris, IEFD now had the resources needed for a successful offensive. In contrast to the half rations of early 1916, the force now held 24 days of British and 56 days of Indian rations plus 13 days of fodder and 17 days of grain at Baghdad.101 There was now enough transport to sustain one cavalry and 4 infantry divisions at the front while the depots held more than 340,000 artillery rounds over its basic scale.102 Needing manpower for France, the CIGS wanted to withdraw the 13th Division and to use only Indian divisions for the future.103 But, Maude’s successes and Robertson’s confidence in him encouraged the War Cabinet to go for Baghdad once again and the 13th Division stayed in Mesopotamia.104 This time, they were rewarded with the capture of the capital in early March followed by a further advance north to the Diyala River and also forcing the Ottomans to retire from Persia. Switching effort to the Euphrates line, the capture of Samawa followed by that of Faluja in March 1917, meant that the southern

98 WO to GOC D, 10 November 1916, Telegram 24873, no. 5777; GOCD to C-in- C, 15 November 1916, Telegram 429, no. 5845, WO 33/856. 99 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 18 October 1916, Letter, 61/35; Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 19 Nov. 1916, Letter, 61/38; Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 8 December 1916, Letter, 61/43; Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 14 February 1917, Letter, 20/6/8; SSI to VR, 16 February 1917, Telegram 334, 20/6/9, AC Papers, BUL. 100 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 3 January 1917, Letter, 61/47; Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 26 March 1917, Letter, 61/61, AC Papers, BUL. 101 MacMunn to Cowans, 12 April 1917, Telegram 609, no. 6926, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. 102 GOCD to CIGS, 3 March 1917, Telegram X1087, no. 6606, WO 33/856; GOC Mesopotamia to C-in-C, 12 April 1917, Telegram X1726, no. 6926A, WO 33/931. 103 CIGS to GOCD, 26 December 1916, Telegram 27080, no. 6098, WO 33/856. 104 CIGS to C-in-C, 2 March 1917, Telegram 30316, no. 6599, WO 33/856. 126 ross anderson approach was secure and a rich region was under British control.105 Now strongly entrenched on the Jebel Hamrin line and the Euphrates approaches secure, the War Cabinet wanted to Maude to hold the Baghdad Vilayet while switching the emphasis on Palestine.106 But, the Russian Revolution that had started in March 1917 had weakened the Caucasus and Persian theatres and the British were now trying hard to keep their allies in the fight. In April, with the hot weather starting, Maude wound down his offensive and began to look ahead to the cooler period starting in September. He was asked to help supply the Russians in Persia and northern Iraq and could probably supply 10,000 men and 3,000 animals up to June, although if Mosul could be taken it would provide a great deal of grain. At the same time, he began requesting additional resources for the cold weather while also resting his fighting troops as much as possible. His main fear was the possibility of a major Ottoman counter-attack on Baghdad as he thought that holding Mosul would enable them to sustain up to 200,000 men.107 The equipment continued to flow in especially the MT of which another 10 companies, including 2 tracked caterpillar companies for the heavy artillery and 2 motor ambulance convoys arrived in the hot weather. The artillery also packed much more punch with a total of 10 heavy batteries, 6 of which were tractor-drawn and only 4 were horse-drawn. It also recovered 31 guns lost at Kut as well as having captured a considerable part of Ottomans’ arsenal, namely 20 heavy and 106 field guns, 6 howitzers, 45 machine-guns and 45 trench mortars.108 A total of 13 artillery batteries had reached IEFD and there were a total of 324 guns on the Bagdad axis greatly outnumbering the Ottoman force’s artillery.109 By May, the aerial arm continued to grow as it had 39 modern aircraft organized in 3 squadrons, a kite balloon section and an aircraft park. Initially, the Ottomans could not match this, but the arrival of the arrival of the new Halberstadt model in May changed the balance and forced the IEFD to request its own fighters.110

105 GOCD to CGSI, 19 March 1917, Telegram X1350, no. 6732, WO 33/856. 106 CIGS to C-in-C, 9 April 1917, Telegram 32346, no. 6914, WO 33/931. 107 GOCD to WO, 15 April 1917, Telegram X1764, no. 6955, WO 33/931. 108 GOCD to WO, 17 May 1917, Telegram X2141, no. 7193, WO 33/931. 109 OH, Medical Services, vol. 4, 48. 110 GOCD to CGSI, 6 May 1917, Telegram X1981, no. 7098, WO 33/931. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 127

These concerns were reinforced in May, when British intelligence learned of the planning for a combined Ottoman-German counter- attack to re-take Baghdad by the so-called Yilderim (Thunderbolt) Army with 10,000 men already en-route to Mosul.111 With the Russians paralyzed by the revolution, the CIGS instructed Maude to be ready to meet a potential counter-attack with a combination of strong defensive positions and a mobile force.112 This led Maude to request a further nine 18-pounder batteries to give him 2 artillery brigades for each of his 5 infantry divisions. He began the process of establishing Indian machine-gun companies on the same lines as the British although there was a marked shortage of suitable machine gunners.113 He received additional vehicles to his force of armoured cars as the open country north of Baghdad promised to make them very useful.114 He also requested flatbed lorries for the transport of infantry as well as an additional 2 brigades and 4 batteries to hold the Euphrates line so as to free his main force of one cavalry and 5 infantry divisions for the Tigris line in the coming cold weather.115 To exploit the capture of the Ottoman Baghdad-Samarra railway line, London sent out 6 engines and 30 cars immediately while India supplied a massive reinforcement of 38 engines and 1,250 trucks between May to August 1917.116 Certainly, every nerve was being strained as rails were being ripped up in India in order to supply Mesopotamia’s requirements.117

Fourth Phase (June 1917 to October 1918) Throughout the summer of 1917, the supply of artillery, vehicles and aircraft continued.118 This included the new Spad fighters to counter the Halberstadt threat and re-assert command of the air. Each of the 15 infantry brigades now had a machine gun company and a Stokes

111 DMI to GOCD, 26 May 1917, Telegram 35186, no. 7243, WO 33/931. 112 CIGS to GOCM, 8 May 1917, Telegram 34101, no. 7109, WO 33/931. 113 GOCD to CGSI, 4 April 1917, Telegram X1616, no. 6877; C-in-C to GOCD, 12 April 1917, Telegram 23759, no. 6927, WO 33/931. 114 GOCD to WO, 22 May 1917, Telegram X2190, no. 7224, WO 33/931. 115 GOCD to CIGS, 23 May 1917, Telegram X2201, no. 7229, WO 33/931. 116 GOCD to WO, 6 April 1917, Telegram X1638, no. 6889; C-in-C to IGC, 7 May 1917, Telegram 29921, no. 7106A, WO 33/931. 117 C-in-C to GOCM, 4 May 1917, Telegram 29237, no. 7085A; C-in-C to CIGS, 28 June 1917, Telegram 43209, no. 7438, WO 33/931. 118 WO to GOCD, 7 June 1917, Telegram 35776, no. 7320, WO 33/931. 128 ross anderson mortar battery while machine-gun squadrons were being raised for the 2 cavalry brigades. Unwilling to be completely inactive in the hot weather, he ordered an attack along the Euphrates line on Ramadi in July 1917. This was an innovative operation as it was based on an infantry brigade, supported by cavalry, guns, armoured cars, 3 aircraft and over a hundred motor vans. The force moved from Faluja to Ramadi using the vans to transport the infantry forward as well as carrying drinking water and evacuating casualties. While unsuccessful in achieving its objective, the force actually suffered more casualties from the heat than the enemy but showed that hot weather operations were feasible with vehicular support.119 Offensive preparations were well advanced as Maude estimated that he would be able to maintain one cavalry and 4 infantry divisions as far north as Tikrit for the coming cold weather of 1917.120 By August, it was clear that the Russians would be unlikely to play any significant role in the region while the expected Yilderim offensive might seriously threaten the position in Mesopotamia. Faced by the need for British manpower elsewhere, India had continued its recruiting effort with the raising of the 17th Division in September followed by the 18th Division and the 11th Cavalry Brigade the following month. While these new formations began to take shape, Maude also brought the 15th Division to Baghdad, preparatory to taking over the Euphrates line.121 This led to a second, division-sized advance on Ramadi by 15th Division in late September 1917. This operation used similar tactics and used MT to break away from the tyranny of the river. With 10 lorries, 350 vans and 50 ambulances, the bulk of the division was able to move from Baghdad to Faluja without problem and then successfully attack the Ottoman positions around Ramadi. The new methods were working; on one day alone, the Ford vans delivered some 14,000 gallons of water to the frontline troops while the use of the cavalry brigade with armoured cars, machine-guns and horse artillery was able block off enemy retreat.122 In early November, Tikrit fell, further securing the British eastern flank.

119 GOCM to CGSI, 11 July 1917, Telegram X 2806, no. 7519, WO 33/931. 120 GOCM to CIGS, 16 July 1917, Telegram X2859, no. 7543, WO 33/931. 121 GOCM to C-in-C, 2 September 1917, Telegram X3453, no. 7901, WO 33/931. 122 GOCM to CIGS, 29 September 1917, Telegram X3895, no. 8154, WO 33/931. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 129

Supporting this, the Inland Water Transport continued to grow considerably with manpower rising from 224 British officers and 212 other ranks with 6,735 Indian ratings in September 1916 to 855 British officers and 3,650 other ranks with 29,000 Indian ratings by the end of 1917.123 This was matched by an increase in river vessels from a total of 367 of which 134 were self-propelled to 1,299 and 358 respectively; in the same period while monthly tonnage shipped rose from 9,100 to 168,800 tons.124 Maude’s untimely death from cholera in November 1917 led to General William Marshall, lately the 3rd Corps commander, being appointed to head IEFD. Aware that the Yilderim offensive had been switched to Palestine and needing more troops for France, the War Cabinet ordered Mesopotamia to go over to the defensive and send away its most experienced troops. By early 1918, with the 3rd and 7th Divisions gone, their successors, the 17th and 18th Divisions were not yet of the same calibre. Furthermore, each of the 60 Indian infantry battalions was required to give up a company, so as to release 15 trained battalions for elsewhere. As so often happened, these companies were replaced by recruits from India.125 Not remaining entirely passive, the 15th Division moved again in March 1918, this time on Khan Baghdadi, using an all-arms structure with 3 infantry brigades, a cavalry brigade, and an armoured car brigade. Fire support was provided by 48 guns, a machine-gun company, 2 squadrons of aircraft and a kite balloon section. Fundamental to the plan was the use of MT for the advance of a special battalion-sized striking column with 300 Ford vans being used. The MT columns were now flexible organizations with companies added or subtracted as required, making it possible to provide up 1,200 vehicles for a specific operation.126 In contrast with earlier operations, the British now had sufficient aircraft and balloons to make effective reconnaissance and spotting possible while the cavalry, armoured cars and motorized infantry were used to great effect, capturing nearly 4,000 prisoners including the headquarters of an Ottoman division.127

123 Hall, Inland Water Transport, 13, 34, 226. 124 Hall, Inland Water Transport, xiii–xvi, 217–20. 125 GOCM to WO, 30 December 1917, Telegram X5605, no. 8818; C-in-C to CIGS, 7 February 1918, Telegram 10090, no. 9113, WO 33/947, PRO, TNA. 126 Leland, With the MT, 81–3. 127 GOCM to C-in-C, 27 March 1918, Telegram X7530, no. 9464, WO 33/947. 130 ross anderson

The distances involved continued to strain the supply system as the river fleet reached a total of 1,634 river vessels of which 419 were self-propelled while monthly tonnages shipped peaked at 199,300 tons in March 1918 before declining rapidly to 62,400 at the war’s end.128 Likewise, the MT force reached a total strength of 37 companies supported by 5 major workshops and ample spare parts. Furthermore, over 50 per cent of the drivers were now Indian.129 Concerns about the spread of Bolshevism and German successes in the Caucasus led the British to switch their emphasis to Persia and the Caspian Sea. In January 1918, Major-General Dunsterville brought a training mission that was intended to raise forces in northern Persia and the Caucasus.130 It was initially independent of IEFD although the latter was expected to provide supply and the lines of communication through a country stalked by famine, poor roads, heavy snowfall in winter and local hostility.131 Blocked by Bolshevik and Persian opposition, Dunsterville could do little until the summer when he was placed under IEFD’s command and given a brigade that ultimately reached Baku on the Caspian Sea in August 1918. But, it was dependent on a very long and vulnerable line of communication and strongly outnumbered; by late September it was forced to withdraw back into Persia. The force in northern Persia never exceeded 3 brigades of which 2 were securing the supply lines.132 The much weakened Ottomans were unable to hold Kirkuk which fell in May and finally, in September 1918, they were near collapse and IEFD seized Mosul ending the campaign. During the war, over 348,700 Indian and 317,100 British soldiers passed through Mesopotamia supported by 185,400 civilian followers making a grand total of 675,300; in comparison, in Egypt a total of 143,900 Indians served; in France the number was 138,600 and East Africa it was 47,000.133 Furthermore, there had been much hard fighting and suffering resulting over 14,000

128 Hall, Inland Water Transport, xiii–xvi, 217–20. 129 Leland, With the MT, 51. 130 Michael Occleshaw, Dances in Deep Shadows: Britain’s Clandestine War with Russia 1917–1920 (London: 2006), 45; Major-General L.C. Dunsterville, The Adven- tures of Dunsterforce (London: 1920). 131 Lieutenant-General William Marshall, Memories of Four Fronts (London: 1929), 282–3. 132 OH, Mesopotamia, vol. 4, 190–2. 133 Statistics, 777. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 131 dead, 31,000 wounded and 10,200 missing or prisoners.134 The IEFD was now a modern force able to use motorized, naval and air forces in a coordinated and aggressive manner. Adequate resources, mechanization and innovation enabled it to break the shackles imposed by the desert; it had come a very long way from 1914.

Shortage of Officers

One of the biggest impediments to the efficiency of the Indian Army in Mesopotamia was the shortage of British officers throughout the war. While this was equally true of the British Army, the Indian units laboured under several self-imposed restrictions that were never satisfactorily resolved during the war. The first was the long-standing and deliberate policy of limiting the position of King’s Commissioned Officer to Britons and relegating Indians to the subordinate position of ‘native’ officer, i.e. VCO. In order to become an officer, a soldier had to progress through the non-commissioned ranks although those of sufficient social status could join as potential officers and undergo 3 years of regimental training before being promoted.135 This system ensured that Indian officers were more experienced than their British counterparts, but also that they were generally uneducated, much older and lacked higher level training. Furthermore, the policy of recruiting Indian soldiers from the so-called martial races, meant that they were drawn from the most loyal and least educated classes of society. Again, this was a deliberate policy aimed at excluding politically aware and possibly ‘disloyal’ Indians from the Indian Army. Regimentally, the British occupied the most senior posts while the Indian officers filled the subordinate officer positions. Legally too, they lacked powers of command over any British soldier.136 Thus, without effective English or higher training, Indian officers were also excluded from staff positions with the consequence that they were unable effectively to replace their British counterparts when they became casualties.

134 Statistics, 313. 135 Army Regulations: India, vol. 2 (Calcutta: 1913), 259–60. 136 Kaushik Roy, Brown Warriors of the Raj: Recruitment and the Mechanics of Command in the British-Indian Army, 1859–1913 (Delhi: 2008), 247–50; Gordon Cor- rigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–15 (Kent: 1999), 14–20. 132 ross anderson

Owing to financial constraints, the Indian Army had entered the war some 600 officers short of establishment.137 With a maximum of only 15 British officers per unit from which staff appointments and depots had to be filled, field units had 12 and internal security units 10 officers respectively.138 So, while wartime establishments gave Indian infantry battalions 30 officers and 722 soldiers in comparison to the 29 officers and 802 soldiers of a British battalion, the numbers were not strictly comparable as the Indian officers were largely prevented from stepping up to the senior levels.139 War made the situation acute. Out of the total peacetime establishment of over 2,500 British officers, about 250 were in staff positions in India, another 600 had departed with the Indian Corps to France, 400 more were under orders for East Africa and some 250 who had been on long leave in Britain had been commandeered by Kitchener for the British Army. This left about 1,000 officers for the remaining 7 divisions, 3 of which had to be in readiness for action on the North- West Frontier while training depots had to be manned.140 The Indian Army Reserve of Officers held a mere 43 officers and the numbers of British planters and businessmen living in India were not high. Not just military skills were needed, but also knowledge of the vernacular languages which was in very short supply. Considerable efforts were placed on commissioning soldiers from the ranks of the few remaining regular battalions and later the territorial battalions sent out to replace them. The War Office recognized that the supply was insufficient and in 1915, it funded 2 cadet colleges, run on similar lines as RMC Sandhurst in Quetta and Wellington in 1915 to train suitable British applicants.141 With 180 students on each 6 month course, it was only a stopgap measure. By 1915, some 900 temporary officers had been recruited, but this was barely enough to cope with the casualties. A year later, they had

137 Field Service Regulations, India, 1906, 4–5, 18–9; Army in India Committee— Majority Report, vol. 1, 15. 138 Army in India Committee, Majority Report, vol. 1, 144. 139 Committee of Imperial Defence Meetings, Report 105D dated 18 May 1911, Table 1—‘Establishment of the Army in India 1 November 1905’, L/MIL/5/726; India’s Contribution, 80, V/27/281/32, APAC, BL. 140 T.A. Heathcote, The Military in British India: The Development of British Land Forces in South Asia 1600–1914 (Manchester: 1985), 201. 141 Heathcote, Military in British India, 203–5. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 133 reached 2,600 before ultimately reaching 5,500 at the end of the war.142 The fighting in France until 1915 had resulted in nearly 500 British officers in being killed or wounded while the War Office still struggled to release officers back to the Indian Army.143 Nixon had lost over 630 officers while Lake’s casualties were some 980 and Maude’s offensive resulted in another 810 losses.144 The raising of 4 divisions for Mesopotamia in 1916–17 placed further strains on the pool of officers and AHQ was still clamouring for the return of the British officers from Europe.145 The scale of the problem increased greatly in 1918 as India sought to raise 90 to 100 new battalions all requiring British officers who could speak the indigenous languages as well as medical officers.146 The obvious solution of permitting Indians to hold King’s Commission was delayed by conservatism and prejudice amongst senior British officers.147 While not all were against change, there was sufficient opposition to slow down such a fundamental reform.148 Austen Chamberlain had long pressed for the granting of commissions, but it was not until the combination of Chelmsford and Monro were installed that matters actually moved forward. By the spring of 1917, it was agreed that 9 commissions would be granted immediately and that longer term changes were being considered. A year later, another 20 Indians were given King’s Commissions and a plan to send 10 young men a year to Sandhurst.149 Indianization, as it became known, was to be a major issue after the war, but it was too little and too late for IEFD and the officer problem was never satisfactorily resolved. An important corollary of the restrictive officer policy was the shortage of trained staff officers for the various headquarters. Commanders,

142 India’s Contribution, 80; Heathcote, Military in British India, 203–5. 143 WO to C-in-C Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, GOC Egypt & East Africa 15 January 1916, Telegram 12120, no. 3613, WO 33/748; C-in-C to WO, 27 July 1916, Telegram 68099, no. 5005, WO 33/856. 144 Lieutenant-Colonel J.W.B. Merewether and Frederick Smith, The Indian Corps in France 2nd edition (London: 1919), 468–9; Statistics, 304–13. 145 C-in-C to CIGS, 9 May 1917, Telegram 30421, no. 7125, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. 146 Development of Manpower in India and its Utilization for Imperial Purposes, April 1918, ‘Recruiting Results in 1917–1918’, L/MIL/17/5/2398, APAC, BL. 147 Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 5 April 1916, Letter, 61/254, AC Papers, BUL. 148 Heathcote, Military in British India, 204–6. 149 Algernon Rumbold, Watershed in India: 1914–1922 (London: 1979), 66–7; War Cabinet Meeting 203, 2 Aug 1917, CAB 23/3, PRO, TNA; Chamberlain to Chelmsford, 14 May 1917, Letter, 61/332, AC, BUL. 134 ross anderson no matter how talented, could not be effective without a staff to assist with the planning, control and execution of operations. Trained staff officers were in short supply with only 218 on the Indian Establishment in 1914.150 This shortage became acute as the army’s size grew. During General Nixon’s tenure in command, GHQ in Basra had to fulfil both the corps level of command for 2 widely-spread divisions with all that of a theatre headquarters. While the regular 6th Division had its own staff, the 12th Division had to improvise. In the rush to relieve Kut, the equivalent of a division was despatched from India for which a headquarters staff had to be found.151 With the 3rd and 7th Divisions arriving from France; a corps headquarters was now essential. Incredibly, Nixon had earlier turned down the offer of the existing Indian Corps staff from France and the new corps commander, General Aylmer, the AG at AHQ, had to base his headquarters on an improvised brigade staff from India.152 Aylmer was pressurized into launching an attack on 4 January 1916 by Nixon, the day before the headquarters of the 7th Division arrived at the front.153 Thus, the relief force was launched into action under a new commander and a scratch staff; this was critical as Aylmer did not have the necessary second divisional headquarters and had to retain 3 brigades under his direct control.154 By the time the whole of 7th Division’s headquarters was ready for action, a demoralizing defeat and heavy casualties had been incurred. Likewise the headquarters of the 3rd Division arrived only on 14 January well after its brigades had engaged in heavy combat.155

150 Brian Bond, The Victorian Army and the Staff College: 1854–1914 (London: 1972), 204–5; Moreman, “Lord Kitchener”, in French and Reid (eds.), British General Staff, 72. 151 Entry 20 December 1915 and Appendix 34, GHQ Letter 14/20G/O dated 20 December 1915, TC War Diary, WO 95/5061; Hardinge to Chamberlain, 26 Novem- ber and 17 December 1915, Letters, vol. 121, HP, CUL. 152 GHQ War Diary, Appendix II, Minutes of Administrative Conference, 7 Decem- ber 1915; GHQ War Diary, Entry 8 December 1915, WO 95/4965, PRO, TNA. 153 C-in-C to CIGS, 12 February 1916, Telegram 38594, no. 3770, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA. 154 TC to GHQ, 21 December 1915 Telegram 14/22 G, Appendix 43, TC War Diary, WO 95/5061, PRO, TNA. 155 TC War Diary, Entry 5 January 1916, WO 95/5061, PRO, TNA; OH, Mesopota- mia, vol. 2, 203–4, 222, 257. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 135

Nixon’s failures of judgment and his ill-health made his replacement essential, but the severe shortage of suitable officers meant that the commander-in-chief had to nominate his own CGS Lieutenant- General Percy Lake, to assume the command in January. He was assisted by the arrival of the experienced British 13th Division which had both a tested commander and capable staff. By mid-March, India managed to scrape together 3 brigades for IEFD with headquarters.156 With force growing rapidly in strength, it was also becoming unwieldy and needed additional divisional structures for better control. This had to wait until after Kut surrendered when Lake created 2 new divisions, the 14th Division in the Tigris Corps and the 15th Division at Nasiriya with the exiguous 12th Division disappearing.157 The IEFD now had the equivalent of 4 extra divisions of which 2 had required complete staffs.158 Apart from the fighting forces, the substantial support troops provided by the War Office from mid-1916 onward meant that the administrative services required larger headquarters at Basra as well as along the lines of communication. The Inland Water Transport, MT, the Labour Corps, the Railway Corps and the growing medical establishment all needed staff officers to keep the military machine going. Following Maude’s assumption of command and the stabilization of the British position in August 1916, the need for new headquarters subsided until the following year although the formation of the cavalry division in December meant that the staff had to be improvised from junior officers.159 Now with 4 infantry and one cavalry divisions, a second corps headquarters was clearly necessary and 1st and 3rd Indian corps were duly established. 1917 was also a year of expansion in IEFD as 2 further divisions, the 17th and 18th, plus the 11th Cavalry Brigade, were raised for Mesopotamia with the appropriate headquarters personnel being taken from the remaining territorial battalions in India. However, this represented the last of the staff manpower and there were no reserves for casualties or sickness.160 These additions

156 C-in-C to CIGS, 8 February 1916, Telegram 37904, no. 3729; C-in-C to CIGS, 23 February 1916, Telegram 40351, no. 3858, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA. 157 GOC to CIGS, 30 April 1916, Telegram M172, no. 4364, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA; OH, Mesopotamia, vol. 3, 7. 158 CIGS to C-in-C MEF, 8 February 1916, Telegram 12991, No. 3723; CIGS to C-in-C, 12 February 1916, Telegram 13161, no. 3762, WO 33/768. 159 GOCD to C-in-C, 21 December 1916, Telegram X40, no. 6076, WO 33/856. 160 C-in-C to WO, 14 February 1917, Telegram 10162, no. 6483, WO 33/856. 136 ross anderson were counterbalanced by the subsequent departure of the 3rd and 7th Divisions complete with headquarters.161 For the remainder of 1918, staffing was not a problem as there were with fewer formations to control and General Dunsterville brought his own headquarters out with him and the troops deployed into northern Persia seldom exceeded brigade size. In retrospect, the campaign underlined the importance of having sufficient trained staff officers and higher level headquarters in peacetime.

Manpower for IEFD

Like all other belligerents, the Indian Army never had enough manpower and found it difficult to provide the drafts or replacements needed to keep units up to strength. By the time IEFD landed at Fao, the Indian Army was already heavily stretched with 2 infantry divisions and a cavalry brigade en-route to France, 2 brigades were committed to British East Africa while most of the British regular troops were being called back to the United Kingdom to be replaced by the territorial force. Furthermore, Aden had to be defended against the Ottomans and there were serious concerns about the security of the North-West Frontier. Recruiting was a double-sided problem as the full gamut of British troops as well as British officers and Indian soldiers for the Indian Army were needed in great numbers. The British problem was more difficult as supply was largely outwith India’s control; the traditional method was that British regiments maintained a depot in India through which drafts were sent from the UK. The pre-war system was for British regiments to have a larger peace establishment than a wartime one with the infantry having 25 per cent and the cavalry 33 per cent. This was intended to provide a supply of replacement manpower to cover the period required for the sending of drafts out from the United Kingdom.162 However, with the outbreak of war and consequent demand for both shipping and manpower, this system became much more problematic and subsequent drafts were inevitably less than needed.

161 C-in-C to CIGS, 9 May 1917, Telegram 30421, no. 7125, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. 162 Heathcote, Military in British India, 224. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 137

Indian recruiting was another matter as the ‘martial race’ system decreed that only certain, favoured groups were suitable for military service and others were deliberately excluded.163 This system placed most of the burden on the Punjab, which contributed to 41 of the 69 regular infantry regiments and to a lesser extent, the North-West Frontier Province. Regiments could be based on a single ethnic group, the class regiment or have different groups at company level known as class company regiment. Recruiting was a highly decentralized process in which individual regiments sending out parties to seek specific ‘classes’ according to their regimental make-up. This could lead to recruiting from small areas, even single villages, and across provincial and district boundaries. It was further complicated by the fact that 6 different military departments competed for men to serve in the support branches. This system produced about 15,000 recruits annually and the increase of recruiting officer from 9 to 10 and assistant recruiting officers from 14 to 25 at the outbreak of war, was inadequate.164 For example, in the last 4 months of 1914, some 28,000 Indians were recruited of which 14,000 were from the Punjab; in 1915, a total of 78,232 recruits had 37,591 Punjabis of varying background.165 Although the system did mean that recruits could be carefully selected, it was completely unequal to the demands of modern warfare and radical change was required.166 In 1914, the establishment of Indian infantry battalions was increased from 912 to 1,000 and cavalry regiments from 625 to 700 men, while in May 1915, an extra 21 infantry companies were authorized.167 But, increased establishments would not help without additional manpower and that meant hugely increased recruiting. The Indian Army Reserve was also insufficient as it was made up of time-expired men, many of whom were not fit for front-line service.168

163 See Roy, Brown Warriors of the Raj for an in-depth explanation of the Martial Race theory and its impact on the Indian Army. 164 Mesopotamia Commission Report, 40–1. 165 Tan Tai Yong, “An Imperial Home Front—Punjab and the First World War”, Journal of Military History, vol. 64 (2000), 378. 166 Development of Man Power in India and its Utilisation for Imperial Purposes, April 1918, Pre-War System of Recruiting’ and ‘Recruitment of Non-Combatants, L/ MIL/17/5/2398, APAC, BL; Leigh, Punjab and the War, 33–5. 167 Tai Yong, “Imperial Home Front”, 376. 168 Heathcote, Military in British India, 226–7. 138 ross anderson

By 1 January 1915, there were some 247,768 Indians serving in the Army with the largest numbers coming from the Punjab, the North- West Frontier and Nepal. As the losses in France and Mesopotamia began to mount up, the Indian Army naturally concentrated its efforts on those key areas. While there were a number of inhibiting factors in the system of recruitment, they had to be pushed to the back with the need to find ever increasing amounts of manpower.169 As early as July 1915, AHQ warned Nixon that in future all of his drafts would consist of very young Indian soldiers with little service experience.170 This was evident throughout the relief effort and after the fall of Kut, Lake reported that: Owing to loss of their Regular officers and ranks being filled with recruits the fighting efficiency of nearly all Indian units of this force has been considerably reduced. The casualty returns of recent fighting show an undue proportion of British casualties. This is due to the necessity for using British regiments in every attack in the front line.171 Battle casualties were enormous with 13,000 inflicted in January– March plus large numbers of sick; for April–May 1916 battle casualties numbered nearly 11,000.172 Even after the offensive wound down, there were over 14,000 British and 21,000 Indian soldiers who were sick were evacuated downriver during April–September 1916.173 Evacuations to India numbered over 11,000 soldiers in June alone while another 16,000 remained in hospitals in Mesopotamia.174 While all these losses were not permanent, they were large and in late 1916, the viceroy offered to raise 22 new Indian battalions with the proviso that Indian Army officers be released from Europe.175 At the same time, Lord Chelmsford recognized that the Indian military system was completely inadequate to meet the demands of global war and that radical changes were essential.176 He centralized all recruiting under the AG and in December a regional approach

169 Development of Manpower and its Utilisation for Imperial Purposes, April 1918, Recruiting Results for 1917–1918, L/MIL/17/5/2398. 170 Minute CGS Lake to C-in-C, 13 October 1915, pp. 6–12, WO 106/893, PRO, TNA. 171 GOC to CIGS, 1 May 1916, Telegram 1028/24/O, no. 4379, WO 33/768, PRO, TNA. 172 GOCD to CIGS, 13 June 1916, Telegram 1119/118/0, no. 4663, WO 33/809, PRO, TNA. 173 Telegram A1172/32/66 dated 29 September 1916, no. 5509, WO 33/856, TNA. 174 GOCD to CIGS, 3 July 1916, Telegram 129/483/O, no. 4791, WO 33/809. 175 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 27 November 1916, Letter, 61/41, AC Papers, BUL. 176 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 7 July 1916, Letter, 61/18, AC Papers, BUL. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 139 was substituted for the traditional class-based recruitment. This was not enough, so a Central Recruiting Board together with subordinate Provincial Recruiting Boards to consider all military manpower requirements were established to ensure a common policy across the country.177 By 1917, an additional 22 ‘new’ classes of people were now considered suitable for military service.178 As well, there some 44,000 European and Eurasian civilians serving in part-time reserve units capable of carrying out internal security duties.179 Finally, there was a system that could consider all of India’s manpower requirements with the military working in close conjunction with the civil authorities.180 The enormous manpower demands for the Western Front led to a policy of withdrawing British manpower from the Middle East and replacing it with Indian troops. As already seen, the CIGS proposed to convert the 13th Division into an Indian one with the normal 1:3 ratio of British to Indian battalions.181 While India undertook to provide 13 new battalions, it was unable to supply any of the artillery, engineer, signals or medical units required.182 The decision to withdraw the 13th Division was ultimately delayed, but the extra Indian battalions were still sent to IEFD.183 The newly arrived battalions were then used on the lines of communication to relieve tired units while obvi- ating the immediate need for more headquarters.184 But, Maude still needed 13,000 drafts to bring the 3rd, 7th and 14th Divisions back up to establishment.185 By September, the War Office began sending out 4,400 British drafts plus the personnel for 15 new machine-gun and

177 Development of Manpower and its Utilisation for Imperial Purposes, April 1918, AG made responsible for all Recruiting and Central Recruiting Board, L/MIL/ 17/5/2398. 178 Tai-Yong, “Imperial Home Front”, 391. 179 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 1 March 1917, Letter, 61/56, Chelmsford to Cham- berlain, 31 May 1917, Letter, 61/73, Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 14 June 1917, Letter, 61/76, AC Papers, BUL; Statistics, 381. 180 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 30 March 1917, Letter, 61/62, AC Papers, BUL. 181 Letter WO to India Office, 10 November 1916, no. 1, 20/6, Telegram 3414, SSI to Viceroy, 13 November 1916, no. 20, 20/6/2, AC Papers, BUL; CIGS to C-in-C, 1 January 1917, Telegram 27334, no. 6150, CIGS to C-in-C, 31 January 1917, Telegram 28767, no. 6364, WO 33/856. 182 C-in-C to CIGS, 28 January 1917, Telegram 6070, no. 19, 20/6/2, AC Papers, BUL; C-in-C to CIGS, 2 February 1917, Telegram 7348, no. 6391, WO 33/856. 183 GOCD to C-in-C, 4 February 1917, Telegram X569, no. 6404, WO 33/856. 184 C-in-C to CIGS, 9 March 1917, Telegram 15994, No. 6666, C-in-C to WO, 23 March 1917, Telegram 19574, no. 6772, WO 33/856. 185 WO to C-in-C, 21 August 1916, Telegram 21840, no. 5195, GOCD to CIGS, 24 August 1916, Telegram 1110/82/T, no. 5224, WO 33/809, PRO, TNA. 140 ross anderson

3 engineer companies together with 393 Lewis light and 180 Vickers heavy machine-guns.186 Three months later, these companies began to take the field while at the same time 15 new Stokes trench mortar batteries were arriving.187 By April 1917, Maude’s successful advance had also resulted in heavy officer losses while India was committed to raising a further 100,000 Indians for the army.188 India was now being pushed as hard as it could and the viceroy ultimately agreed to raise 2 fresh divisions as asked.189 In the short term, it sent 4 experienced battalions and 2 new ones to Mesopotamia plus 6,000 Indian soldiers as replacements.190 In July, 24 new battalions were being raised; as a further measure, Monro now proposed to raise an additional 21 battalions.191 Proposing to create a reserve in the East owing to the Russian collapse and wor- ries about Afghanistan, the CIGS wanted to create new divisions in place of the veteran 7th and 3rd Divisions that in turn would go to Palestine.192 The 17th Division was formed in August and began arriving in the following month while the 18th Division plus the 11th Cavalry Brigade were authorized in September and had reached Mesopotamia by December 1917. A 19th Division was contemplated, but given the need to keep existing formations at full strength, the new battalions were instead sent out to augment existing formations.193 The German offensive in March 1918 led to each of the 60 Indian battalions in IEFD being ordered to give up a company for service in Egypt and their ranks were filled with recruits.194 With the insatiable need for more manpower, India offered to raise an additional 500,000 men in the year starting June 1918. This would continue to maintain the overseas forces at authorized strength for a 12 month period,

186 WO to GOCD, 1 September 1916, Telegram 22285, no. 5303, WO 33/809. 187 WO to GOCD, 14 October 1916, Telegram 23883, no. 5602, GOCD to WO, 11 November 1916, Telegram 339, no. 5793, GOCD to WO, 5 February 1917, Tele- gram AG1922/6, no. 6418, WO 33/856. 188 Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 4 April 1917, Letter, 61/63, AC Papers, BUL. 189 SSI to VR, 7 Feb 17, Telegram 262, 20/6/6, Chelmsford to Chamberlain, 20 April 1917, Letter, 61/65, AC Papers, BUL. 190 C-in-C to CIGS, 28 June 1917, Telegram 43209, no. 7438, WO 33/931, PRO, TNA. 191 C-in-C to CIGS, 18 July 1917, Telegram 48446, no. 7556, WO 33/931. 192 CIGS to C-in-C, 18 July 1917, Telegram 37955, no. 7560, WO 33/931. 193 C-in-C to CIGS, 1 December 1917, Telegram 81406, no. 8610, CIGS to C-in-C, 11 December 1917, Telegram 47693, No. 8679, WO 33/947, PRO, TNA. 194 C-in-C to CIGS, 13 April 1918, Telegram 29076, no. 9593, C-in-C to GOCM, 18 April 1918, Telegram 30612, no. 9631, WO 33/947. logistics of the indian expeditionary force 141 but would also provide the manpower for 90 to 100 fresh battalions although the biggest limitation to this scheme was the perennial one of obtaining sufficient officers.195 By then, even India was having difficulty in finding men as the Punjab was exhausted and weary. Concerned for the maintenance of civil order, a recruiting pause was granted from April to June 1918, but was quickly swept away during the great German offensive in March.196 Still, by September Monro was planning to send an additional 27 Indian battalions to Mesopotamia so as to turn the 13th Division and the 56th Brigade into 3 new divisions.197 These plans were never tested as the war ended first, but showed the scale of ambition.

An Assessment of the IEFD

The IEFD started the campaign ill-prepared for modern warfare against a first-class enemy. It was fortunate in that the Ottoman troops opposing it until the Battle of Ctesiphon were second grade and poorly equipped. This, plus tenacious fighting ability and determination enabled the IEFD to achieve a run of victories from the landing to the taking of Kut-al-Amara. But, this was also due to good fortune as was a small force operating a very long way from its base on highly tenuous lines of communication. If it was tactically capable enough, it was not well organized and tellingly, senior commanders lacked an understanding of the importance of logistics to their plans. The importance of river transport was readily apparent, yet Nixon failed to press sufficiently for an increase of vessels or improve his base facilities. He launched an offensive with insufficient supplies, no reserves and hopelessly inadequate medical arrangements. The result was the disaster at Kut followed by the shambolic relief effort that was undermined by heavy casualties, transport failures and lack of supplies. If the relief force failed in its mission, it cannot be faulted for lack of determination or dogged effort as it attacked repeatedly under the most appalling conditions, suffering very heavy losses. In the rush

195 Development of Manpower in India, Recruiting Results in 1917–1918, L/ MIL/17/5/2398. 196 Tai Yong, “Imperial Home Front”, 404–7. 197 C-in-C to WO, 2 September 1918, Telegram 69851, no. 10789, WO 33/956, PRO, TNA. 142 ross anderson to relieve Kut and under appalling weather conditions, the improvised headquarters were not able to plan and carry out complicated operations adequately. The fighting troops were underfed, ill-supplied and unhealthy while the support services were short of essential personnel, transport and equipment. Overall, there was a severe want of drive and foresight in the highest echelons of command and AHQ failed to rise to the challenge. Lake took over a very difficult situation and, while he did much to sort out the logistics; he was not a sufficiently strong commander to beat the much strengthened and improved Ottoman units. Neither he nor Nixon was helped by a bureaucratic and over-centralized AHQ in India that failed either to grasp the magnitude of the challenge in Mesopotamia or showed the resourcefulness required by the war. The turning point came with the assumption of direct control of IEFD by the CIGS in February 1916 and subsequent provision of sufficient resources in manpower, equipment and support, needed by a modern force. Further progress came after the change of viceroy, C-in-CI and Lake. The overhaul in Mesopotamia was then carried out by two first- rate organizers, Maude and McMunn, who ensured that the logistic arrangements were placed on a sound footing before moving forward. This unglamorous, preparatory activity enabled Maude to carry out his successful offensives and restore the British position in Mesopotamia. By the end of 1916, sufficient drafts had been sent out to replace the depleted ranks, divisions were rested and retrained and large quantities of new weapons were received so that a reinvigorated IEFD seriously outgunned and outnumbered the Ottoman forces opposite them. Maude’s generalship also proved first-rate as he was able to take Baghdad and reach the Diyala Line by April 1917. By then, IEFD had largely achieved its strategic objectives and there was little need to advance further into Mesopotamia. After a pause for the hot weather, it conducted limited attacks and expanded its position, but with the emphasis was now on supporting Palestine and releasing British troops for France. Nonetheless, the fighting troops were still capable of hard marching and heavy fighting. With increasing mechanization of the force, it was able to carry out longer moves into the desert and away from the constraints of the rivers. Sufficient MT made the carriage of the infantry together with rations and water possible while casualty evacuation was much smoother and quicker. Furthermore, commanders developed their ability to handle aircraft, armoured cars, cavalry, logistics of the indian expeditionary force 143 infantry and artillery in a co-ordinated fashion. In the end, IEFD was successful once it had received the necessary tools of modern warfare and the manpower needed to sustain a campaign in difficult conditions. Unfortunately, the failures of logistics, particularly of transport and medical care, had only been overcome after much suffering.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE INDIANIZATION OF THE EGYPTIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, 1917–18: AN IMPERIAL TURNING POINT

Dennis Showalter

When Sir Edmund Allenby ceremonially walked into Jerusalem on 11 December 1917, he symbolized the end of the British Army’s most successful major campaign to date in the Great War. Relieving Sir Archibald Murray in command of the EEF in April, Allenby had transformed a directionless, demoralized army into a military instrument that hammered a Turkish opponent remarkable for its staying power, and whose effectiveness was significantly greater than generally recognized.1 The EEF’s 7 infantry and 3 cavalry divisions had developed into a battle winning instrument: a mix of veterans, some dating back to Gallipoli days, and replacements initiated into trench warfare under Middle Eastern conditions without suffering the casualties that were breaking morale in Europe. Allenby had shown unusual—and unexpected skill in handling this combined arms force, in particular making maximum use of mounted troops relegated almost everywhere else to marginal roles. As the year turned, the question became what to do with this well calibrated military instrument. British Prime Minister David Lloyd George had initially supported a major offensive in Palestine as a means of refocusing a Eurocentric effort he regarded as counterproductive. Jerusalem’s fall in particular encouraged the volatile Welshman to seek a decisive blow in the eastern Mediterranean. Sir William Robertson, CIGS and a confirmed ‘Westerner’, was a good deal less sanguine.2 Allenby spoke pessimistically of the need to rest his men and improve his logistics. When consulted on the prospects of an advance to Aleppo,

1 Edward J. Erickson, Ottoman Army Effectiveness in World War I. A Comparative Study (New York: 2007). 2 Cf. David Hughes, Allenby and British Strategy in the Middle East: 1917–1918 (London: 1999), 23–42; and more generally David French, The Strategy of the Lloyd George Coalition, 1916–18 (Oxford: 1995); and David Woodward. Lloyd George and the Generals (London: 2004). 146 dennis showalter cutting Turkey’s communications with Mesopotamia and perhaps knocking her out of the war, Allenby replied that he would need at least 16 more divisions, plus additional artillery and mounted troops.3 Lloyd George was dissatisfied with that answer—particularly after he was able to maneuver Robertson’s dismissal in February 1918. Instead, he convinced the newly established Entente Supreme War Council to accept a Joint Note calling for a decisive offensive against Turkey at the expense of offensive activity on the Western Front.4 The premier than sent his chief troubleshooter and factotum, Jan Smuts, to Egypt, with the mission of converting the Joint Note into a plan of campaign.5 Allenby more or less ignored recommendations that became irrelevant within weeks. On March 21, the Germans launched their final offensive in the West. A hard-hammered BEF turned to Palestine for reinforcements eventually totalling 2 full divisions, over 30 battalions of infantry, and a dozen regiments of cavalry. Allenby was left with one fully British infantry division as a military security blanket, 3 more skeleton ones, 2 cavalry divisions, and a near random collection of smaller units whose reliability he openly questioned. An eviscerated EEF was euphemistically advised that “the situation in France necessitates the cancelling of instructions. . . . You will adopt a policy of active defence in Palestine for the time being.”6 In subsequent weeks, two raids across the Jordan River ended in defeat. Attempts to increase cooperation with the Arab Revolt foundered on mutual suspicion and misunderstanding—or perhaps they understood each other too well.7 In the words of the British High Commissioner in Egypt, “. . . the Arabs can’t be relied upon to any great extent until they are quite certain our side is going to win the war . . . . they talk a

3 M. Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine. The Middle East Correspondence of Field Marshal Viscount Allenby June 1917–October 1919 (Phoenix Mill: 2004), 109–11, 115–6. 4 Joint Note 12 was largely the work of General Sir Henry Wilson, and is one of the first examples of a policy paper based on modern methods of war gaming. Keith Jeffrey, Field Marshal Sir Henry Maitland Wilson. A Political Soldier (Oxford: 2006), 213–7. 5 Smuts’s account is in WK Hancock and J. Van der Pool (eds.), Selections from the Smuts Papers, vol. 5 (Cambridge: 1966), 612–24. 6 Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 138–9. 7 James Barr, Setting the Desert on Fire: T.E. Lawrence and Britain’s Secret War in Arabia, 1916–18 (London: 2006); and Haifa Alangari, The Struggle for Power in Ara- bia: Ibn Saud, Hussein, and Great Britain, 1914–1924 (Reading: 1998), are provocative reinterpretations. imperial turning point 147 lot but when it comes to the scratch they are rather apt to fail one.”8 But, as the Palestine theater appeared to be sinking into inanition, an instrument of victory was being reformed with raw material from an unexpected quarter: Britain’s Indian Army Existing literature on the campaign takes the process almost for granted, at most paying a nostalgic tribute to the performance of the Indian cavalry during the race for Damascus. Yet, the changeover marked for the first time that a modern imperial power was willing to conduct a major offensive campaign against a first-line opponent with an army built around a non-European contingent. Elements of the Indian Army had been deployed in Egypt since the beginning of the war, essentially as a garrison force to guard the Suez Canal. A few Indian battalions had served in Gallipoli. But, as British troops were withdrawn in increasing numbers, the War Office and the General Staff made a momentous decision: to flesh out the EEF with Indian regiments. As early as December 1917, long before the German offensive, an Indian division had been alerted for transfer. Allenby had been warned that “It will not be possible to keep the whole of your existing white formations up to strength in any other way.”9 Reinforcing Palestine was a comprehensive process, offering insight into the structure and mentality of a force that had undergone seminal changes since called to war for the King-Emperor in 1914. Two infantry divisions had been despatched to Europe in 1914—a controversial decision taken as much to affirm India’s key position in the British Empire as to supplement the hard-hammered BEF. The Indians suffered heavy casualties and significant culture shock at the differences between the Western Front and the frontier operations to which they were accustomed. They proved more resistant to the weather, and less dependant on their British officers, than was generally recognized at the time, and for decades afterwards. Their transfer in October 1915 reflected administrative problems more than operational shortcomings.10 Promptly thrown into the vain effort to relieve Kut-el-Amara, both formations again suffered heavy casualties. Now, with the Mesopotamian theater inactive, the 3rd Lahore and 7th Meerut divisions were on the move once more. Only 4 of their original 18 Indian

8 Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 154. 9 Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 134. 10 Gordon Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915 (Staplehurst: 1999). 148 dennis showalter battalions remained, in contrast to 5 out of 6 British originals. That ratio reflected the Indian Army’s greatest institutional problem during World War I: replacing casualties. Its initial organization into single- battalion regiments responsible for providing their own recruits resulted in a reserve system that approached randomness. Drafts, and sometimes complete companies, could be drawn from other battalions—but the class and caste compositions of the units had to be if not identical, at least compatible.11 Small wonder that as operational circumstances allowed, the worn down Indian battalions were relieved and replaced. But, what if their battalions were different? The Lahore and Meerut divisions retained their reputations as first-line fighting divisions, equal in their own minds to any gora-log they replaced in Palestine. The 4 divisions that had lost their infantry drew their newcomers from three different sources. About a third of the battalions were pre- war units, some veterans of 4 years in other theaters like the 1/101st Grenadiers, whose war began at Tanga in November 1914. Others were those who had spent their time in different garrisons in India. Another third were second battalions of existing regiments, with cadres taken from their parent unit and brought to strength by recruits and transfers. The final third were battalions of entirely new regiments, numbered over 150 and created in the early months of 1918 from companies transferred from previously existing units. The assignments were usually made with some regard for antecedents. The 2/151st, for example, drew its 4 companies from regiments of the Frontier Force. The 3/152nd included companies from the 20th, 27th, and 28th Punjabis.12 What most of them had in common been lack of experience. Those prewar units which had escaped combat had been milked so often for replacements that few peacetime cadres remained. The new battalions

11 Jeffrey Greenhut, The Imperial Reserve: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915, Dissertation, Kansas, 1980; Kaushik Roy, “The Construction of Regi- ments in the Indian Army: 1859–1913”, War in History, vol. 8 (2001), 127–48; Roy, “Recruitment Doctrines of the Colonial Indian Army: 1859–1913”, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 34 (1997), 321–54; and S.D. Pradhan, “Organization of the Indian Army on the Eve of the Outbreak of the First World War”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. 102 (1976), 61–78. 12 For details see John Gaylor’s Sons of John Company: The Indian and Pakistan Armies, 1903–91 (Tunbridge Wells: 1992). imperial turning point 149 consisted overwhelmingly of new recruits. In some battalions as many as a third of the men had never done any rifle training at all. In one, the men had never seen a Lee-Enfield rifle. In another, rumor had it that only 2 of the British officers could speak Hindustani, and only one Indian officer could speak English.13 The condition of the new units reflected an Indian Army recruiting policy that since the Sepoy Revolt of 1857 had increasingly restricted enlistment on ethnic, religious, economic, and geographic grounds. This was a way of constructing loyalty by offering particular social groups, usually with an existing stake in the system, a reward structure that would enhance their position in the existing order.14 It also reflected the growing influence of the Martial Race theory. The argument underpinning it is that many—perhaps most—Indian peoples for cultural and genetic reasons could not be made into effective soldiers.15 The latter premise tended to be self-fulfilling—but not always for the usually cited reasons. At this stage of India’s history, it remains legitimate to suggest that a ‘martial culture theory’ was not entirely off the mark. The Indian units were normally organized by religion, language, and caste, with each company, and sometimes battalion, coming from a particular community. That meant even should it become desir- able to expand the recruitment pool, there were no infrastructures: no cadres of non-commissioned officers and Indian officers from the excluded groups to train and shape an intake whose individuals were highly unlikely to have any personal or cultural acquaintance with

13 General Sir H. Hudson, History of the 19th King George’s Own Lancers. Formerly 18th King George’s Own Lancers and 19th Lancers (Fane’s Horse), amalgamated in 1921 (Aldershot: 1937), 209. 14 Cf. David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940(Bas- ingstoke: 1994); and Kaushik Roy, “Logistics and the Construction of Loyalty: The Welfare Mechanism in the Indian Army, 1859–1913”, in P.S. Gupta and Anirudh Deshpande (eds.), The British Raj and its Indian Armed Forces: 1857–1939(New Delhi: 2002), 98–124. Roy’s Brown Warriors of the Raj: Recruitment and the Mechan- ics of Command in the Sepoy Army, 1859–1913 (Delhi: 2008), is comprehensive and definitive for the period. 15 A good overview of this widely discussed subject is Douglas M. Peers, “The Mar- tial Races and the Indian Army in the Victorian Era”, in Daniel Marston and C.S. Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia (Westport, CT.: 2007), 34–52. Cf. David Omissi, “‘Martial Races’: Ethnicity and Security in Colonial India, 1858–1939”, War and Society, vol. 9 (1991), 1–27; and for a wider context Heather Streets, Martial Races: The Military, Race, and Masculinity in British Imperial Culture, 1857–1914 (Manchester: 2004). 150 dennis showalter soldiering.16 Off-duty patterns of influence, moreover, tended to follow civilian status rather than military rank. The company or squadron, particularly in a battalion or regiment of mixed class and religious composition, was the counterpart of the village. A common soldier of good family was likely to exercise more influence in the lines than a jemadar or subadar of more humble condition. ‘Outsiders’ were likely to remain completely excluded from the unit’s internal dynamics.17 The result during World War I was to put increasing pressure on existing recruiting areas—in particular Punjab, the Indian Army’s main source of manpower.18 British policy was to recruit from rural areas, and—in sharp contrast to practice at home—from the ‘middling sort’ of countrymen: tenants and small landholders. That pool, seemingly inexhaustible in 1914, rapidly began to drain as manpower demands increased and prospective recruits learned from relatives in uniform about life in the trenches. Nor, in an agricultural economy depending on physical labor, could two or three sons be spared as readily as one. By 1916, the British were considering conscription for India. The system of quotas for provinces and districts introduced instead resulted in high levels of abuse and chicanery. The men who stood in the ranks of the Indian Army’s infantry in 1918 were by no means all ‘true volunteers’, motivated by the prospect of advantage and a willingness to fight, on which that army had historically depended.19 The same could not be said for the second major stream of Indian reinforcements. Two divisions of cavalry had also been shipped to France in 1914, anticipating next year’s expected breakthrough. They had spent the ensuing years grooming their horses and waiting, with only a few opportunities, as at High Wood during the Battle of the Somme, to show their quality in small-scale actions. In March 1918,

16 Philip Constable, “The Marginalization of a Dalit Martial Race in Late Nine- teenth and Early Twentieth Century Western India”, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 60 (2001), 439–78. 17 Vivien Ashima Kaul, “Sepoys’ Links with Society: A Study of the Bengal Army, 1858–95”, in Gupta and Deshpande (eds.), British Raj and its Indian Armed Forces, 125–78. 18 The Punjab was part of India’s arid zone, where peasants had historically sought military employment in the relatively long agrarian off season, and were well able to make the shift to full time service. D.H.A Kolff, Naukar, Rajput, and Sepoy: The Eth- nohistory of the Military Labour Market in Hindustan 1430–1830 (Cambridge: 1990). 19 Cf the general works by Tai Yong Tan, The Garrison State: The Military Govern- ment and Society in Colonial Punjab, 1849–1947 (Thousand Oaks, CA: 2005); and Rajit K. Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab (Delhi: 2003). imperial turning point 151 both headquarters and the Indian regiments were transferred to Palestine. The Indian cavalry considered themselves an elite branch. It recruited largely from the same sources as the infantry, but from higher social and economic strata. The regiments sent to Palestine were organized on the silladari system, in which originally recruits purchased their horses and equipment on joining and sold them back on. That system had given way to an initial cash payment returned (less wear and tear on the merchandise) on discharge. Either method required ready money or good credit: as late as 1914 prospective sowars were expected to have sponsors. The Indians had suffered few casualties. Most of their British officers had remained rather than seek promotion in the citizen formations of the BEF. They had ample time to condition their horses after the long voyage from France. The result was a mounted force significantly improved from an original itself very good.20 The EEF’s reorganized cavalry included another element of India’s armed forces as well. About a third of India remained under Indian rule. These ‘princely states’, closely supervised by the British government in India, were allowed to maintain token armies as evidence of their official sovereignty. Beginning in the 1880s, the rulers were encouraged to bring some of their troops up to Indian Army standards. These Imperial Service Troops varied widely in quality, but some of the larger states, or states whose rulers sought to demonstrate their loyalty in a concrete fashion, produced cavalry regiments as good as any of the regulars. The Mysore and Hyderabad Lancers had been in Egypt since 1914; joined by the Jodhpur Lancers from France they completed the 5th Cavalry Division as its 15th Brigade. These regiments were unique in being entirely officered by Indians. Each had a British ‘Special Service Officer’ attached, but his official function was only advisory.21 That leads into another set of points. At this time in the Indian Army, the King’s Commission was held only by British. Officially each

20 Major-General S. Shahid Hamid, So They Rode and Fought(Tunbridge Wells: 1983), is a nostalgic but useful account of the Indian cavalry from an insider’s perspective. 21 Edward S. Haynes, “The Political Role of the Armed Forces of the Indian States after World War I”, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 24 (1991), 30–56. No good operational history of these troops exists. John Masters, The Ravi Lancers. A Novel(Garden City, NY: 1972), is a fictional account of the dynamics of an Imperial Service cavalry regiment on the Western Front. 152 dennis showalter battalion had a dozen or so, who filled the senior appointments. By 1918, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find enough physically fit men who spoke the relevant languages and who could be sparred from their civilian occupation. Responsibility increasingly devolved on the VCOs or as they were still called, ‘Indian officers’. There were three ranks. Jemadars commanded platoons; subedars/resaldars were assistant company/squadron commanders; and the subedar-major/ resaldar-major was the battalion commander’s right-hand man: his eyes and ears in the unit and the source of advice on internal dynamics. In theory, all the Indian officers were ranked below all British officers. In practice, at any time and certainly by this stage of the war it was a foolish British subaltern indeed who ran afoul of his company subedar in any matter from castes to tactics.22 The system should not have worked. In practice, good manners, tact, and professionalism smoothed over all but the worst anoma- lies. Nevertheless, for a British service officer like Allenby, the Indian Army’s command system did not inspire immediate confidence. The question of confidence shaped orders of battle in other ways. Since the first sepoy units were organized in the 18th century, British and Indian units had been brigaded together. The ratios had varied: in pre- war frontier campaigns, it was normally 2 British and 2 Indian battalions in a brigade. In 1914, the ratio was 3 Indian battalions to one British. It was sometimes said that the combination was intended to combine the disciplined tenacity of British regulars with the Indians’ greater skill in open warfare. The real reason was an enduring conviction that Indian units required a significant direct British presence as ‘stiffening’. In France and Mesopotamia, that shibboleth was supplemented by the relative ease of keeping British battalions at something like full strength, as opposed to their Indian counterparts, too often constrained to operate for extended periods with reduced numbers. The result was that in each British division drawn down to reinforce France, one battalion was left in each brigade, with a British yeomanry regiment remaining in each cavalry brigade. Another anomaly remained as well. World War I was an artillery war, even in outlying theaters like Palestine. But since 1857, when defecting artillery bat-

22 A useful overview is Chander S. Sundaram, “Grudging Concessions: The Officer Corps and Its Indianization, 1817–1940”, in Marston and Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia, 88–101. CF. Pradeep Baruda, Gentlemen of the Raj: The Indian Army’s Officer Corps, 1817–1949(Westport, CT: 2004). imperial turning point 153 teries had been the backbone of rebel armies, Indian gunners had been restricted to mountain artillery: light pieces packed on mules. Not until just before World War II, would the Indian Army organize its first field artillery units. Instead, the British gunners remained in Palestine—despite the grievous losses of guns and gunners in the German offensive. Headquarters and supporting troops, supply and medical personnel, remained as well. The inexperienced Indians could count on rear echelons and command structures that knew what their jobs were, and Allenby had a justified reputation as a quick hook when someone failed to measure up. Allenby and his senior subordinates faced other problems. Apart from issues of training, almost a third of the Indian troops arriving in the theater were Muslim. While Ottoman pronouncement of a Holy War had not produced general disaffection, some group desertions and minor mutinies did reflect the strains Islamic sentiment could place on Muslim soldiers.23 Some had cultural dimensions as well. Contractual relationships, written and implied, were very important in the Indian Army. Desertion, especially when things were quiet, was a familiar way of dealing with breaches of contract.24 Pathans, especially those recruited from across the Afghanistan border, were especially prone to such behavior even before 1914. Allenby was nevertheless disturbed when he reported on June 5 to Henry Wilson, Robertson’s replacement as CIGS, that an entire Pathan outpost had gone over to the Turks.25 That was merely the beginning of his discontent. “If I could be reinforced by 3 or 4 good divisions;” Allenby went on to say, “I could, I think, really get a move on my Turks. . . . Odds and sods, like Jewish battalions and regiments of Hottentots, are useful in a way; but they won’t win wars.” The general called instead for Japanese. “There must be available, I should think, lots of trained Japanese spoiling for a fight. . . . Give me some fighting Japanese Divisions and I’ll give you a lot of help.”26

23 See the general account by Y.D. Prasad, The Indian Muslims and World War I: A Phase of Disillusionment with British Rule, 1914–1918 (New Delhi: 1985) 24 It is a recurring theme as well in Indian Voices of the Great War: Soldiers’ Letters Home, 1914–1918, ed. with an Introduction by David Omissi (New York: 1999). 25 Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 159. 26 Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 161. 154 dennis showalter

In fact, the ‘good divisions’ Allenby called for were developing under his eyes. The British Army of 1918 had little in common with either the small professional force of 1914 or the mass of citizen volunteers that fought at Somme. It had paid high tuition fee—but it had learned by experience. And nowhere was the learning curve steeper than in the field of infantry tactics. The British took advantage of new technology: rifle grenades and light machine guns. They adjusted their small unit organization to implement the concept of ‘fire and movement’: concentrating heavy fire on a narrow front, less to kill than to confuse, allowing the attacker to close in or bypass with the maximum degree of surprise. And most importantly, they recorded the lessons and the principles of modern infantry combat in a never ending series of notes, orders, and pamphlets, written so as to be understood by junior officers with sketchy training and enlisted men recently conscripted.27 That material flooded the EEF in the summer of 1918: everything from ‘The Importance of the Forward Slope’ to ‘Notes on Night Patrolling’. The EEF had an elaborate system of schools for British regimental officers. British enlisted men too benefitted from courses in sniping, machine gunnery, marksmanship, and yes, bayonet fighting. Senior staff officers, particularly in the reorganized divisions, delivered lectures at brigade levels to all the officers that could be made available. Gunners discussed the latest methods of securing and sustaining infantry-artillery cooperation. Allenby himself held conferences with his commanders to coordinate policies and practice at divisional levels. That pattern spread downwards, as brigades brought battalion officers together to teach them how to fight together—and, in the process and by design, eroded the barriers that still existed among regulars and wartime commissions, officers of the British service and those of the Indian Army.28 At the same time, training intensified at individual and small unit levels. In preparation for the open warfare, which Allenby sought, route marches with full kit were regularly undertaken, with near peacetime

27 A good overview is G.D. Sheffield, “The Indispensable Factor: The Performance of British Troops in 1918”, in P. Dennis and J. Grey (eds.), 1918: Defining Victory (Canberra: 1999), 72–95. Cf. Simon Robbins, British Generalship on the Western Front 1914–18: Defeat into Victory (London: 2005), 83–114. 28 The best overview and analysis of EEF training programs comes from the other side of the line is Erickson, Ottoman Army Effectiveness, 135–40. imperial turning point 155 enforcement of march discipline and water discipline—and field tests of the loads men could be expected to carry in a Palestine summer. The typical Indian infantry battalion was still very much a rifle and bayonet force at the end of 1917. What new weapons it had were treated as extras. Too often, even during the final months in Mesopotamia, tactics had consisted of getting out of a trench and advancing in line towards another trench. Allenby’s Indian battalions, however, had as many as three dozen Lewis guns—one or 2 to a platoon. Each platoon had several rifle grenade launchers, formidable against machine gun nests and even pillboxes. Each brigade had a battery of 8 3-inch Stokes mortars: instant supporting artillery. Neither the battalion, nor the company, but the platoon, was expected to be the basic tactical unit—and the officer commanding it was expected to probe for soft spots and develop them, as opposed to the ‘see the trench, take the trench’ approach that had cost so many lives in the war’s earlier years. Hew Strachan makes the point that training is an “enabling process, a form of empowerment which creates self-confidence” by assisting the soldier to understand what he is expected to do.29 The EEF’s training programme made a new set of demands on Indian battalions. The British battalions staged demonstrations for the newcomers, but most training of Indian troops was at unit level. Individual drill for the recruits fresh from the depots; team training for Lewis gunners and rifle grenadiers; then platoon and company exercises, sometimes against dummy positions modeled on Turkish originals, increasingly with live ammunition and a robust approach to ‘friendly fire’ casualties—all were structured to increase morale as well as skills. The Indian officers had to become junior leaders, as well as cultural advisors and personal exemplars. A few liverish old hands grumbled that it could not be done. For the British officers at the sharp end, however, success in that area was a matter of survival. The Indian cavalry as well was being brought into the twentieth century—the early twentieth century, that is. Gervase Phillips accurately describes cavalry as a ‘scapegoat arm’ in English language historiography.30 In fact, under the conditions obtaining in Palestine,

29 Hew Strachan, “Training, Morale, and Modern War”, Journal of Contemporary History, vol. 41 (2006), 216. 30 Gervase Philips, “Scapegoat Arm: Twentieth-Century Cavalry in Anglophone Historiography”, Journal of Military History, vol. 71 (2007), 37–74. 156 dennis showalter cavalry could do good service as a mounted force, as opposed to mounted rifles. The Australian Cavalry Division, which would serve alongside the Indians in the final campaign, would be equipped with swords as late as July 1918.31 For all their experience in France, the Indian cavalry remained committed to the arme blanche. Its regiments carried lances as well as swords, and its troopers were skilled in the use of both. But in Palestine, each of an Indian regiment’s 4 squadrons included a troop of 3 light machine guns. These were French designed weapons, air cooled and strip fed, less effective than the infantry’s Lewis guns but shorter and lighter, better adapted to pack transport. A cavalry brigade of 3 regiments included a squadron of 12 heavy machine guns, and usually as well a battery of 6 13-pounder field guns. The era of mass charges might be gone, but properly used these new weapons could prepare and support charges on smaller scales: at squadron or regimental levels. The Indian troopers correspondingly trained assiduously in combined-arms tactics that, to the veterans in the ranks, resembled what they were used to on the North-West Frontier, even more than the infantry: prompt reaction to fleeting situations of opportunity.32 Some exercises were carried out on former battlefields, adding an extra dimension to the realism. A squadron attacking on foot over ground that seemed too difficult for a mounted charge encountered the division commander who pointed to some whitened bones and said “that is what happened to the last b–f—who did what you did.”33 Britain was fighting in Palestine to maintain and expand the British Empire as well as to win the war. Palestine, Transjordan, and even Syria, were considered vital elements in an overland link to India. With the Ottoman Empire moribund, the Hashemite Arabs under Emir Feisal were an instrument for extending British influence but, as we have seen, not an optimal one. As early as April, intelligence reports suggested that the Arabs of Syria were ready to rise in support of Feisal. Such an eventuality, if successful, was likely to leave Britain in the position of having to negotiate where it preferred to impose.

31 Jean Bon, “Cavalry, Firepower, and Swords: The Australian Light Horse and the Tactical Lessons of Cavalry Operations in Palestine, 1916–1918”, Journal of Military History, vol. 71 (2007), 99–126. 32 T.R. Moremen, The Army in India and the Development of Frontier Warfare: 1849–1947 (London: 1998). 33 Hudson, 19th Lancers, 221. imperial turning point 157

Allenby came under increasing pressure to act, and act decisively, with the forces at hand, not the ones he might wish for. That excluded the Japanese.34 Reduced to its essentials, Allenby’s final plan was to deploy 5 divisions from the Mediterranean coast to 15 miles inland. Supported by most of the EEF’s heavy artillery, they would break the Turkish line. The Desert Mounted Corps, with the 2 Indian cavalry divisions and the Australian Mounted Division, would ride through and keep moving. Allenby’s British division, as much an emergency theater reserve as an operational formation, was posted on the right of the coastal sector, in a secondary role. That meant breakthrough depended on the Indian infantry. As for the cavalry, Allenby did not foresee using it either for mass shock action or as mounted rifles on the Anzac model. Instead, he and his staff sought exploitation on the operational level.35 The Indians could be expected to keep moving, going around strong points rather than dismounting to engage them. They were also the best housemaster in Palestine—better even than the Australians, who had long since shed the stockman’s faith that a worn-out horse could simply be ridden to the nearest corral and exchanged for another.36 But, could the infantry, with its high proportion of recruits and its large number of improvised battalions, open the way for the horsemen? Could the sepoys face a prepared defensive system, break in, break through, and break out? The challenge had for 4 years defied the best of Europe’s soldiers, and the Turkish Army was by no means a demoralized rabble. It had suffered heavily from desertion. Morale among the Arab conscripts was so low that many deserted before reaching the front. Sickness further depleted its ranks: poor sanitary discipline facilitated diseases like typhus, while the developing influenza epidemic left army doctors baffled. Battalion strengths were as low as 200. The logistic system was on the verge of collapse. Standard rations

34 Hughes, Allenby and British Strategy, p. 73 passim. Cf. .Roger Adelson, London and the Invention of the Middle East: Money, Power, and War, 1902–1923 (New Haven: 1995); and B.C. Busch, Britain, India, and the Arabs: 1914–1921 (Berkeley: 1971). 35 The evolution of Allenby’s strategy is discussed in Anthony Bruce,The Last Cru- sade: The Palestine Campaign in the First World War(London: 2002), 211–5. See as well for background and details for the balance of this paper the official history by Cyril Falls, History of the Great War: Military Operations Egypt and Palestine, vol. 2, From June 1917 to the end of the War (London: 1930). 36 The 20th Deccan Horse, for example, began the campaign with 464 riding horses and lost only 141 by 26 October. E. Tennant, The Royal Deccan Horse in the Great War (Aldershot: 1939), 86–7. 158 dennis showalter were bread and beans three times a day—nothing else. To compensate all these deficiencies, the Ottomans had developed storm troops on the German model, companies and battalions given the best men and the best equipment, specially trained in raiding and counter-attacking.37 The defense was also strengthened by a German Expeditionary Force that in late summer totalled 7 battalions of first rate troops.38 But, the Germans could not be everywhere at once. The new storm troop units stripped the line battalions of men the rest looked to in combat. The divisions on the line retained a core of the Anatolian peasant infantry who had stopped the Anzacs at Gallipoli and defeated the Russians in the Caucasus. They were stubborn in defense and proverbially hard to kill. But, there was nothing behind them, and nothing in their culture, general or military, had as yet developed initiative and flexibility.39 Once broken, the Ottoman front would be difficult to restore without multiple miracles. Allenby’s preparations, the elaborate logistical buildup, the sophisticated deception operations, the winning of the air supremacy that concealed both, are familiar in the general literature of the final campaign. So is his disposition for the attack. Five divisions deployed on a 15 mile Schwerpunkt, with their left flank on the Mediterranean. Behind them were 3 cavalry divisions- 2 Indian and one Australian. The remaining 45 miles were covered by 2 divisions and the Anzac Mounted Division. At 4:30 am on September 19, the British barrage opened: a thousand shells a minute along the front of the main assault. The infantry went in beginning 10 minutes later. By 6 am, the cavalry was on its way through. By 8 am, the Ottoman front line was shattered. In major offensives on the Western Front, cavalry had been deployed too far to the rear to take advantage of opportunities that turned out to be temporary. Allenby had integrated the commanders of the 4th and 5th cavalry divisions with their infantry counterparts in order to ensure prompt exploitation. In Palestine, the horsemen would turn opportunity to victory.40

37 Erickson, Ottoman Army Effectiveness, 132–5. 38 The most complete presentation is volume 4 in the semiofficial seriesSchlachten des Weltkrieges: Werner Steuber, ‘Jildirim:’ deutsche Streiter auf heiligem Boden, 2nd ed. (Oldenbourg: 1925). 39 Yuecel Yanikdag, “Educating the Peasants: the Ottoman Army and Enlisted Men in Uniform”, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 40 (2004), 92–108. 40 Here too Allenby was reacting to fresh lessons from the Western Front. Stephen Badsey, “Cavalry and the Development of Breakthrough Doctrine”, in P. Griffith (ed.), British Fighting Methods in the Great War (Ilford: 1996), 138–74. imperial turning point 159

For purposes of this paper the salient feature of the operation’s first stage is the outstanding performance of the Indian infantry. Whether in keeping pace with the artillery, clearing trenches with grenades and bayonets, or giving a beaten enemy no time to rally in strength, the Indians illustrated Hew Strachan’s ‘virtuous circle’ of training, morale, and the offensive, each facilitating and reinforcing the next.41 The Ottoman positions had been broken—not the Ottoman soldiers. But, the storm troops had no time to organize counter-attacks that might have disrupted the advance. When a few men sought to stand, the Indians and their British comrades broke resistance before it become effective. Defeat gave way to panic, and the war diaries and regimental histories of the Indian battalions proudly record hundreds of prisoners taken by a handful of sepoys, whole batteries of artillery, sometimes with their crews and teams, surrendering at the flash of bayonets.42 Over the next few days the infantry was preoccupied with sorting out its captures and preparing for the march north. This was the time of the cavalry: the last great moment of horsemen in war, and the Indian troopers rode all the way, through Meggido to Haifa, then Damascus and beyond to Aleppo. Their story has been thoroughly chronicled in general accounts, and the details preserved in the histories compiled by individual regiments.43 Again, in the context of this presentation, three points stand out. First, the Indian cavalry fought with finesse, floating like butterflies, stinging like bees, and turning up where no one expected them—like the squadron of the 18th Lancers that ambushed a truck convoy, took 400 prisoners, and captured a war chest containing 20,0000 pounds. The cash was duly signed for and delivered to higher headquarters. That says much for the discipline and professionalism of the 18th

41 Strachan, “Training, Morale, and Modern War”, 221. 42 D.C. Verma, Indian Armed Forces in Egypt and Palestine: 1914–1918 (Delhi: 2004), 111–35, focuses on the Indians’ role. 43 The best general account is the Marquess of Angelsey,History of British Cav- alry, vol. 5, Egypt, Palestine, and Syria (London: 1994), 213–340. R.M.P. Preston, The Desert Mounted Corps (London: 1921), long enjoyed semi-official status, and remains useful. Bryan Perret, Meggido 1918: The Last Great Cavalry Victory(Oxford: 1999), is a top-flight contribution to Osprey’s excellent Campaign series. Gurcharn Singh Sandhu, The Indian Cavalry: History of the Indian Armored Corps, vol. 1, To 1940 (Delhi: 1981), 353 ff., concentrates on the Indians. General Sir George de S Barrow, The Fire of Life(London: 1942), is the vivid memoir of the 4th Cavalry Division’s commanding general. 160 dennis showalter

Lancers’ sowars. Their ancestors, Mughal, Maratha, or Pindari horsemen, would have been appalled!44 Most of such heavy fighting as assaulting defended towns like Samakh was done by the Australian Mounted Division. Brigade and regimental commanders in the Indian cavalry preferred to bypass such obstacles or, when necessary, come at them from unexpected directions. Machine gunners, in particular the German Asia Corps, continued to cover the flanks and rear of the rapidly disintegrating Ottoman forces with the courage of desperation and the skill of hardened veterans. Time and again the Indians nevertheless found ways where none seemed to exist, with junior officers taking advantage of goat tracks to bring first a troop, then a squadron, onto an Ottoman flank or rear. Machine guns are of limited use when dug in facing a wrong direction. On September 23 at Mount Carmel, outside Haifa, the Jodhpur Lancers lost two ground scouts to quicksand, but their leading squadron was able to overrun the Ottoman machine gun positions while the remaining two charged into Haifa. The Indian cavalry also made consistent, effective—and for some British conservatives unexpected—use of modern technology in fire and movement. Two squadrons of the Mysore Lancers provided the covering fire enabling the Jodhpur Lancers to pull off their dazzling charge. Another squadron of the Mysore Lancers was ordered to follow a trail along the summit of Mount Carmel and charge an Ottoman artillery position. They lost so many horses during the movement that only 15 men remained. But, they went in supported from a flank by two heavy machine guns and their own Hotchkiss gun section. The Mysore Lancers captured 3 guns and 78 prisoners—without benefit of a single British officer. Accounts of similar squadron level actions could be multiplied almost at will. The place names may change; the tactics were similar. Use of broken ground to find a vulnerable spot; position the machine guns and light automatics to a flank, and go in as their fire kept the Ottomans distracted or pinned down. Losses were usually minimal— certainly far less than those of the British Yeomanry in their far more familiar charges at Huj and El Mughar in 1917.45

44 The 18th eventually received 5 Turkish sovereigns. Let it be said for the honor of the regiment, however, that one sowar, the first on the scene, seems to have taken the opportunity to fill his haversack appropriately. Hudson,19th Lancers, 233. 45 Cavalry galloping in extended formation had an excellent chance of getting under the beaten zones of machine gun fire, especially given a persistent Ottoman imperial turning point 161

The Indian cavalry also grew increasingly acquainted—and comfort- able—with mechanized war. The RAF focused on interdiction rather than close air support. But, it owed some of its best killing grounds to the Indian cavalry. It was the 2nd Lancers whose charge into Musmus Pass on 20 September set the stage for the 4th Cavalry Division’s reaching the Jordan River, cutting the main Ottoman lines of retreat and leaving the troops on the wrong side of the river to the bombs and machine guns of the airmen. By the time the Bristol Fighters of 1st Australian Squadron were finished, all that remained for the horsemen was to round up prisoners and count abandoned guns. The 2nd Lancers charged, moreover, in cooperation with armored cars.46 Each Indian cavalry division had attached as a rule a Light Armored Motor Battery and a Light Car Patrol. The former was equipped with up to a half dozen armored cars on Rolls-Royce chas- sis. The Light Car Patrols consisted of 3 or 4 Model T Fords with Lewis guns.47 Used for long range reconnaissance as well as direct fire support, they proved so effective that when Allenby sent the 5th Cavalry Division on to Aleppo after the capture of Damascus, its commander, given all the armored cars and light cars, added a cavalry brigade and formed a mechanized strike force.48 The rest of the division followed in support—which proved unnecessary. The 5th Cavalry Division’s sowars and armored vehicles entered Aleppo on October 26, in cooperation, it must be noted, with Arab forces. The third salient point of the Indians’ performance in the final stages of the Palestine campaign is indicated by the brigade selected to make the final running. It was the 15th, the Imperial Service Brigade. It had fought with distinction since the breakthrough. As malaria and influenza ravaged the EEF, the 15th’s men and horses were in the best condition. And it was Indian officered at all levels. The Jodhpur

tendency to set their sights high. Rapid, dispersed movement was in turn facilitated by the absence, in a Palestine still mostly wasteland, not merely of barbed wire but wire of any kind, as well as other terrain obstacles created by developed agriculture. Cf. Bon, “Cavalry, Firepower and Swords”, 125. 46 D.E Whitworth, The Story of the 2nd Lancers (Gardner’s Horse) (London: 1924), 138–45. 47 David Fletcher, War Cars: British Armoured Cars in the First World War (Lon- don: 1987) is a good overview. Allenby had asked in vain for a battalion of Whippet tanks as well. Hughes (ed.), Allenby in Palestine, 162. 48 A squadron of the RAF was also at the column’s disposal, with a ground echelon that marked sites for landing fields at the halting places, enabling aircraft to provide both reconnaissance and close support. Marques of Angelsey, British Cavalry, vol. 5, 334. 162 dennis showalter

Lancers had lost their colonel at Haifa, killed while leading from the front. Throughout the brigade, the troop and squadron leaders had met every challenge. Their performance, and those of their counterparts in the regular regiments, foreshadowed a later war, when Indian officers would increasingly ‘take over all tasks’ from their British rulers and mentors. In postwar years it grew fashionable to downgrade the cavalry’s contribution to Allenby’s final campaign as a victory attained against a broken, demoralized enemy. But, it must be noted that the Ottoman collapse was the product of shock and awe—the shock produced by the initial attack, the awe occasioned by the speed and flexibility of the advance. It was mainly Indian infantry that delivered the shock. ‘They fought like old soldiers,’ Allenby said, and they sustained their effectiveness in the long marches and unheralded mopping-up operations that fell to their lot in the later stages. It was mainly Indian cavalry that sustained the awe. British and Anzac contributions, though vital, were essentially in supporting roles. Even in the initial stages of the pursuit, when the Ottoman soldiers were still making a fight of it, the cavalry’s rate of advance was twice that of the German panzers during Barbarossa and the Allies’ drive across France in 1944.49 As the war progressed and its demands on India increased, the British government raised the level of its promises to extend Indian self-government generally, and specifically to ‘Indianize’ the Indian Army by opening the King’s Commission to Indians. On the other side of the line, a nationalist movement emerged more strengthened whose prewar attitude to the army had been largely indifferent when not hostile. Now, politically involved Indians began pressuring the government on issues of military reform as part of the path to self- rule, and eventual partnership in an expanded British system.50 Wartime recruiting abuses and inflation sustained postwar disaffection in the traditional recruiting grounds. Demobilized soldiers participated in the postwar demonstrations in the Punjab and elsewhere. The issue of commissioning Indian officers proved a thorny one—not least because of the question of the effects of the change on the Indian officers, whose lack of Western education essentially excluded them

49 Perrett, Meggido, 85. 50 Cf. Stephen P. Cohen, “The Military Enters Indian Thought”, in Kaushik Roy (ed.), War and Society in Colonial India: 1807–1945 (Delhi: 2006), 163–89; and the still useful Algernon Rumbold, Watershed in India: 1914–1922 (London: 1979). imperial turning point 163 from the process. The use of Indian troops against nationalist demonstrations tested their loyalty and identity to new limits.51 Yet, on the whole the Indian Army built on its Great War experience to lay the foundations for greater success in a larger conflict.52 Perhaps, the key signifier was the increasing use of a new word to describe and identify the rank and file, a word owing much to the Indians’ performance in Palestine. For decades, Indian soldiers had been cast in subordinate, even childlike, roles. Now they were ‘jawans’: young men.

51 Anirudh Deshpande, “Military Reform in the Aftermath of the Great War: Inten- tions and Compulsions of British Military Policy, 1919–25”, in Gupta and Deshpande (eds.), British Raj and its Indian Armed Forces, 179–225. 52 Daniel P. Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes. The Indian Army in the Burma Cam- paign (Westport, CT.: 2003).

CHAPTER FIVE

THE INDIANIZATION OF THE EGYPTIAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE: PALESTINE 1918

James E. Kitchen1

By the time the campaign ended in Palestine in October 1918, the majority of Britain’s imperial army, known as the EEF, was made up of units drawn from the Indian Army. Of its 11 divisions, only 2, the 54th (East Anglia) and the Australian and New Zealand Mounted Divisions, contained no Indian troops. This was the product of a deliberate policy to rationalize the British Empire’s manpower resources, concentrating British troops on the Western Front and utilizing Indian soldiers in subsidiary theatres. The scope of this policy was however increased and the pace of Indianization speeded up after the March 1918 German offensive led to a desperate need for troops in France. The Middle Eastern fronts thus came to absorb a large proportion of India’s military manpower. Between 1914 and 1918, India sent over 1.8 million combatants and non-combatants overseas to serve in various theatres. Of these over 95,000 combatants and 135,000 non-combatants served in Egypt and Palestine.2 The Indian Army’s performance in the First World War is often only judged against the background of its service on the Western Front and in Mesopotamia during the first two years of the conflict. In France and Flanders the Indian Corps suffered crippling losses, along with alleged collapse in morale. Jeffrey Greenhut has made much of the high levels of self-inflicted wounds amongst Indian units, nearly all of which exceeded the rates amongst their British counterparts in

1 I am grateful for the assistance of Michael Finch, Adrian Gregory, Robert Johnson, Harry Munt, Peter Stanley, Hew Strachan, Sam Wilson, and Rosie Young who all commented on earlier drafts of this paper. Versions of this article were presented as papers at the History of War Graduate Seminar held in All Souls College, Oxford, on 10 March 2009, and at the War and Empire Symposium held in the History Faculty of the University of Oxford, on 11 June 2009. I am grateful for the comments and suggestions I received on both occasions. 2 Memorandum on India’s Contribution to the War in Men, Material, and Money: August 1914 to November 1918, p. 10, L/MIL/17/5/2381, IOR, BL. 166 james e. kitchen the Corps.3 He uses this to illustrate the idea of the sepoys undergoing a form of culture shock on the Western Front. These were men used to small-scale warfare on the North-West Frontier, not the mass industrialized slaughter of European conflict.4 The regimental system in Indian units was constructed in such a way that the British officers came to occupy a prominent position.5 It was therefore to their officers that the sepoys turned in 1914 to try to understand the war that they had been thrust into. The extensive casualties amongst the British officers meant that the Indian rank and file lost their cultural interpreters, which had a crippling effect on their morale. Similarly, the Indian Expeditionary Force sent to Mesopotamia is only remembered for the defeat and surrender of Major-General Charles Townshend’s division at Kut in 1916.6 The campaign has been used as an example of the Indian Army’s inability to organize its command and logistics systems for the rigours of modern warfare.7 This historiographical focus on the difficulties faced by the Indian Army early in the First World War fails to address the critical and victorious role it would come to play in 1917–18 in the conclusion to the war against the Ottoman Empire. The Battle of Megiddo in September 1918, fought by the EEF under the command of General Edmund Allenby, destroyed the Turkish forces in Palestine. It represents a forgotten victory for the Indian Army, and one which needs to be dissected in order to examine fully the operational capabilities

3 J. Greenhut, “The Imperial Reserve: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–15”, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 12 (1983), 57. As a counterpoint see G. Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915 (Kent: 1999); R. McLain, “The Indian Corps on the Western Front: A Reconsideration”, in G. Jensen and A. Wiest (eds.), War in the Age of Technology: Myriad Faces of Armed Conflict (New York: 2001), 167–93. 4 J. Greenhut, “Sahib and Sepoy: An Inquiry into the Relationship Between the British Officers and Native Soldiers of the British India Army”,Military Affairs, vol. XLVIII (1984), 18. 5 B. Farwell, Armies of the Raj: From the Mutiny to Independence, 1858–1947 (London: 1989), 100. 6 C.C. Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies: 1900–1947 (London: 1988), 81; P. Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army its Officers and Men (London: 1974), 427–39; N. Gardner, “Sepoys and the Siege of Kut-al-Amara, December 1915–April 1916”, War in History, vol. 11 (2004), 307–26. 7 A more subtle approach is suggested in K. Roy, “From Defeat to Victory: Logis- tics of the Campaign in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, First World War Studies, vol. 1 (2010), 35–55. palestine 167 of the Indianized EEF on the modern all arms battlefield in the latter half of 1918.8

The Policy and Practice of Indianization

Indian troops were to prove critical to the British war effort during the last two years of the war and in particular to the campaigns being fought against the Ottoman Empire. By October 1917, it was already clear that there was a severe shortage of British manpower on the Western Front, with General Henry Wilson estimating the deficit at around 25,000 men per month. The Cabinet’s Manpower Committee, under Lloyd George, was set up on 6 December 1917 and reported that there was a total shortfall of around 600,000 men in the army.9 The costly battles of 1916 and 1917, particularly those of the Somme, Arras, and Third Ypres, had taken their toll. As a result the BEF carried out a rationalization process in early 1918, involving the breaking up of 161 infantry battalions. These men would then provide drafts for the units remaining in the divisions, now reduced to only 9 battalions. In addition to this reorganization, the vast numbers of men being recruited in India were also to be used to offset the British manpower shortage beyond the Western Front. The CIGS, General William Robertson, wrote to the C-in-CI, General Charles Monro, on 4 December 1917 stressing the need for reinforcements. He stated that “the question of maintenance of the British forces in the field has become critical and it may be necessary before long to begin reducing British Divisions.”10 Robertson felt that the best way to prevent this would be to convert the divisions in Palestine into Indian divisions (each brigade having one British battalion and 3 Indian battalions). This would then free several British battalions to act as drafts for the EEF, reducing the numbers

8 E.J. Erickson, Ottoman Army Effectiveness in World War I: A Comparative Study (London: 2007), 151–2. 9 F.W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: 1988), 25–8; D.R. Woodward, “Did Lloyd George Starve the British Army of Men Prior to the German Spring Offensive of 21 March 1918?”, Historical Journal, vol. 27 (1984), 241–52; E. Greenhalgh, “David Lloyd George, Georges Clemenceau, and the 1918 Manpower Crisis”, Historical Journal, vol. L (2007), 397–421. 10 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-CI, 4 December 1917, L/MIL/5/739, IOR. 168 james e. kitchen which had to be sent directly from Britain. Robertson stressed that it was the British Army’s growing level of commitments by the end of 1917 that was creating these problems. In particular he pointed to the defeats suffered by the Italians, which had forced Britain and France to send 6 divisions each to stem the Central Powers’ advance after Caporetto. In addition, he predicted that the Russian peace movement would allow the Germans to transfer 30 to 40 divisions to the Western Front in the near future, raising the prospect of the Allies having to fight a major defensive action. The deciding factor for Robertson was, however, the parlous state of the Turkish military effort: Our successes in Mesopotamia and Palestine have rendered this concentration more feasible, and I think we have over-rated Turkish power. Although our successes have upset the German-Turkish plans I doubt if they were ever so formidable as reports indicated, and some reports were probably intended to mislead us. In any case the chances are against any serious attack in Mesopotamia before next cold season. The Turk has, I believe, little desire to do any more fighting anywhere and he is short of men and deficient of other resources.11 He noted that the Turkish forces in Jerusalem, comprising a cavalry division and 6 infantry divisions, only mustered a total of 15,000 men. Terming the formations as divisions was thus a misnomer. It was suggested that a division should be released from Mesopotamia to travel to Palestine to reinforce the EEF, and begin the process of Indianization.12 As a result, the 7th (Meerut) Division was chosen to start transferring to Allenby’s command in late December 1917. There were already a number of Indian battalions serving with the EEF, many of whom, such as those in 49th Brigade, were serving on the lines of communication.13 Within the newly formed 75th Division there were 5 Indian Army battalions, which had seen active service since the beginning of autumn 1917. The initial response of the Indian Army to Robertson’s request for assistance was to offer 4 infantry battalions per month in March, April,

11 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the CIGS to the Commander-in-Chief, India, 3 December 1917, L/MIL/5/739. 12 Correspondence on 7th (Meerut) Division, Telegram from the WO to the GOC, GHQ Mesopotamia, and the C-in-CI, 4 December 1917, L/MIL/5/784, IOR. 13 F. Younghusband, “The Near East: Sinai and Palestine”, in C. Lucas (ed.), The Empire at War (Oxford: 1926), vol. 5, 262. palestine 169 and May 1918, along with a single pioneer battalion in March.14 The C-in-CI however, immediately offered a number of caveats on the provision of these extra units. Of the 8 battalions to be sent in April and May, at least 2, in his opinion, would only be suitable for work on the lines of communication. In addition, he stressed that the greatest difficulty being faced in India was finding enough suitably qualified British officers to command the regiments and companies. As a short term solution, he asked the CIGS if any could be spared from the Indian Cavalry Corps serving in France. By 14 December 1917, Monro had re-examined India’s ability to contribute to the EEF. He now offered a total of 21 battalions of which one would be a pioneer unit. This increase was to be found by using ‘immature battalions’ in India, thus freeing up more experienced ones to serve overseas. The process of conveying these units to Egypt was to be speeded up, with 7 battalions dispatched by the end of January 1918, 5 by the end of March, 3 in April, and a further 5 in May. Monro did express some concern at using newly formed regiments for internal security duties, particularly as the vast bulk of the Army in India was now made up of such units. By early 1918, there were only 24 Indian battalions out of 69 in service in the subcontinent that had been in the army in 1914. In early January 1918, Allenby was informed of the forthcoming changes that were to take place in the EEF. In addition to the 21 infantry and pioneer battalions he was to receive, 4 machine gun companies and 6 Indian field ambulances would also be sent to Egypt.15 It was suggested by the War Office that these units would be used to convert 10th (Irish) and 75th Divisions into Indian divisions, along with the replacement of 3 British battalions in 74th (Yeomanry) Division. By 10 March, this policy had been extended to 60th (London) and 53rd (Welsh) Divisions as well, in order to free up even more British troops. Those units that were to be replaced would be used to reinforce the British battalions remaining in the EEF. Thus, 2/4th Dorsets were to provide drafts for the 1/4th Wiltshires who they had served alongside in 74th Division. In some cases, these units would be broken up to provide drafts for battalions outside their division, as in the case of 2/10th Middlesex who were to go from 53rd Division to the 2/19th

14 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegrams from the C-in-CI, to the CIGS, 6 and 14 December 1917, and 5 January 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 15 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from B.B. Cubbitt, WO, to the C-in-C, Egypt, 5 January 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 170 james e. kitchen

Londons of 60th Division.16 These units were not the end of Monro’s response to the EEF’s shifting manpower needs. He was confident that by the end of May another 26 battalions would be in the process of forming up in India. Alongside the 14 started in January and February this would provide 40 battalions to aid the Empire’s war effort by the end of 1918. This reorganization was being aided by the return of 22 battalions from East Africa. Allenby did not just have to accommodate Indian infantry within the EEF. It was also decided to transfer the 2 Indian Cavalry divisions from the Western Front, where they had seen relatively little action, with the exception of Cambrai, to Egypt.17 A total of 11 regiments were to be sent along with a divisional and 3 brigade headquarters. The CIGS suggested that these Indian regiments be mixed with Yeomanry units to form mounted divisions.18 In total over 13,000 officers and men were being transferred from France to Egypt.19 For Allenby, however, it was not made clear as to whether these Indian units were to act as reinforcements or replacements within the EEF. The War Office itself was not sure of the course to be taken and instructed Allenby to be prepared to reduce his Yeomanry regiments and headquarters if required.20 In order to try to inject some coherency into the campaigns against the Ottoman Empire, Lloyd George dispatched the South African General Jan Smuts to Egypt between 12 and 22 February 1918 to organize a plan to implement Joint Note 12. This had been produced by the Allied Supreme War Council on 21 January and stated that the Allies should launch an offensive to knock Turkey out of the war.21 Smuts produced his report on 1 March and recommended: “. . . the adoption of a purely defensive role in Mesopotamia and the vigorous prosecution of the campaign in Palestine, and that Mesopotamia should

16 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to GHQ, Egypt, 10 March 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 17 Trench, Indian Army, 44–9. 18 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Telegram from the CIGS to the C-in-CI, 4 January 1918, L/MIL/5/733, IOR. 19 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Minute to the Military Committee on the “Employment of Pathans in Palestine”, by Sir E.G. Barrow, 7 February 1918, L/MIL/5/733. 20 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-C, Egypt, 1 February 1918, L/MIL/5/733. 21 M. Hughes, Allenby and British Strategy in the Middle East: 1917–1919 (London: 1999), 66–8. palestine 171 feed Palestine reinforcements from the surplus beyond its reasonable requirements for defence.”22 The CIGS was convinced that as long as an offensive was launched in Palestine, the Turks would not be able to threaten the British gains in Mesopotamia. The C-in-CI was not content with this plan, as he felt Smuts’ policy would impact significantly on India’s Persian operations. Monro opined that an offensive in Palestine could only fully ensure Baghdad’s safety if it set Aleppo as its objective.23 This was a viewpoint with which Lieutenant-General Philip Chetwode, commander of the EEF’s 20th Corps, agreed. In his opinion, Aleppo, which was over 360 miles from the British lines in early 1918, was “the only really strategical objective, the possession of which would seriously damage the enemy.”24 Monro was also concerned by Turkish progress on the railway into Mesopotamia. If this was completed he estimated that they would be able to move a division from Aleppo to Mosul in only 14 days. To move reinforcements up from India to Baghdad in such circumstance would take at least 40 days, and even worse if the men had to come from Suez it would take 53 days. As a result he urged the retention of 13th Division, made up entirely of British infantry, in Mesopotamia to act as a nucleus to expand upon with Indian battalions in an emergency situation. In addition, the British troops serving in Mesopotamia were also available as a reserve that could be utilized by the GOI if serious internal unrest flared up. The removal of British battalions would make it harder to maintain the correct proportion of British to Indian troops.25 Monro’s case was not helped by the views of Lieutenant-General William Marshall, commanding the expeditionary force in Mesopotamia. He stated that the removal of a single division or a complete army corps would have ‘no adverse political effect’ in the country.26 The force was perfectly capable of redistributing its units to ensure the security of its lines of communication. As a result of these discussions the War

22 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from the CIGS to the C-in-CI, 21 February 1918, L/MIL/5/794, IOR. 23 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to the CIGS, 23 February 1918, L/MIL/5/794. 24 Chetwode, Notes on the Palestine Campaign, 15 February 1918, PP/MCR/C1, IWM. 25 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to the CIGS, 23 February 1918, L/MIL/5/794. 26 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from GHQ, Meso- potamia, to the C-in-CI, 24 February 1918, L/MIL/5/794. 172 james e. kitchen

Cabinet decided to send only one division to Egypt, and suggested to Marshall that it should be 3rd (Lahore) Division.27 This would provide Allenby with another 25,000 officers and men, on top of the manpower boost received when 7th Division had been transferred to the EEF.28 The military situation on the Western Front was about to change dramatically, leading to a significant alteration to the plans for Indianization of the EEF. On 21 March 1918, the Germans launched their first major offensive in France and Flanders after 1916. It tore into the British 3rd and 5th armies causing the abandonment of many positions and leaving several divisions in a state of collapse.29 British casualties on the first day amounted to 38,500 men, of whom 7,000 were killed and 21,000 were captured.30 These events had an immediate impact on the situation in the Middle East. On 27 March, the War Office cabled Allenby ordering him to “adopt a policy of active defence in Palestine as soon as the operations you are now undertaking are completed.”31 Smuts’ policy was rendered unworkable as the EEF was now to become a manpower reserve for the BEF. The War Office asked Allenby to send 52nd (Lowland) Division to France along with 7th Division’s artillery as soon as shipping became available. By early April, he was also required to send 74th Division to France and to continue with the Indianization of the 4 divisions selected in early March. This would leave 54th Division as Allenby’s only all British division. As the War Office made clear the priority was now with the BEF, as “in France there is a very serious shortage of Infantry, and we must leave no stone unturned to increase the reinforcements in that theatre.”32 The process of Indianizing the EEF would therefore have to be accelerated. In addition to the 21 Indian battalions under orders at

27 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from the CIGS, to the C-in-C, Mesopotamia, 4 March 1918, L/MIL/5/794. 28 Correspondence on 3rd (Lahore) Division, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to the GOC, Mesopotamia, 22 March 1918, L/MIL/5/748, IOR. 29 H.H. Herwig, “The German Victories, 1917–1918”, in H. Strachan (ed.),The Oxford Illustrated History of the First World War (Oxford: 1998), 258–64; P. Simkins, G. Jukes, and M. Hickey, The First World War: The War to End All Wars (Oxford: 2003), 139–51; H. Strachan, The First World War: A New Illustrated History (London: 2003), 282–92. 30 M. Brown, The Imperial War Museum Book of 1918: Year of Victory (London: 1998), 50–1. 31 Policy following General Smuts’ Recommendations, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-C, Egypt, 27 March 1918, L/MIL/5/794. 32 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-CI, 3 and 13 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739. palestine 173 this stage for Egypt, a further 13 infantry and 2 pioneer units would be required. The War Office continually put pressure on Allenby to release British units for the Western Front, even before they had been relieved by Indian battalions. It was estimated that the EEF would be able to provide 23,000 reinforcements for the BEF. The War Office was aware of the dangers that this could produce on the Palestine front: It is fully realized that this will entail loss of efficiency in your force and temporary reduction in strength, but in view of existing situation and of the fact that the Germans are concentrating every available man in the West this is a risk which should be taken and we are prepared to accept it.33 By May 1918, Allenby was very concerned by the vast scale of the reorganization that was taking place in the EEF as a result of the acceleration of the Indianization process after late March.34 He was therefore reluctant to release Indian cavalry regiments to serve in India, and was able to persuade the War Office that any further reductions in his strength would have a detrimental effect.35 The C-in-CI suggested a means of rapidly increasing the size of the Indian force in the Middle East in order to free up more British troops. This involved taking one complete company from most of the Indian battalions allocated to Egypt and Mesopotamia, then combining them to form new units. Any shortages within these battalions would be filled by drafting in partially trained men direct from India. Monro stated that “this will weaken the units concerned temporarily but it is the only way of securing promptly the expansion wanted.”36 This was a process that had been used in a limited fashion before in the EEF. In February 1917, the 101st Grenadiers was split into 2 battalions, with the original men and a new draft of nearly 400 troops divided equally between the two.37 These new units then carried out successful work on the lines of communication, demonstrating that recently formed

33 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-C, Egypt, 21 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 34 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Telegram from GHQ, Egypt, to the WO, 18 May 1918, L/MIL/5/733, IOR. 35 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-CI, 22 May 1918, L/MIL/5/733. 36 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to the WO, 9 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 37 H.S. Anderson and A. Frankland, The 101st Grenadiers: Historical Record of the Regiment, 1778–1923 (Aldershot: 1920), 57. 174 james e. kitchen

Indian battalions were of military value. As a result of Monro’s suggestion, 7 battalions, numbered as Indian Infantry, were formed in the EEF over the course of the summer.38 For example, the 2/151st Indian Infantry was formed from companies drawn from 51st, 53rd, and 54th Sikhs, and the 56th Punjabi Rifles. The old battalions also provided the new ones with first and second line transport equipment, until they could be equipped with their own.39 Most importantly they also drew British and Indian officers, who had experience of active service, from the original units. The 38th Dogras provided 3/151st Indian Infantry with a commanding officer, 2 other British officers, 2 subedars, and 2 jemadars, alongside the 198 other ranks it transferred across.40 Some of the sepoys also had considerable military careers behind them. When 2/151st Indian Infantry provided a guard of honour for Allenby at Neby Saleh on 14 September 1918, the war diary was keen to note that on parade were men who had served on 5 fronts since 1914 and in 8 pre-war campaigns.41 A similar policy was instigated in May amongst the Indian cavalry serving in the EEF. Each regiment would provide a squadron to fill the ranks of 3 newly formed units. Thus, the 44th Indian Cavalry Regiment would comprise men from the 29th Lancers, 6th Cavalry, and 2nd Lancers.42 Monro harboured deep concerns about this route towards Indianizing the EEF. He pointed to the fact that the class composition of some units, and in particular the difficulties of recruiting certain classes, would make it impossible to use their companies as the basis for creating new battalions.43 Despite these reservations the Indianization process continued, and plans were made to expand it even further. On 21 April 1918, the Indian Army was warned that it would be asked later in the year to Indianize 4 British divisions serving at Salonica, requiring another 36 infantry and 4 pioneer battalions.44 It was not until early September that the request was made for these units. Initial requirements were

38 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to GHQ, Egypt, 19 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 39 War Diary of 2/151st Indian Infantry, 30 May 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 40 War Diary of 38th Dogras, 8 June 1918, WO95/4584, PRO, TNA. 41 War Diary of 2/151st Indian Infantry, 14 September 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 42 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to GHQ, Egypt, 16 May 18, L/MIL/5/733. 43 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the C-in-CI, to the WO, 24 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739, IOR. 44 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-CI, 21 April 1918, L/MIL/5/739. palestine 175 for only 12 battalions, although the War Office wished them to be “experienced troops as they may have to take part in active operations very shortly after arrival.”45 The end of the war, however, intervened to prevent Indians serving on the Macedonian front. India’s manpower contribution to the British Empire’s war effort was substantial, not least in its ability to reinforce the EEF when this army was called upon to provide men for the Western Front. It took time for the Indian recruiting system to adapt to the needs of a modern war, but by late 1917 it was able to provide enough men to allow India to fulfil its role as an imperial strategic reserve.46 The crisis of March 1918 did not begin this process of Indianization, but did alter the rate at which it was enacted. The perceived danger with Indianization was that it introduced a considerable number of Muslim soldiers into the war against the Ottoman Empire in Palestine. About 29% of Allenby’s new infantry was Muslim, raising deep fears that large numbers of men would side with their co-religionists and desert the EEF.47 The concerns of some officers were to a certain extent justified, as the Turks saw the arrival of thousands of Muslim Indians as a chance to exploit any morale difficulties in the EEF. Turkish front line patrols began to be accompanied by the regimental imam, who would sing holy greeting and prayers at the British lines. The regimental orders of 77th Turkish Regiment noted that this approach had proved successful, causing at least one desertion. It was suggested that: . . . probably these men [the sepoys] being Moslems, will not fight against us; therefore it is advisable to choose from each Battalion and from each Company, men with good voices to accompany patrols at night.48 The war diary of 1/101st Grenadiers noted by June that singing of verses from the Koran was relatively frequent along the front, although their patrols had prevented the Turks from trying this trick in their sector.49

45 Correspondence on Additional Indian Units, Telegram from the WO to the C-in-C, Mesopotamia, 2 September 1918, L/MIL/5/739. 46 Perry, Commonwealth Armies, 96. 47 Hughes, Allenby and British Strategy, 69. 48 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, June 1918, Appendix: Memorandum on Turkish Propaganda, by Major C.M. Phillips, DAAG, 10th Division, 21 June 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 49 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 12 June 1918, WO95/4581. 176 james e. kitchen

The 20th Corps’s staff issued a number of memoranda in May 1918 stressing the need to counter Turkish attempts to subvert the loyalties of their Indian troops. They perceived that the greatest threat was likely to come when sepoys were on leave or training courses in Egypt, or when employed as guards over Turkish prisoners of war. Intelligence officers at Suez, Ismailia, and Kantara had been instructed to look out for Turkish propaganda. It was also noted that the GOI was going to send out an officer of the CID to aid the Intelligence Branch of the EEF’s General Staff.50 In order to disabuse any wavering sepoys of ideas of desertion, the EEF’s military police toured front line divisions providing them with photographs showing the appalling conditions Indian prisoners of war were kept in by the Turks. The 10th Division’s war diary noted dryly that this was “the first case of propaganda having been distributed from behind.”51 The 20th Corps was, however, equally concerned that too much concentration on the potentiality for disloyalty among the Indian troops could be self-defeating, as it would lower the men’s morale. The Corps stressed to battalion commanders that care needed to be taken in these matters: The utmost discretion should be exercised in pursuing enquiries. Where it is considered advisable to enlist the assistance of selected Indian Officer and Other Ranks in detaching enemy propaganda, it should be made quite clear that prevention of the possible contamination of a few credulous individuals is aimed at, and that the loyalty of our Indian troops themselves is in no doubt whatever. Searching of the mails with a view to interception of seditious literature, where resorted to, should be done quite openly and the reasons stated.52 It was clear that if the sepoys became suspicious that a regular system of espionage was operating in their midst it could have as disastrous an impact as Turkish entreaties to them to desert. Great care was taken to placate Muslim opinion within the Indian battalions in the EEF by allowing the men to practise openly their faith. Leave parties were thus organized to Jerusalem to allow the sepoys to see the religious sites.53 In addition, after the end of hostilities

50 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, June 1918, Appendix 1: Memorandum by Major C.H. McCullum, DAAG, 20th Corps, 31 May 1918, WO95/4581. 51 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, 12 July 1918, WO95/4568, PRO, TNA. 52 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, June 1918, Appendix 1: Memorandum by Lieutenant-Colonel G.O. Turnbull, Acting AG, 20th Corps, 2 June 18. Turnbull’s underlining, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 53 War Diary of 2/101st Grenadiers, 12 June 1918, WO95/4586, PRO, TNA. palestine 177 small groups were taken from regiments to participate in the pilgrimage to Mecca.54 Some officers were concerned that not enough time was given over for leave to allow Muslim troops to visit important religious sites whilst they had the opportunity to do so.55 Considerable care was taken throughout the course of the campaign to make sure that mosques, shrines, and tombs were not unnecessarily damaged in the fighting. For example, once the 20th Corps had captured Nablus in September 1918, a strict prohibition was placed on troops entering the town, save for a guard on the Grand Mosque.56 The concerns over the loyalties of Muslim soldiers were largely unfounded. Most of the regimental commanders expected their men to do their duty. The 1/101st Grenadiers’ war diary noted that “from more or less tentative questions to Indian officers and others it is realized that the men are unlikely to be affected by enemy propaganda.”57 There were relatively few instances of unrest in the Indian Army during the First World War, although the mutinies of the 5th Light Infantry at Singapore in February 1915 and the 15th Cavalry in Mesopotamia in February 1916 did cause considerable concern.58 Although both instances contained elements of pan-Islamic rhetoric among the sepoys’ grievances, the outbreaks of indiscipline were “due more to bad management than to religious fanaticism or racial proclivities.”59 The EEF was fortunate to only suffer a total of 30 Indian desertions in 1918.60 When considered in relation to the size of the Indian Army’s contribution and the ease with which an individual could slip across to the Turks along the dispersed Palestine front, it is clear that the fears

54 War Diary of 2/151st Indian Infantry, 9 January 1919, WO95/4581; War Diary of 1st Kashmir Infantry, 9 January 1919, WO95/4584, PRO, TNA. 55 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 20 October 1918, WO95/4581. 56 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, September 1918, Appendix 36: ‘Report on Operations by the 10th Division 19–24 September 1918’, by Major-General J.R. Longley, GOC 10th Division, 17 October 1918, p. 9, WO95/4568. 57 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 11 June 1918, WO95/4581. 58 D. Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (Basingstoke: 1994), 140, 148–9. 59 Correspondence on Indian Cavalry, Minute to the Military Committee on the Employment of Pathans in Palestine, by Sir E.G. Barrow, 7 February 1918, L/ MIL/5/733. 60 Indian Prisoners of War, List C: Nominal Roll of Indian Prisoners of War, Suspected of Having Deserted to the Enemy or of Having Given Information to or Otherwise Assisted the Enemy After Capture (Revised to 24 October 1918), Egyptian Expeditionary Force, L/MIL/17/5/2403, IOR. 178 james e. kitchen surrounding Indianization and the use of Muslim troops against their co-religionists were unfounded.

Indianization at the Frontline

In order to analyze fully the process of Indianization it is necessary to examine how it operated at lower levels of organization within the EEF. It is important to consider the experiences of ordinary British soldiers and sepoys in a particular division, in this case 10th (Irish) Division, commanded by Major-General John Longley. This division had served at Gallipoli and at Salonica before transferring to Egypt in August 1917, and took a leading role during the Third Battle of Gaza during October–November 1917 and the subsequent fighting in the Judaean Hills. The first months of 1918 saw it engaged in a number of operations to consolidate the British positions north of Jerusalem. By the end of April the cumulative effects of 6 months of combat had severely depleted 10th Division’s rifle strength, with most battalions averaging around 500 officers and men, some being reduced to only 2 or 3 companies.61 It was therefore a logical decision to Indianize the 10th Division, as it was unable to maintain its strength without new Indian units. During May 1918, 6 Indian battalions were introduced, relieving 2 Irish battalions in each brigade. From 1 May, the division officially ceased to be known as an Irish formation.62 By the end of the month these new Indian battalions had taken over most of the division’s front line, with 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers being the only British unit left in the defences. The division ultimately consisted of 9 Indian battalions and 3 Irish battalions. In order to prevent the Indianization process impacting on the combat effectiveness of the division, the new Indian battalions were slowly integrated into the front line. For example, 74th Punjabis sent 2 of its companies to serve with the 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers in late May, to gain 2 days of experience and were followed by the battalion’s remain-

61 T. Johnstone, Orange, Green and Khaki: The Story of the Irish Regiments in the Great War, 1914–18 (Dublin: 1992), 337. 62 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, 2 and 25 May 1918, WO95/4567, PRO, TNA. palestine 179 ing companies.63 Similarly, 1/54th Sikhs sent one Indian officer and 12 other ranks each night to join patrols of the 6th Royal Irish Rifles, in order to learn the difficulties of such work in the division’s sector.64 In the 30th Brigade, the new Indian battalions were used to help construct strong points along the defences. This was in order to give them “every opportunity to become acquainted with the system of defence, detail of the line, ground in front, routine, trench duties.”65 The commanding officers of battalions also shared information, with the 5th Connaught Rangers commander travelling to interview the commander of 1/54th Sikhs prior to them taking over the line.66 This system of gradually introducing the sepoys to combat in Palestine allowed the division to utilize the experience accrued by the officers and men of its Irish battalions over 6 months of fighting in the region. This could be passed on to the Indian battalions, allowing them to integrate smoothly into the brigade and the divisional structures. In addition, it provided the 3 remaining British battalions with a chance to learn how they would operate alongside these new units. The 10th Division saw itself as a learning institution, constantly adapting to the shifting challenges encountered in war against the Turks. This ethos was propagated through a number of memoranda issued on recent operations. These would set out any problems encountered and which tactics or equipment had proved of particular value. The reports could also be highly scathing of failures in the conduct of operations by particular units. Major Cartwright, on the division’s general staff, was critical of troops who reported themselves as being held up by machine gun fire. He saw this simply as an excuse by indo- lent infantrymen who felt it was the job of the artillery to knock out enemy positions in order to allow the infantry to march in unopposed. The report stated that “it must be the aim and object of all ranks to carry that attack through with the utmost determination by use of L.[ewis] G[un]’s and most particularly the rifle and bayonet.”67 The intention

63 War Diary of 74th Punjabis, 28 May 1918, WO95/4586, PRO, TNA. 64 War Diary of 6th Royal Irish Rifles, 5 May 1918, WO95/4580, PRO, TNA. 65 War Diary of 30th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, May 1918, Appendix: Move Order to 1st Kashmir Infantry, by Major R. Bruce, Brigade Major, 30th Infantry Brigade, 3 May 1918, WO95/4582, PRO, TNA. 66 War Diary of 5th Connaught Rangers, 29 April 1918, WO95/4579, PRO, TNA. 67 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, April 1918, Appendix 17a: Memo- randum on Recent Operation, by Major J.R. Cartwright, General Staff 10th Division, 12 April 1918, WO95/4567, PRO, TNA. 180 james e. kitchen was to instil in the division an aggressive combat ethos, in which the infantry would lead the way in assaults on Turkish positions. These reports set down the division’s doctrine, which was enhanced by the schemes developed at brigade level. In the 31st Brigade, the Brigade Major, Captain Hickman, set out a detailed training programme. He insisted on the use of two texts to guide the education of the men: The Training and Employment of a Platoon, 1918 and Training and Employment of Divisions, 1918. The 10th Division was thus imbib- ing the latest tactical lessons from operations on the Western Front. Hickman pointed out that platoon and section commanders were to be taught to prepare for open warfare, and emphasized that “all training is to be carried out with a view to the offensive.”68 This perpetuated the aggressive ethos originating at divisional level. It was through practical field exercises that these doctrinal approaches were passed down to the sepoys. In late August 1918, 30th Brigade carried out a series of field maneuvers with 1st Royal Irish Regiment working closely alongside the 1st Kashmir Infantry. These practices were intended to prepare the men for forthcoming operations, and therefore involved learning how to move across country at night, how to work to a timetable, the use of visual and runner communications only, and the ability to keep in touch whilst in extended formations in the dark.69 There was also a desire to make training as realistic as possible. In order to prepare C and D Companies of the 2/101st Grenadiers for combat an artillery barrage was called down just in front of their sangars. This gave them a taste of what it would be like to be working in close proximity to bursting shellfire.70 Not all of the men’s training was quite so harrowing. In August, a competition was instituted amongst the battalions of the 20th Corps to find the best man at assembling a Lewis Gun whilst blindfolded.71 This encouraged a healthy sense of inter-unit rivalry, as well as developing the men’s weapon handling skills. This emphasis on constant refinement of the soldiers’ abilities found a receptive audience in many of the Indian battalions drafted in the

68 War Diary of 31st Infantry Brigade Headquarters, July 1918, Appendix 11, Mem- orandum on Training, by Captain Hickman, Brigade Major, 31st Infantry Brigade, 29 July 1918, WO95/4585, PRO, TNA. 69 War Diary of 1st Royal Irish Regiment, 27 August 1918, WO95/4583, PRO, TNA. 70 War Diary of 2/101st Grenadiers, 7 June 1918, WO95/4586, PRO, TNA. 71 War Diary of 1st Leinster Regiment, 26 August 1918, WO95/4579, PRO, TNA. palestine 181

10th Division. Prior to moving up to northern Palestine, 1/101st Grenadiers spent 5 days training at Gaza. Here they practiced basic infantry skills, such as musketry, company and battalion drill, and more sophisticated tactics, including artillery formations, and platoon and company assaults under the cover of Lewis Gun fire.72 This emphasis on the range of infantry skills persisted once battalions had joined the division. The 46th Punjabis constructed a detailed training regime during July 1918. Each day began with 30 minutes of physical training, followed by 3, one hour long classes in the morning and a further 2 classes in the afternoon. The subjects included squad drill, fire control and discipline, rapid loading, throwing of dummy bombs, and the judging of distances. In addition they were given lectures on the use of bombs, care of arms, and on the war in general.73 The training schemes developed by individual units continued the focus on infantry skills begun at divisional level through an intensive practical military education programme. Theoretical exercises were of little use to the men of 10th Division, both Indian and British, unless they could gain combat experience in order to further refine their military skills. One means of achieving this was through patrolling the area in front of the division’s line. In a memorandum on the principles of defence, the general staff reinforced their belief in an aggressive front policy. It stated that by night the troops should seek to gain mastery of no man’s land through ‘bold and constant patrolling’.74 This emphasis on challenging the Turks for control of the Judaean Hills on a daily basis was reinforced at brigade level. Captain Hickman emphasized in a memorandum on patrolling that constant touch should be kept with the enemy. If the Turks attacked then they were to be pushed back and pursued to their lines, in order to keep a watch on them and to gain positions of tactical importance. He noted that “by means of efficient patrolling it will be impossible for any attack by the enemy by day or night to come as a surprise.”75 By dominating no man’s land, the battalions would help to secure the brigade’s front, but would also learn how to

72 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 1–5 April 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 73 War Diary of 46th Punjabis, July 1918, Appendix 3: Training Programme for Week Ending 20 July 1918, WO95/4584, PRO, TNA. 74 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, June 1918, Appendix 3, Memorandum on General Principles of Defence, by the General Staff, 10th Division, 1 June 1918, WO95/4568, PRO, TNA. 75 War Diary of 31st Infantry Brigade Headquarters, June 1918, Appendix 15, 182 james e. kitchen defeat the Turks in combat. The British units of the division took the lead in instigating this aggressive ethos. A patrol of 2 officers and 16 other ranks from 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers was involved in attacking a Turkish post on Ghurabeh Ridge on 16 July 1918. The patrol skilfully avoided becoming engaged in a protracted fire fight with the Turkish defenders once they were discovered, and instead called down an artillery barrage on the position.76 This use of overwhelming force would have left the Turks in little doubt as to who controlled this particular stretch of front. The Indian battalions set out to emulate the standard of aggressive- ness laid out by the divisional and brigade staffs, and demonstrated by the British units that served alongside them. An observation party of 1/54th Sikhs sent to occupy Khirbet ed Deir in July found that the position was already held by a Turkish post. A short skirmish ensued in which the lance-naik in command was wounded and the patrol was forced back. Rather than allowing the Turks a minor victory a second patrol was sent out, this time consisting of a platoon, which used 2 sections to work round the Turk’s left flank and drive them off the hill.77 The battalion was thus challenging for the domination of no man’s land. Such encounters had a cumulative psychological effect on the Turks’ morale. In August, a 30 man strong patrol from 1st Kashmir Infantry ran into a force twice its size at Ain Naffa. A short fire fight ensued which culminated in the Kashmiris charging their opponents, who fled precipitately.78 A month later, when a company of 1/54th Sikhs raided Khirbet Keys, the Turks decamped before the sepoys could even reach them.79 Over the course of the summer the Indian infantry battalions had absorbed the division’s aggressive ethos and were in control of no-man’s-land. Critically these practical experiences of combat allowed the sepoys to develop a belief in their own professional military abilities. It was clear that they could defeat the Turks in small patrol encounters; all that remained was to refine and test their combat skills and morale in larger operations.

Memorandum on Patrolling, by Captain Hickman, Brigade Major, 31st Infantry Bri- gade, 30 June 1918, WO95/4585, PRO, TNA. 76 War Diary of 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers, 16 July 1918, WO95/4585. 77 War Diary of 1/54th Sikhs, 14 July 1918, WO95/4581. 78 War Diary of 1st Kashmir Infantry, 7 August 1918, WO95/4584. 79 War Diary of 1/54th Sikhs, 7 September 1918, WO95/4581. palestine 183

On the night of 12–13 August 1918, a month before the Battle of Megiddo, the 29th Brigade launched a large raid, involving 3 infantry battalions, on the Turkish defences along the 5,000 yard long El Burj– Ghurabeh Ridge, situated between Jerusalem and Nablus. The plan was based on a scheme developed by the 20th Corps’s general staff, with very little modification added at divisional level. Two columns of troops, each consisting of an Indian battalion would assault opposite ends of the ridge. Each attack would be followed up by 2 companies from a British battalion, which would turn inwards and assault into the Turkish defensive works.80 The defending force was estimated at around 800 rifles and 36 machine guns, drawn from the Turkish 33rd Regiment of the 11th Division, one of the better trained and more cohesive units of the Ottoman Army in Palestine.81 Preparations for the operation were meticulous and extensive, with 29th Brigade pulled out of the front line on 20 July to hone its skills. A training ground was built by the 72nd Sappers and Miners before 10th Division had even been allocated the mission, a task which had taken fatigue parties, numbering over 400 men, 4 days to complete.82 It consisted of a series of dummy works which were repeatedly assaulted in order ‘to get the men fit and handy tactically’.83 The divisional commander and his staff watched a number of rehearsals, which allowed different tactical approaches to be tested, not all of which proved successful.84 In order to familiarize the men with the actual ground over which they would be fighting, 2 cars and a lorry were given to the brigade to take officers and NCOs on reconnaissance visits to the front line.85 Although the plan for the operation was complex, after 3 weeks of

80 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, August 1918, Appendix 19, Full Report on the Operation Carried Out by 10th Division on the Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4568, PRO, TNA. 81 C. Falls, Military Operations Egypt and Palestine II: From June 1917 to the End of the War (London: 1930), 427. 82 War Diary of 29th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, August 1918, Appendix, Report on Raid Carried Out by the 29th Infantry Brigade on Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4578, PRO, TNA. 83 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, August 1918, Appendix 19, Full Report on the Operation Carried Out by 10th Division on the Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4568. 84 War Diary of 29th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, 1 August 1918, WO95/4578. 85 War Diary of 29th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, August 1918, Appendix 19, Full Report on the Operation Carried Out by 10th Division on the Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4578. 184 james e. kitchen training the men of 29th Brigade were confident in their abilities to carry it out precisely. Just before 10 PM on 12 August the division’s artillery shelled the Turkish defences in a short 15 minute barrage. Prior to this, the 2 assaulting Indian battalions, 1/54th Sikhs and 1/101st Grenadiers, had advanced to their deployment areas. As they moved up, a single gun on each flank fired shells at 15 second intervals in order to muffle the sound of the infantry. To disguise further the noise of the assaulting troops, the men were equipped with felt soled boots, which were “invaluable and contributed greatly to the success of the operation.”86 Further precautions were taken to mask the objective of the raid by having the 2/101st Grenadiers carry out a series of aggressive patrols on 11 August, in order to distract and confuse the Turks.87 The 1/54th Sikhs and 1/101st Grenadiers moved up close behind the barrage, and then pushed through the Turkish wire, either through gaps cut by the shells or by using double-jointed ladders designed to cross large defensive wire belts. The 1/101st Grenadiers found that it took them longer to deploy than in training, which led to criticism being voiced by the commander of the 1st Leinster’s left wing attack, who felt that the Indian battalion was ‘astonishingly slow’.88 The Grenadiers’ commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Roberts, argued that given the nature of the ground it would have been almost impossible for his men to have advanced any faster.89 Despite these delays, the 2 Indian battalions broke into the Turkish defences causing mayhem among the defenders. The 1st Leinsters followed behind mopping up any posts that had not been silenced before smashing into the flanks of the central defences along the ridge. The Turks put up a stout resistance, but wasted much of their attention on firing to their front, failing to take account of the brigade’s tactical dexterity, which had allowed them to attack the defences from the flanks. At midnight, the assault was

86 War Diary of 1st Leinster Regiment, August 1918, Appendix, 1st Battalion the Leinster Regiment, Report of Right Wing, by Captain T.D. Murray, Commanding the Right Wing, 1st Leinster Regiment, 13 August 1918, WO95/4579, PRO, TNA. 87 War Diary of 2/101st Grenadiers, 11 August 1918, WO95/4586, PRO, TNA. 88 War Diary of 1st Leinster Regiment, August 1918, Appendix, 1st Battalion the Leinster Regiment, Report of Right Wing, by Captain F.G. Cavendish, Commanding the Left Wing, 1st Leinster Regiment, 13 August 1918, WO95/4579, PRO, TNA. 89 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, August 1918, Appendix 6, Report on the 1/101st Grenadiers Raid on 12.8.1918, by Lieutenant-Colonel Roberts, Commanding Officer of 1/101st Grenadiers, 13 August 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. palestine 185 brought to a halt and the British and Indian infantry withdrew from the ridge in an orderly fashion. The divisional staff estimated that the raid had caused around 450 Turkish casualties, in addition to the 239 prisoners captured. The 29th Brigade also removed 13 machine guns and one automatic rifle from the ridge.90 The losses to the assaulting battalions had been relatively light given the confused and close quarter nature of much of the fighting in the dark. The 1/54th Sikhs and 1st Leinsters lost only 32 and 31 men respectively, the 1/101st Grenadiers suffered much worse with 82 casualties.91 The troops’ success elicited much praise from across the EEF’s higher echelons. Brigadier-General E.M. Morris, temporary commander of 10th Division, referred proudly in his report to how “the operations were carried out with great precision and without confusion in spite of the darkness and difficulties of terrain.”92 The head of the 20th Corps, Lieutenant-General Chetwode, was effusive in his praise of the battalions’ ‘gallantry and determination’, as well as the division’s excellent training arrangements.93 It was these detailed preparations that set the raid apart from other operations and proved crucial to its triumph. The division’s ethos of constant refinement prepared the sepoys and British troops to the highest degree possible for the operation they were to undertake. The 20th Corps’s intention with this scheme was to foster trust between the newly arrived Indian units and their British counterparts. Not only could they fight alongside the Irishmen of 1st Leinsters, but they could also operate within a brigade controlled plan. The El Burj–Ghurabeh raid “was, in essence, a graduation exercise in a cohesion building programme.”94 Crucially, it demonstrated

90 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, August 1918, Appendix 19, Full Report on the Operation Carried Out by 10th Division on the Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4568, PRO, TNA. 91 War Diary of 1/54th Sikhs, 12 August 1918, WO95/4581; War Diary of 1st Lein- ster Regiment, 13 August 1918, WO95/4579; War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, Sep- tember 1918, Appendix 2, Operations Report, by Lieutenant-Colonel W.B. Roberts, Commanding Officer of 1/101st Grenadiers, 22 September 1918, WO95/4581, PRO, TNA. 92 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, August 1918, Appendix 19, Full Report on the Operation Carried Out by 10th Division on the Night 12/13 August 1918, WO95/4568. 93 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, August 1918, Appendix 7: Message from Lieutenant-General Chetwode to 1/101st Grenadiers, 13 August 1918, WO95/4581. 94 A.N. Morris, Combat Studies Institute Report No. 10: Night Combat Operations (Fort Leavenworth: 1985), 26. 186 james e. kitchen that the Indian battalions were capable of taking part in large scale assaults. The night attack on 12–13 August was very similar to the attacks that the division would make just over a month later as part of the Battle of Megiddo which involved brigades operating as independent formations.

The Indianized 10th Division in Battle

The ultimate test of the sepoys came in September 1918 when Allenby decided to launch his assault on the Turkish defences. The 10th Division did not begin its attack on the enemy line until late on 19 September, after the 20th Corps had already decimated the Turkish formations to their left on the coastal plain. The initial assault was well planned and broke through the first line trenches. In many respects, this was merely a divisional rerun of 29th Brigade’s raid on the El Burj–Ghurabeh Ridge. As the division advanced on 20 September it ran into stiffer resistance based around the hills at Ras ed Dar, Iskara, and Haris. After heavy fighting the 31st and 29th brigades were able to outflank the Turks and continue their advance.95 It was the endurance of the sepoys that stood out during these operations, with many units marching and fighting continuously for 48 hours, with little additional food and water provided.96 Of the division’s battalions only 2/42nd Deolis faltered, on 20 September at Ras Aish. Here, the Turks mounted a tenacious defence which ground the Deolis’ assault to a halt. By midday, they were strung out along the hill and running short of ammunition. A further attack in the early afternoon ran into machine gun and artillery fire and failed to dislodge the Turks. However, the brigade commander, Brigadier-General Morris, was able to utilize his other battalions to assist the Deolis. The 74th Punjabis were brought up to reinforce their line and 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers were used to force the Turks out of Ras Aish.97 This action demonstrates the ability of the Indian and British battalions to cooperate within brigade operations in order to advance towards the overall objective. On 21 September,

95 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, September 1918, Appendix 36, Report on Operations by the 10th Division 19–24 September 1918, by Major-General J.R. Longley, GOC 10th Division, 17 October 1918, p. 6, WO95/4568. 96 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 21 September 1918, WO95/4581. 97 War Diary of 2/42nd Deolis, 20 September 1918, WO95/4586. palestine 187 the division pushed ahead as resistance to them began to crumble, and eventually reached the Balata Gorge north of Nablus, cutting off the Turkish Army’s final route of retreat towards the Jordan Valley. In two days of continuous fighting the division had covered over 20 miles of difficult country. Its casualties had been relatively light, with only 3 officers and 103 other ranks killed, and 17 officers and 683 other ranks wounded.98 The division’s achievements were all the more remarkable considering that for 6 of its Indian battalions this was essentially their baptism of fire in major operations.99 Lieutenant- General Chetwode was quick to thank his troops for their efforts. In a message to the 20th Corps, he drew particular attention to the work of 30th Brigade under Brigadier-General F.A. Greer, notably the way in which it had ignored the Turkish forces on its flanks in order to drive further northwards towards Nablus, thus maintaining the momentum of the EEF’s assault. He concluded by congratulating the newly formed Indian battalions on their fine work.100 Acclaim for the sepoys also came from George V, who placed their fighting qualities alongside those of the British infantry.101 The Indianized 10th Division by the end of September 1918 had fully demonstrated its combat capabilities. It was able to advance rapidly over difficult terrain and engage in a wide range of tactical scenarios, from which it emerged victorious. All of the 6 Indian divisions of the EEF performed to a similar high standard at Megiddo, opening up the way for the cavalry to complete the rout of the Turkish forces. The campaign in Palestine stands as one of the triumphs of the Indian Army.102 On the Plain of Sharon and in the Judaean Hills, the EEF’s Indian units had demonstrated considerable tactical flexibility and military professionalism. The battlefield abilities of the sepoys were put to best use by the system of Indianization that was introduced in 1917–18. By dropping Indian battalions into existing divisions within the EEF it was

98 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, September 1918, Appendix 36, Report on Operations by the 10th Division 19–24 September 1918, by Major-General J.R. Longley, GOC 10th Division, 17 October 1918, Appendix A, 10th Division Casualties—20 to 30 September 1918, WO95/4568. 99 War Diary of 1st Kashmir Infantry, 21 September 1918, WO95/4584, PRO, TNA. 100 War Diary of 10th Division General Staff, September 1918, Appendix 41, Message from Lieutenant-General Chetwode to 10th Division, 22 September 1918, WO95/4568. 101 Chetwode Papers, Message of Congratulations to All Ranks of the EEF, GHQ, 28 September 1918, PP/MCR/C1, IWM, London. 102 Younghusband, “Near East”, in Lucas (ed.), The Empire at War, vol. 5, 272. 188 james e. kitchen possible to retain a large amount of the organizational skills and practical combat experience that had been accrued by these formations over the course of their service in the Middle East. The divisional staffs were able to integrate rapidly the new units into their existing command structures. Within the 10th Division a system of conferences at divisional headquarters was in operation by March 1918. These were used to review recent operations and to learn from mistakes that had been committed.103 These meetings were used to pool knowledge within the division, in order to prevent tactical innovations remaining the preserve of individual battalions or brigades. A conference in May saw considerable disagreement over the defence scheme for the division’s sector of the front. The brigade commanders were therefore given the opportunity to prepare their own appreciations in writing. The divisional staff was more willing to listen to those with direct experience of the front line than to dictate doctrine to them. The brigade and divisional generals also took time to meet the officers of the new units that arrived in May–June 1918. Importantly, they spent much time with the Indian officers, a recognition of their central role at regimental level. These engagements were not just bland familiarization exercises. Brigadier-General Morris took the time to lecture the Indian officers of 74th Punjabis and 2/101st Grenadiers on the role of artillery cooperation.104 Lieutenant-General Chetwode followed a similar pattern of dropping in on parades to inspect the newly arrived Indian battalions. Lieutenant-Colonel Roberts felt such opportunities to meet the Corps commander were invaluable: They [the Indian officers] were much impressed by the bearing and quiet manner of the Corps Commander, and as they afterwards remarked the words he spoke were sincere, and for their good. This made them feel more than anything that British and Indian troops were fighting for a common cause, and goes once more to prove that the Indian soldier prefers sound advice to high flown flattering speeches.105 In the case of 10th Division, the integration of Indian battalions was aided by the command strengths of Major-General Longley and the staff that worked with him. Longley had assumed command of the

103 War Diary of 29th Infantry Brigade Headquarters, 15 March and 30 May 1918, WO95/4578, PRO, TNA. 104 War Diary of 31st Infantry Brigade Headquarters, 13 July 1918, WO95/4585, PRO, TNA. 105 War Diary of 1/101st Grenadiers, 5 May 1918, WO95/4581. palestine 189 division in late 1915 and many of the staff officers had also been changed at that stage.106 By the time the formation was being Indianized they had two and a half years of wartime experience, accumulated in Macedonia and Palestine. Longley was a very able divisional commander, considered by Allenby to be one of the best in the EEF; he felt the division had put up a very finished performance in the operations north of Jerusalem in late 1917. Crucially for Allenby, Longley was “a Commander who prepares with skill and thoroughness and exe- cutes with boldness and determination.”107 These were attributes that were demonstrated clearly during the summer and early autumn of 1918, most notably in the El Burj–Ghurabeh raid. The established and well organized command structures of 10th Division were therefore ideally suited to absorbing the Indian troops that they were given in 1918. Most importantly the division was able to filter down to these new battalions its aggressive and professional combat ethos. It was this which allowed the Indianized 10th Division to achieve battlefield success in September 1918.

Conclusion

Indianization imposed a considerable burden on the administrative systems of the EEF. It was, however, a structural reorganization that had been extensively and methodically planned. General Robertson’s intention in introducing the policy in late 1917 was to maintain and even enhance the strength of Allenby’s fighting forces, without having to make recourse to fresh drafts from Britain, which was facing accu- mulating manpower problems. The March 1918 German offensives altered the pace and scale of Indianization but did not determine the logic that lay behind it. As George Morton Jack has opined, in relation to the Indian Corps on the Western Front in 1914–15, the Indian Army during the First World War played the role for which it had been intended, that of an imperial manpower reserve.108 It was this role that, the Indian Army was to fulfil in Egypt and Palestine in 1917–18.

106 C. Falls, Military Operations Macedonia: From the Outbreak of War to the Spring of 1917 (London: 1933), 87. 107 Chetwode Papers, Letter from Allenby to Chetwode, 2 February 1918, PP/MCR/ C1, IWM. 108 G.M. Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–1915: A Portrait of Collaboration”, War in History, vol. 13 (2006), 361–2. 190 james e. kitchen

Within the EEF, Indianization caused a range of organizational difficulties, but at the front line the divisional and brigade structures proved perfectly capable of absorbing the newly arrived sepoys. The process of integration was greatly facilitated by the quiescent nature of the Turks by mid-1918. This provided space and time for the Indian infantry to be taught the intricacies of service in Palestine. By September 1918, the sepoys had assumed the professional military identity that pervaded the EEF’s divisions. The absorption of this ethos was expedited by the regimental structures and traditions of the Indian Army, which closely mirrored those of the British units which they were replacing.109 This allowed them to strike the fatal blow to the Turkish Army in the region in September. Megiddo thus stands alongside 14th Army’s Burma operations, in 1944–45, as evidence that the twentieth century British led Indian Army was capable of organizing, fighting, and winning a modern military campaign.110

109 K. Roy, “The Construction of Regiments in the Indian Army: 1859–1913”, War in History, vol. 8 (2001), 128. 110 See D.P. Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Cam- paign (London: 2003), 169–215; T. Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and British Commonwealth Armies at War, 1941–45: Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (London: 2005), 204–18; D.P. Marston, “A Force Transformed: The Indian Army and the Second World War”, in D.P. Marston and C.S. Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia: From the East India Company to the Nuclear Era (London: 2007), 117–20. CHAPTER SIX

INDIAN CAVALRY FROM THE FIRST WORLD WAR TILL THE THIRD AFGHAN WAR

Kaushik Roy

Introduction

Most of the histories of the First World War are Eurocentric in nature, giving scant attention to the non-European armies which fought outside West Europe. The few authors charting India’s military performance in the Great War consider the Indian Army as an obsolete machine led by hidebound officers. Due to deficiencies in training, equipment and doctrine, the Indian Army with its silladari cavalry and antiquated artillery was considered as a de-modernized military organization unfit for fighting a modern war.1 This interpretation is in line with the recent historiography of First World War which asserts that in 1917, modern warfare emerged in the battlefields of France. Modern warfare is characterized by the use of heavy artillery, aircraft and tanks with which the British, French and American armies fought in the Western Front. The techniques of modern warfare involve indirect artillery fire, and decentralized combined arms combat teams of infantry for advancing along the fire swept zone.2 Stephen Badsey in

1 Philip Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army, Its Officers and Men (Dehradun: 1988), 427–41; Charles Chenevix Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies: 1900–47 (London: 1988), 26–9; Lieutenant-General S.L. Menezes, Fidelity & Honour: The Indian Army from the Seventeenth to the Twenty-First Century (New Delhi: 1993), 241–62. Pradeep P. Barua in The State at War in South Asia (Lincoln/ London: 2005), 140, highlights the dated equipment of the Indian Army. Ron Wilcox in Battles on the Tigris: The Mesopotamian Campaign of the First World War (Barn- slesy, South Yorkshire: 2006), 225 asserts that the performance of Indian cavalry was poor and 1918 represented the swansong of cavalry operation in military history. 2 Gerard J. De Groot in “Educated Soldier or Cavalry Officer? Contradictions in the pre-1914 Career of Doulas Haig”, War & Society, vol. 4 (1986), 51–69 claims that cavalry might had a role against the poorly equipped savage forces which the British Army fought in the colonies. However, technological progress made cavalry an anachronism in the West European battlefields. Tim Travers inHow the War was Won: Command and Technology in the British Army on the Western Front 1917–18 (London: 1992) asserts that in 1918 the implementation of a mechanized strategy based on tanks and armoured cars supported by infantry was a possibility in France. Paddy Griffith asserts 192 kaushik roy his book and Gervase Phillips in an essay point out that in British and American writings, cavalry is equated with military conservatism and defeat. And cavalry leaders are considered as hidebound conservatives who decelerated the modernization and mechanization in the military organization.3 The above interpretation seems to be in tune with the observation of a British officer of an Indian Cavalry regiment who fought in France during 1914–15 as well as by the fact that fire gushing weapons were deployed in the Western Front. At a maximum rate, each rifleman could fire 15 to 20 rounds per minute. And a single belt fed Maxim Machine Gun could sweep an area upto 2,500 yards deep and 500 yards wide. For a machine gunner, firing a complete 250 round belt was possible each minute. Paddy Griffith explains that the delayed action high explosive shell could gouge and crater the ground, thus transforming a flat field into an uneven and treacherous moonscape which could seriously impede the cavalry’s progress across it. Further, the craters could be used as defensive positions by the defending infantry.4 As Captain Roly Grimshaw of the 34th Poona Horse lay wounded in a hospital, on 19 January 1915, he jotted down in his diary: Erskine Childers in his War et L’Arme Blanche not only foretold the absence of any collision on a large scale between the mounted belligerents, but practically foretold the futility of l’arme blanche. He was derided by all and everyone. His prophecy has been fulfilled tenfold. I believe that cavalry must become an extinct arm for warfare in civilized countries.5

that the techniques of modern warfare emerged in the Western Front when the BEF was reorganizing during 1915 and 1916. Griffith,Battle Tactics of the Western Front: The British Army’s Art of Attack, 1916–18 (New Haven & London: 1994), 11. Jonathan B.A. Bailey’s “The First World War and the Birth of Modern Warfare”, in MacGregor Knox and Williamson Murray (eds.), The Dynamics of Military Revolution: 1300–2050 (2001, reprint, Cambridge: 2003), 132–53 focuses on indirect fire by the artillery as the cardinal feature of modern warfare. Stephen Biddle in Military Power: Explaining Victory and Defeat in Modern Battle (Princeton: 2004) asserts that the core of modern warfare is modern system force employment which first emerged in France in 1918. See also Andrew N. Liaropoulos, “Revolutions in Warfare: Theoretical Paradigms and Historical Evidence—The Napoleonic and First World War Revolutions in Military Affairs”, Journal of Military History, vol. 70 (2006), 377. 3 Gervase Phillips, “Scapegoat Arm: Twentieth-Century Cavalry in Anglophone Historiography”, Journal of Military History, vol. 71 (2007), 37; Stephen Badsey, Doc- trine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918 (Aldershot: 2008), 306. 4 Griffith,Battle Tactics of the Western Front, 38, 43–4. 5 Indian Cavalry Officer 1914–15, Captain Roly Grimshaw (eds.), Col. J. Wakefield and Lieutenant-Colonel J.M. Weipert (Kent: 1986), 63. first world war till the third afghan war 193

It is to be noted that before the war, for 2 years Grimshaw was the instructor at the School of Cavalry and Equitation at Saugor.6 Similarly, the future Field-Marshal Lord Wavell with an eye on future warfare writing in 1928 in his book titled The Palestine Campaigns noted: It is, of course, quite obvious that a mechanized force has great advantages over cavalry in the matter of firepower and protection. Provided they could have been brought to the field of battle at the right time, there can be no question that armoured fighting vehicles could have achieved victory more surely and effectively than did the cavalry. The issue could not have hung so long in the balance either at Magdhaba, or at Rafa or at Beersheba, had even a few tanks available, or had mechanization enabled heavier weapons than the 13-pdr. to support the mounted troops. Nor would a mechanized force have been so checked and disorganized by the lack of water in the pursuit subsequent to the Gaza.7 However, taking into account the problems of maneuvering and supplying the mechanized forces in the desert of Sinai and mountainous region of Jordan, Wavell in a more modest tone continues: “In the particular campaigns under review a combination of cavalry and mechanized forces would have indeed been formidable.”8 This chapter argues that it is ahistorical to analyze the evolution of armies and warfare by using universal concepts like modern warfare, etc. There cannot be any universal yardstick for assessing the force structure and combat effectiveness of the different armies at a particular moment of time in history. Different armies had to perform different types of strategic-operational tasks in varying terrain. So, the force structure needs to be different. What appears as modern for a particular army fighting in a particular terrain might appear as useless to an army geared for a different task in a different ecological set up. So, rather than gross generalizations, analysis must be context specific and situational. In a recent piece, Jean Bou has shown that in Palestine, the Australian Light Horse found out that instead of rifle, sword and lance were more effective. Bou concludes that not merely firepower but also shock action

6 Indian Cavalry Officer 1914–15, 9. 7 Field-Marshal Lord Wavell, The Palestine Campaigns (1928, reprint, Bombay: 1950), 237. 8 Wavell, Palestine Campaigns, 240. 194 kaushik roy still had great value towards the end of First World War.9 This essay argues that cavalry played a very important role in the extra-European theatres during and after the Great War. And the techniques learnt by cavalry during the Great War were used with great effect in the military operations of the post-war era. The Indian Army is used as a foil for proving this assertion. This essay concentrates on Mesopotamia because it was the principal theatre for the Indian Army during First World War. Indian Cavalry also played an important role in France and Palestine, but the operation of Indian cavalry in these two regions is discussed in details in David Kenyon, Dennis Showalter and James E. Kitchen’s essays in this volume. The largest number of the Indian Army’s units fought in Mesopotamia and the war in this region was also run mostly by the C-in-CI and the viceroy at least till January 1916.10 Further, the techniques learnt by the Indian Army’s cavalry in Mesopotamia were put to good use in Afghanistan during 1919.11

Indian Cavalry Before the First World War

Between 1902 and 1914, the ‘fire versus shock’ debate occurred within the cavalry establishment of the British Army. Lord Roberts (C-in-C of the British Army from 1900 to 1904) in 1903 forced the adoption of rifle as the principal weapon of the cavalry, at the cost of the lance and the sword. The ‘shock action’ lobby led by John French and Douglas Haig fought back arguing that the Russian cavalry trained as mounted infantry fought badly during the Russo-Japanese war (1904–5). In 1909, the lancer regiments were allowed to carry lance. Nikolas Gardner writes that the 1912 edition of Cavalry Training which remained unchanged till 1914 was a compromise between the extreme views of the shock and firepower schools.12 Badsey claims that till the advent of armoured

9 Jean Bou, “Cavalry, Firepower, and Swords: The Australian Light Horse and the Tactical Lessons of Cavalry Operations in Palestine, 1916–18”, Journal of Military His- tory, vol. 71 (2007), 100. 10 Douglas Goold, “Lord Hardinge and the Mesopotamian Expedition and Inquiry, 1914–17”, Historical Journal, vol. 19 (1976), 938–9. 11 Brian Robson in Crisis on the Frontier: The Third Afghan War and the Campaign in Waziristan 1919–20 (Staplehurst: 2004), 261 implies that there was no tactical and operational linkages between the Mesopotamian Operation and the Third Afghan War. 12 Nikolas Gardner, “Command and Control in the ‘Great Retreat’ of 1914: The Disintegration of the British Cavalry Divisions”, Journal of Military History, vol. 63 (1999), 31, 33. first world war till the third afghan war 195 vehicles with cross-country capability which did not occur some years after First World War, the British doctrine regarding cavalry was quite good.13 Badsey continues that by 1908, only the British Empire among the major powers of Europe had cavalry armed with an infantry rifle rather than a short carbine. In addition, the British cavalry’s tactical doctrine was based on dismounted firepower and on synchronizing a mounted charge with flanking or supporting fire. John French and Douglas Haig advocated the use of machine guns and artillery as support for the cavalry. The creation of a ‘hybrid’ cavalry proficient with both arme blanche (literal meaning cold steel, the term refers to steel weapons: cavalry sword and lance) when mounted and the firearm when dismounted, became the norm.14 Phillips asserts that the idea of supporting shock action by the cavalry with machine guns positioned on the flank of an attacking line was propagated in the British tactical manuals in the 1890s and was used with great effect in Palestine in 1918.15 We will see that the Indian cavalry also developed such techniques somewhat independently in Mesopotamia from 1917 onwards. Haig was also Chief of Staff in India from 1910 to 1912.16 What effect Haig’s ideas of cavalry warfare had on the Indian Army is yet to be studied. There were some structural flaws in the Indian Army. The Indian cavalry regiments were organized on the silladari principle. Under the silladari principle, each trooper while joining the regiment had to provide a substantial sum known as assami. In return for this sum, the government provided him with horse, clothing and equipment. If the horse was lost in action, the regimental fund advanced a loan to the silladar for buying a new horse. When the trooper was discharged, the government returned the assami to him.17 In accordance with this system, the regiments were responsible for the pastures and breeding of their horses. So, the cavaliers had to spend lot of time in these duties. Mobilization was difficult for thesilladari cavalry. Each regiment had

13 Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918, 303. 14 Stephen Badsey, “The Boer War (1899–1902) and British Cavalry Doctrine: A Re-Evaluation”, Journal of Military History, vol. 71 (2007), 76–7, 85; Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918, 27. 15 Phillips, “Scapegoat Arm: Twentieth-Century Cavalry in Anglophone Histori- ography”, 41. 16 George Morton Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–15: A Portrait of Collaboration”, War in History, vol. 13 (2006), 333. 17 The Army in India and its Evolution including an Account of the establishment of the Royal Air Force in India (n.d., reprint, Delhi: 1985), 91–3. 196 kaushik roy to provide expense for its own transport, tents, saddlery, clothing and equipment (except rifles, revolvers, ammunition and signaling equipment). As regards equipment, the lance shafts were bought from Ludhiana and the saddlery from a firm in Birmingham. The complete lance with heads was available from the ordnance stores. The regimental armourer and the regimental blacksmiths prepared the spurs, etc. Nothing could be drawn from the depots and the arsenals. Some of the equipment held by the regiments had to be replaced at short notice as they were not fit for prolonged overseas service. In addition, each regiment had to form and leave behind a regimental depot to take charge of training the recruits, enrollment of fresh recruits, procuring and training of remounts, etc.18 Colonel C.S. Wheler of the 6th Prince of Wales’ Cavalry in 1904 noted the problems faced by Indian Cavalry even while conducting a limited war across the Indus frontier. The strength of an Indian cavalry regiment was 500 which meant that the effective fighting strength of each squadron was 4 field troops of 20 (12 front rank and 8 rear) each. This number was inadequate for performing duties as advance guards, outposts, etc. So, the strength of each regiment, argued Wheler, should be raised to 750 men. A regiment comprising of 4 squadrons should have a depot for replenishing the loss of men and horses in the squadrons engaged in combat. The depot should comprise of 3 Indian officers, 12 non-commissioned officers and 127 rank and file. The depot should take charge of training the recruits and their mounts. The regiment would proceed on active service with 11 British officers, 16 VCOs and 592 rank and file. Each of the 4 squadrons should comprise of 2 British officers, 4 VCOs, 4 kote dufadar, 12 dufadar and 132 rank and files. The only problem with this reform scheme was that it would cause the government more money due to employment of extra sowars, syces and horses.19 Just before the outbreak of the Great War, there were 36 silladari regiments and 3 non-silladari regiments. Each Indian cavalry regiment (both silladari and non-silladari) comprised of 620 Indians and 14 British officers. Each regiment was divided into 4 squadrons. The

18 Major-General Grucharn Singh Sandhu, The Indian Cavalry: History of the Indian Armoured Corps, vol. 1 (Delhi: 1981), 292–3; Major-General S. Shahid Hamid, So they Rode and Fought (Kent: 1983), 39. 19 Colonel C.S. Wheler, “Schemes for the Reorganization of Native Cavalry Regi- ments”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. 33 (1904), 149–56. first world war till the third afghan war 197

VCOs were mostly promoted from the ranks and were quite old. A lucky sowar with good record became dufadar at the age of 40 and resaldar at 60.20 Further, they were mostly illiterate. Each cavalry regiment comprised of 17 VCOs. The highest ranking VCO was the resaldar-major who was trained to command a troop. Below him were 3 resaldars, 4 resaidars and 9 jemadars.21 The university educated middle class Indians were not allowed entry into the commissioned officers corps for political reasons. Hence, only the British officers were capable of leading bigger formations. And once they became casualties, the Indian units lost bearings. The strength of the cavalry in British-Indian Army comprised of 560 British officers and 24,476 Indians. The princely states maintained 7,673 cavalry for imperial service. The reserve force of the Indian Army was very small and comprised of 1,546 cavaliers and 40 reserve British officers.22 An Indian Army Reserve Officer had to provide himself with one charger. A second charger was allowed to him as a free loan by the government. If the reserve officer failed to provide himself with a charger, the government allowed him to hire a charger at the rate of Rs 12 Anna 8 per mensem and also provided him with a free loan for a second charger. An officer of the Indian Cavalry on joining had to provide himself with 2 chargers, neither of which he could obtain on loan. The government instead gave him a grant of Rs 500.23 Generally, wealthy landowners and tribal chiefs with their retainers joined the cavalry. In total, there were 31 British regular regiments.24 Of them, 9 British cavalry regiments were in India, each with an establishment of 27 officers and 598 troopers.25 The cavalry establishment of the Indian Army was quite small compared to the cavalry force maintained by the great powers. For instance, in 1914, the Czarist Army had 40 cavalry divisions with 300,000 sabres.26

20 Hamid, So they Rode and Fought, 32. 21 F.J. Moberly, The Campaign in Mesopotamia: 1914–18, vol. 1 (London: 1923), 63. 22 S.D. Pradhan, “Organization of the Indian Army on the eve of the outbreak of the First World War”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. 102 (1972), 67–8, 75–7; Moberly, Campaign in Mesopotamia, 63. 23 Letter from AG in India to the Deputy AG, GHQ, 3rd Echelon, Indian Section, Rouen, 31 Dec. 1915, War Diary, WWI/176/H, NAI, New Delhi. 24 Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918, 5. 25 The Army in India and its Evolution, 61. 26 Norman Davies, White Eagle, Red Star: The Polish-Soviet War 1919–20 and the ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ (1972, reprint, London: 2003), 120. 198 kaushik roy

Not only was the Indian Army incapable of fighting an attritional warfare, the regimental officers also lacked knowledge regarding cooperation with the other arms.27 To be fair to the military organization of British-India, one must note that prior to 1914, the generals of Europe were under the illusion that a war should be short.28 Besides number; doctrine, training and equipments of the Indian cavalry were also questionable. Badsey claims that British cavalry enjoyed certain advantages over the French and German cavalry. The advantages were better horsemanship, the doctrine and training the British received in pre-1914 days about the necessity to fight dismounted when required and the superiority of Lee-Enfield rifles over the French and German carbines.29 Partly as a reaction to the Boer War (1899–1902), the British horse artillery was equipped with 13-pounders.30 Colonel E.B. Maunsell writing in the decade after First World War asserted that the combat effectiveness of the Indian cavalry before 1914 was inferior to the cavalry regiments of the British Army. This was due to several reasons. Unfit officers were retained in the Indian cavalry regiments. Again, the officers’ mind was clouded by the demands of ‘small war’ and they had not contemplated fighting a big war with the European armies. Neither the British officers nor the VCOs were proficient in map reading. The level and quantum of training in the Indian cavalry regiments were insufficient. Long leaves given to the sowars prevented them from conducting large scale training maneuvers for a long period. At best, the sowars’ did an hour’s squadron drill daily and they were bad at fieldwork. The plus point of the Indian cavaliers was in their superior horsemanship and horsemastership.31 The horses were taught to jump hedges, cross ditches, walls and other obstacles.32 The British officers of the Indian cavalry regiments believed that pig sticking and polo honed the cavalry’s combat skills.33 The Indian

27 Edwin Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia 1914–18, Part II”, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. LXXII (1994), 168–9, 172–3. 28 Liaropoulos, “Revolutions in Warfare: Theoretical Paradigms and Historical Evidence—The Napoleonic and First World War Revolutions in Military Affairs”, 378. 29 Badsey, Doctrine and Reform in the British Cavalry: 1880–1918, 246–7. 30 Edward M. Spiers, “Between the South African War and the First World War, 1902–14”, in Hew Strachan (ed.), Big Wars and Small Wars: The British Army and the Lessons of War in the 20th Century (Oxon: 2006), 23. 31 E.B. Maunsell, Prince of Wales’s Own, The Scinde Horse: 1839–1922 (1926, reprint, Uckfield, East Sussex: 2005), 42–5. 32 Hamid, So they Rode and Fought, 36. 33 Major F.C.C. Yeats-Brown, The Star and Crescent: Being the Story of the 17th Cavalry from 1858 to 1922 (n.d., reprint, Uckfield, n.d.), 105, 108. first world war till the third afghan war 199 cavalry was suited for reconnaissance, outpost duties, foraging, screening and raiding operations.34 In 1904, one Major R.G. Burton of the Indian Army asserted that since the Indian cavalry was suited for Cossack like duties, the Indian cavalry must be honed in Cossack tactics. For him, Cossack tactics involved attacking by galloping round and harassing the enemy’s heavy cavalry and conducting tactical retreat.35 This does not mean that the Indian Army officers were hidebound and neglected the importance of integrating firepower with horse. The Indian Army had just started the process of adding Vickers Machine Guns to the cavalry units.36 Compared to the .303-inch Maxim Machine Gun, the .303-inch Vickers Machine Gun manufactured of steel was 30 pounds lighter and all the component parts were interchangeable.37 However, even in 1916, all the units did not get Vickers Machine Guns. One of the principal duties of the Indian Army was to hold British- India against the Indians. The population of the subcontinent numbered to 350 millions. The officers of the Indian Army valued cavalry as a mobile force to be used for quelling internal disorders. Another task of the Indian Army was to check the incursions of the tribal groups along the Indus River. Occasionally, the Indian Army launched ‘butcher and bolt’ expeditions against the tribals. The GOI estimated that about 85,000 tribals along the Indus were equipped with modern rifles. The British officers of the Indian Army believed that cavalry charge had a great moral effect on the ‘uncivilized’ tribes along the Indus Frontier.38 Finally, the Indian Army had to function as the first line of defence in case of a Russian sponsored Afghan invasion along the north-western passes of India. The Indian Army was designed to hold out till British reinforcements from overseas came to stiffen it up.39 The Indian Army was neither equipped nor trained to fight a European power or to launch even a limited overseas expedition against a second class military power like Turkey. However, when the Indian Army was forced to engage in such projects in the initial years of the Great War, it muddled through. But, towards the end of the

34 G.J. Younghusband, Indian Frontier Warfare (n.d., reprint, Delhi: 1985), 182–3. 35 Major R.G. Burton, “Cossack and Sowar”, Journal of the United Service Institu- tion of India, vol. 33 (1904), 131, 138. 36 G.N. Molesworth, Curfew on Olympus (Bombay: 1965), 13. 37 List of Changes in the War Materials, DGO, no. 3438, 1916, pp. 121–2, India, L/ MIL/17/5/2103, IOR, BL, London. 38 Younghusband, Indian Frontier Warfare, 176, 196. 39 Moberly, Campaign in Mesopotamia, 61; Molesworth, Curfew on Olympus, 10, 12–3. 200 kaushik roy war, the Indian Army registered a high learning curve, a phenomenon missed by the historians of the British-Indian military.

Indian Cavalry in France: 1914–18

The GOI send cavalry to France in ships which started from Bombay and moved through Suez into the Mediterranean and then reached Marseilles. Due to the sea voyage, about 30% of the horses suffered from tender feet.40 Most regiments embarked with the men in tropical clothing although some regiments did issue a flannel shirt and a warm jersey or warm serge clothing to each personnel. In 1914, 14 Indian cavalry regiments went to France. There were 2 regiments in each cavalry brigade. The 6 cavalry brigades were organized in 2 cavalry divisions. And the 2 infantry divisions had one cavalry regiment each as divisional reconnaissance regiments. The cavalry brigades were 2nd Sialkot Cavalry Brigade, 3rd Ambala Cavalry Brigade, 4th Lucknow Cavalry Brigade, 5th Mhow Cavalry Brigade, 7th Meerut Cavalry Brigade and 9th Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade. The two infantry divisions were the 3rd Lahore and the 7th Meerut.41 The Indian cavalrymen could not read European maps.42 In France, frequently the cavalrymen had to function as infantry. On 29 October 1914, Captain Grimshaw, Commandant of the 34th Poona Horse (in the 9th Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade) noted in his diary: Took my squadron out again. We are now armed with bayonets; in fact, what with the bayonets, wire cutters, etc. one simply bristles like the por- cupine. I suppose those in the high places imagine that, by thrusting a bayonet into one hand and spade into the other, one becomes the complete infantryman. I have always advocated the bayonet.43 The issue of bayonets to the sowars was a shock as they were not familiar with bayonet training and the bayonets did not fit in their rifles.44 On 2 November 1914, the regiment was ordered to dig support trenches. The Poona Horse was bloodied in the First Battle of

40 Diary entry 14 Nov. 1915, Appendix 5, War Diary, WWI/176/H. 41 Sandhu, Indian Cavalry, 291–3. 42 Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–15: A Portrait of Collabora- tion”, 338. 43 Indian Cavalry Officer 1914–15, 27. 44 Sandhu, Indian Cavalry, 294. first world war till the third afghan war 201

Ypres. Three squadrons went in support of the 2nd Gurkhas, who were deployed west of Neuve Chapelle.45 At the Second Battle of Somme in July 1916, the Secunderabad Brigade (under General C. Gregory) of the 5th Cavalry Division managed to push through a small gap in the line near Baizintin-le-Grand and High Wood. The 7th Dragoon Guards and 20th Deccan Horse speared a few Germans in the cornfields and captured some machine guns. When held up, they dug in and held on until relieved by infantry in the early hours of the following morning. During the battles near Arras in early 1917, the 3rd Cavalry Division in bitter weather trot- ted through the infantry, seized and occupied the advanced position of Monchy le peux, which they held under an intense bombardment until relieved.46

Table 6:1: Strength of Indian Cavalry in France During January 1916 Unit VCOs Rank and File 2nd Lancers 20 638 3rd Horse 18 615 6th Cavalry 19 643 9th Horse 20 628 18th Lancers 21 578 19th Lancers 19 630 20th Horse 17 630 29th Lancers 17 620 30th Lancers 21 668 34th Horse 20 619 36th Horse 18 627 38th Horse 21 624 Jodhpur Lancers* 28 564 Cavalry Corps Signal Squadron 40

* A unit from the Imperial States Force Source: Telegram from Deputy AG, Indian Section, Rouen to the War Section Army HQ, Delhi, 3 Jan. 1916, Appendix 9, War Diary, IEFA, WWI/176/H, NAI, New Delhi.

45 Indian Cavalry Officer 1914–15, 30, 32. 46 Regimental Commander, “Possibilities of Cavalry”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. XLIX (1920), 308. 202 kaushik roy

Indian Cavalry in Mesopotamia: 1914–18

Military operations to a great extent depend on the terrain. Mesopo- tamia is the region between Baghdad, Southern Arabistan, the head of Persian Gulf and the region around Euphrates, Tigris and Karun rivers. Above Kut, there was a caravan road to Baghdad. The river valleys are a flat plain of alluvial clay unbroken by hills. The distance between Baghdad and the Persian Gulf is about 500 miles and the region is little more than 100 feet above the sea level. Superficially, it seems that Mesopotamia was suited for large scale cavalry operations. However, several physical features reduced the operational mobility of cavalry. The region between Tigris and Euphrates was a vast plain intersected with swamps and without any roads. Beyond the river valleys was the featureless desert (treeless, stoneless and waterless) with occasional marshes. The marshes were created when the rivers were flooded due to melting of snows in the mountain peaks. Some palm trees were found along the banks of the rivers. In many places, the ground was cut up by irrigation channels and earthworks (bunds) which obstructed mobility by wheeled vehicles and also reduced the speed of cavalry. A few hours rain turned the region into a sort of greasy muddy quagmire. The soil being sandy loam under rainfall was converted into tenacious mud. Between May and October, the tem- perature rises to 134 degree Fahrenheit. Between November and April, the weather is cool. Overall, rain and mud during the winter, floods during the spring and heat during the summer functioned as brakes as regards military operations.47 On 6 November 1914, units of the Indian Army under Brigadier- General W.S. Delamain captured the Fao Port.48 On 21 November, Basra was occupied by the British-Indian troops.49 On 7 March 1915, there were 6 cavalry squadrons at Shaiba, 3.5 squadrons at Basra and

47 R. Evans, A Brief Outline of the Campaign in Mesopotamia: 1914–18 (1926, reprint, London: 1935), 6–8, 13; Mesopotamia Commission Report of the Commission appointed by Act of Parliament to enquire into the Operations of War in Mesopotamia together with a Separate Report by Commander J. Wedgwood and Appendices (London: 1917), p. 9. 48 The Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force 1914–18, Force D, War Diary, p. 1, WWI/1438/H, NAI, New Delhi. 49 M.Y. Effendi,Punjab Cavalry: Evolution, Role, Organization and Tactical Doc- trine 11 Cavalry (Frontier Force) 1849–1971 (Karachi: 2007), 41. first world war till the third afghan war 203 half a squadron at Ahwaz (in Persia).50 Gradually, the IEFD’s size in Mesopotamia expanded. On 9 April 1915, General John Nixon landed at Basra and took command of the 2nd Indian Army Corps51 and Major-General C.V.F. Townshend commanded the 6th Indian Division. In April 1915, the 2nd Indian Army Corps’ cavalry component comprised of the 6th Cavalry Brigade, 2 squadrons as divisional troops of the 6th Poona Division and another 2 squadrons as divisional troops of the 12th Indian Division.52 In mid August 1915, Turkish cavalry was seen hovering within 8 miles of Ali Gharbi. On 17 August 1915, at Nasiriya, the Turks disposed off the 35th Division (3 regiments and 1 battalion), 2 cavalry troops and 17 guns. The 38th Division was at Kut and the 37th Division was between Baghdad and Kut.53 Sporadic and dispersed small scale cavalry encounters characterized the Mesopotamian expedition. On 4 September 1915, 400 Turkish cavalry met 2 troops of the 7th Lancers escorting a telegraph party at Michriyah Canal on the right bank of Tigris, 7 miles up the stream of Ali Gharbi. The Turkish cavalry retired after an engagement which lasted for 2 hours. In this action, 5 Turkish cavaliers were wounded and only one mount of the 7th Lancer was wounded. On 7 September, a reconnaissance by a force consisting of one section Royal Field Artillery, 2 squadrons of 7th Lancers and one Indian infantry battalion from Ali Gharbi met 700 Turkish cavalry. The composite detachment defeated and pursued the Turkish cavalry. While the 7th Lancers lost 1 cavalier and 1 horse, the Turks lost 12 cavaliers.54 Whatever may be the view of Maunsell, the Indian cavalry was upto the mark as far as Turkish cavalry was concerned. In fact, the Anatolian horse was considered too small.55 In contrast, most of the Indian cavalry regiments had Australian Waler remounts.56 And the combined tactics of using infantry, cavalry and artillery which first emerged among the small detachments, as we will see, was later used with great effect in the big

50 Moberly, Campaign in Mesopotamia, 189. 51 Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force 1914–18, Force D, War Diary, p. 1. 52 Evans, A Brief Outline of the Campaign in Mesopotamia, 30, 34, Appendix A. 53 Telegrams from GOC Force D to the CGS, 15 Aug. & 17 Aug. 1915, Foreign and Political Department Notes (henceforth FPDN), NAI. 54 Telegrams from the GOC Force D to the CGS, 5 Sept. & 8 Sept. 1915, FPDN. 55 Hew Strachan, The First World War, vol. 1, To Arms (Oxford: 2001), 683. 56 Hamid, So they Rode and Fought, 39–40. 204 kaushik roy battles during 1917. On 9 September 1915, about 700 Turkish cavalry with 400 infantry, 2 field guns and 2 machine guns moved within 8 miles of Ali Gharbi.57 Townshend moved north of Amara and won a victory against the Turks at Kut on 28 September 1915. Early in the morning of 29 September, the cavalry pursued the defeated Turkish force. The tired infantry brigade joined the pursuit next day.58 On 11 November 1915, Townshend started his advance from Kut towards Ctesiphon. However, on 21 November, Townshend was checked at Lajj by resolute Turkish defence. Townshend’s plan of capturing Baghdad was no more possible. Townshend decided to hold Kut.59 During a siege, cavalry was not of much importance for the force which was besieged. On 6 December, the cavalry brigade left Kut and on 7 December, Turkish investment of the place was complete. On 20 December, Townshend had only 227 cavalry at Kut.60 On 21 December 1915, the relief force (from March 1916 known as the 3rd Tigris Corps) was organized at Ali Gharbi. The cavalry component comprised of 16th Cavalry (less 2 squadrons) as part of the 7th (Meerut Division) under Major-General G.J. Younghusband and one squadron of 16th Cavalry as part of the 3rd Division under Major-General G.V. Kemball. The cavalry brigade of Brigadier-General Roberts comprised of 14th Hussars, 4th Cavalry, 7th Lancers and 33rd Cavalry. The cavalry brigade’s ammunition column included a horse artillery section for protection.61 Lieutenant-General Fenton Aylmer’s relief force comprised of 16,000 infantry, 1,500 cavalry and 46 guns.62 In addition to combat the Turks near Kut, Nixon had also other tasks in hand. The Turks maintained large number of allied Arab cavalry which continuously threatened the pipeline, military bases, lines of commu-

57 Telegram from GOC Force D to the CGS, 10 Sept. 1915, FPDN. 58 Telegram from Nixon to the Secy. to the GOI, 29 Sept. 1915, FPDN. 59 Effendi,Punjab Cavalry, 42–3. 60 War Diary of the Tigris Corps, General Staff Operations, 9 Dec. 1915 to 31 Dec. 1915, Appendix XLVI, 21 Dec. 1915, WWI/521/H, NAI; Mesopotamia Commission Report, p. 30. 61 War Diary of the Tigris Corps, Appendix 34, Note on Reorganization of Relief Force, 21 Dec. 1915, pp. 41–3. 62 Field-Marshal Lord Carver, The National Army Museum Book of the Turkish Front 1914–18: The Campaigns at Gallipoli, in Mesopotamia and in Palestine (2003, reprint, Basingstoke and Oxford: 2004), 136; Notes from the War Diaries, Part CVI, Force D, General Staff, Army HQ India, July 1916, p. 3, WWI/1460/H, NAI. first world war till the third afghan war 205 nications as well as the flanks of the units moving towards the battle zone. During August 1915, Nixon in order to strengthen Townshend’s force, was anxious to withdraw the 6 and ½ squadrons and one horse artillery battery which were deployed at Ahwaz for protecting the Anglo-Persian Oil Company’s pipeline. However, GHQ Simla was afraid that the Bavis and Bakhtiaris tribes might attack the pipeline if Nixon removed the force from Ahwaz. On 19 August 1915, rather than receiving any further reinforcements, Nixon was forced to give up 110 chargers to the naval officer at Bushire. On 23 August 1915, Nixon was ordered to send 2 squadrons of cavalry to Bistan on the left bank of Gargar opposite Azafeh to deter raiders from crossing from the right bank and to infuse confidence to the oil company.63 On 28 August, Nixon informed the GOI: The mischievous activities of certain sections of the Albu Muhammad Tribe have been checked. . . . Two small raids have been made recently at Abgunjik against the Oil Company property. . . . The raiders were Anafijah Arabs from the right bank of the Ab-i Gargar River.64 On the morning of 20 September 1915, near Amara, a cavalry patrol of the 7th Lancers encountered a party of Arabs and in the ensuing action, the former lost 2 killed and 2 wounded. On 27 September 1915, the Turkish and Arab cavalry conducted raids in the same region to destroy the telegraphic communication.65 Instead of reinforcing Townshend when he moved north towards Kut, Nixon had to detach cavalry from the main battle front to counter the raids by Arab irregular cavalry. On 28 December 1915, as the relieving force advanced towards Shaikh Saad, it encountered numerous irregular Arabs.66 Edmund Candler writes: “The mobility of the Arab cavalry, who ride light and are unsparing of their horses, is something beyond experience.”67 As regards the tactics of irregular Arab cavalry, they always surrounded a

63 From the secy. to the GOI, Army Department, to the Senior Naval Officer, Per- sian Gulf, Bushire, 19 Aug. 1915, Reports by the GOC Force D, on the Military Situ- ation at Bushire and Mesopotamia, From the CGS to GOC Force D, 9 Aug. 1915, Telegram from the GOC Force D, no. 303, 31 Aug. 1915, From Lieutenant-Colonel Percy Cox to the secy. to the GOI in the Foreign and Political Department, 23 Aug. 1915, FPDN. 64 From John E. Nixon to the Secy. to the GOI, 28 Aug. 1915, FPDN. 65 Telegram from GOC Force D to CGS, 20 Sept. & 27 September 1915, FPDN. 66 Edmund Candler, The Long Road to Baghdad, 2 vols. (London: 1919), vol. 1, 43–4. 67 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 111. 206 kaushik roy smaller force, shot at the horses and then closed in. The Arab cavalry never waited for a charge by British and Indian cavalry units equipped with lance but melted away. And they were formidable especially when they were retiring and led the pursuit force into ambuscades.68 Candler notes: Our chargers are handicapped with their six stone of accoutrement, rifle and sword and ammunition, water bottle, cloak, two blankets, emergency rations, a day’s grain for the horse, and generally a heavier man to carry. The Arab horseman has his bags of dates, a small ration of grain for his horse. . . . Their horses look thin and poor, but are hard and well fed.69 The British cavalry units faced the same problems against the light ponies of the Marathas during the three Anglo-Maratha Wars which occurred during the second half of the eighteenth and first two decades of the nineteenth century in India.70 Reconnaissance was important not only for getting an idea about the deployment of the Turkish units but also to bring in some Turkish prisoners for questioning in order to get some knowledge as regards the strength and nature of Turkish defence. Despite the presence of aircraft and river steamers, cavalry played the principal role in conducting reconnaissance. This is because when the water level fell, the river steamers were unoperable. And occasionally due to heavy rainfall and strong winds, the aircraft failed to take off the ground. In addition, due to dust even when the aircraft were operating, they failed to clarify the number and exact deployments of the Turkish detachments. And even in fair weather, aircrafts were unable to capture prisoners. Some examples will suffice. On 27 September 1915, the 7th Lancers captured one officer and 35 men on the left bank of Tigris near Shaikh Saad.71 On 31 December 1915, strong cavalry reconnaissance drove back the Arabs and 2 troops of Turkish cavalry on the left bank of Tigris to about 10 miles west of Ali Gharbi. Next day, it was found that about 2,000 Turkish cavalry and 1,000 Arab cavalry were hovering around Shaikh Saad. On 4 January 1916, air reconnaissance was impossible due to bad weather. Younghusband’s 7th Division with the cavalry brigade advanced 9 miles upstream from Ali Gharbi and 2 Turkish

68 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, pp. 112–4; vol. 2, p. 25. 69 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 112–3. 70 Burton, “Cossack and Sowar”, 136–7. 71 Telegram from GOC Force D to CGS, 27 September 1915, FPDN. first world war till the third afghan war 207 squadrons retired before the Indian cavalry on the right bank of Tigris. On 9 January 1916, as Kemball was advancing on the right bank of Shaikh Saad, due to weather conditions, no air reconnaissance was possible. On 21 January, due to heavy rainfall, aircraft reconnaissance was impossible. On 23 January, the river fell. On 26 January, due to rainfall, air reconnaissance did not occur. On 30 January 1916, the 12th Cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel Humfrey was ordered to reconnoi- ter upto Ghubasiyah on the Naisriya Road.72 Lack of cavalry hampered the advance of relief troops towards Kut. On 7 January 1916, Aylmer sent the following telegram to the GHQ: Younghusband advanced this morning at 10.30 am. Found enemy in position astride river some 3.5 miles east of Shaikh Saad. He is now holding enemy to position. He was not able to turn enemy’s right owing to presence of hostile cavalry and Arabs in superior force on his flank.73 On the same day, another telegram from Aylmer arrived: Enemy were constantly turning our right flank by columns far out from the river. The last column possibly 3 battalions and 2 cavalry regiments are now beyond our right flank and may attempt at night to make for river to our right rear.74 On 8 January 1916, in another telegram, Aylmer explained his failure to advance in the following words: “I am opposed by at least 15,000 infantry and cavalry including Arabs who are very numerous . . . I do not think I can outflank them…with my present numbers.”75 On 29 April 1916, after a siege of 143 days, at Kut the garrison under Townshend which comprised of 2,765 British soldiers and about 6,000 Indians, surrendered.76 The relief operation was hampered by floods on both banks of Tigris.77 The relief force’s operation was also obstructed by artificial flooding of the terrain. Since the Turks were positioned upstream, they by breaching the banks of the river created inundations for hampering the operation by the British and

72 Notes from the War Diaries, Part CVI, Force D, July 1916, pp. 1–2, 5–7, Appendix 7. 73 Notes from the War Diaries, Part CVI, Force D, July 1916, Appendix 2. 74 Notes from the War Diaries, Part CVI, Force D, July 1916, Appendix 5. 75 Notes from the War Diaries, Part CVI, Force D, July 1916, Appendix 6. 76 Goold, “Lord Hardinge and the Mesopotamian Expedition and Inquiry”, 943. 77 Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force 1914–18, Force D, War Diary, p. 2. 208 kaushik roy

Indian units. For instance, the track between Sheikh Saad and Amara remained under water.78 On 9 January 1917, a cavalry party was sent to raid the Turkish position at Baghailah. However, the cavalry got lost in the mist.79 The Indian cavalry was yet to learn a few lessons. On 23 June 1917, the ration strength of IEFD comprised of 4,407 British officers, 1,858 Indian officers, 71,491 British other ranks, 81,348 sepoys and sowars with 1,028 machine guns. The break up of the cavalry strength at the various fronts is given below.80

Table 6:2: Cavalry Strength of IEFD in June 1917 Name of the Unit Officer Other Ranks Machine- Gun British Indian British Indian 1st Corps Corps Troops 22 29 918 10 3rd Corps Corps Troops 1 3 117 13th Division 5 129 8 Cavalry Division 139 84 1,635 2,365 96 15th Division 3 5 179 2 Euphrates Front 3 25 489 8 Tigris Line of 4 4 29 249 Communications Karun Line 14 21 631 12 Basra 5 4 26 170 Euphrates Defence 1 5 119 2 Total 197 180 1,819 5,245 130

Source: From 3rd Echelon Basra to War Office, no. B 86, Secret 31367, 6 July 1917, MD Papers Force D, L/MIL/5/758, IOR, BL, London.

The GOC Mesopotamia demanded larger number of cavalry. In response, on 10 July 1917, the following telegram came from the C-in-CI: The limitations of the help we can give you in the immediate future as regards horse supply after completing the 9 batteries and signal company should be put before you. Artillery maximum available upto the end of

78 Wilcox, Battles on the Tigris, 122. 79 Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 2, p. 18. 80 From 3rd Echelon Basra to War Office, no. B 86, Secret 31367, 6 July 1917, MD Papers, Force D, L/MIL/5/758, IOR, BL, London. first world war till the third afghan war 209

March 3,750. British cavalry only 1,000 upto later part of the next hot weather. Pack 500 upto end of March. Miscellaneous draught 460 upto the end of March. Infantry chargers 100 per month continuous supply.81 On the same day, in another telegram, the C-in-CI warned the CIGS: “We shall be unable to replace horse wastage mounted troops in Mesopotamia unless freight arrangements for horses from Australia are assured.”82 The Indian cavalry regiments imported Walers and Arabs. Besides supplying the regiments, mounts were required at the depots as well as in the stud farms for breeding purpose. To give an example of the pressure on those regiments which remained in India, the 17th Cavalry in 1915 trained 184 recruits and 76 remounts and send drafts of men and horses to Europe, Africa and Mesopotamia. In 1916, 310 recruits and 66 horses were trained mostly by the squadrons. During 1917, 418 recruits and 128 remounts were trained and a fifth squadron was formed. During 1918, 322 recruits and 50 remounts were trained. In total, during the war, 1,234 recruits and 714 remounts were trained. During the war, an organizational innovation occurred. Each squadron possessed its own staff of rough riders and drill instructors and it became responsible for the instruction of its own men and animals.83 On 28 August 1917, Lieutenant-General Stanley Maude (former commander of the 13th Division at Gallipoli) replaced Percy Lake as the Army Commander in Mesopotamia.84 Maude was reinforced by the 13th Division from Egypt and the 14th and 15th Indian divisions from India.85 Cavalry played an important role in the offensive operations against the Turks. On 8 July 1917, the British and Indian troops occupied Sinn al Zibban, about 12 miles upstream of Feluja, on the right bank of Euphrates. Feluja is 35 miles to the west of Baghdad. During the night of 10–11 July 1917, 3 battalions, 2 squadrons and 14 guns were moved up with the objective of surprising the Turkish detachment at Ramadie. The Turks had occupied a strong position supported by machine guns and artillery. After reconnaissance, the

81 From C-in-CI to GOC Mesopotamia, 10 July 1917, no. 46280, MD Papers Force D, L/MIL/5/758. 82 From C-in-CI to CIGS, 10 July 1917, no. 46281, MD Papers Force D, L/ MIL/5/758. 83 Yeats-Brown, The Star and Crescent, 113, 115–8. 84 Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force 1914–18, Force D, War Diary, p. 2; Field-Marshal Lord Carver, Britain’s Army in the Twentieth Century (1998, reprint, London: 1999), 107. 85 Carver, Britain’s Army in the 20th Century, 107. 210 kaushik roy attack was delivered soon after dawn. Despite the conveyance of the infantry by trucks, due to the great heat and tenacious defence by the Turks, the troops were worn out and the attack was not resumed. The British and Indian troops decided to retreat to Sinn al Zibban which along with Feluja and Bustan were held.86 The attacking troops suffered 450 casualties. Though the attack failed, in this case the Indian Army was in the process of evolving combined arms tactics involving the 3 branches: infantry, cavalry and artillery in large scale operation. The Ottomans though victorious were shaken by the vehemence of the attack and some Turks started withdrawing. Hence, the British and Indian force did not retreat to Sinn al Zibban but were camped in the tents under the trees on the banks of Euphrates at Mushaid about 2,500 yards from the Turk’s forward trenches. However, on 14 July 1917, the British and Indian troops overestimated the threat posed by the Turkish troops and retreated to Sinn al Zibban.87 The Turks held an advanced position 4 miles east of Ramadie (50 miles west of Baghdad) on the Mushaid Ridge which runs from north to south and rises to about 60 feet above the plain. To the north of the ridge lies the Euphrates and to the south is the Salt Habbaniyeh Lake. The Turkish main position was semi-circular in shape and was sited one mile to the east and south of Ramadie. The Turks’ defensive line in the eastern side ran along but behind the Euphrates Valley Canal to the Aziziyeh Canal (which starts from the Euphrates one mile west of Ramadie and flow southwards). On 27 September 1917, 2 infantry columns with cavalry moved from Madhij to the point of assembly. At 7 am, the Indian cavalry was transferred from the right to the left flank of attack. They crossed the Euphrates Valley Canal by the dam and pushed westwards across the Aziziyeh Canal to a position astride the Aleppo Road in order to cut off the Turks’ retreat. The Indian cavalry operating west of Aziziyeh Canal threw themselves across the Turkish communication with Hit by blocking the Aleppo Road. Not only did synchronized infantry-cavalry operation occur but

86 From GOC Mesopotamia to the CIGS, Operations, 11 July 1917, no. X 2806, MD Papers Force D, L/MIL/5/758; Carver, The National Army Museum Book of the Turkish Front 1914–18, 178. 87 From GOC Mesopotamia to CIGS, 12 July 1917, no. X 2820, MD Papers Force D, L/MIL/5/758. first world war till the third afghan war 211 in midst of a firefight, the cavalry was also able to change fronts. All these speak of high quality of training, good discipline and morale of the troops plus confident leadership. By nightfall, the Turks were hemmed in the south-east and south by the British and Indian infantry and on the west by the cavalry. On 29 September 1917, at 3 am, the Turks made a determined attempt to break through the cavalry cordon and retreat by the Aleppo Road. But, after an action which lasted for 90 minutes, the 14th Hussars and an Indian cavalry regiment with some horse artillery and Hotchkiss guns were able to defeat the Turkish troops. The cavalry deliberately retreated and the Turkish attacking party was brought into a prepared machine gun position. When the Turks started to retreat, the cavalry in cooperation with the armoured cars pursued them. By 11 am, the Turks surrendered.88 The Indian cavalry seemed unstoppable. The Ramadie Operation took place on the left flank of the Indian Army’s units deployed in Mesopotamia. On the right flank, the Indian cavalry occupied Mendali in the early hours of 29 July 1917. The Turkish detachment holding the town (which functioned as a supply base for the Turkish units) fled to the hills.89 Maude noted: A salient factor in these successful operations was the part played by the cavalry. First by their rapid movement round the enemy’s rear, and subsequently by the tactical disposition of their machine guns they prevented the enemy’s columns from breaking out, and so drove them back into the arms of the infantry. . . . The further training which it has been possible to give the troops will tend to develop further that close cooperation between all arms which was so noticeable throughout the operations last winter, and which is so essential a factor to success in war.90

88 Despatch by Lieutenant-General F.S. Maude on the Operations of the Mesopo- tamian Expeditionary Force, 1 April-30 September 1917, pp. 6–7, L/MIL/17/15/111, IOR; Candler, Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 2, p. 230. 89 Despatch by Maude on the Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force, p. 7. 90 Despatch by Maude on the Operations of the Mesopotamian Expeditionary Force, pp. 7–8. 212 kaushik roy

Table 6:3: Cavalry Strength of IEFD In 1918 Formations Officers Other Ranks British Indian British Indian 1st Corps Cavalry 8 18 645 3rd Corps Cavalry 13 17 546 6th Cavalry Brigade 23 56 1,154 7th Cavalry Brigade 54 35 583 1,056 11th Cavalry Brigade 34 29 322 1,018 15th Division 22 31 931 North Persian Force Cavalry 27 525 1,375 Persian Lines of 8 127 Communication Cavalry Karun Front Cavalry 12 20 618 Euphrates Defence Force 3 8 310 Cavalry Advanced Lines of 4 7 215 Communication Cavalry

Source: Statistical Abstract of Information regarding the Armies at Home and Abroad, 1914–20, Table VII (a), p. 103, L/MIL/17/5/2382, IOR, BL, London

Till Armistice on 11 November 1918, 3 Indian cavalry brigades remained in Mesopotamia.91 By mid 1918, many Indian cavalry units were transferred from Mesopotamia to Egypt for General Edmund H.H. Allenby’s drive into Palestine from Egypt. Some units remained in Mesopotamia for post-war policing.

Indian Cavalry in Palestine: 1917–18

The topography of the theatre of Palestine campaigns need to be discussed in some detail. Just east of Cairo lies the inhospitable arid Sinai Desert and then are the fertile plains of Philistia and Sharon. The rocky fortress of Judaea lies in the east and the Carmel Range is penetrated by a pass into the plains of Megiddo. As one follows, the Sea of Galilee lies in the plateau east of Jordan and then as one moves up to Damascus and Aleppo, the Euphrates Valley goes upto Baghdad. The Palestine theatre could be divided into the maritime

91 Statistical Abstract of Information regarding the Armies at Home and Abroad, 1914–20, p. 22, L/MIL/17/5/2382, IOR, BL. first world war till the third afghan war 213 plains and the Plain of Esdraelon, the Judaean Hills, the Jordan Valley and Transjordania. The Mountains of Moab (rising to 3,000 and 3,500 feet) is between desert in the east and Jordan in the west. The Judaean Hills falls steeply into Jordan. Between the Mountains of Moab and the Judaean Hills, is the Valley of Jordan. The distance between Suez Canal and Aleppo is over 500 miles.92 Allenby took command of the EEF at the end of June 1917. He had 2 cavalry divisions. The 4th Cavalry Division had the following Indian units: 2nd Lancers, 38th Central India Horse in the 10th Cavalry Brigade; 29th Lancers and the 36th Jacob’s Horse in the 11th Cavalry Brigade; 6th Cavalry and the 19th Lancers in the 12th Cavalry Brigade. The 5th Cavalry Division had 9th Hodson’s Horse and 18th Lancers in the 13th Cavalry Brigade; 20th Deccan Horse and 34th Poona Horse in the 14th Cavalry Brigade and Jodhpur Imperial Service Lancers, Mysore Imperial Service Lancers plus 1st Hyderabad Imperial Service Lancers in the 15th Imperial Service Cavalry Brigade.93 During the Third Battle of Gaza (October–December 1917), the absence of water in the desert limited the range of the cavalry as it tried to roll up Turkish defence from the east. The cavalry attempting to turn the Turkish flank were caught in the dry and mostly uninhab- ited region between Gaza and Beersheeba. This allowed the Ottoman troops to retire unmolested.94 At the end of November 1918, the Indian cavalry component in the EEF numbered to 114 officers and 2,507 other ranks in the 4th Cavalry Division, 160 officers and 3,882 other ranks in the 5th Cavalry Division and 85 officers and 3,048 other ranks in the Desert Mounted Corps. And in June 1918, the Ottoman Army had 2 cavalry divisions at Palestine.95 Weather in Palestine as in Mesopotamia frequently hampered air operations. Low lying clouds and mist interrupted reconnaissance work by the aircraft.96 During inclement weather, the task of reconnaissance fell to the cavalry. Allenby like Maude was a great practitioner

92 Wavell, Palestine Campaigns, 1, 3, 5–6. 93 Maunsell, The Scinde Horse, 185–6. 94 Matthew Hughes, “General Allenby and the Palestine Campaign, 1917–18”, Jour- nal of Strategic Studies, vol. 19 (1996), 64, 66. 95 Statistical Abstract of Information regarding the Armies at Home and Abroad, 1914–20, pp. 95, 624. 96 A Brief Record of the Advance of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force under the Command of General Edmund Allenby July 1917 to October 1918 compiled from Offi- cial Sources, Second Edition (London: 1919), 15. 214 kaushik roy of mounted attacks. On 16 December 1917, he wrote to the secretary of state for war: When Beersheba was in our hands we should have an open flank against which to operate, and I could make full use of our superiority in mounted troops; and a success here offered prospects of pursuing our advantage and forcing the enemy to abandon the rest of his fortified positions, which no other line of attack could afford.97 Allenby noted that the charge of the Australian Light Horse completed the defeat of the Turks. By April 1918, the Yeomanry regiments were replaced by the Indian cavalry regiments which arrived from France.98 Allenby jotted down: “The Indian cavalry have used the lance with good effect on several occasions.”99 Traditionally, the lances of the Indian lancers were made of bamboos. Each lance was between 10–11 feet long and weighed 4 pounds.100 By mid 1918, it was decided that all the Indian cavalry units should be equipped with lances because in the numerous skirmishes which occurred during the cavalry patrols conducted by the 4th Cavalry Division, more Turks were speared instead of being sabred. The lances were received at Damascus but not in required number. Hence, several units like the 36th Jacob’s Horse remained a sabre unit.101 On 26 October 1918, the 5th Indian Division went on to take Aleppo.102 However, the success of the cavalry in Palestine was also because the Turkish units had very few machine guns. Further, the quality of the Ottoman troops was not very good. Besides the Turks, the Ottoman military units had many Arabs and Syrians who were badly clothed and fed. Credit is also due to Allenby for establishing a superb logistical infrastructure. For instance, when the Indian cavalry units were operating in the region around Dead Sea during mid 1918, every blade of grass required for feeding the horses had to be brought by lorries.103

97 A Brief Record of the Advance of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force under the Command of General Edmund Allenby July 1917 to October 1918, 1. 98 A Brief Record of the Advance of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force under the Command of General Edmund Allenby July 1917 to October 1918, 3, 21. 99 A Brief Record of the Advance of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force under the Command of General Edmund Allenby July 1917 to October 1918, 22. 100 Hamid, So they Rode and Fought, 36. 101 Maunsell, The Scinde Horse, 208. 102 Hughes, “General Allenby and the Palestine Campaign, 1917–18”, 81. 103 Maunsell, The Scinde Horse, 201, 204. first world war till the third afghan war 215

Cavalry in the Third Afghan War: 6 May–8 August 1919

In 1918, the Indian cavalry numbered to 53,252 men organized in 39 regiments.104 Just after the end of the Great War, the Indian Army got engaged in the Third Afghan War besides conducting policing duties in Mesopotamia and India. In April 1919, the 17th Cavalry was deployed in Lahore and Amritsar in aid to civil duty.105 During the Third Afghan War, the Indian Army had to fight both the Afghan Army and the tribal lashkars. During the Third Afghan War and the simultaneous Waziristan Operation (1919–20), the Indian Army mobilized 111 infantry regiments and 18 cavalry regiments.106 The Indian Army’s detachment at Kohat (4 battalions, 1 cavalry regiment and 6 guns) guarded the road from Peiwar Kotal in Afghanistan and the detachments at Bannu and Derajat (7 battalions, 2 cavalry regiments, 12 guns and 2 militia battalions) kept the clans of Waziristan in order. At Quetta and Peshawar, there were 22 battalions, 6 cavalry regiments and 66 guns.107 One officer of the Indian Army named Major Ivan Battye of the Corps of Guides noted in 1917 that in frontier mountain warfare, infantry remained the queen. However, cavalry was also important. Battye notes the importance of cavalry in the following words: As to cavalry, if well trained in dismounted action, their cooperation with infantry will sometimes be invaluable, both morally and materially. But their action will be mainly that of Mounted Infantry whose value was amply proved in Egypt, South Africa and Tibet. Sometimes too the threat alone of the ‘arme blanche’ will work wonders against the frontier Pathan who is notoriously respectful of the dreaded lance where the ground affords any scope at all for its employment. However, this respect alone is enough to make the opportunity rare so that Cavalry that are not equally expert in the use of the rifle are better not employed in frontier warfare. The history of frontier expeditions affords several examples of the use of Cavalry such as in the Swat Valley in 1895 and 1897, the Mohmand border in 1897 and in the Mamund Valley in September– October 1897. The last of these gave the 11th Bengal Lancers and Guides Cavalry more than one opportunity of showing how cavalry may, by a

104 Hamid, So they Rode and Fought, 52. 105 Yeats-Brown, The Star and Crescent, 122–3. 106 Robson, Crisis on the Frontier, Appendix 1, p. 285. 107 George MacMunn, Afghanistan: From Darius to Amanullah (London: 1929), 260. 216 kaushik roy

judicious combination of mounted and dismounted action, cooperate with the infantry. . . .108 The Afghans’ objective was to encourage the border tribes to revolt against the British by moving troops along the border of British-India and launching forays across Indus. Just before the outbreak of the war, the estimated strength of the Afghan Army was 53,700 men organized in 78 infantry battalions and 21 cavalry regiments. None of the units had more than 75% of the required establishment and possessed inadequate staffs.109 On 4 May, Afghan troops crossed the frontier at Bagh near the Khyber Pass and GOI declared war on Afghanistan.110 On 11 May 1919, 2 Afghan regiments with 3 guns and some cavalry moved towards Gurba. On 15 May, 2 cavalry regiments along with 18 guns (16 mountain and 2 heavy guns pulled by the elephants) left Gardez.111 As a point of comparison, the Polish-Soviet War fought during 1919–20 witnessed the use of large number of cavalry. One of the historians of this war named Norman Davies writes: “Cavalry remained the principal offensive arm. . . . The Poles preferred heavy lancers, the Soviets sabre-swinging horsemen of the Cossack variety.”112 The Konarmiya (Soviet Cavalry Army) possessed 16,000 active sabres. Each Polish cavalry division had 3 to 4 heavy machine guns mounted on horse drawn tachanki. TheKonarmiya ’s commanders realized that a cavalry charge against a trench held by Polish infantry was useless. The tactics advocated to dislodge entrenched infantry, was to approach the trenches in dismounted and scattered formation and to soften the enemy infantry with an artillery barrage. Immediately after the barrage, small task forces were to be sent against each of the fortified strong points. Mounted cavalry was to be used to turn the flanks. Enemy counter-attacks were not frontally resisted but were drawn into the cross-fire of artillery posts and machine gun nests drawn up behind the frontline.113 Such combined arms tactics involving infantry-

108 Major Ivan Battye, “Frontier Mountain Warfare”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. XLVI (1917), 101. 109 Afghan War Diary (hereafter AWD), vol. 2, Appendix 476, 29 May 1919, p. 286 WWI/56/H, NAI. 110 Carver, Britain’s Army in the 20th Century, 149. 111 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 165, 21 May 1919, 108–9. 112 Davies, White Eagle, Red Star, 46. 113 Davies, White Eagle, Red Star, 45, 120, 123. first world war till the third afghan war 217 cavalry-artillery was practiced by the Indian Army in Mesopotamia during the later stages of the First World War. One of the biggest action of the Third Afghan War was the Battle of Dakka. Some 2,000 Afghan troops moved towards Dakka (22 miles from Jamrud), 1,500 to Kandahar and 2,000 into Khost. On 7 May, the Afghan force (5 battalions) took up position in the hills round Landi Kotal near Dakka.114 The Dakka Plain is a desolate dusty, stony, boulder strewn waste crossed by numerous shallow and dry nullahs. The Dakka Plain is about 4 miles from the Kabul River and equidis- tant from the Khurd Khaibar Hills. While the Kabul River bounds the Dakka Plain in the east, the Khurd Khaibar Hills are in the west.115 The cavalry force under Brigadier-General G.M. Baldwin comprised of the 1st Cavalry Brigade under Brigadier F.G. Davies together with the 30th Lancers, started from Jamrud and marched through Khaibar to Dakka for escorting the military transport convoy carrying supplies. Simultaneously, trouble broke out at Peshawar. On 8 May, Peshawar was surrounded by 1 cavalry regiment, 2 infantry battalions and one light armoured motor brigade. Peshawar was a walled city some 2 miles in length and had 16 gates. The technique of cavalry-armoured car cooperation which started at Ramadie was also practiced at Peshawar. On 15 May, Baldwin returned from Dakka to Peshawar to command the 10th Cavalry Brigade.116 On 11 May, Major-General Fowler who had hurried upto Landi Kotal with his 2nd Brigade and part of the 1st Cavalry Brigade attacked the Afghan forces in Bagh on the Khaibar route at dawn. The Afghans suffered 400 casualties but, many of them were able to escape to fight another day. Then, the British decided to advance towards Dakka. The tribesmen and the Afghans made a mistake in allowing the Indian cavalry to move unopposed through the Khaibar Pass into Landi Kotal.117 On 16 May, reconnaissance was carried out towards Bhusawal and the British-Indian detachment reached the village named Gardi. It is located some 6 miles west of Dakka. Gardi was full of Afghan troops and lashkars. When the detachment withdrew, the Afghan cavalry

114 MacMunn, Afghanistan, 260–2, 264. 115 G.N. Molesworth, Afghanistan 1919: An Account of Operations in the Third Afghan War (Bombay: 1962), 56. 116 Anon, “Action at Dakka 16–17th May 1919”, Journal of the United Service Insti- tution of India, vol. XLIX (1920), 322–3; Molesworth, Curfew on Olympus, 36. 117 MacMunn, Afghanistan, 264, 266. 218 kaushik roy pursued but was charged by a squadron of King’s Dragoon Guards. This resulted in heavy casualties among the Afghans. However, some of the British cavaliers also died in action at the Khurd Khaibar defile.118 The British cavaliers in comparison to the Afghan counterparts rode comparatively heavier horses and the British cavalry was drilled and disciplined to implement a compact charge. In contrast, the Afghan cavalry being light cavalry was good for reconnaissance and ambush but not for leading or sustaining a cavalry charge. Meanwhile, the Afghan troops (including 2 cavalry regiments) advanced and attacked Dakka which was held by units of the Indian Army. On 17 May, the 15th and the 35th Sikhs in conjunction with the cavalry and machine gun squadron attacked the ridge held by the Afghans. The Afghans were driven out and left 300 dead. The casualties of the Indian Army’s units were estimated between 150 to 200 men.119 This action reflected close cooperation between infantry and cavalry with machine gun support, a technique which the Indian Army learnt in Mesopotamia. By 20 May, the Afghan penetration at Bagh was defeated by troops of the 1st Division based at Landi Kotal. Around the same time, a further threat developed along the Kurram Valley, which was defeated by troops of the 16th Division commanded by Brigadier-General Reginald (Rex) Dyer (later infamous for Jallianwala Bagh massacre).120 On 20 May, Yule with a party of cavalry left Quetta in Baluchistan for Gwal.121 On 23 May 1919, G.H. Rogers and H.M. Muspratt of the Intelligence Department emphasized the deterrent value of cavalry in the following words: “The movement of one or two troops of cavalry in the more exposed parts of our frontier districts would probably be magnified into a considerable body, or at least reported as the forerun- ners of larger forces to come.”122 On 29 May, the Afghan Army along the northern line including Kabul comprised of 16,500 infantry and 2,800 cavalry with about 110 guns. The deployment of the Afghan Army along the central line including Ghazni comprised of 9,150 infantry, 1,100 cavalry and

118 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 162, 20 May 1919, p. 107; Molesworth, Afghanistan 1919, 78. 119 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 162, 20 May 1919, p. 107, Appendix 417, 28 May 1919, p. 258. 120 Carver, Britain’s Army in the Twentieth Century, 149–50. 121 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 179, 20 May 1919, p. 123. 122 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 258, Part II, Operations. first world war till the third afghan war 219

60 guns. Deployment along the southern line including Kalai-i-Ghilzai included 6,250 infantry, 460 cavalry and 24 guns. Another 11,100 infantry, 2,700 cavalry with 70 guns were scattered in Herat, Farah, Mazar-i-Shariff, Badakshan, etc. The estimated strength of thelashkars were as follows: 12,000 along the central line, 15,000 along the northern line and 15,000 (including Ghilzais) in the southern line. However, concentration of the lashkars was hampered by difficulties of supplying them with food and ammunition. The Afghan strength at Kahi comprised of 3,000 men (including 800 regular infantry, lashkars and 150 Afghan cavalry) and 12 guns.123 The Afghan regulars and thelashkars were extremely vulnerable to flank attacks.124 And the Indian cavalry occasionally broke them up by threatening or charging them at the flanks. On 30 May 1919, the GOC Baluchistan, from Quetta informed the GHQ Simla that in the ensuing action, the Afghans lost 170 killed and 169 prisoners. When 200 Afghan troops broke out of the fort, the cavalry supported by Lewis Guns was able to capture them.125 Here we see again successful pursuit operation by cavalry supported by machine guns, a technique which evolved in Mesopotamia. And the military officers were aware of the importance of integrating machine guns with cavalry. On 9 June, the GOC North-West Frontier Force informed GHQ Simla about the importance of having well trained drivers for the machine gun squadrons which were to cooperate with the 1st Cavalry Brigade.126 Both in Palestine and Afghanistan, cavalry operations were hampered by unavailability of water required for watering the horses.127 In Afghanistan, due to partial logistical breakdown, the cavalry suffered from shortage of milk, soda, horseshoe, saddlery, etc.128 Numerous small and scattered actions characterized military operation in Afghanistan as in Mesopotamia. On 29 May, at Derajat, a squadron of 27th Cavalry pursued a party of 300 Afghans near Murtaza, killing 20, capturing 5 and wounding several others at the cost of only 8 casualties to themselves.129 One centre of Afghan resistance was Utmanzai, a village with about 8,000 inhabitants in Charsada

123 AWD, vol. 2, Appendices 476 & 484, 29 May 1919. 124 Molesworth, Afghanistan 1919, 70. 125 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 493, 30 May 1919, p. 302. 126 AWD, vol. 4, Part II, Appendix 79, WWI/58/H, NAI. 127 Molesworth, Afghanistan, 264. 128 Yeats-Brown, The Star and Crescent, 124. 129 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 529, 30 May 1919. 220 kaushik roy subdivision. On 29 May, Brigadier-General Baldwin with 2 guns, 3 squadrons of 21st Cavalry and 4 squadrons of 4th Cavalry attacked the village. Hostages were taken and the village was fined.130 Like Mesopotamia, in Afghanistan also, cavalry was necessary for checking hostile hit and run raids and foraging. On 30 May, the GOC North- West Frontier informed the GHQ Simla: “Foraging party yesterday brought in 500 maunds of threshed wheat.”131 On 15 June, the 12th Mounted Brigade was deployed in Baluchistan to protect the railways from the raids by the Afghan troops and the lashkars.132 On 25 June, small raiding parties were reported in Zhob. An Afghan force of 2,000 cavalry and infantry with some guns moved towards Lawargai, about 30 miles north of Rashid Kala.133 The Third Afghan War was a much smaller military episode compared to Mesopotamia but as we have seen, the nature of war was similar in many respects. The total casualties suffered by the Indian Army during the Third Afghan War numbered to 1,751 men.134

Conclusion

By early 1917, in Palestine, writes Bou, the rapidity and surprise inherent in well executed mounted maneuver or attack in the open country not filled with densely packed infantry in trenches proved to be effective.135 Both at Mesopotamia and Afghanistan, the military commanders realized the importance of cavalry. It will be erroneous to categorize these military commanders as hidebound officers. Reconnaissance by cavalry was especially important because bad weather often grounded the air forces. The nature of the battlefield in Mesopotamia, Palestine and Afghanistan was different from the Western Front. Heavy concentration of artillery all along the front was a feature missing in Mesopotamia, Palestine and Afghanistan. In the autumn of 1917, at Ypres the Germans concentrated 500 guns. Neither in Palestine nor in Mesopotamia, could the British or the Turks concentrate such number of guns for a particular battle. There was no continuous frontline

130 AWD, vol. 2, Appendices 513, 529, 30 May 1919, pp. 310, 322. 131 AWD, vol. 2, Appendix 529, 30 May 1919. 132 AWD, vol. 4, Part II, Appendix 1. 133 AWD, vol. 4, Part II, Appreciation no. 9, 25 June 1919. 134 Molesworth, Afghanistan 1919, Preface, p. vii. 135 Bou, “Cavalry, Firepower, and Swords”, 112. first world war till the third afghan war 221 characterized by trenches and barbed wire in the vast desolate space of Mesopotamia, Palestine and the mountainous terrain of Afghanistan. As a contrasting example, in France by the end of the Battle of Somme, the Germans had constructed 7 successive trench lines covering Bapaume. And the total zone of trench work was some 10 miles deep.136 The British historian David French asserts that Maude’s campaign in Mesopotamia and Allenby’s campaign in Palestine demonstrated that cavalry acting in conjunction with infantry and artillery could defeat demoralized infantry in unprepared positions. In Palestine, the Ottoman defence was weak and badly coordinated.137 In the post First World War era, there was some place for cavalry in future military campaigns. This was because, the technology during the 1920s was not adequate for the internal combustion engines to replace cavalry. David French writes that the armoured fighting vehicles of the interwar period exhibited a multitude of mechanical and tactical shortcomings.138 So, turning operations could only be carried out by cavalry in Palestine, Mesopotamia and Afghanistan. And in road less mountainous Afghanistan, even in the 1930s, horsemen enjoyed more mobility and flexibility as well as cross country capability than the light tanks and armoured cars. Again, not merely decisive battles and sieges but countless dispersed small scale actions characterized military operations in Mesopotamia and Afghanistan. The operations in Mesopotamia, Palestine and Afghanistan showed that cavalry was necessary for conducting reconnaissance, cutting the enemy’s communication with their base and attacking the enemy’s rear and flanks during the main battle. Cavalry was especially killing while pursuing a defeated enemy thus turning defeat into a rout. The Mesopotamian and the Afghan experiences showed that cavalry was required both for the main battle as well as for flank protection when the forces were advancing to contact the enemy and to counteract raids against the base and line of communications by hostile irregular cavalry. And for the latter type of operations, heavy British cavalry which Maunsell advocated, was useless. In fact, light irregular silladari cavalry which Maunsell looked down upon, was the only counter. The integration of

136 Griffith,Battle Tactics of the Western Front, 31, 34. 137 David French, “The Mechanization of the British Cavalry between the World Wars”, War in History, vol. 10 (2003), 305. 138 French, “The Mechanization of the British Cavalry between the World Wars”, 298. 222 kaushik roy mobile horse artillery and machine guns with cavalry raised the firepower at the disposal of the cavalry unit and made it a precursor of the tanks and armoured cars which only in the late 1930s represented mobility and firepower. To sum up, the paradigm of warfare which evolved in France during 1917–18, could not be applied for a global understanding of warfare during the Great War and its immediate aftermath. And the presence of large number of cavalry instead of heavy artillery and tanks represented not conservative tendencies but a strategic necessity for the Indian Army. Jeremy Black says that modernization of the army is a response to circumstances rather than following any linear model.139 In that case, the presence of cavalry in the Indian Army is an example of modernization of the force rather than a reflection of demoderniza- tion of a colonial military machine.

139 Jeremy Black, The Age of Total War: 1860–1945 (Westport CT: 2006), 153. CHAPTER SEVEN

FROM THE DESERT SANDS TO THE BURMESE JUNGLE: THE INDIAN ARMY AND THE LESSONS OF NORTH AFRICA, SEPTEMBER 1939–NOVEMBER 1942

Tim Moreman

Introduction

The Indian Army contingent that fought in North Africa against German and Italian troops between 1939–42 formed a comparatively small part of the polyglot British Commonwealth armies, drawn from the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and smaller Allied countries. The degree to which different Indian Army formations took part in the Western Desert varied enormously. The 4th Indian Division was arguably the most experienced of all British formations in the theatre, seeing nearly two and half years of combat, with only a few brief intermissions to rest, retrain and reorganize, by November 1942. The 5th Indian Division also made a significant albeit smaller contribution to the desert war, after being blooded in Eritrea, before eventually returning to India in 1943. A relatively smaller part was played by 10th Indian Division from May–June 1942, when it was caught up in the tail end of the Gazala battles, savaged while escap- ing from Mersa Matruh and then participated in the defence of El Alamein. A single brigade of 8th Indian Division—the inexperienced 18th Indian Infantry Brigade—was rushed forward in July 1942, moreover, to El Alamein and was destroyed by German panzers at Deir El Shein on 1st July 1942.1 The unfortunate independent 3rd Indian Motor Brigade was also deployed in the Western Desert where on two separate occasions it was overwhelmed by Axis troops. A large number of British officers from the Indian service also held senior command and staff appointments in Middle East Command, particularly

1 For an early account of the Indian Army in North Africa see The Tiger Strikes and the Tiger Kills: The Story of the Indian Divisions in the North African Campaigns (London: 1944). 224 tim moreman after General Sir Claude Auchinleck, C-in-C from July 1941 to August 1942, filled command staff appointments with officers he knew and trusted. The Western Desert was not the only place in the Middle East where Indian troops served. A far larger contingent served during the occupation of Syria, Persia and Iraq, under the command of GHQ Middle East, where limited fighting took place against a ‘second class’ opponent and made up the mainstay of Persia-Iraq Command post August 1942. It also acted as a pool from which reinforcements were transferred to the Western Desert at time of crisis. The fast-moving war of manoeuvre fought by British Commonwealth troops across the vast North African ‘sand model’, as one commen- tator has aptly dubbed it, was the arguably most technologically advanced campaign fought by Indian troops during the Second World War.2 It proved a harsh testing ground for British concepts of modern armoured warfare against a ‘first-class’ opponent equipped with modern tanks, artillery, aircraft and other equipment and a coherent doctrine to employ them. As a result, its lessons exercised a major influence during the early war years over the Indian Army, who, whilst fighting alongside other British Commonwealth troops, learnt much about open desert warfare, large scale armoured operations and modern combat in general that affected its own evolving organization, equipment, training and overall combat effectiveness. Indeed, GHQ India’s apparent fixation on organizing, equipping and training for the war in the West to the exclusion of other commitments has, however, meant the General Staff, India has been accused of professional myo- pia severely undermining its combat effectiveness in the war in Malaya and Burma between 1941–45. This chapter argues, however, that the war in North Africa taught the Indian Army in other parts of Middle East Command and the Indian subcontinent much of lasting value, including invaluable command, staff and combat experience that in some respects positively impacted on its overall combat effectiveness. In particular, it looks how the doctrinal and training lessons learnt from the war in the Western Desert—two keys to battlefield success—were passed on, before briefly

2 Shelford Bidwell and Dominick Graham, Firepower: British Army Weapons and Theories of War, 1904–1945 (London: 1985), 221. desert sands to the burmese jungle 225 considering in the conclusion how they impacted on the war waged by 14th Army in the jungles of Burma.

The Indian Army Goes to War

The first formation destined for the Middle East left India before the outbreak of the Second World War, with 11th Indian Infantry Brigade arriving in Egypt in August 1939. It was joined by 5th Indian Infantry Brigade two months later and both were formed into the largely mechanized 4th Indian Division following the gradual arrival of supporting arms and services from the subcontinent. The 4th Indian Division, like all those formations from the subcontinent that served in the Middle East, was not wholly made up of Indian nationals. Its GOC during the initial desert fighting for example from August 1940 to April 1941—Major-General Noel de la P. Beresford-Peirse—was a Royal Artilleryman—and its command and staff officers at all levels were drawn from either the British or Indian service. Most indigenous Indian KCOs still held junior rank, although by the war’s end a handful had reached brigade and regimental command in Burma. The Indian divisions that served overseas in 1940–43 were made up, moreover, of a mixture of British and Indian units. A single British infantry battalion served in each infantry brigade and apart from mountain artillery regiments the artillery was all initially British, although a growing number of newly formed Indian Army field regiments were deployed in the theatre. Additionally, many specialist units upon which Indian formations relied for communications, supplies and maintenance were drawn from the British Army. The composition of the Indian Army formations were not static, however, with a constant turnover of men, units and component brigades throughout the war, as they were transferred in and out as the situation demanded or as casualties mounted. As Anthony Brett-James has observed: “During one period of four weeks the 5th Indian Division had no less than twenty-three changes of brigades, and these involved eleven different brigades, attached for a few hours, for a night, for a week.”3

3 Anthony Brett-James, Ball of Fire (Aldershot: 1951), 223. 226 tim moreman

The common attributes and military heritage it shared at many levels with the British Army meant 4th Indian Division slotted seam- lessly under the immediate operational control of Western Desert Force and the overall leadership of the C-in-C, Middle East Command. As per standard British practise this regional HQ, had responsibility for operations, doctrine and training and administration of its subordinate formations. The Indian Army divisions were able to serve alongside other British Commonwealth formations largely without difficulty despite language differences and being organized on very different lines at lower levels, since it shared the same basic organization, equipment and doctrine. This was a result of decisions made pre-First World War by the new IGS to create a unified imperial army—whose basic organization was the same and could operate alongside other parts with the minimum fuss.4 Unlike troops drawn from the Dominions, whose senior officers jealously retained responsibility for training, organization and discipline and had a right of veto on the employment of their troops, the Indian contingent had no right of appeal to GHQ India when operational decisions apparently against its best interests were made. Indeed, the Indian contingent lacked a senior representative at GHQ Middle East to fight its corner when required, apart from a small Indian section at the AG’s Branch concerned with administrative details. Fortunately, several senior Indian Army officers held command staff appointments—Auchinleck and Lieutenant-General Tom Corbett—ensuring the Indian Army was given a fair crack of the whip. Those officers and men who served in the newly formed 4th Indian Division had much to learn about living, moving and fighting in a fiercely hot, bleak and unforgiving desert environment. Its highly professional and mostly combat experienced pre-war regulars and rusty reservists set about doing so with a will, with practical advice and guidance from British troops already serving in Egypt, who shared with them the same common doctrine laid down in Field Service Regulations (FSR)—the tactical bible of all the British armed forces. Unfortunately, FSR only discussed desert fighting in general terms. The GS in India itself, however, had given thought to the problems posed by waging

4 T.R. Moreman, “Lord Kitchener, The General Staff and the Army in India”, in David French and Brian Holden Reid (eds.), The British General Staff: Reform and Innovation (London: 2002), 57–74. desert sands to the burmese jungle 227 war in the Middle East before the outbreak of the war with Italy. Some general guidance came from a series of Military Training Pamphlets covering so-called ‘extensive warfare’ published in India in mid 1940, when Auchinleck was C-in-C and Brigadier Eric Dorman-Smith, the DMT in India. These aimed at preparing the Indian Army—albeit in general terms—for fighting against a first class enemy possessing modern equipment in undeveloped terrain lacking good communications by employing small mobile forces anywhere in an area stretching from Egypt to Malaya.5 The 4th Indian Division set about mastering desert craft and desert lore and improving its overall ‘desert worthiness’ without interruption until the Italian declaration of war in June 1940. Its troops also had to master a wide range of new weapons, technical equipment and vehicles with which they was unfamiliar. The actual progress made by the 4th Indian Division in learning to move and fight in the Western Desert was hampered from the beginning by the same critical shortages weapons, vehicles and other equipment that bedevilled all British formations in the post-Dunkirk period. An intensive period of hard training on its new fully motorized organization was undertaken to fit itself for desert warfare alongside 7th Armoured Division with which it struck up a close working relationship. A high standard of training and meticulous rehearsals were insisted upon by Lieutenant-General Sir Richard O’Connor, the GOC Western Desert Force, all too aware his forces were badly outnumbered. In a letter to both formations in late 1940 he insisted: “All troops taking part must be trained to such a pitch that their action is almost automatic.”6 The key characteristics of desert fighting quickly became apparent during this period of intensive desert training, with 4th Indian Division’s officers and men learning that living, moving and fighting in the Western Desert required distinct skills and minor tactics. Indeed, many officers quickly became convinced that the unique conditions encountered required a whole new approach to war fighting. The wide open expanses of the Western Desert, offering few obstacles to vision and movement, placed a premium on mobility. From the outset, desert fighting was characterized by fast moving mechanized operations, as tanks and motorized forces swept backwards and

5 See Military Training Pamphlet No. 5 (India) Notes on Training for Extensive Warfare 1940 (Delhi: 1940). 6 O’Connor to 7th Armoured and 4th Indian divisions, 29 Nov. 1942, WO 201/3526, TNA, PRO. 228 tim moreman forwards along the Mediterranean Coast. A combination of the scale of the desert and low force-to-space ratios meant open flanks were unavoidable and manoeuvre was key to success, with fleeting encounters ebbing and flowing over vast areas. Most combat took place at extremely long range, as armoured units slugged it out on a flat, open battlefield largely devoid of vegetation where the slightest undulation in the ground represented an important terrain feature. All movement was normally on a motorized basis, as far as the availability of vehicles allowed, with all units travelling widely dispersed in so called desert formation, as a deceptive measure and protection against aerial attack and bombardment. Each night troops occupied tightly packed leagu- ers organized for all round defence. The absence of physical features made precise navigation, employing maps, sun compasses and speed- ometers, a permanent problem. Indeed, desert driving required special skills given the ever-present threat of mechanical breakdown or becoming bogged in deep sand. Transport and supply was a constant headache for the administrative staff with lengthy lines of communication often vulnerable to attack. With water always in short supply and troops dependent on what food, water, fuel and ammunition could be carried life was hard for the ordinary soldier. The tank, possessing a lethal combination of firepower, protection and cross-country mobility over sand, gravel and rocks, was the master of the desert battlefield. Indeed, the predominance of the tank in British military thought at the beginning of the desert war was reflected in the tank heavy organization of 7th Armoured Division, which had very few other supporting arms in comparison. It was quickly apparent that the infantry’s role in desert warfare was comparatively limited, with troops on foot or aboard vehicles highly vulnerable to tanks, artillery and other infantry in daylight unless very widely deployed or dug- in. The task of the infantry accordingly was largely confined to either holding defensive positions, with lengthy periods digging, wiring and laying mines and patrolling each night, or else a more mobile role spent aboard troop carrying vehicles. The careful handling of attached anti-tank guns was always of paramount importance, although the anti-tank mine played an increasing part in desert fighting to make infantry units ‘tank proof ’. The prevalence of dispersed fleeting targets, poor communications and lack of an effective British anti-tank gun initially made concentrated use of artillery exceptionally difficult, except during a handful of set-piece battles that usually involved night attacks against carefully pinpointed positions. desert sands to the burmese jungle 229

The War in the Desert

The Indian contingent made up a large part of the forces General Archibald Wavell had available following the outbreak of war against the Italian 10th Army in North Africa. It was at a high pitch of fighting efficiency when it went into action on December 1940. As Niall Barr has recently observed: The Western Desert Force, consisting of what became 7th Armoured Division and 4th Indian Division . . . represented perhaps the finest trained, if not the best-equipped, force the British possessed in 1939. Indeed, the Western Desert Force of 1940 might be compared with the BEF of 1914 in terms of quality, training and expertize.7 During Operation COMPASS fighting alongside 7th Armoured Division it achieved a decisive victory at Sidi Barrani at the cost of 700 casualties, following which Western Desert Force advanced 500 miles, destroyed 4 Italian divisions and took more than 100,000 prisoners of war.8 The British quite simply were better prepared to confront peculiar desert conditions than their lacklustre Italian opponents whose lack of transport made them highly vulnerable.9 The fighting appeared to bear out the tenets laid down in Field Service Regulations, especially ‘the spirit of mobility, flexibility and the emphasis on surprise’ it enshrined.10 This highly successful campaign provided valuable experience for commanders, staff officers and regimental officers of desert fighting, as well as apparently vindicating pre-war ideas about armoured warfare. To many officers it fully justified the ideas that tank heavy formations could win battles by rapid manoeuvre alone, that wide dispersion was justified on the battlefield and that taking logistical risks paid enormous dividends. The final report on Operation COMPASS, however, tellingly concluded: While we have learnt many lessons and gained much valuable experience, we must guard against any tendency to apply them rigidly or unimaginatively in future circumstances which may prove very different

7 Niall Barr, The Pendulum of War: The Three Battles of El Alamein (London: 2004), 46. 8 See Report on capture by 4th Indian Division of enemy positions at Nibeiwa, the Tumars, south of Sidi Barrani, culminating in the capture of Sidi Barrani itself, WO 201/352, TNA, PRO. 9 David French, Raising Churchill’s Army: The British Army and the War against Germany 1919–1945 (Oxford: 2000), 217. 10 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 47. 230 tim moreman

from those encountered in the Western Desert of Egypt and Libya in December 1940.11 The 4th Indian Division was whisked away following Sidi Barrani and missed out on Western Desert Force’s dramatic pursuit of the shattered Italian 10th Army and its complete destruction at Beda Fomm. In January 1941, it joined other Indian troops in East Africa where fighting had already begun. The 5th Indian Division, commanded by Major-General Lewis ‘Piggy’ Heath, had landed at Port Sudan in September 1940, where it was hurriedly deployed blocking Italian advances from their East African colonies. Both divisions played a decisive part in defeating arguably the cream of the Italian Army in a hard fought conventional mountain campaign where pre-war lessons learnt by Indian troops on the North-West Frontier of India had relevance.12 Following the decisive Battle of Keren in February–March 1941, the 4th Indian Division left its sister formation to mop up the remaining Italian forces and hurriedly returned to Egypt where the situation had sharply deteriorated during the spring. Following the final Italian surrender at Amba Alagi, the 5th Indian Division was also diverted to North Africa. It landed at Port Tewfik in Egypt in July 1941 where it immediately began desert training and building defences at El Alamein. Its stay in Egypt, however, proved short lived when its main body left for Iraq to reinforce the 8th and the 10th Indian Divisions and then onwards for garrison duty in Cyprus, leaving behind the 29th Indian Infantry Brigade on detached duty in the Western Desert. The Western Desert henceforward formed the main focus of attention for the 4th Indian Division, although a single brigade was briefly diverted to Syria. A very different phase of the desert war, however, had dawned during which Indian troops learnt new lessons fighting alongside other British Commonwealth troops about desert fighting. Initially, it was a subject nearly all the British commanders knew little about by experience or training and struggled to master. The limitations of pre-war doctrine and of the lessons learned by all British Commonwealth formations against the lacklustre Italian troops it had defeated in 1940 were graphically exposed when Western Desert Force pitted itself against the Wehrmacht’s Deutsches Afrika Korps

11 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 47. 12 See T.R. Moreman, The Army in India and the Development of Frontier Warfare, 1839–1947 (London: 1998), 180. desert sands to the burmese jungle 231

(DAK), led by Lieutenant-General Erwin Rommel, landed at Tripoli in February 1941. The highly professional, disciplined and resourceful Germans quickly showed themselves superior in doctrine, equipment, tanks and training and overall tactical ability. The well led DAK threw the British back from Cyrenaica, besieged Tobruk between March– April 1941 and then fought Western Desert Force to a standstill during May–June on the Egyptian frontier. Indeed, the ‘bad habits’ learnt fighting the Italians—a deeply held belief amongst tank officers that tank heavy formations could win battles by manoeuvre alone, wide dispersion that prevented tactical concentrations at the decisive point and time and taking logistical risks—played directly into German hands. A generally superior approach to combined arms tactics, generally superior armoured fighting vehicles and overall higher levels of training repeatedly paid the DAK dividends on the battlefield. The Axis troops proved particularly adept in employing armour, artillery, infantry and devastating close air support in close combination with each other during concentrated attacks that fully exploited the capabilities of each arm. The Germans belief that the anti-tank gun was the most effective means of destroying enemy armour was fully vindicated, moreover, with German armour repeatedly luring British tanks onto hidden gun lines the British were unable to locate or destroy due to lack of accom- panying infantry and artillery. ‘Jock Columns’, made up of a company of motorized infantry, an artillery battery and a handful of armoured cars, that had proved useful against the Italian Army, for example, proved extremely vulnerable against massed German troops. Initially, few British commanders comprehended the key elements underlying German battlefield prowess. As David French has remarked: “Despite suffering so many early defeats at Rommel’s hands, most British commanders took a long time to recognize that their combined arms tactics were at fault.”13 The bulk of Western Desert Force and its successor the 8th Army, formed in September 1941, was much less desert wise and combat effective than those troops that had fought in 1940, due to the massive wartime expansion of British Commonwealth armies, transfer of experienced troops to other theatres of war and mounting casualties. The qualitative inferiority of the available British tanks and 2-pounder anti-tank guns also proved a major drawback. Tanks, vehicles and

13 French, Raising Churchill’s Army, 223. 232 tim moreman equipment, moreover, remained in short supply. Unlike the DAK, the composition of the army in North Africa changed with bewildering rapidity leaving a handful for formations forming a hard core. With the exception of the highly trained 4th Indian Division, the majority of troops in the Western Desert Force were fresh, inexperienced and denied any opportunity to train together. The vital necessity for improving training and overall combat effectiveness of all formations in Western Desert Force was driven home repeatedly during 1941. A GHQ Middle East edict, issued following the unsuccessful Operation BATTLEAXE in June 1941, directed: “A war of movement such as this one requires troops to be trained to a considerably higher standard than was necessary in the last war.”14 Further offensive operations were deliberately postponed by Auchinleck, the newly appointed C-in-C, Middle East, all too aware that training was not up to a sufficiently high standard to attain success. Real and intractable problems existed at individual and unit levels that precluded a rapid improvement in overall training standards. However, the highly professional 4th Indian Division was largely an exception to the rule, earning plaudits from its peers as one of the best trained infantry formations at the 8th Army’s disposal.15 The successful results of Operation CRUSADER in November– December 1941, an offensive mounted by the 8th Army to relieve beleaguered Tobruk, and the ensuing advance to Benghazi were quickly overshadowed by the heavy losses incurred and the German riposte in January 1942 that retook most of Cyrenaica. The many errors committed by the 8th Army showed that its troops still had much to learn about adapting organization, tactical methods and training to fight a fluid desert war against the DAK and its rapidly improving Italian allies. Basic levels of training were still sadly deficient in many formations. The senior officers and staff at the HQs of Middle East Command and 8th Army made serious endeavours to learn from hard won experience and to disseminate and translate this knowledge into improved training and fighting technique. A procedure was in place to do so, with the staff duties branch at formation headquarters responsible for investigating tactical and operational problems and devising appropriate

14 Middle East Training Memorandum no. 16, 30 June 1941, WO 201/2588, TNA, PRO. 15 Auchinleck to Amery, 10 November 1941, WO 106/3671, TNA, PRO. desert sands to the burmese jungle 233 solutions. Following standard doctrinal practise, as laid down in pre- war Field Service Regulations and as taught at the sister staff colleges at Camberley and Quetta, locally produced training pamphlets and training instructions were issued to formations under their command by higher headquarters. This allowed successive commanders to disseminate their own interpretation of doctrine in amplification of FSR, as long as it was not at variance with doctrine or general policy laid down by the CIGS, and to quickly and effectively pass on the latest best practise. A series of Middle East Command Training Memoranda were circulated, for example, by the staff at GHQ Middle Command to its subordinate armies (8th, 9th and 10th), including its Indian Army contingent, detailing the latest lessons from operations.16 Similarly, the 8th Army at different times issued its own guidance on training that percolated downwards through the command structure.17 The dissemination of the latest doctrinal information improved and training based upon it was taken more seriously after Major-General John Harding was appointed as DMT, Middle East early in 1942. This experienced and capable officer held meetings with the staffs of all armies in the Middle East, created training establishments and schools, founded a higher commanders’ course and developed collective training areas where divisional sized formations could work up before being committed to battle. An uphill task still faced Harding, however, given the lack of time for training and other intractable problems such as shortages of equipment, vehicles and fuel that impeded instruction at individual, unit or collective levels. Whether officers had the time or inclination to read the plethora of instructions, pamphlets and notes issued to them is also questionable. Troops from the Dominions— Australia, New Zealand and South Africa—proved reluctant in particular to accept advice from the British high command. Time was always in short supply given the high tempo of operations in the Western Desert. Until late 1942, the 3 month minimum training time judged necessary by experienced desert hands before committing new troops to battle, vitally needed given the poor training of those arriving fresh from the UK, was a luxury Middle East Command could ill afford. Few

16 See Middle East Training Pamphlet no. 10 Lessons of Cyrenaican campaign, Dec. 1940–Feb. 1941 WO 201/2588, TNA, PRO and Middle East Training Memorandum No. 8 Lessons from Operations, Oct.–Nov. 1942, WO 201/2596, TNA, PRO. 17 See 8th Army Training Memorandum, no. 1, The Approach to Training, 30 Aug. 1942, Briggs MSS, 66/76/1, IWM, London. 234 tim moreman opportunities were available, moreover, to withdraw units to rest and intensively train them away from the line. As a result most training was still carried out ‘on the job’ and much depended on the GOC of each formation as to whether it was taken seriously.18 Other informal channels of communication existed within Middle East Command to pass on the latest information about tactics, training and enemy fighting methods. The Indian Army formations in North Africa and elsewhere in the Middle East profited from the advice by word of mouth and example from their fellow units. When the situation allowed officers were attached from units in Persia-Iraq and India to other frontline units to gain first-hand experience of combat. When the main body of 5th Indian Division deployed in North Africa in April 1941 its officers benefited, for example, by picking the brains of those in 29th Indian Infantry Brigade, who had already served in the Western Desert. The transfer of experienced units to formations that had not yet been committed to battle also played an important role. The 4th Indian Division, for example, lost 2 experienced infantry battalions in March 1942 to the 10th Army in Iraq thereby ensuring combat experience was passed on. Similarly, in pursuance of the policy of the C-in-C to strengthen formations without battle experience, 3 infantry battalions were transferred from 5th Indian Division while it was in Cyprus.19 The key lesson driven home by Operation CRUSADER was the vital necessity of improving combined-arms tactics and training, with senior commanders fully appreciating for the first time that British Commonwealth troops were unable to successfully coordinate tanks, infantry and artillery in both attack and defence. On numerous occasions tank heavy British armoured formations, for example, suffered heavy losses at the hands of German tanks and anti-tank guns as they lacked the artillery or infantry support to suppress them. The 8th Army’s HQ directed early in January 1942 that tanks must never again operate without close artillery support. Similarly, infantry divisions should always cooperate closely with tanks and artillery in the attack. As David French has argued this was a major step forward in improving the battlefield effectiveness of 8th Army. Progress in improving combined arms was impeded, however, by the necessity

18 French, Raising Churchill’s Army, 233. 19 Brett-James, Ball of Fire, 161, 163. desert sands to the burmese jungle 235 of employing its field artillery in an anti-tank role, a lack of medium artillery and extremely poor communications precluding gunners firing indirect concentrations of any size. Lack of training was again specifically identified as a key problem. A training directive issued by the DMT Middle East to 1st Armoured Division and 4th Indian Division in January 1942 directed: Every opportunity will be taken to carry out training in the tactical methods . . . so as to develop an established technique for this type of operation, and to ensure that different units can carry it out in combination even if they have not had an opportunity of training together beforehand.20 Not all formations could be charged, however, with employing poor combined arms tactics. As Paddy Griffiths has argued that the infantry divisions in 8th Army had achieved considerable success in cooperating with the artillery and Army Tank Brigades, equipped with slow and heavily armoured Matilda and Valentine infantry tanks.21 The performance of 4th Indian Division during Operation CRUSADER and its aftermath, for example, was widely acknowledged as being particularly good.22 As the divisional historian later proudly declared: “It was proof positive of the ability of Indian Army formations, properly led and equipped, to meet the fiercest challenge of the greatest professional army in the world.”23 The main conclusion that the C-in-C Middle East drew from Operation CRUSADER was that the brigade group was the main manoeuvre and combat element in desert fighting and that improved combined arms and tactical flexibility could only be achieved via organizational decentralization. It was recognition of what had been tried with some success on the ground during the fighting around Sidi Rezegh during Operation CRUSADER. Writing to the CIGS on 28 December 1942 Auchinleck wrote: Everything we have learned from our operations in Libya goes to show that association between armoured units, infantry and artillery must be

20 Harding to 1 Armoured and 4 Indian divisions, 4 Jan. 1942, WO 203/527, TNA, PRO. 21 Paddy Griffiths, “British Armoured Warfare in the Western Desert 1940–41”, in J.P. Harris and F.H. Toase (eds.), Armoured Warfare (London: 1990), 86–7. 22 Charles Chenevix Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies (London: 1988), 168. 23 Lieutenant-Colonel G.R. Stevens, Fourth Indian Division (London: nd), 123. 236 tim moreman

far closer than it has ever been before. . . . I have definitely come to the conclusion . . . that the Armoured Brigade Group as a permanent organization is a necessity and I am not prepared to put armoured troops into battle in any other form.24 The tank heavy 7th Armoured Division accordingly was reorganized into one armoured brigade, each containing a single infantry battalion in addition to armoured regiments and one motor brigade. Each infantry division, with the exception of those from the Dominions who refused, was also split into 3 brigade groups. Each brigade group— whether infantry or armour—was allocated its own artillery and other supporting arms making it capable of fighting separately if needed, with divisional HQs theoretically controlling disparate types of brigades as the ever changing situation demanded. The Indian formations quickly adopted this change. When the main body of 5th Indian Division arrived to the Western Desert in April 1942 it as reorganized on brigade group basis after being reunited with the 29th Indian Infantry Brigade. Not all commanders were impressed by this development. Major-General Francis Tuker, the acerbic GOC of the 4th Indian Division was vehemently opposed to the idea. In a letter to the DCGS in New Delhi he wrote: I have always opposed the pernicious infantry brigade group system. It does for small wars but it is rubbish for modern war. It leads to confusion, dispersion, unbalancing of forces and chaotic planning.25 The defensive layout adopted by 8th Army at the Gazala Line early in 1942 reflected these new organizational changes. This linear defensive position, stretching from the Mediterranean deep into the desert to Bir Hacheim, consisted of deep minefields behind which were located a series of static defensive ‘boxes’, each containing a single infantry brigade group of all arms, whose vulnerable transport had been sent to the rear. Each box, colloquially known as a ‘cowpat,’ was surrounded by a dense minefield and stocked with food, water and ammunition to resist for a week. These were intended as pivots of manoeuvre for the 8th Army’s armour that was held in reserve in the rear until the strength and direction of an Axis thrust became clear.

24 Claude Auchinleck to Alan Brooke, WO 216/70, TNA, PRO. 25 Stevens, Fourth Indian Division, 162. desert sands to the burmese jungle 237

The process of reorganizing armoured formations in the 8th Army was still incomplete when Rommel struck again in late May 1942. The disastrous Gazala battles that raged between May–June 1942 and the ensuing fall of Tobruk—the nadir of the desert war—drove home just how shockingly poor British combined armed tactics remained. Flawed command and control arrangements made the British high command slow to react and low levels of training were still apparent throughout the 8th Army. The upshot was a humiliating defeat that the outspoken GOC of the 4th Indian Division later described as: “One of the worst fought battles in the history of the British Army.”26 The deployment of infantry brigade groups in widely separated defensive ‘boxes’ quickly proved an expensive error as the DAK out- flanked the Gazala line from the south and surged into the 8th Army’s rear.27 The boxes on which so much depended proved too far apart to provide mutual support, were deficient in firepower, lacked transport to make good an escape and were in turn plucked like ripe fruit and destroyed in detail by the concentrated DAK when the 8th Army failed to strike back with its armoured reserves in time. On 27 May the ill-fated 3rd Indian Motor Brigade, for example, was attacked and overwhelmed by the massed tanks, guns and infantry of the 21st Panzer and Ariete divisions south of Bir Hacheim.28 Indeed, in Barr’s words: “Brigade boxes represented the nadir of British tactics in the desert. They were immobile, frittered away valuable men, and weapons in penny packets, and were incapable of mutual support.”29 The eventual counter-offensive by the 8th Army’s armoured divisions fared little better. Each armoured brigade was committed piecemeal to battle without support from other arms or other armoured formations, and was destroyed in turn. As Lieutenant-General Tom Corbett wrote: “Ritchie’s armour fought without its vital motor infantry component. In one case the Motor Bde was never nearer than about 50 miles to its armoured component, in the other Motor Bde was used for static defence.”30 The infantry fared little better in support of the armour during poorly coordinated counter-attacks. The ‘butcher’s bill’ paid by

26 Lieutenant-General Francis Tuker, Approach to Battle: A Commentary Eighth Army, November 1941 to May 1943 (London: 1963), 85. 27 Auchinleck to Brooke, 24 Feb. 1942, WO 106/220, TNA, PRO. 28 Major-General A.S. Naravane, A Soldier’s Life in War and Peace (New Delhi: 2004), 68, 81. 29 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 64. 30 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 32. 238 tim moreman the 5th Indian Division during the Cauldron battles was exorbitant, with the 9th and 10th Indian infantry brigades savaged. The artillery, in which the British enjoyed a qualitative and 8:5 superiority, was ‘penny-packeted’ throughout the 8th Army and was never concentrated against important targets. It failed to exert a decisive influence on the developing battle and lost heavily. The 8th Army paid a heavy price in lives, equipment and reputations at Gazala and the ensuing pell-mell retreat back into Egypt for its failure to concentrate its numerically superior tanks, artillery and infantry at the decisive point and time, poor combined arms tactics and low overall training levels. To critics it appeared that the tactical expedients and experimentation forced on 8th Army had proved disastrous. Although well intentioned it had dissipated fighting power at a time when concentration was in reality required. Further heavy losses were suffered by the 8th Army’s Indian contingent. The 11th Indian Infantry Brigade, part of the 4th Indian Division, went into captivity when Tobruk surrendered in June 1942 and 29th Indian Infantry Brigade was eventually overrun at Fuka. The 10th Indian Infantry Division, rushed into battle in dribs and drabs, was frittered away at Gazala and then virtually destroyed at Mersah Matruh.

The Lessons of Gazala

The inability of the hapless Lieutenant-General Neil Ritchie, the GOC 8th Army, to get a grip on the rapidly changing battle, meant Auchinleck assumed command of the badly shattered 8th Army on 25 June. The acting GOC of the 8th Army quickly demonstrated greater tactical skill on the battlefield than his predecessor and gradually imposed order out of chaos. Both Auchinleck and Brigadier Eric Dorman-Smith, the newly appointed BGS of the 8th Army, had clearly learned important lessons from the Gazala battles and were determined not to repeat the same mistakes. A series of further root and branch changes in tactical technique and organization, reversing orthodoxy overnight, were quickly implemented to fit the 8th Army to fight a flexible, mobile defensive battle. The 8th Army’s disorganized armoured formations had suffered such crippling tank losses that by early July 1942 they were incapable of playing a dominant part in further fighting until reformed and reequipped. The 1st Armoured Division, for example, consisted of desert sands to the burmese jungle 239

3 weak and disorganized brigades, with each made up of composite armoured regiments. It fought the July 1942 battles at El Alamein still in brigade groups with the only available infantry a single motor battalion in each brigade since its motor brigade had been destroyed. To improve combat effectiveness the remaining heavy tanks at the 8th Army’s disposal, however, were hurriedly regrouped into composite regiments in 2nd and 22nd Tank brigades, equipped with Grants and Crusaders, and the light tanks eventually allocated to the 4th Armoured Brigade. The majority of infantry formations in the 8th Army had also been shattered at Gazala, leaving just 2 divisions intact. The fate that had befallen static boxes convinced Auchinleck to give his remaining infantry a mobile role. All manpower that could not be lifted by the limited available transport was immediately ordered back to the Nile Delta, leaving behind a smaller number of fully mobile units to protect the artillery and armour. The remaining formations—organized into ad hoc battle groups containing the maximum number of field guns available and just enough lorried infantry to protect them—were ordered to fully exploit their mobility and provide mutual support to others if attacked. Out of the wreck of 10th Indian Division, ROBCOL was formed, for example with all available artillery and various odd- ments of infantry that could be cobbled together. By far the most important step taken during the summer was reorganizing the artillery. The 8th Army effectively rediscovered artillery as a battle winner from June 1942 onwards when Auchinleck decided to concentrate it under divisional, corps and even army control. It effectively restored: “The central position of the Royal Artillery in British fighting technique.”31 Such a major change was made possible by Allied air superiority, the availability of sufficient 6-pounders to free artillery from its anti-tank role, improvements in command and control and the shortening of the battlefront at Alamein that made physically concentrating the artillery at long last possible. A combination of these factors improved the speed of response, the weight of concentrations fired in attack and defence and the sophistication of fire plans.32 Under the direction of Brigadier Noel Martin, 8th Army’s Brigadier Royal

31 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 56. 32 Agenda and Minutes of Commanders’ Conference, 15 July 1942, WO 201/2050, TNA, PRO. 240 tim moreman

Artillery, massed artillery inflicted hammer blows on the DAK in July 1942 effectively halting it in its tracks at El Alamein. Following Operation CRUSADER, the 8th Army also developed a far greater appreciation of the devastating power of close air support on the battlefield, after the RAF achieved air superiority and as air- ground communications, intelligence and the serviceability of its aircraft improved. A system based on Air Support Controls at Corps and Armoured Division HQ linked by wireless tentacles to Forward Air Support Links, with teams of RAF personnel at each brigade equipped with RT sets capable of communicating with aircraft overhead ensured the newly renamed Desert Air Force, was highly effective. Response times of calls for air support plummeted while accuracy of air attacks and damage inflicted increased. From May 1942, RAF fighter-bomber attacks were regularly employed that severely degraded German efficiency on the ground. Although the system was thrown out of gear during the retreat from Gazala, it worked well again as soon as the 8th Army settled down at El Alamein. The stabilization of the front line at El Alamein, with its flanks securely anchored on the Mediterranean and Quattara Depression, following the pitched fighting in July 1942 between the remnants of the 8th Army and the weakened over-extended and exhausted DAK, had clearly vindicated Auchinleck’s new emphasis on artillery firepower and mobility. It represented a radical departure from the earlier static defensive tactics used at Gazala. In a letter to the CIGS later that month he wrote: The troops have recovered themselves wonderfully, I think, and have acquired a new tactical technique, based on the proper use of artillery and the retention of mobility, remarkably quickly. They have still a great deal to learn of course, but the gunners have been very good indeed, and the Bosche does not like our shell fire at all, now that it is centrally controlled and directed.33 Such ‘root and branch’ reforms to the organization and fighting methods employed by the armour, artillery and infantry, carried out without explanation in the heat of battle, caused consternation amongst commanders throughout the 8th Army since few understood the rationale. It would be wrong, however, to emphasize that a radical change in fighting methods had spread overnight throughout Middle

33 Auchinleck to Brooke, 25 July 1942, Alanbrooke MSS, 6/2/14, LHCMA, London. desert sands to the burmese jungle 241

East Command. Referring to the 18th Indian Infantry Brigade’s sacrifice at Deir-el-Shein, Barr has observed: “The supreme irony of 1st July was that Auchinleck and Eighth Army were saved by the dogged resistance of an isolated fresh brigade employing the bankrupt tactics of the brigade box.”34 The halt at El Alamein provided time for the 8th Army to take stock of the situation. The fighting at Gazala and the ensuing withdrawal clearly demonstrated that many problems still afflicted the 8th Army, although it had fought with bravery, determination and resolve. It drove home once again old lessons about the need for improvements in combined arms tactics and training and for concentrating artillery firepower, with initial guidance for junior officers issued early in July 1942 listing the perceived lessons of the recent fighting.35 The majority of officers in the 8th Army realized what was needed to improve combat effectiveness, but translating this into improved fighting capability was another matter which could only be addressed with adequate time and opportunity for hard training.36 Endeavours were made to discern further new lessons from the recent fighting. In August 1942, the Chief of Staff at GHQ Middle East, for example, ordered all units and formations to produce preliminary reports highlighting any lessons learned so they could be rapidly disseminated to others.37 The July fighting convinced Auchinleck that a continued lack of cooperation between the infantry and armour required further radical overhauling of the organization of armoured formations. To blur the distinction between the arms and improve cooperation he proposed reorganizing every formation in the 8th Army as a ‘mobile division,’ composed of one armoured and 2 infantry brigades although the exact composition and balance would depend on an allocated task. Further ‘tinkering’ with divisional organization, however, met a frosty reception from his subordinates. New tactical problems, moreover, confronted the 8th Army at El Alamein and occupied the attention of commanders and staff officers as the German defences facing it grew in strength, depth and sophistication, with the adoption of battle drills in the 8th Army seen as one solution. On 5 August 1942 Auchinleck’s

34 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 82. 35 See J.N. Whitely, Notes on Main Lessons of Recent Operations in the Western Desert, 7 July 1942, WO 201/452, TNA, PRO. 36 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 49–50. 37 McCreery to 8, 9 and 10th Armies, 20 Aug. 1942, WO 203/538, TNA, PRO. 242 tim moreman

BGS, Brigadier Freddie de Guingand, asked Corps Commanders for their views on break-in operations to develop a battle drill or standard procedure for breaking through deep enemy defensive positions protected by extensive minefields.38

Montgomery and the Eighth Army

The defence of the El Alamein position against an awaited German offensive and eventual British counter-offensive was not left in Auchinleck’s hands, who had lost the confidence of his superiors. In early August 1942, he and his CGS were sacked and it fell to a new commander and staff to lead the 8th Army. Unlike his predecessor Lieutenant-General Bernard Montgomery ruthlessly gripped his new command and imposed his personality and own ideas about organization, fighting methods and training. Although he claimed to the contrary at the time and later, Montgomery built heavily on the plans and policies of his predecessor. The successful defensive battle at Alam Halfa againstPanzerarmee Afrika, still using tried and tested albeit well known fighting methods, shortly after Montgomery assumed command provided a massive fillip to morale and enabled him to resist pressure to launch an offensive until the 8th Army was fully ready. The lengthy pause in operations afforded the 8th Army badly needed time to rest, reorganize, retrain and intensively rehearse for the operations to come. The new GOC repeatedly stressed the importance of combined arms tactics, battle drills, concentration at decisive point and time, the centralization of artillery firepower and the devastating power of close air support on the battlefield in training instructions issued to 8th Army. Further experimentation with organization was stopped with Montgomery directing that henceforward divisions would fight as complete formations. Under the direction of his new Brigadier Royal Artillery, Brigadier Sidney Kirkman, artillery methods largely developed under Auchinleck’s command spread army wide and further attention was directed towards devising fighting methods, equipment and training for making breakthrough operations. The steady arrival of long awaited modern qualitatively superior tanks, artillery and fresh troops, more-

38 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 192–3, 410. See Training in breaking through minefields, 5 Aug. 1942, WO 201/2590, TNA, PRO. desert sands to the burmese jungle 243 over, gave 8th Army a massive numerical advantage over Panzerarmee Afrika that in comparison was a wasting asset. The set piece battle fought by the ‘new’ 8th Army at El Alamein between 23 October–November 1942 effectively ground down Panzerarmee Afrika until it had little option but to withdraw or face destruction. It was a decisive victory in which the 4th Indian Division performed largely a supporting role until the 5th Indian Infantry Brigade took part in the final breakthrough. It clearly demonstrated that British arms in North Africa had by November 1942 acquired a new confidence, learnt much about successfully conducting breakthrough operations and had attained a high level of tactical and operational skill. The 8th Army had displayed a keen awareness of how to employ its numerically superior arsenal of tanks, artillery, aircraft and equipment in the desert, working together in a concerted plan, to reap the best results. The infantry showed considerable skill in mounting night attacks, breaching minefields with the assistance of engineers and seizing and consolidating heavily fortified and well defended enemy positions. The lessons for the armour from the battle were less clear cut, however, which still displayed serious weaknesses when conducting highly mobile armoured operations and in cooperating with other arms during the battle. Indeed, it had been the type of attritional battle that the British knew and understood and for which the organization and training was largely configured. Overall, the 8th Army had at last developed an ‘interlocking system of war’ that enabled it to master its desert foe using an astute combination of firepower, fighting skill and careful manoeuvre. As Barr concludes: “British fighting methods the rest of the war [in Europe] generally followed the pattern set by El Alamein.”39 The Indian Army contingent serving in the Middle East undoubtedly profited from this hard won experience. A flood of information listing lessons learnt at El Alamein was passed on by the DMT of Middle East Command to all formations in the 8th Army, as well as those elsewhere in the Middle East. The 4th Indian Division was arguably the most experienced of those in the 8th Army by November 1942, albeit worn down by heavy fighting, with it being one of the 4 divisions that fought more than two battles in the 8th Army. Even so its future in the 8th Army, appeared uncertain reflecting perhaps the

39 Barr, The Pendulum of War, 409–10. 244 tim moreman traditional prejudice displayed by British service officers against the Indian Army and a loss in prestige its troops had suffered following Gazala. Writing in November 1942, as fears that Indian Army divisions would be sidelined in North Africa intensified, Major-General Francis Tuker proudly wrote: The Division is a very seasoned one. Among its Indian troops it has more than 1400 who have been on active service continuously for two years and over. About 75% of all its Indian troops have been on continuous active service for over a year. Its British troops have if anything a higher proportion of men which have seen similar periods of continuous active service.40 Following a brief period out of battle, however, his fears were laid to rest. The 4th Indian Division’s excellent performance during the fighting at the Mareth Line, Wadi Akarit and during the later advance into Tunisia ensured it remained at the forefront of the 8th Army. As one author has noted: “From Matmata onwards the 4th Indian Division was recognized as a specialized formation, to be employed wherever peaks and ranges barred the way.”41 It was niche role that later Indian Army divisions performed well in Italy until war’s end.

Learning Lessons in India Command

The primary role and function of India Command following the outbreak of the Second World War in September 1939, was initially to modernize the Indian Army in India and then, after firm directions were finally received from the War Office, in 1940, of raising, organizing, equipping and training individual replacements and further units and formations for service outside the subcontinent, as well as preparing for a potential Soviet invasion of the subcontinent via Afghanistan. The process chosen to do so caused the overall efficiency of Indian Army to plummet compared to those already overseas, however, as a result of ‘milking’—repeatedly taking manpower from units to raise new ones—and by crippling shortages of arms, equipment and vehicles.

40 Stevens, Fourth Indian Division, 201. 41 The Tiger Strikes and the Tiger Kills, 167. desert sands to the burmese jungle 245

The GS India unsurprisingly took a close interest in the ongoing operations in the Middle East as more and more formations went overseas to North Africa, Persia or Iraq, focusing instruction on preparing them for fast moving mechanized desert warfare, although the requirements of frontier fighting and internal security always demanded attention. Existing training establishments from the Staff College at Quetta downwards, geared themselves to desert warfare, while extensive new training areas were reconnoitred and opened for appropriate instruction using wheeled and tracked vehicles. The 17th Indian Division for example, carried out intensive training for desert warfare near Dhond in southern India, with emphasis on mobility. The newly-formed 1st Indian Armoured Division was directed in July 1940: “The Division will train for extensive warfare in an Eastern or North African theatre against a first-class enemy.”42 As Chevenix Trench has written: All training in India was planned with a view to fighting in the Western Desert and Persia. That would be the Indian Army’s war, and for that they prepared in the Punjab, the Sind desert and Baluchistan. Hardly a thought was given to Burma and Malaya, except to sympathize with the poor buggers who were bogged down there, with no chance of ever seeing action.43 Such training was taken seriously. As one young British ECO in the 15th/7th Rajput Regiment recalled: “The whole brigade was keyed up with the prospect of joining the Eighth Army to fight in the ‘gentleman’s’ Desert . . . We trained in the semi-deserts of Baluchistan at a punishing pace, in the intense heat of the day and the sharp cold of the night.”44 Those Indian Army units undergoing instruction directly profited from the often painful lessons being learnt in North Africa about organization, fighting methods and appropriate training. The flow of upto date formation about ongoing operations back to India Command was maintained by various means. It appears that GHQ Middle East Command regularly passed back reports on current operations to GHQ India that in turn were disseminated to its commands. Traffic was not

42 CGS to Northern Command, Eastern Command and Western (Independent) District, 11 July 1940, Corbett MSS, CORB ¾, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge. 43 Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies, 161. 44 P.B. Norris, Willingly to War 1939–1945 (London: 2004), 42. 246 tim moreman all one way. A succession of Indian Army officers carried out familiarization visits to Middle East to study the ground and absorb the latest lessons learnt. This included the DMT in India—Brigadier Francis Tuker—who visited North Africa before Operation BATTLEAXE and was critical of training carried out by the 7th Armoured Division.45 Similarly, the commander of the newly formed 1st Armoured Division under training in India, Major-General Tom Corbett, made two visits to study the operations in the Western Desert to gather first hand useful experience and data upon which to build the organization and equipment of armoured units evolving in India.46 This information provided the basis of a small pamphlet produced for armoured formations being organized, equipped and trained in India Command. Following a second visit in October–November 1941, Corbett suggested there should be a regular flow of personnel to and from the Middle East and India to exchange experience and ensure that practical training was carried out.47 The flow of information back to India Command was maintained by other semi-official channels of communication that helped ‘pass on’ with greater immediacy what was being learnt at the ‘sharp end’ in the Western Desert. The outspoken GOC 4th Indian Division Major- General Francis Tuker, for example, wrote regularly to senior officers in India Command relaying his views on the developing situation in North Africa. Similarly, other more junior officers corresponded with their own regimental centres or officers in fellow battalions. The return of sick and badly wounded regimental officers or those simply being transferred to another unit or training establishment provided further firsthand knowledge. During the autumn of 1942, 4 officers from the Middle East en route to the Staff College, for example, carried out lecture tours in each Army/Command on recent operations in Libya and Egypt.48 Miles Smeeton became the 2nd in Command of Probyn’s

45 DMT’s Tour, Note C. Brigadier Tuker, 18 August 1941, Liddell Hart MSS, 1/705, LHCMA. 46 See Report on a visit to Egypt and the Western Desert by Major-General T.W. Corbett, Commander 1st (Indian) Armoured Division, Sept. 1940, Corbett MSS, CORB 4/1 and Auchinleck to Ismay, 12 Oct. 1941, Ismay MSS, LHCMA IV/Con/1/1B and Corbett to Goldschmidt, 13th June 1941, Corbett MSS, CORB 5/8. 47 Report on 2nd Visit to Middle East Theatre of War 7 Oct. to 8 Nov. 1941 by Major-General T.W. Corbett, 1 Nov. 1941, Corbett MSS, CORB 4/7. 48 Director of Military Training, GHQ India, to Director of Military Training, War Office, 1 Aug. 1942, L/WS/1/1257, IOR, BL, London. desert sands to the burmese jungle 247

Horse in India, following service with 3rd Indian Motor Brigade and on the staff in the Western Desert bringing with him valuable experience of the desert. In his own words: “I remember when I left the desert the infantry had a felt a deep distrust of the armour . . . Although I was now in armour I could still appreciate the feelings of the infantry soldier—a great help in days to come and in training now.”49 Those officers who took up senior command or staff appointments in India Command following service in North Africa had a greater more systemic influence on the Indian Army units in India. General Noel de la P. Beresford-Pierce—a former GOC 4th Indian Division and later Western Desert Force—commanded Southern Command, for example, between 1942 and 1944. Those given command of Indian formations under training or on active service had a more direct immediate opportunity to pass on what they had learnt by issuing training instructions to their troops, giving lectures and personally supervising instruction. Major-General Reginald Savory had led a brigade of the 4th Indian Division in the Western Desert before being appointed GOC 23rd Indian Division and later the highly influential post of Inspector and then Director of Infantry at GHQ India. Others commanded training establishments where they exercised army wide influence on war fighting doctrine. Major-General Geoffrey Evans who had led an infantry battalion in the Western Desert was appointed Commandant at the Staff College, Quetta before commanding a brigade and then the 7th Indian Division in Arakan. A former GSO1 of 4th Indian Division, Commandant of the Middle East Training Centre and then Brigade Commander in the 4th Indian Division—Major-General Donald Bateman—held the appointment of DMT in 1944–45. Others played a key part in training the technical arms of service. Major-General William Mirrlees, the CRA of 4th Indian Division between September 1940 and March 1942, was appointed Major-General Royal Artillery India in March 1942, with responsibility for training British and Indian gunners and in this post he oversaw the massive build up of artillery in the India Command. The Indian Army ironically greatly profited by the return of sacked ‘first division’ officers from Middle East Command, caught up in an ongoing and regrettable search for scapegoats post-Gazala, many of whom performed competently and in some cases extremely well in

49 Miles Smeeton, A Change of Jungles (London: 1962), 63–4. 248 tim moreman

Burma as divisional commanders or in India Command in other capacities.50 The appointment of Auchinleck as C-in-CI in June 1943, after a period of unemployment, placed him in a position where his wealth of combat experience, prestige and recent knowledge derived from North Africa directly benefited the Indian Army in preparing India Command as a base for the war in the Far East. Major-General ‘Pete’ Rees—GOC 10th Indian Division—was sacked by his corps commander for allegedly displaying lack of resolve, but later distinguished himself leading the 19th Indian Division in Burma. Following his dismissal in the Middle East, Major-General Frank Messervy, who had commanded 3 separate divisions in the Middle East, returned to India Command. He for 6 months raised and trained the 43rd Indian Armoured Division for service in Persia before becoming Director of Armoured Fighting Vehicles at GHQ India. As commander of 7th Indian Division and later 4th Corps during the stages of the war in Burma, this Indian cavalryman proved himself again in combat. The return of Indian formations to the subcontinent that had served with distinction in 8th Army provided another conduit for information about desert fighting, although it was not until after the Battle of El Alamein. The 5th Indian Division, commanded by Major-General Harold Briggs, was brought home in June 1943 from Persia-Iraq Command by special request because of its combat experience and high morale. Both were badly lacking in India Command still reeling from the disastrous First Arakan campaign. While it’s Indian units dispersed to their regimental centres and then home for well earned leave, the rump of the formation concentrated at Chas in Bihar Province where it reorganized, reequipped and immediately set about training for jungle warfare with a vigour and determination that underlined its professionalism after years of war. Several formations and units were immediately transferred to other Indian formations to spread experience throughout India Command. The 5th Indian Division was not given a long respite before being committed to the Arakan as part of the 15th Corps where it quickly distinguished itself in battle. A still worried Auchinleck clearly wanted more war experienced troops

50 Raymond Callahan, “Were the ‘Sepoy Generals’ any Good? A Repparaisal of the British Indian Army’s High Command in the Second World War”, in Kaushik Roy (ed.), War and Society in Colonial India (Delhi: 2006), 322. desert sands to the burmese jungle 249 released from the Middle East. Writing to the CIGS in September 1943 he explained: Their return to India would enable me to dispense with a number of the more recently raised units and formations, which must be of a lower standard than those which have served for a long period overseas.51 It did not prove, however, a successful request, with 3 divisions employed in Italy and others in PAIFORCE. The valuable information passed on through these various means was incorporated into a number of publications issued by GHQ India to units and formations undergoing instruction, as well as the curriculum of the multitude of new specialized training establishments that had sprung up catering for the needs of the vastly expanded Indian Army. The Military Intelligence Directorate at GHQ, India produced a series of War Information Circulars containing detailed information on the German and Italian armies that were distributed to training establishments and down to brigade Level. The contents forWar Information No. 26A, for example, included a lecture on the Libyan Campaign in November–December 1941 written by a staff officer of an Indian division.52 Other information was incorporated from early 1941 onwards into Army in India Training Memoranda (War Series) that appeared on a regular basis until the end of hostilities listing lessons from various theatres of war.53 The War Office in London also played a key role in collating, analyzing and disseminating lessons learnt from North Africa. It produced two series of publications that were circulated in the United Kingdom, in-theatre and to officers serving in the subcontinent. The more general lessons from North Africa appeared in the Notes from Theatres of Warseries that were complemented by the more specificCurrent Reports from Overseas series published under the auspices of the CIGS.54 Based on reports submitted to the War Office by the C-in-C Middle East, they provided an authorita- tive guide to current practise in the 8th Army, with the first edition based on the lessons of Operation CRUSADER. Such publications

51 Auchinleck to Brooke, 9 Sept. 1943, L/WS/1/707, IOR, BL. 52 See War Information Circular No. 26-A (New Delhi: 1942). 53 See Army in India Training Memorandum No. 4 War Series January 1941 (Simla: 1941); Army in India Training Memorandum No. 5 War Series February/March 1941 (Simla: 1941, L/MIL/17/5/2240, IOR, BL. 54 See Notes from Theatres of War No. 1 Cyrenaica, WO 106/2223, TNA, PRO. 250 tim moreman included information on developing British tactics, as well as much useful information on German fighting methods. On occasion operations by Indian formations featured in its pages. A successful attack by the 7th Indian Infantry Brigade at the Omars during Operation CRUSADER, for example, was described in Notes from Theatres of War No. 4 Cyrenaica Nov. 1941–Jan. 1942. This involved patrolling to locate the enemy defences and then a coordinated infantry and tank attack supported by a timed artillery programme.55

The Legacies of Fighting in North Africa

The small Indian contingent that fought in North Africa alongside other British Commonwealth formations undoubtedly learnt much by dint of hard experience about conducting high intensity manoeuvre warfare in the Western Desert. Indian troops categorically did not develop, however, a coherent war winning tactical doctrine of its own in the Western Desert. While serving in the Middle East, the Indian Army divisions formed an integral part of British higher formations and followed standard doctrine as laid down for all other British troops in-theatre. Although GOCs had freedom to implement their own ideas within their formation, they did so within a tight straitjacket imposed from above and the overriding need to maintain a common doctrine. The lessons learnt during the early war years in North Africa by the small Indian contingent undoubtedly exerted a powerful influence on the expanding Indian Army between 1940 and 1942. Moreover, given that India Command had geared itself to providing individual reinforcements, units and further formations for service in the Middle East was detrimental to its other commitments. As this chapter has shown the lessons learnt by the British Commonwealth armies in the Western Desert were passed on back to GHQ India by various means, eagerly studied and disseminated to the rest of the Indian Army where they formed the basis of instruction for those slated for the Middle East. The Japanese invasion of Malaya in December 1941, the retreat from Burma and sudden emergence of a direct threat on the mountainous jungle covered Indo-Burmese frontier to British India, however,

55 Bidwell and Graham, Firepower, 233–8. See Notes from Theatres of War No. 4 Cyrenaica, Nov. 1941–Jan. 1942 WO 106/2223, TNA, PRO. desert sands to the burmese jungle 251 rapidly diverted attention away from the Western Desert. It undoubtedly caught GHQ India off-guard. As the CGS India explained: Our elaborate and detailed programme for the raising of units, the order of battle, war establishment, scales and types of transport, equipment and training were all principally arranged with a view to operations to the west of India. These have required rapid and extensive revision which has involved considerable changes in the location, composition and commitments of such formations as we have available.56 The poor combat capability of Indian Army formations demonstrated in the jungles of Malaya and Burma was largely blamed on their inappropriate organization, equipment and training for desert warfare. It hid perhaps a more unpalatable truth that the basic level of individual and collective training of the Indian Army had plumbed new depths thanks to ‘milking.’ Those Indian Army units deployed in Malaya, Burma and later on the Indo-Burmese frontier quickly discovered that jungle fighting against the IJA required special skills, specialized fighting methods and minor tactics. Indeed, it appeared to some that jungle fighting was a completely new form of conflict requiring distinct specialized knowledge and skills to live, move and fight in areas of unprecedented physical difficulties—an appalling climate, difficult mountainous terrain and dripping wet vegetation—against a ruthless opponent regarded as a jungle fighter extraordinaire and whose ‘fanatical’ willingness to fight to the death coloured every operation of war. The contrast between fighting in the open desert and war in the jungle on the Indo-Burmese frontier could hardly have been greater, with troops now having to become jungle-minded and ‘jungle worthy’ in preparation for battle. The majority of the combat in the sweltering jungle was at short range with marching infantry—the predominant arm—equipped with mule transport having the greatest relative mobility across jungle covered mountainous terrain. A high level of skill-at-arms, jungle craft and minor tactics was required in jungle terrain. The jungle did not lend itself to large scale armoured formations or large scale employment artillery. The other arms—armour and artillery—in comparison to the infantry had a limited role, due to lower relative mobility, the inacces- sible terrain and logistical problems, albeit as events proved an important supporting role. Airpower had a larger role, moreover, than in the

56 CGS India to CGS, War Office, 15 March 1942, L/WS/1/441, IOR, BL. 252 tim moreman

Western Desert in terms of providing close air support, interdiction and air supply. The conflicting demands of organizing, equipping and training Indian troops for desert warfare and jungle fighting initially proved difficult to reconcile, with GHQ India initially still prioritizing the campaigns in North Africa over those in the Far East. It was perhaps an understandable decision given the sizeable contingent maintained in the Middle East and that training for mobile operations also had relevance for motorized formations in southern India preparing for an anticipated Japanese invasion. It also took considerable time to study, draw conclusions and disseminate the lessons of the war in the Far East. It was not until the disastrous First Arakan Campaign drove home the dangers of applying fighting methods developed in other theatres of war and employing poorly trained troops in the jungle against the IJA that the focus of the organization, equipment and training of India Command shifted decisively to the demands of the Far East.57 The fighting in North Africa taught many lessons about organization, equipment, fighting methods and training that were in many cases conflict specific. However, the experience gained and other more general lessons learned certainly had enduring significance for Indian divisions undergoing instruction in India or already deployed along the Indo-Burmese frontier. The Desert War provided extremely valuable, albeit difficult to quantify, combat and command experience for officers of all ranks, NCOs and men which stood them in good stead in Burma. As this chapter has shown between 1943–45 many senior officers of both the Indian or British service who successfully held senior command and staff appointments in India Command and Burma had held similar appointments or led units, brigades and divisions in the Western Desert. It had provided these men with invaluable practical experience of leadership in battle, modern mechanized warfare and of surmount- ing the immense administrative and logistical problems involved in operating in an undeveloped theatre of war. Not all officers made the transition, however, from the desert to the jungle successfully. Major-

57 For a detailed discussion of the development of jungle fighting methods see T.R. Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and the British Commonwealth armies at War. Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (London: 2005) and D. Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes. The Indian Army in the Burma Campaign (London: 2003). desert sands to the burmese jungle 253

General Wilfred Lloyd, who had served as GSO1 4th Indian Division and then led 5th Indian Infantry Brigade between July 1940–July 1941 in the Western Desert, proved singularly unsuccessful commanding 14th Indian Division in Arakan largely by failing to adapt conventional fighting methods to the jungle and the Japanese. The tradition of success and self-confidence the Desert War instilled in Indian Army troops as well as the example set to others was arguably just as important as any practical lessons learnt. A sense of pride, confidence and professionalism pervaded the veteran 5th Indian Division, for example, on its return to the subcontinent that the battered and bruised war raised formations in India Command sadly lacked. The individual skills, minor tactics and relevant training required to live, move and fight in the jungle against the Japanese were obviously radically different from those employed in the Western Desert. Many of the more general lessons and in particular the knowledge gained about employing modern weapons and equipment, however, had relevance to Burma or indeed any theatre of war, although the exact method of applying them required adapting to local circumstances. The officers and men who had fought in North Africa keenly appreciated the importance of combined arms tactics, the value of battle drills at all levels to improve the tempo of operations and standardize procedure and fighting concentrated as a complete division whenever possible to produce the maximum effect. A key lesson of the Western Desert was that fresh, inexperienced formations required intensive training before being committed to battle. The arguably technologically more sophisticated war fought in North Africa gave officers an understanding of the capabilities and limitations of modern military technology. The role played by armour, the devastating striking power of carefully coordinated massed artillery, the effectiveness of close air support on the battlefield and lastly how to conduct fast moving mechanized operations all remained key lessons for Indian Army officers. The exact employment of modern weaponry on a jungle battlefield, however, of course required a considerable degree of modification. The handling of large armoured forces was an obvious impossibility in jungle terrain, for example, but scope existed for employing tanks in close cooperation with infantry on a small scale. Other methods employed in Libya were employed virtually unchanged in the jungle. The system of controlling close air support, using Air Support Controls, was employed during the winter of 1943–44 in Burma. Some of the fighting methods and language of the desert war quickly entered the conflict in Burma, with 254 tim moreman

‘boxes’ being widely used by 14th Army, despite opposition from some quarters over the discredited name. It proved a far more effective tactic in Burma, however, because Japanese troops lacked the firepower to overrun them and the availability of Allied supply aircraft meant they could be maintained indefinitely if surrounded. The Indian Army by the spring of 1945 was very different from that which had sent troops overseas to the Middle East, largely as a result of the war on the Indo-Burmese frontier whose insistent demands dominated its organization, equipment, tactics and training from 1943 onwards. The lessons learnt in the Western Desert had, however, had made a limited contribution to the developing fighting methods employed by the 14th Army. The fact that the Indian Army clearly still retained the organizational knowledge and capability to mount fast moving armoured operations was demonstrated as the 14th Army emerged from the jungle-covered mountains of the Indo-Burmese frontier. The high tempo armoured thrust into the open terrain of the dry belt of central Burma towards Meiktila in 1944–45 and then southwards towards Rangoon by the 4th Corps, commanded by Lieutenant- General Frank Messervy, bears a striking resemblance to operations in the Western Desert and of course was led by an Indian Army officer with considerable experience of commanding armoured formations in the desert. Against a Japanese opponent incapable of deploying anywhere near the same numbers of modern tanks, artillery and anti-tank weapons, it proved devastating. CHAPTER EIGHT

THE WAR IN BURMA, 1942–1945: THE 7/10TH BALUCH EXPERIENCE

Daniel Marston

The Second World War was a period of unprecedented expansion for the Indian Army. Between 1939 and 1945, the army expanded from 200,000 to more than 2.5 million men and officers, even though conscription was never imposed. The army’s rapid expansion in response to the needs of the war raised questions concerning the quality of troops and officers. The army had a number of teething troubles as it grew in strength and experience, but it was always able to point with pride to its ability to learn from mistakes and adapt to conditions. By the beginning of 1944, the Indian Army had reached a level of performance characterized by consistent and reliable professionalism in an impressive variety of types and theaters of warfare.1 In May 1945, leading elements of the 17th2 and 26th Indian divisions met north of Rangoon. The Indian Army3 had inflicted the worst land defeat that the IJA had ever suffered, and the victory in Burma was its last and greatest victory. How did they achieve this victory? This essay will consider the reform of the larger army through the experiences of one battalion—the 7/10th Baluch Regiment of the 17th Indian Division—during the Burma Campaign and its efforts at reform throughout the war.

1 Daniel P. Marston Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Cam- paign (Westport CT.: 2003); Tim Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and the British Commonwealth Armies at War 1941–1945: Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (London: 2005). 2 Most of the brigades mentioned in this essay were part of the 17th Indian Divi- sion at some point in the war. 3 The term Indian Army throughout this article to refer to all Indian, British, Burmese, and West and East African units serving in India and Burma. 256 daniel marston

17th Indian Division (7/10th Baluch) in the First Burma Campaign: 1941–1942

The 7/10th Baluch’s experience in the Second World War was representative of that of the larger Indian Army. It was a war raised battalion and, along with many others, suffered many of the growing pains that accompanied the army’s rapid expansion. The lack of basic training, officer training and experience affected the performance of most Indian Army units in 1941, especially those earmarked for duties in the Far East. The 7/10th Baluch arrived in Rangoon on 16 January 1942 as part of the 46th Indian Brigade,4 17th Indian Division. The battalion, as was typical at that time and place, was filled with half-trained officers and men who were barely prepared for a desert war, let alone jungle conditions.5 The commander of B Company (composed of Punjabi Muslims), Second-Lieutenant (later Brigadier) John Randle, remembered a conversation at the docks at Rangoon where the commanding officer of the battalion, Lieutenant-Colonel Dyer, asked a senior staff officer what they should do about training. The staff officer replied “training—you can’t do any training because it is all bloody jungle.”6 Most of the units and staff deployed to Burma considered it a back- water, and one that the Japanese were unlikely to attack; but that if they did, they had no answer to offer of how to deal with tactics that might be deployed against them in the jungle. The staff officers’ opinions notwithstanding, the battalion was not discouraged from attempting to gain some familiarity with jungle operations, and the unit war diary documents this process. On 18 January, the entry reads: “all companies practised formations and intercommunication in thick jungle.”7 The diary also comments on patrols being sent out as the unit moved south towards the Salween River, and that with more vehicles, the patrols became more mobile, which indicates that some of the patrolling was being done by road.8 An officer with C Company,9 Second-Lieutenant C.R.L. Coubrough,

4 The last remaining original brigade of the 17th Indian Division. WO 172/928 January 1942, PRO, TNA. 5 Interview with Brigadier John Randle, 10/4/2000. 6 Interview with John Randle, 10/4/2000. 7 WO 172/928 January 1942, PRO, TNA. 8 WO 172/928 21–26/1/1942, PRO, TNA. 9 Commanded by Sri Kanth Korla (Indian Commissioned Officer). war in burma 257 mentioned that his company undertook numerous patrols with the aim of getting used to the jungle and the area.10 However, Brigadier Randle indicated that many patrols were sent out at company level, which he maintained was too large a group to command and lead in the jungle. Furthermore, he noted that the difficulty was increased with half-trained troops; even late in the war, with seasoned veterans, it would be a difficult task. He felt that patrolling was driven principally by a desire to just go out and find the Japanese, without a clear understanding of potential problems. When troops made their first forays into the jungle in 1942, they moved forward by hacking away at the bamboo with knives, which gave away their position with a great deal of noise and tired out the men.11 The 7/10th Baluch was deployed to an area of the Salween River to the north of Moulmein, where it took over the positions of the 1/7th Gurkha Rifles on the western side of the river, north of Kuzeik. The ferry town of Pa-an was across the river,12 and the Japanese 33rd Division was moving through the jungle opposite. The unit was there to stop the Japanese crossing the river; they were to do this by sending out company sized patrols to the north and south of their position.13 As the 7/10th Baluch took over the positions, they were attacked by 50 Japanese aircraft, which inflicted some damage. The B Company’s positions were also mortared by the Japanese from the opposite bank. These attacks pointed up a significant problem for the unit: the lack of adequate slit trenches, which exposed the men.14 The Japanese landed 2 battalions of the 215th Regiment to the south of the 7/10th Baluch on the night of 11/12 February,15 and a third battalion crossed the Salween further south. The Japanese units first focused on the 7/10th Baluch patrol bases in the south,16 then turned their attention to the actual battalion position.

10 Interview with Lieutenant Coubrough, 27/3/2000. 11 Interview with John Randle, 10/4/2000. 12 WO 172/928 2–8/2/1942, PRO, TNA. 13 Operational instructions WO 172/928 8/2/1942, PRO, TNA. 14 Seven jawans were killed. WO 172/928 8/2/1942. 15 There is some discrepancy regarding the date. The War Diary notes 10/11th and Woodburn S. Kirby War Against Japan, vols. 1–5 (London: 1957–1965) History of the Second World War, United Kingdom Military Series (see especially vol. 2) 11/12th. 16 S. Woodburn Kirby, The War Against Japan, vol. 2, India’s Most Dangerous Hour (London: 1958), 40–1; some platoons from A and B companies had been overrun by the Japanese at their patrol base, Pagat WO 172/928, 11 February 1942, PRO, TNA. 258 daniel marston

The 7/10th Baluch positions at this point were as follows: C Company (Dogras), led by Captain Srikant Korla, was positioned to the south-west side; B Company17 (Punjabi Muslims), less 2 platoons, led by Second-Lieutenant Randle, to the west/north-west; D Company (Punjabi Muslims), less one platoon, led by Second-Lieutenant Jervis, to the north (and east of B); and finally A Company (Pathans), less 2 platoons, led by Captain Cayley, to the south-east, on the high ground and facing the river.18 The Japanese began harassing the Baluch main positions at 0430 on 11 February. After probing the perimeter for an hour, they pulled back, but with dawn came an air attack. The increased number of slit trenches meant that there was only one casualty,19 but artillery support for the unit disappeared, as the gunners withdrew20 in an attempt to reach brigade HQ and advise of the impending attack.21 The main Japanese attack commenced at 0100 hours22 on 12 February. The first attack was launched against C Company’s position, accompanied by the war cries that often shook the morale of the units being attacked. The battalion, however, retaliated with Dogra and Punjabi Muslim war cries. Meanwhile, B Company was also fend- ing off a Japanese attack. The Japanese set out to locate and destroy the machine guns, and succeeded in driving a wedge between C and B Company positions. Overall, the Japanese were being held, but they continued to mount attacks on the remaining company positions and to drive wedges among them. Wave after wave of attacks came and still the line held, but the numbers of casualties on both sides mounted.23 The C Company was completely surrounded by 0500 hours. Captain Korla led a counter-attack, enabling his men to break through to the A Company lines to secure more ammunition, and he then proceeded to

17 Arrived after heavy fighting following an attempt to make contact with the patrol base at Pagat. 11/2 0300 hrs. WO 172/928 February 1942. 18 WO 172/928, 11–12 February 1942. 19 0730–0940, WO 172/928, 11 February 1942. 20 Interview with Brigadier Randle and C.R.L. Coubrough, 10/4/2000 and 27/3/2000; John Coubrough Memoirs of a Second Lieutenant (York: 1999), 20. 21 The 5/17th Dogra was earmarked to reinforce the 7/10th Baluch but never arrived due to communication problems, leaving the Baluchis to meet the Japanese onslaught single handed. 22 It is recorded to have begun at 0100 and 0200 in various sources. I have used the times given in the War Diary’s account. 23 0130–0530, WO 172/928, 12 February 1942. war in burma 259 fight his way back to his own company’s positions.24 The B Company was overrun next, and here the Japanese paused to regroup and set up for further attack on the remaining Baluch positions, launching a mortar bombardment in preparation. By 0630, only battalion HQ and the A Company positions were still tenable; most of the other companies had been completely overrun,25 and no further reinforcement from the 5/17th Dogras was possible.26 The troops remaining were led by Major Dunn27 in a counter-attack to reach C Company’s positions. They were successful in reaching their goal, but when they arrived, they saw that most of the men had either withdrawn or been killed.28 By 0800, it was decided that any further defence was futile,29 and the remaining men attempted to break through the Japanese forces surrounding them to reach brigade HQ. At roll call on 13 February, there were only 5 officers, 3 VCOs and 65 soldiers accounted for:30 the battalion had been decimated.31 Initially, the battalion had been attached to the 4/12th Frontier Force Regiment, had served alongside it at Sittang, and had managed to reach the western side of the Sittang River. Such was the need for reinforcements, however, that the 7/10th Baluch were not to regain full strength until after the First Burma Campaign. The 7/10th Baluch was not suited for the role it was forced to play in the First Burma Campaign. It, along with other units, had been drawn on for the expansion of the 10th Baluch Regiment, and the replacements received were men and officers who had received minimal training. It was earmarked for desert warfare and then had to switch to a completely different role in Burma. This combination of

24 For which Korla was awarded an immediate DSO. 25 MS history of the 7/10th Baluch, written during the war. 26 In the end they never moved to the aid of the 7/10th Baluch. 27 Lieutenant-Colonel Dyer had been killed and Dunn (Anglo-Indian) took charge since he was second in command. 28 0630, WO 172/928, 12 February 1942, PRO, TNA and MS history of the 7/10th Baluch, written during the war. 29 0800, WO 172/928, 12 February 1942. 30 WO 172/928, 13 February 1942; Soldiers and officers continued to come in from the patrol platoons as well as those who were lucky enough to escape. Captain Korla, initially captured, was able to escape. Second-Lieutenant Coubrough was not lucky enough to escape. He describes his attempt to escape and his subsequent imprisonment in his book, Memoirs of a Second Lieutenant. 31 Major MacLean had been posted to the 46th Indian Brigade HQ. He arrived to the remains of the battalion after it had withdrawn to Pegu. He described the devasta- tion of the battalion; only the carrier platoon which had not taken part in the battle remained intact. Interview with Major MacLean, 7/10th Baluch, 22 March 2000. 260 daniel marston circumstances could have been a catastrophe for the unit, but it applied itself to the development of new methods suitable for the new challenges it faced. First and most significant for the future were its attempts to mount patrols in the jungle. Next was its realization of the consequences of the lack of slit trenches and its immediate steps to remedy this. Last but not least was its superb performance in defence, against overwhelming odds and with little support from 46th Indian Brigade, which did not go unnoticed. When speaking of the 7/10th, Major-General Lunt noted, “they were a young and unseasoned battalion but they fought like veterans.”32 Official recognition came from the staff of the 46th Brigade, which offered congratulations.33 The experience also provided one invaluable asset for the future: officers and men who had experienced the fighting at Pa-an were able to escape to India. They were still attached to the battalion, and available to provide the benefit of their experience, as unit reformed and went into action in Burma in 1943–45.

End of the First Burma Campaign

Although Burma Corps34 (BURCORPS) was forced to retreat more than 1,000 miles, suffering heavy losses en route due to the fighting and the terrain, the Indian Army was still able to withdraw and avoid total destruction. It arrived in Assam in north-east India, with a large body of veterans who had fought the Japanese in the jungles and open plains of Burma, providing a valuable source of information for the army to draw upon as it began its tactical reforms. While the Japanese gained numerical superiority, control of the air and the benefit of veteran units fighting, a problem of even more critical importance for the British and Indian troops was the fact that their units were half trained, and that the training they had received was for the wrong environment.35 The campaign had had the makings of a

32 James Lunt, Hell of a Licking: The Retreat from Burma (London: 1986), 12–3. 33 WO 172/928, 13 February 1942, PRO, TNA. 34 BURCORPS consisted of the 1st Burma Division and the 17th Indian Division. 35 Three high level commanders, Lieutenant-General William Slim, Lieutenant- General John Smyth and Major-General Punch Cowan; all agreed that training was a major problem. It was easy to say that some sort of jungle training ought to have been required, but two issues should be considered alongside this comment. First, it was only after the defeat that the army began to see that jungle warfare training was needed. Before the First Burma Campaign, no thought had been given to jungle war in burma 261 disaster from the start, and while it was an unqualified defeat, the Indian Army did manage to extricate itself and use what it learned to salvage something from the wreckage. Various Indian officers had acquitted themselves well during the fighting, which also helped dispel pre-war prejudices regarding their potential capabilities. The British ECOs had served and fought under the command of Indians, an unprecedented event which had occurred with apparently with no resentment. This cameraderie would prove beneficial as the units reformed after the defeat and came to terms with its lessons. The IJA had been more mobile and better able to operate in difficult terrain throughout the First Burma Campaign. They had been able to cut the Indian Army’s lines of communication as it formed up for battle. The Japanese were not jungle experts, but veteran troops who could operate capably in difficult terrain and become mobile without transport. The Indian Army units, by contrast, were half trained in basic techniques, not to mention in need of further specialist training in jungle warfare. The men and officers were in need of acclimatization to the jungle conditions of heat and close terrain. The Indian Army learned from the defeats in Malaya and Burma and used these lessons to reform the tactics and training of its units. Contrary to popular opinion, the Indian Army was not too conservative a force to recognize its weaknesses and learn from defeat, and the events of the next 3 years were to demonstrate their willingness to change. Following the withdrawal of the 17th Indian Division from Burma in May 1942, the divisional commander, Major-General Cowan, set out to draw what lessons he could from the First Burma Campaign.36 The division was stationed in the Assam alongside the 23rd Indian Division. Some of the ideas worked out changed over the course of the next few years, but many formed the basis of the tactical doctrine eventually adopted by most units in the field. The first indication of

tactics. Second, even if there had been some sort of jungle training available, most of the units sent to Burma were only half trained men and officers, and the likelihood of them learning the particulars was remote. Sir John Smyth, Before the Dawn: A Story of Two Historic Retreats (London: 1957), 140. Even the veterans have noted that the overriding thought was to get out of the way of the Japanese after a while. Ideas of how to wage jungle warfare were not on anyone’s mind; survival was the first priority. Interviews with six First Burma Campaign veterans. 36 Brigadier R.T. Cameron, commander of the 48th Indian Brigade, wrote a report on the failings of the First Burma Campaign and possible solutions. This formed the foundation for the training of the 17th Indian Division. 262 daniel marston reforms made within the division can be found in the June 1942 war diary. Training Instruction No. 1 for the 17th Indian Division appears in the Appendix, and it begins with two important sentences: “. . . the division has acquired considerable practical experience of fighting against the Jap and many lessons have been learned from their methods which can be adopted by us. . . . [N]ow is the time to train and practice these new methods and to drive in the good lessons before they are forgotten.”37 The 17th had suffered heavy losses and had to be replenished with new recruits. Cowan noted that the cadre of officers and men who had seen action would stiffen the intake of men with instructions, demonstrations and practical experience. Patrolling, gathering information and denial of information to the enemy would be paramount to future operations. Most importantly for the last point, specific orders would be given for men to maintain fire discipline in the jungle.38 It was necessary for the men to be given the opportunity to get used to the jungle environment, and to use it to their advantage. They had to be confident enough in their surroundings to disperse when fired upon. To do this, units practised establishing base camps on 3 day out- ings in the jungle. Small unit patrols pushed further out into the jungle from these base camps to gather information and harass the enemy. Units were taught to establish base camps on hills, enabling the patrols to gain control of the valleys.39 The 17th Division distributed Training Instruction No. 2 on 24 June 1942. This requested that all veteran officers and men, before going on leave, relay their experiences and observations of battle to new men coming into their units via lectures and written notes. In this document, Cowan also described his plan to form his 3 brigades into 3 different forces: the 16th Indian Brigade to act as shock troops supported by tanks; the 48th Indian Brigade to serve as jungle shock troops; and the 63rd Indian Brigade to act as combined operations and river shock troops.40 Although this structure did not last for more than a few weeks, one part of the plan did survive and was in use until the end of the war:41 the establishment of a commando platoon in each infantry

37 WO 172/475, 4 June 1942, PRO, TNA. 38 WO 172/475, 4 June 1942. 39 WO 172/475, 4 June 1942. 40 WO 172/475, 24 June 1942. 41 Interview with Captain Murtough, 17/6/2000. He commanded the commando war in burma 263 battalion, made up of men who had been hand picked to serve under one commander. The final orders for 24 June indicated that all officers were to read the Cameron Report, AITM and the Malaya Report.42 Seven training instructions were written for the 17th Indian Division between June and December 1942; these were used as the basis for various exercises in the field. The 17th had the added benefit of Japanese troops stationed in the area as a training tool. As units were sent out to encounter the nearby enemy troops, a constant assessment of tactics could be undertaken and sent back to the various HQs for further analysis and dissemination to other units.43 The brother division of the 17th, the 23rd Indian Division, participated in these training exercises; its commander, Major-General Reginald Savory,44 was a friend of Cowan’s from when the 2 men had served among the first instructors at DehraDun in 1932/33. In late July, the 23rd Division participated in a war game to study Japanese infiltration tactics.45

The Aftermath: Assessment and Reform in India Command

Defeats in the Malaya and Burma campaigns convinced the Indian Army that new tactics and training were required. Over the course of 1942 and 1943, the army set out to develop and implement the necessary reforms, with varying levels of success. The following section examines the process of tactical reform,46 including the role of GHQ India in developing and implementing tactical reform procedures, primarily through the dissemination of the AITM and the creation of the MTP (no. 9); and the experiences of the 7/10th Baluch as a unit at the forefront of tactical reforms. The section will be presented in chronological order, to highlight how the reforms moved forward.

platoon of the 4/12th Frontier Force Rifle for most of the war. The commando platoon drew from all 4 companies. It was a mixed platoon. 42 WO 172/475, 24 June 1942. 43 WO 172/475, June-December 1942. 44 Savory became the Director of Infantry, India in mid-1943, partly as a result of his experiences with the 23rd Indian Division and his knowledge of jungle warfare tactics. 45 Lieutenant-General. Reginald Savory Papers, TS Diary (July), 7603–93, NAM, London. 46 The principal focus is on the tactical doctrines envisioned for infantry and tank units. While artillery fulfilled an important supporting role, due to space limitations it cannot be discussed in depth. 264 daniel marston

The British commanders47 involved in the First Burma Campaign set out almost immediately to learn from their defeats.48 Others also recognized the need for tactical reform, and units throughout India Command began to explore new ways of operating in the jungle. The principal method of disseminating the new tactics being developed was the Army in India Training Memoranda (AITM)49 and the various training pamphlets published by GHQ India.50 The AITM No. 14 of February 1942 was the first to present jungle warfare tactics, in the context of a discussion of the fighting in Malaya. Field-Marshal A. Wavell published his notes on the Malaya Campaign,51 focusing principally on the problems that the British/Indian troops encountered against the tactics employed by the Japanese. His main argument was that it was necessary for troops to move off the roads and travel overland. He also discussed the concept of re-supplying ground troops from the air, an idea that later became a cornerstone of jungle tactics. He noted that it would be necessary, of course, to establish air superiority in order for this to work effectively. Other points raised included the necessity for rigid fire discipline in order

47 Such as Lieutenant-General Slim and Major-General Cowan. 48 British and Indian Army officers and men who had escaped from the Malaya Campaign were also actively sought for their experiences and ideas. For an interesting account that deals with problems of fighting in the jungle, see Angus Rose,Who Dies Fighting (London: 1994). Angus Rose was sought after for his thoughts on and experiences of the Malaya Campaign. 49 It should be noted that the AITM also had to discuss all methods of training, since Indian troops were serving in the Middle East as well as in the jungle. However, by 1944, the AITM focused overwhelmingly on jungle warfare training issues. 50 The number of pamphlets and AITM that were actually published was not large, because GHQ anticipated that the pamphlets would be sent to the divisional HQs, and from there distributed to the various brigade HQs and so on, down to battalion HQs. Upon receiving these, commanders from the divisional level down generally would read the material with other officers and draw up inter-unit orders covering the most important points which had been raised. However, the lessons provided were not universally applied. The practice of dissemination became widespread from the middle of 1943; before that, depending upon the commanders, some units were given materials that had been developed by their own divisional staff. While GHQ India began producing these pamphlets early in 1942, and set up training schools, there was apparently no system in place to ensure that the new tactics were being implemented. The end results of the divide between direction and action were the orders given to the 14th Indian Division to undertake the First Arakan Offensive, even though it was unprepared to do so. There had simply been no time to incorporate the changes in tactics and structural reforms into the division’s operations before action was required. 51 Wavell had been commander of the Allied British Dutch and American (ABDA) Command and then C-in-CI by March 1942. war in burma 265 not just to ensure adequate levels of ammunition, but also to avoid giving away one’s position to the enemy.52 This too was to be drilled into the heads of the soldiers and officers in India Command as standard jungle technique. In presenting tactics, the pamphlet stressed that static (linear) defence was not practical in the jungle. Depth in defence was needed. The troops must be prepared to attack the enemy at all times.53 This comment in particular points out a problem with Wavell’s thought processes. In both the Malaya and Burma campaigns, he felt that part of the reason for the defeats stemmed from a lack of offensive spirit. This may be partially true, but the fact remains that the troops were untrained and unprepared for what they faced in combat. The benefit of this emphasis on attack was that it was later refocused on the need for constant patrolling. The AITM included the observations of a unit, the 5/2nd Punjab, which had seen service in Malaya, highlighting the problems of operating in the jungle and suggesting solutions.54 The practice of using eyewitness accounts was commonly used not only in the AITM and various pamphlets, but also later by the Director of Infantry (India) Monthly Training Reports (MTPs). It appears, in reviewing publications from this period, that evaluation of the army’s performance produced useful information that could be applied to future campaigns. Unfortunately, this means of distributing information could not be immediately effective, since it would have been impossible for most of the men who served in the First Burma Campaign ever to see pamphlet No. 14, it being published at the same time as their campaign was occurring. The AITM No. 15 of March/April 1942 described in more detail the problems of the Malaya campaign, noting first that “tactics of jungle warfare are specialized and to employ them well special training is needed.”55 Little information was available to units in the field. Units were not aware of the importance of patrolling to gain intelligence of the Japanese whereabouts or strengths and as a result for most of the campaign their identifications of the Japanese forces were incorrect.

52 AITM No. 14 February 1942, p. 13, NAM. 53 AITM No. 14 February 1942, pp. 15–7. 54 AITM No. 14 February 1942, p. 17. 55 AITM No. 15 March/April 1942, p. 2, NAM. 266 daniel marston

They were under the impression that only 3 Japanese divisions were in Burma, when in reality there were 5. This pamphlet also presented two other concepts that were destined to become as important to tactical development as the previously noted air supply and fire discipline. First: no linear defence was to be employed; instead, all-round defence would be used, with a mobile reserve to attack any penetrations into the defended areas. Second: units of all areas and services of the army needed to learn infantry tactics and to be able to fight as infantry in the jungle.56 The final AITM of 1942 provided additional information from Burma and then from Assam region. The principal theme was that every soldier must be trained to take part in battle;57 everyone had to be involved in the fighting, from commanders down to privates, in order to provide defensive positions with mutual fire support.58 Even previous to the establishment of an official organizational structure to devise and implement reforms, in June 1943, reform was underway at different levels throughout India Command, but there was no consistent application of new tactics or processes. Furthermore, there had not yet been any redevelopment of basic training and reinforcement procedure for units in the field. GHQ India had recognized the need for development of new tactics and training procedures, and had produced and disseminated these through the AITM and MTPs. This was an excellent first step, but at this early stage each unit was left to its own devices as to what to do with the information, so implementation of the suggestions was piecemeal. The Indian Army’s initial attempts to reform were frustrated by manpower demands for both internal security duties and the Middle East theatre. Internal security issues, in particular, interfered with the Indian Army’s plans. Newly formed units were given minimal basic training before being sent out to contend with the insurrectionist activity spurred on by the Quit India Movement of August 1942. The failure of the Cripps Mission and the Quit India Movement fall outside the scope of this essay, but both of these did influence the conduct of the war. It is estimated that as many as 60 infantry battalions were called out on internal

56 AITM No. 15 March/April 1942, pp. 3–4. 57 AITM No. 16–17, July and September 1942, NAM. 58 The formal beginning of the ‘box’ defensive positions, a staple of all later fighting in the war. war in burma 267 security duties59 in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa as trouble flared up.60 The India Command also had to contend with the fact that new units were created and then shifted from one command formation to another in response to differing requirements. Many units and formations stationed in eastern India, including the 14th Indian Division, suffered from malaria problems,61 which further curtailed proper training of units and higher formations during 1942.62 The performance of the 14th Indian Division in the First Arakan Offensive demonstrates the difficulties of this transition period. The Indian Army’s second defeat in the First Arakan Offensive of late 1942–spring 1943 was what finally convinced military leaders63 to formally establish a centrally controlled tactical training programme in jungle warfare, as well as creating a clear division between basic training and specialized jungle warfare training for reinforcements in Burma. As a result of the Infantry Committee’s recommendations, the 14th and 39th Indian divisions were organized as jungle warfare training divisions. As noted in the Jungle Book (Military Pamphlet No. 9), September 1943, “. . . in principle there is nothing new in jungle warfare, but the environment of the jungle is new to many of our troops. Special training is therefore necessary to accustom them to jungle conditions and to teach them jungle methods.”64 Initiatives and practices relevant to training, operational lessons, and constant performance assessment began to permeate the whole of the Indian Army from mid-1943. The army’s war making apparatus in the Far East was also reorganized. South East Asia Command was created in August 1943 under the command of Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten; 14th Army was the land component, led by General ‘Bill’ Slim, while General

59 Judith Brown, Modern India: The Origins of an Asian Democracy (Oxford: 1994), 314. 60 Additionally, railway sabotage delayed delivery of desperately needed supplies. 61 Malaria was a problem throughout the Burma Campaign, but by 1943, the numbers of men affected had begun to drop. This happened as a result of measures for structured regimens for prevention and treatment, including the introduction of drugs (principally penicillin and mepacrine) and the establishment of Malaria Forward Treatment Units near the front lines. 62 Correspondence with Dr. Moreman. 63 The Infantry Committee, India, was established to decide how to move forward with formalizing jungle warfare training. This resulted in the establishment of the 14th and 39th training divisions. This is discussed in more detail below. 64 Jungle Book, Military Training Pamphlet No. 9 (India) September 1943 (Private copy of Captain P. Davis, 4/8th Gurkhas). 268 daniel marston

Claude Auchinleck headed the India Command. More formations arrived to bolster the war effort in the east.65 The Indian Army’s training transformation was underway. By the end of 1943, the 17th and 23rd Indian divisions, both of whom had instituted assessment and jungle warfare programs, were holding the line in Imphal in Assam.66 In default of a coordinated central plan, grassroots development of new tactical and operational initiatives was ongoing among the units of India Command throughout the First Arakan Offensive.67 The units of 4th Corps were at the forefront of implementing training initiatives. Both the 17th and 23rd Indian divisions were involved in road building activities in the Imphal region in late 1942 and early 1943. As the units pushed out, they frequently had brushes with Japanese forces, and the divisions used information gained from the constant patrolling and counter-patrolling activities to continue developing or modifying effective techniques. The 17th Indian Division continued with its own Training Instructions for 1943; meanwhile, the commander of the 23rd Indian Division, Major-General Reginald Savory, provided information in a similar vein but using his own method. In April 1943, he wrote up 2 long pieces for distribution to all units in his division, entitled ‘Some Thoughts on Jungle Warfare’ and ‘Some Notes on Patrolling.’68 The GHQ’s AITM were updated and distributed regularly to the various divisions, and some commanders, such as Cowan and Savory,69 supplemented these with their own impressions and tactical ideas based upon experience. There is evidence that some battalion commanders also drew up training or lessons for their own battalions; for example, the 2/5th Royal Gurkhas of the 17th Indian

65 See Moreman, The Jungle; Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes, and Alan Jeffreys, The British Army in the Far East (Oxford: 2005) for more information. 66 Moreman, The Jungle; Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes, and Jeffreys,The British Army in the Far East. 67 A limited counter-offensive was ordered for late autumn 1942 to seize Akyab Island in the Arakan, where there was a strategically important airfield. The First Ara- kan Offensive demonstrated both the lack of coordinated reform across India Com- mand and the problems that this caused. The counter-offensive was a disaster in the making, and its outcome finally led to formalization of the training system, the new divisional structure, and the implementation of tactical reforms for the Indian Army under a centralized system. An Infantry Committee was set up to deal with all the issues and specifically craft a report for the whole army to disseminate. 68 Savory Papers, NAM. 69 Savory was transferred in June 1943, and promoted to Director of Infantry, India. His office encompassed all aspects of infantry training, but his Monthly Reports contained considerable information on jungle warfare. war in burma 269

Division published a short document assessing the tactics in use by the battalion at that time,70 as well as those of the Japanese forces71 in the area.72 Cadres from the 2 divisions were also sent to the Jungle Warfare School at Sevoke.

Operation U-Go: 1944

The Indian and British units that arrived along the Arakan and Assam fronts in late 1943 and early 1944 were a different force to that which the Japanese had encountered previously. The infantry units were trained to fight in the dense jungles of Burma, equipped with mules and jeeps to operate over difficult terrain. They no longer had to rely entirely upon land communications, but could be supplied by air if necessary. They would not engage in retreats motivated by panic but would hold their ground if attacked. The units were trained to operate at all times with all-round defence to offset Japanese infiltration tactics. They were trained to take the war to the enemy, using patrolling to gather information and deny control of no-man’s land to the Japanese. All of the infantry and cavalry regiments had been retrained, and benefited additionally from the establishment of allied air superiority in the form of re-supply and ground support. The initiatives of 1943 began to bear fruit when the first reinforcements arrived from the training divisions.73 Instead of coping with raw, half-trained recruits, all the units were supplied with replacements who were familiar with the basic elements of jungle warfare. The units were able to maintain consistent levels of efficiency and, most importantly, performance. The fighting in 1944 centred on two major Japanese offensives: HA-GO, launched on 4 February 1944; and U-GO, undertaken from 10–15 March 1944. The HA-GO offensive was launched against the

70 Twelve headings are given. Some examples are: 2. False and exaggerated information from OPs (observation posts) and reconnaissance patrols is most dangerous. 6. Troops must be prepared apart from being able to negotiate obstacle course, to do long marches, and keep alert and ready to fight when tired and hungry. 71 Seven headings are given. Some examples are: 4. Immediate counter-attacks and counter-measure fire by Japanese (although some of his men may still be holding out) must be guarded against. 5. Complete lack of Japanese subtlety and initiative. 72 2/5 Gurkha Rifles MS May 1943 Gurkha Museum, Winchester. 73 In mid 1943, two divisions, 14th and 39th, were designated training divisions for the whole army. 270 daniel marston

15th Corps in the Arakan. The U-GO offensive, which proved to be the main attack, went in against the 4th Corps in Assam. The Japanese were aware that the Indian Army was preparing for a major offensive, not just in the Arakan but also in Assam. The Japanese Burma Area Army commander, Lieutenant-General M. Kawabe, and his staff assessed the situation and decided to undertake an offensive against Imphal, where another major British forward supply depot had been constructed. The 15th Army,74 under Lieutenant-General Mutaguchi, was assigned to undertake this advance and seizure. This offensive, code-named U-GO, was planned to commence in March 1944, while a diversionary offensive went against the British/Indian forces in the Arakan. The 55th Japanese Division in the Arakan was given a lesser mission in the operational plan named HA-GO, which was to begin a few weeks before Operation U-GO. HA-GO was intended to cut around the back of the British forces in the region and force them to withdraw. The Japanese hoped that this would provoke SEAC and 14th Army to send reinforcements to the Arakan to hold back the Japanese attack, depleting the reinforcements available for the Assam region when the Japanese attacked.75 The 7/10th Baluch was earmarked as the reconnaissance battalion for the 17th Indian Division. The battalion was by this point only 3 companies in strength: A Company, made up of Punjabi Muslims; B Company, Pathans; and C Company, Dogras, and was intended to be a mounted infantry unit. The unit moved into the Chin Hills in late 1943, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Lindsay, but the type of operations required and the hilly terrain made it difficult to operate with horses. A decision was made to leave the horses at M.S. 82,76 and units were formed to move forward and operate as reconnaissance infantry. While the men had been training with horses for over a year, they had also learned the elements of infantry jungle warfare, and with this decision made they were sent forward to acquire proper battle experience.77

74 15th, 31st and 33rd Japanese Divisions. 75 Interrogation of senior Japanese officers, 1945–1946, SEATIC Reports, WO 106/5898, PRO, TNA; S. Woodburn Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 3, The Decisive Battles (London: 1962), 71–5. 76 Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000 and Major MacLean, 22 March 2000, 7/10th Baluch. 77 WO 172/4972, January 1944, PRO, TNA; Interview with Major Bruin, 1 March 2000, 7/10th Baluch. war in burma 271

During the month of January, the first major test for the battalion since Pa-an occurred at Point 6052. A composite company from A and C companies, under the command of Captain Martin, was established on Point 6052, seven miles south of Tiddim, to form a patrol base. A number of patrols were sent out to engage and identify the Japanese in the area. The perimeter of the base was attacked at one point, but the company was able to hold. It was estimated that the 7/10th Baluch killed more than 200 Japanese in the area, while themselves suffering only 3 killed and 10 wounded over the course of the month.78 The positions were dug in all round defences on ground of the 7/10th Baluch choosing. This enabled them to repel the Japanese attacks, unlike at Pa-an in 1942, and showed that the retraining of the past 18 months had paid dividends.79 The battalion continued to send out patrols in the areas in front of and around Pt 6052 for the month of February and part of March.80 All of the men and officers gained valuable experience in operating as light infantry during this period.81 On 4 April, the battalion, along with the 4/12th FFR, withdrew along the Tiddim Road and arrived on the Imphal Plain,82 where it had been sent to protect the Palel airstrip. It took over positions in the ‘Catfish Box’ area on 5 April, also at this point receiving reinforcements to create a fourth company83 and bring it up to strength as an ordinary infantry unit. The battalion was able to accommodate the organizational changes with minor difficulties.84

78 Martin was awarded an MC for his services. WO 172/4972, January 1944, PRO, TNA; Interview with Major Martin, 12 January 2000. 79 Major Martin commented that excellent artillery co-operation had also helped repel the Japanese attacks. 80 WO 172/4972, February–March 1944. 81 Major MacLean noted that since this battalion was considered a reconnaissance unit, it was not as heavily armed as some line infantry battalions. Nevertheless, the men and officers gained considerable experience in jungle patrolling and ambushing. Interview with Major MacLean, 22 March 2000. 82 Lieutenant-Colonel Lindsay was sent to command TONFORCE (A and B companies, 7/10th Baluch and other units) during the withdrawal, and the rest of the battalion was commanded by Major Korla, DSO, MC. When the battalion arrived, Lieutenant-Colonel M.V. Wright took command. 83 This group of reinforcements had been sent from the 14th Indian Training Divi- sion. Although considered a ‘bit wet behind the ears’ in some quarters, its overall quality was far superior to that of previous intakes. Interview with Major MacLean, 22 March 2000. 84 The reinforcement group consisted of Punjabi Muslims. A Company, Punjabi Muslims, and the reinforcements were mixed to create a second Punjabi Muslim Company, D Company. The new company had a mix of veterans to make sure the unit was not a raw unit. Interview with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000. 272 daniel marston

The A Company, under the command of Major Martin, was sent to Pt. 584685 on the Bishenpur-Silchar road,86 while the rest of the battalion dug in along the ‘Catfish Box’ and sent out patrols to engage any Japanese units that might have slipped onto the plain. The battalion also took the opportunity to re-organize and to incorporate the new company.87 In mid-May, the 7/10th Baluch moved to the 17th Divisional Box at Chingphu, north of Bishenpur, in response to increased Japanese pressure on the entrance to the Imphal Plain from the Bishenpur region. The battalion began to dig in immediately upon arrival, in its capacity as protection for the divisional HQ. A series of patrols was sent out around the area as reports arrived of Japanese forces coming from the west, and a major clash ensued on 20 May involving one platoon on a ridge overlooking the divisional area. This force managed to hold out for more than 8 hours and successfully held up a major Japanese group. On 25 May, the battalion was ordered to carry out an attack on Pt. 2926, ‘Red Hill Pimple’. That evening,88 3 companies- A, B and C respectively, moved to their jumping off positions, which included the ridge itself, without being heard or noticed by the Japanese. The A and C companies were to attack the Japanese bunker positions from the ridge,89 while B Company was tasked with seizing the village on the west side of ridge.90 At 0430 hours on 26 May, the attack went in. The first Japanese positions were destroyed, but a second layer of bunkers held up both attacks. The attackers dug in for fear of a Japanese counter-attack, and after a day of holding areas of the ridge and village, withdrew to the divisional HQ box, after the Japanese pulled back

85 The company carried out a series of ambushes against the Japanese moves on Bishenpur. The patrol base was able to hold on through a series of Japanese attacks, and at different times during the month’s stay, was supported by units of 3/8th Gur- khas. On 5 May it was relieved by B Company, and A Company returned to the ‘Catfish Box’ for reorganization to a 4 platoon company. WO 172/4972, 8 April– 5 May 1944, PRO, TNA; Interviews with Majors Martin, 12 January 2000 and Bruin, 1 March 2000. 86 WO 172/4972, 4–8 April 1944, PRO, TNA; Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000, Majors Martin, 12 January 2000 and Bruin, 1 March 2000. 87 WO 172/4972, 8–30 April 1944. 88 The attack was sent in on the first evening of the monsoon. 89 WO 172/4972, 25 May 1944. 90 B Company’s attack was supported by 3 tanks from the 3rd Carabineers (Grants/ Lees). Interview with Major MacLean, commander of B Company, 22 March 2000. war in burma 273 from the hill.91 The battalion had been able to not only approach the Japanese, but also to mount an attack without being detected in any way. Any Japanese soldier on the ridge who was familiar with Pa-an would probably have been surprised that this was the same unit. For the next few weeks, the battalion carried out patrols in and around the divisional box area. Throughout June and early July, the battalion was shifted back and forth between the control of the 63rd and 48th brigades, continuing regardless of which formation controlled it to send out long term patrols and set up box formations throughout the region. On a few occasions, such as at Evans’ Knob, during the first week of July, troops were involved in heavy fighting. On this occasion, the Japanese 33rd Divisional Group made a last attempt to reach Imphal, but gave up in early July and withdrew from the fighting. At this point, some men of the 7/10th Baluch were allowed rest and refit back at Imphal.92 During the refit, the battalion received reinforcements from the 14th Training Division, and officers noted that these soldiers had learned the basics of jungle warfare. They still needed battle conditioning, but they were a far cry from the reinforcements of 1942.93 The battalion had demonstrated its ability to adapt to new conditions. It had been training as a mounted infantry force, and then was forced to serve without horses for most of the serious fighting in 1944. Being sent forward down the Tiddim Road to gain experience was very beneficial, as it was soon drawn into battle. It performed well throughout the withdrawal; at all times during 1944, the unit dug a box formation and held its ground, except for a few occasions in late June.94 It was strong in defence and proved itself in attack as well, as demonstrated by its undetected movement before the attack on Pt. 2926. It did not manage to seize the whole feature, but the Japanese withdrew the night after the attack, allowing the battalion to gain a foothold where two other battalion attacks had failed and thus relieve pressure on the divisional box in the valley below. The battalion had

91 Three officers and 26 other ranks were killed, and close to 100 were wounded. WO 172/4972, 25–27 May 1944. 92 WO 172/4972, 25–27 May 1944; Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000, Majors Martin, 12 January 2000, Maclean, 22 March 2000 and Bruin, 1 March 2000. 93 Interviews with surviving officers of 7/10th Baluch. 94 A few platoon positions were overrun at Evans’ Knob by company and larger size formations. WO 172/4972, 25–26 June 1944. 274 daniel marston clearly surpassed its performance in the 1942 campaign, and this was testimony to the fact that it had learned and applied the lessons of 1942.

Post Operation U-Go: 1944

Each battalion and regiment from the fighting in 1944 that was withdrawn from the line and sent into reserve took with it not only a wealth of knowledge based upon the personal experiences of the officers and men, but also records that documented and made accessible that knowledge. Each battalion and regiment carried out some level of retraining during the autumn of 1944 and winter 1944/45 before returning into battle. All the units were by this point capable of jungle fighting, airmobile and amphibious operations95 if necessary, and during this period many units received their first sizeable installments of reinforcements, both men and officers, from the training divisions.96 In interviews, most officers noted that this group of reinforcements was of a considerably higher calibre than if they had come straight from the regimental centre, although more training was still required.97 The 17th Indian Division was ordered to proceed to Ranchi on 23 July 1944. There it was scheduled to meet up with the 99th Indian Brigade, which would form the third brigade of the division. It was to adopt the new organizational structure of 14th Army divisions.98 The 7/10th Baluch began the retraining process in earnest in mid-July 1944, when it was put into reserve and ordered to Imphal. As the unit was shifting back, the HQ held a conference on 27 July to discuss recent operations and ways to deal with issues that had arisen. The battalion also outfitted itself to follow an ordinary infantry battalion organization that had been selected at 14th Army HQ. Battalion HQ drew up and distributed training instructions99 while in Ranchi, highlighting the

95 Only the units of the 26th Indian Division received formal amphibious training. When the strategic situation changed in the autumn of 1944, both the 17th and 5th Indian divisions were reorganized once more. 96 There were numerous delays in the establishment of a training battalion for the 3rd Madras Regiment, and eventually the regimental training centre decided to set up its own jungle warfare training ground. Interview with Major Barton, 5 July 2000, 4/3rd Madras. 97 Interviews with officers. 98 L/WS/1/1511, 26 July 1944, IOR, BL, London. 99 There were 3 of these, all extremely detailed documents, highlighting the lessons war in burma 275 need for better patrolling activities and wire placement.100 Feedback on the lessons presented was sought from officers and VCOs.101 The battalion carried out individual training and then higher level battalion exercises during August and September. In November, the battalion was earmarked to serve in the 63rd Indian Brigade,102 and continued with inter-brigade exercises.103 In mid-December 1944, the 17th Indian Division received orders to proceed to Imphal. When the division arrived in early January, it adopted a new divisional structure. This came about as a result of the changing strategic conditions in the advance into Burma, which caused the 14th Army to adopt a new divisional structure for both the 17th and 5th Indian divisions. Two of the 3 brigades became completely motorized, using jeeps and 15-cwt trucks. The third brigade became air portable. The scale of ammunition was drastically reduced and the units were expected to be completely mobile.104 News of this development did not reach units until they were in Imphal. On 22 January, all the units that were to be motorized were given jeeps and trucks and instructed to give up all animal transport. The 48th and 63rd Indian brigades were among those chosen for the motorized role, and 7/10th Baluch was required to send men on driving courses and learn the specific aspects of loading and unloading materiel and men with motorized transport. Units were given just short of one month of training before being ordered forward into Burma, but 7/10th Baluch managed time to carry out further tank/infantry co-operation training with the 255th Armoured Brigade.105 Officers from 7/10th Baluch noted that even in training men for the motorized role, jungle tactics were still evident, especially the use of boxes, planning for air re-supply, and

of the recent fighting and ways to train the men in revised tactics. Correspondence with Colonel Maling. 100 WO 172/4972, July–October 1944, PRO, TNA. 101 Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000 and Major MacLean, 22 March 2000. Brigadier Randle set up his own company school for his VCOs, developing the lessons based upon his experiences of the fighting in Assam. 102 It was no longer the reconnaissance battalion for the division, having been replaced by the 6/9th Jat Regiment. 103 WO 172/4972, August–November 1944. 104 WO 172/6986 (17th Indian), January 1945, PRO, TNA; General Sir William Slim, Defeat into Victory (London: 1956), 321. 105 WO 172/7736, January–February 1945 and WO 172/7729, January–February 1945, PRO, TNA. 276 daniel marston organizing foot patrols.106 The divisional GOC, Major-General Cowan, noted: “. . . all round defence is just as important out of the jungle as it is in it. . . . our basic training [jungle warfare] has stood the test now we have to adapt it to the new situation.”107

Operations Capital And Extended Capital: 1944–1945

By late November 1944, the 14th Army had established bridgeheads across the Chindwin in two locations. The 11th East African Division had seized Kalewa and sent a brigade across the Chindwin to establish a formal beachhead, and the 268th Indian Brigade had established a bridgehead in the Sittaung region.108 Slim’s original operational plan was named ‘Capital’. His main intention was to destroy the remnants of the Japanese Burma Army, consisting of 10 divisions of infantry and 2 mixed independent brigades.109 Four of these divisions had been badly mauled during the campaigns in 1944, and the Japanese High Command in Tokyo sent reinforcements during the autumn. On average, each division, which numbered between 5,000 and 10,000 men in total, received 2,000 reinforcements. The Japanese Commander in Burma, Lieutenant-General Hyotaro Kimura, decided that the army would attempt to hold a defensive line along the Irrawaddy River, from Lashio to the Monglong Mountains to the north-east of Mandalay, with other units in reserve south of the Irrawaddy. The northern sector of the Irrawaddy River front was at Maday, north of Mandalay, and stretching as far south as Pagan.110

106 Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000, Majors Martin, 12 January 2000, MacLean, 22 March 2000 and Barrett, 12 August 2000 and Captains Murtough, 17 June 2000 and King, 13 March 2000. The commando platoons from both the 7/10th Baluch and 4/12th FFR were to be used in patrolling to determine if a given area was suitable for tanks. 107 Training Instruction, 23 January 1945. Also noted: “[this] will form the basis for training from now on in our present location and forward. It is not comprehensive and many gaps are left for brigade and battalion commanders to fill in.” WO 172/6986 (17th Indian Division), PRO, TNA. 108 At the end of the Imphal-Tamu-Sittaung road that had originally been built by the 20th Indian Division before U-GO. 109 The 2nd, 15th, 18th, 31st, 33rd, 49th, 53rd, 54th, 55th and 56th Divisions. 110 S. Woodburn Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 4, The Reconquest of Burma (London: 1965), 391–2. war in burma 277

Operation Capital envisioned a Japanese defensive position on the Shwebo Plain:111 Slim anticipated sending the 4th112 and 33rd corps113 onto the Plain, and hoped for a major decisive battle with Kimura. The lines of communication for the 14th Army would become stretched at this point, as Dimapur was 400 hundred miles to the rear and the roads down to the Chindwin bridgeheads were of poor quality. There were only 150 miles of all weather roads; the rest were fair weather only. The supply system relied on a mixture of road transport and aircraft. The offensive began on 3 December 1944. The 20th Indian Division crossed the Chindwin 30 miles north of Kalewa, followed by the 19th Indian Division the next day, at Sittaung. Meanwhile, the 33rd Corps shifted troops of the 20th Indian and 2nd British divisions over the Chindwin from various positions north and south of Kalewa.114 By mid December the 19th Indian Division had moved nearly 50 miles towards the Irrawaddy River. The Japanese offered some resistance, but Slim became increasingly convinced that the Japanese had left only rearguard units on the Shwebo Plain and had shifted their main efforts to defence of the Irrawaddy River area. On 16 December, Brigadier Lethbridge sent a telegram to Army Land Forces South East Asia (ALFSEA),115 informing them that Capital was being scrapped and a new plan was to be issued.116 The revised plan had a new name, ‘Extended Capital’, but its overall goal remained the destruction of the Japanese Burma Army. Since the 19th Indian Division was the only 4th Corps formation on the eastern side of the Chindwin, Slim proposed to shift all units of 4th Corps to the south and to reassign the 19th Indian Division to the command of 33rd Corps. The 33rd Corps, with the 19th Division would proceed across the Shwebo Plain and close up to the Irrawaddy River. The 19th Division would cross the Irrawaddy River north of

111 An open plain between the Chindwin and Irrawaddy rivers. 112 Under the command of Lieutenant-General Frank Messervy: 19th and 7th Indian Divisions, plus the 255th Armoured Brigade. 113 Under the command of Lieutenant-General Stopford: 2nd British and 20th Indian Divisions, supported by 254th Armoured Brigade and 268th Indian Brigade. 114 Slim, Defeat into Victory, 321–2. 115 This was originally 11th Army Group, renamed in November 1944. General Giffard was replaced and succeeded by Lieutenant-General Sir Oliver Leese. The 15th Corps was placed under direct command of ALFSEA, with 14th Army to comprise only 4th and 33rd corps. 116 Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 4, The Reconquest of Burma, 163–4. 278 daniel marston

Mandalay and attack south towards the city. This was intended to deceive the Japanese High Command into thinking that the 4th Corps was still north of Mandalay and that 33rd Corps was in the south. In the meantime, 33rd Corps would cross the Irrawaddy River south of Mandalay and encircle the city. The Japanese High Command, it was hoped, would then throw most of its forces into destroying the 19th Division and the rest of the 33rd Corps bridgeheads north and south of the city. In the meantime, 4th Corps117 would have moved south of Kalewa and crossed the Irrawaddy River near Nyaungu. The Japanese would be surprised by the arrival of 4th Corps so far south,118 and 4th Corps, with motorized and tank units, would then push towards the valuable supply area in and around Meiktila119 and seize it. This would force Lieutenant-General Kimura to commit most of his reserves to attempting to dislodge the 4th Corps.120 As Slim noted: If we took Meiktila while Kimura was deeply engaged along the Irrawaddy about Mandalay, he would be compelled to detach large forces to clear his vital communications. This should give me not only the major battle I desired, but the chance to repeat our hammer and anvil tactics: XXXIII Corps the hammer from the north against the anvil of IV Corps at Meiktila and the Japanese between.121 After all units of the 33rd and 4th corps had met up and destroyed the Japanese forces in and around Mandalay and Meiktila, they would make a dash towards Rangoon, hoping only to come across a disorganized Japanese force.

117 Including the 17th Indian Division. 118 Radio contact between units of the 4th Corps was to be kept to a minimum. If they came upon large Japanese forces, they were to go around them and allow the 28th East African Brigade to deal with them. The Japanese were to think that a unit of brigade size only was operating on the western side of the Irrawaddy so far south. Interviews with officers of 1/11th Sikh and 4/8th Gurkhas. 119 This was the main administration area for both the Japanese 15th and 33rd armies. There were 5 airfields, major road and railway connections and a supply depot. 120 Lieutenant-General Kimura noted in an interrogation report that he had no intention of fighting a major battle on the Shwebo Plain, planning instead to hold a line along the Irrawaddy River. SEATIC WO 106/5897, PRO, TNA; Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 4, The Reconquest of Burma, 165–7. 121 Slim, Defeat into Victory, 327. war in burma 279

Meiktila: 1945

The 17th Indian Division122 was stationed in Imphal at the end of January 1945. The various units of the division carried out training as lorry and air-transport battalions.123 On 5 February, the 17th was ordered south towards Nyaungu on the Irrawaddy River. It reached its destination on 17 February and was given 2 hours’ notice to move across the Irrawaddy River into the 7th Indian Division beachhead. The divisional plan was to strike out south of the bridgehead and seize Pyinbin, then move northeast and seize Taungtha with the 48th Brigade. Meanwhile, the 63rd infantry and 255th armoured brigades were to move south of Taungtha and seize Mahlaing. The airstrip at Thabutkon was to be seized by the 63rd and 48th brigades so that the 99th Indian Brigade could be flown in. The 48th Brigade was to move south to Thabutkon and prepare for attack on Meiktila. At that point, the division would be within 8 miles of Meiktila, having covered a distance of about 85 miles from the bridgehead.124 The 7/10th Baluch125 was part of the 63rd Indian Brigade. The battalion had been successful in deploying ambush parties ahead of the main advance towards Meiktila during late February. The 17th Indian Divisional GOC, Major-General Cowan, decided on a bold policy for the defence of Meiktila. His land communications lines had been cut, and supplies arrived both by air drop and air landings. To deal with the potential for a Japanese counter-offensive126 against his division, Cowan adopted an offensively oriented plan to defend Meiktila. He set out to destroy the Japanese units as they assembled for attacks, proving once again his adaptability to a new situation.127 Cowan set up 6 major

122 Under the command of Major-General Cowan, who had commanded the division since the fighting north of Rangoon in March 1942. 123 The 48th and 63rd Indian brigades moved south as lorry transported infantry. The 99th Indian Brigade was to be air transported into Meiktila to support the rest of the division. 124 Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 4, The Reconquest of Burma, 267. 125 The battalion was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Wright until 22 March, when command was given to Lieutenant-Colonel D.S. Dutt, an ICO. 126 The Japanese troops earmarked to destroy the 17th Indian Division far outnumbered the British/Indian garrison. 127 Cowan was one of the main architects of jungle warfare training after the suffering defeats of 1942. He realized that a different approach to the defence of Meiktila was needed, and adapted and combined some of the main principles of jungle and open style warfare. 280 daniel marston

‘harbours’ around the town, from which mobile strike formations of combined tank/infantry units (columns)128 could seek out and destroy the Japanese forces building up nearby. Each harbour had a company sized unit supported by medium machine guns and mortars as protection forces when the mobile unit moved out. Static defences129 were created around the Meiktila airstrip east of the town and inside the town itself.130 On 28 February, the battalion had moved across on foot to set up roadblocks on the Kyuakpadaung-Meiktila road, establishing defensive boxes on both sides of the road and sending out patrols to the surrounding area to locate and clear Japanese positions. From 1–3 March, D Company held the roadblock as the rest of the battalion made sweeps, in co-operation with A Squadron of 5th Probyn’s Horse, around the road south-west of Meiktila. Over the course of the next few days, they killed approximately 150 Japanese,131 and themselves lost 10 killed and 49 wounded.132 Each night the companies created boxes and prepared for a Japanese counterattack, as well as sending out numerous foot patrols to contact the enemy.133 The battalion was engaged in normal foot patrolling for the first few weeks of March in the area to the west of Meiktila. There were 3 patrol bases set up at Oknebok, Letpankagaw and Mezalibin.134 Both reconnaissance and fighting patrols were launched in the area to locate and disrupt any Japanese movements.135 As Japanese troops amassed north along the Pindale Road, the battalion was shifted to the area north of Meiktila. On 11 March it carried out its second major combined tank/ infantry ‘column’ attack.136 The C and D companies were ordered to destroy any Japanese 5 miles up the road. D Company moved north riding on the tanks, and was shot at within minutes. The C Company moved north to support the attack, coming in on the right flank. After

128 The 4/12th Frontier Force Rifle, 7/10th Baluch and 5th Probyn’s took part. 129 The 1st Sikh Light Infantry was initially part of this strategy. 130 Kirby, The War against Japan, vol. 4, The Reconquest of Burma, 286. 131 It was during one of the sweeps on 2 March that Naik Fazal Din of 7/10th Baluch won a posthumous VC. 132 WO 172/7729, February–3 March 1944, WO 172/7347 (Probyn’s), 1–3 March PRO, TNA. 133 Interviews with Brigadier Randle, 10 April 2000, Major Maclean, 22 March 2000, Captain Bruin, 1 March 2000 and Lieutenant King, 13 March 2000. 134 WO 172/7729, 3–11 March 1944. 135 Interview with Major Randle, 10 April 2000. 136 It had operated with A Squadron, 5th Probyn’s, on 1–3 March when moving into Meiktila from the west. war in burma 281 a few hours of fighting, the Japanese were forced to pull back, having lost 50 killed, compared to only one killed and 4 wounded for the 7/10th Baluch. For the next week, the battalion set up patrol bases and operated alongside tanks in various sweep operations, as well as carrying out more local foot patrols in the area north of Meiktila.137 As with earlier operations, the battalion built up and reinforced its box formations each day and carried out daily patrols.138 The 7/10th participated in several tank/infantry sweeps during the last week of March. The most successful was carried out over the course of two days, 27–28 March, when the battalion139 had been moved north-west to deal with the last Japanese defenders near Mindawagan Lake. The battalion attacked a Japanese position in and around Hill 850. The C Company, supported by tanks, was sent in to seize the position. The rest of the battalion moved up to consolidate the hill before a Japanese counter-attack could be launched, digging in on the position. The Japanese, having lost over 100 killed, failed to attack. The 7/10th Baluch, by contrast, lost 4 killed and 17 wounded.140 The Japanese began to fall back from Meiktila in the north as a road link was established with the 5th Indian Division. The 7/10th Baluch were successful in operating as lorry transported infantry in the approach to Meiktila. This unit set up boxes each evening, with constant patrols sent out to locate and destroy any enemy troops in the area.141 It had not been overrun or surprised during the advance. The 7/10th Baluch effectively established roadblocks and set up ambushes on foot in the south-western region of Meiktila. The battalion adopted infiltration tactics when Japanese defences proved too strong to attack frontally. The 7/10th Baluch adapted effectively to the changing situations of the battlefield during the approach to and defence of Meiktila. Mounted patrols and attacks with tank support were successfully carried out. These actions demonstrated the lessons learned in the 1944 campaign when dealing with strong Japanese positions: infiltrate and, if possible, have heavy supporting weapons such as tanks available.

137 WO 172/7729, 10–23 March 1945. 138 Interviews with Majors Randle, 10 April 2000 and Maclean, 22 March 2000, and Captain Bruin 1 March 2000. 139 Less B Company. 140 WO 172/7729, 24–30 March 1945, PRO, TNA. 141 Interviews with officers of the 4/12th Frontier Force Rifle and 7/10th Baluch. 282 daniel marston

The performance of all Indian and British Army units in the fighting around Meiktila can best be summarized in a telling statement by the enemy. Lieutenant-General Hanaya of the Japanese 33rd Division noted that, “. . . since 29th February allied tanks thrusted [sic] deep into our positions everyday. . . . [I]n this fighting the co-operation among allied infantry, artillery, and tanks was made admirably.”142 Between 27 and 30 March, the 17th Indian Division made contact with the 5th Indian Division from the Taungtha-Mahlaing Road, and with the 20th Indian Division to the north-east. Having established communication, the 3 divisions turned their attention to destroying remnants of the Japanese forces north of Meiktila. Mandalay was in British hands by this point, and the formal link between Mandalay and Meiktila was made on 30 March. The Japanese were rapidly pull- ing back from their defeats in the Mandalay-Meiktila regions, and Slim realized that an all out race for Rangoon was in the offing. Slim knew that he had to capture the port before the monsoon broke, in order to avoid the problems of getting sufficient supplies forward by air during the rains. He issued orders for the 5th and 17th Indian divisions to make a dash down the main Mandalay-Rangoon Road and seize Rangoon,143 followed by the 19th Indian Division, which was to follow in support and try to keep the road open. The 7th and 20th Indian divisions were sent down both banks of the Irrawaddy River to search out any Japanese trying to escape. The 2nd British Division144 was pulled back, due to a lack of adequate supplies for all formations stationed in central Burma.145 With the area firmly under British and Indian control, the race to Rangoon began. The 14th Army’s professionalism was demonstrated as its units quickly adapted to new conditions; some units executed open style and mechanized warfare, while others reverted to jungle tactics, as the Japanese were systematically destroyed along the banks of the Irawaddy and the road to Rangoon. Rangoon fell to an amphibious assault on 3 May, ending the war in Burma for all intents and

142 “Story of the Japanese 33rd Division” by Lieutenant-General Hanaya (GOC), Evans Papers, IWM. 143 If the road was cut by Japanese troops, divisions would be supplied exclusively by air. 144 It was also withdrawn because of the problems of trying to reinforce British battalions in the theatre. At this point, many Indian divisions also lost their British battalions due to lack of reinforcements. 145 Slim, Defeat into Victory, 395–403. war in burma 283 purposes. The Burma campaign, which had begun as the longest retreat in British military history, ended as the IJA’s most conclusive defeat.

Conclusion

The Indian Army went through some growing pains during the Second World War. It made many mistakes, but its great strength as an organization was its ability to learn from those mistakes. By the middle of 1945, it was a professional, modern military force, capable of waging war in the jungle, in the mountains, on the open plains—even as an amphibious assault force. The need to learn from defeat had been drilled into the minds of the Indian Army’s officers as they learned their trade in North and East Africa to eventually lead troops in Italy and the Far East. The success of the Indian Army’s reforms is most clearly demonstrated in its victory over the IJA in 1945. A more subtle indication of the changes brought about is evident in a quote from The Road Past Mandalay, the memoirs of John Masters, a Gurkha officer: As the tanks burst away down the road to Rangoon . . . it took possession of the empire we had built. . . . Twenty races, a dozen religions, a score of languages passed in those trucks and tanks. When my great-great-grand- father first went to India there had been as many nations; now there was one—India. . . . It was all summed up in the voice of an Indian colonel of artillery. The Indian Army had not been allowed to possess any field artillery from the time of the Mutiny (1857) until just before the Second World War. Now the Indian, bending close to an English colonel over a map, straightened and said with a smile, “O.K., George. Thanks. I’ve got it. We’ll take over all tasks at 1800. What about a beer?”146

146 John Masters, The Road Past Mandalay: A Personal Narrative(London: 1961), 312–3.

CHAPTER NINE

THE OFFICER CORPS AND THE TRAINING OF THE INDIAN ARMY WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO LIEUTENANT-GENERAL FRANCIS TUKER

Alan Jeffreys

There has been much historical research into officering the Indian Army in the period 1919–1945, the vast majority of which has concentrated on the Indianization of the officer corps.1 However, this chapter will look at the restructuring of officer training during the Second World War through the experience of both Indian and British officers and the contribution of the officer corps towards the evolution of operational doctrine and training in the Indian Army during the war. Pradeep Barua has written on this subject in the context of his wider study of the officer corps and it will also build on the work of Daniel Marston and Tim Moreman during the campaigns in Burma and Malaya.2 This essay will demonstrate how the army learnt operational lessons and turned them into effective training across the different theatres.

1 See Philip Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army, Its Officers and Men(London: 1974), 453–66; Stephen Cohen, The Indian Army: Its Con- tribution to the Development of a Nation (1971, reprint, Delhi: 1991), 118–37; David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (London: 1994), 153–91; Lieutenant-General S.L. Menezes, Fidelity and Honour: The Indian Army from the Seventeenth to the Twenty-First Century (Delhi: 1999), 306–39; Pradeep Barua, The Army Officer Corps and Military Modernization in Later Colonial India (Hull: 1999); Partha Saratha Gupta, “The Debate on Indianization 1918–1939”, in Partha Saratha Gupta and Anirudh Deshpande (eds.), The British Raj and the Armed Forces 1857– 1939 (Delhi: 2002), 228–69; Daniel Marston, Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Campaign (Westport, CT.: 2003), 15–24, 222–33 and Chandar S. Sunda- rum, “The Imperial Cadet Corps and the Indianization of the Indian Army’s Officer Corps, 1897–1923: A Brief Survey”, Durbar: Journal of the Indian Military Historical Society, vol. 27 (2010), 53–62 [originally published in the Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. CXXXIX (2009), 406–17]. 2 See Barua, Army Officer Corps, 125–29, 137–46. See also Marston, Phoenix, and Tim Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and the British Commonwealth Armies at War 1941–45: Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (London: 2005). 286 alan jeffreys

This new training regime began much earlier than previously suspected is shown by a case study of the wartime career of Lieutenant- General Sir Francis Tuker, who was one of those Indian Army officers who were “more far-sighted than those at the War Office in London.”3 He was originally seen as a ‘Poona Colonel’ (those interested in polo playing) to his contemporaries but not his fellow officers in the 1st Battalion, 2nd King Edward VII’s Own Goorkha Rifles. He became from the 1930’s onwards an inveterate trainer who instigated innovative battalion training.4 This ultimately led to his appointment as DMT during the early years of the Second World War and then commander of the 4th Indian Division in North Africa and the early stages of the Italian campaign, introducing a series of effective training instructions within the formation. The Indian Army in the interwar period had two main roles of internal security and policing the frontiers known as ‘Watch and Ward’. The British units did the majority of the internal security with the British officered Indian units providing most of the troops for the North-West Frontier defence. In addition to these roles, the Indian Army acted as ‘External Defence Troops’ to protect interests in the Eastern parts of the British Empire and by 1939 units and formations were stationed in Malaya, Singapore, the Persian Gulf, the Red Sea, Burma, Egypt and Hong Kong.5 Whilst proficient in all these roles by 1939, historians have agreed that the army was in no fit state to fight a modern army. With the outbreak of the Second World War, the Indian Army embarked on a massive expansion programme to meet the requests for increased manpower. In 18 months the Indian Army had doubled in size, although it was very short of equipment. To accomplish this meant the availability of large number of experienced non-commissioned officers and VCOs. Further, officers were ‘milked’ from their units in order to form new units. This ‘milking’ of the Indian Army meant that a large number of the new Indian troops had little basic training, in direct contrast to the professional Indian Army of the

3 Mason, Matter of Honour, 25. 4 See Lieutenant-Colonel G.R. Stevens, History of the 2nd King Edward VII’s Own Goorkha Rifles (The Sirmoor Rifles), vol. 3, 1921–1948 (Aldershot: 1952), 27. See also Cohen, The Indian Army, 116. 5 See Sri Nandan Prasad, Expansion of the Armed Forces and Defence Organiza- tion 1939–1945 (Delhi: 1956), 12–3. See also F.W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organization in Two World Wars (Manchester: 1990), 101. francis tuker 287 pre-1939 period. However, the Indian official historian has noted that at this early stage of the war: “that India is a training ground for active service such as does not exist elsewhere in the Empire.”6

Officer Training

The pre-war training structure comprised 4 training centres or schools for the artillery, 3 for the engineers, 2 for signals and the Veterinary Corps, one each for the Royal Indian Army Service Corps, and the Indian Army Ordnance Corps. Following the recommendations of the 1920 Esher Committee, infantry training was carried out by the 10th (training) battalion of each regiment from 1922 onwards. In the case of cavalry from 1937, 3 regiments were set apart as training regiments, namely Sam Browne’s Cavalry, 15th Lancers and the 20th Lancers.7 The Field Artillery Training Centre at Mathura was established in 1935.8 Other training schools included ones for equitation, weapon training, small arms, physical training, education, chemical warfare and cookery. For staff training there was the Staff College at Quetta established in 1907 and the Senior Officers School at Belgaum for senior majors before getting command of their battalions.9 The Staff College at Quetta during the interwar period was on the same level with the Staff College in Camberley teaching a similar syllabus and advocating the mobilization of the army.10 Most British officer cadets attended the RMC at Sandhurst whilst Indian officer cadets had been attending the IMA at Dehra Dun since 1932. The British cadets underwent 18 months training and Indian officers spent 30 months at the IMA, with the courses mirroring each other except in the length of them.11 There were 40 officer cadets in the

6 Bisheshwar Prasad, Defence of India: Policy and Plans (Delhi: 1963), 12. 7 See Perry, Commonwealth Armies, 98. See also John Gaylor, Sons of John Com- pany: The Indian and Pakistan Armies 1903–91 (Tunbridge Wells: 1996), 13. 8 See Menezes, Fidelity and Honour, 325. 9 See Prasad, Expansion, 16, 27–28. See also Colonel H.R.C. Pettigrew, “It Seemed Very Ordinary”: Memoirs of Sixteen Years in the Indian Army 1932–1947 (Unpub- lished memoir), p. 115, 84/29/1, IWM, London. 10 See Patrick Rose, British Army Command Culture 1939–1945: A Comparative Study of British Eighth and Fourteenth Armies (PhD thesis, KCL University, 2008), 67 and Raymond Callahan, Churchill and his Generals (Lawrence, Kansas: 2007), 65. 11 Barua, Army Officer Corps, 49. 288 alan jeffreys twice-yearly IMA course.12 By 1939, 60 Indian officers and 120 British officers were commissioned each year into the Indian Army. According to evidence proffered to the Indianization committee, Indian officers graduating from the IMA were considered to be better trained than their contemporaries at Sandhurst with very thorough tactical training and first class British training officers such as Major Reginald Savory and Major David Cowan.13 As Lieutenant-General Harbakhsh Singh commented in his memoirs: The staff for the newly started Academy were the pick of the Indian Army, and included those who were sympathetic to the Indians for there is no doubt that the British wanted to make this experiment of Indianization, however small, a success.14 Both the Indian and the British officer recruits for cavalry and infantry arms would then spend a year with a British regiment or battalion in India before joining their Indian unit. Artillery officers were attached to a British battery for 16 months and attended a course at the School of Artillery at Kakul, engineer officers went to Thomason Engineering College, Roorkee, for two and a half years. Prestige for the Indian Army was very high during this period. For instance, only the top 60 officers who passed out of Sandhurst could apply for the Indian Army with John Prendergast commenting that “by my time the Indian Army was held in universal respect and indeed only the top thirty-five or so of those who passed out of Sandhurst were considered fit for it.”15 Generally, gentlemen cadet officer training at Sandhurst seems to be remembered by some more for humorous anecdotes rather than training during the interwar period as shown by the autobiographies of Francis Ingall, Geoffrey Beyts and John Masters.16 Whereas Indian officer cadets at Sandhurst, prior to 1932, who experienced a vastly different culture to anything they had come across, tended not to remember Sandhurst with such affection, Lieutenant-General S.D. Verma commented that:

12 Omissi, Sepoy and the Raj, 184. 13 Prasad, Expansion, 179; Marston, Phoenix, 20–21; Cohen, Indian Army, 118–9, 121, 131. 14 Lieutenant-General Harbakhsh Singh, In the Line of Duty: A Soldier Remembers (Delhi: 2000), 31. 15 John Prendergast, Prender’s Progress: A Soldier in India, 1931–1947 (London: 1979), 41. 16 See Francis Ingall, The Last of the Bengal Lancers (London: 1988), 10–16; John Masters, Bugles and a Tiger: My Life in the Gurkhas (London: 1956), 41–70 and Geoffrey Beyts, The King’s Salt (Privately published, 1996), 6–7. francis tuker 289

“The eighteen months at the RMC were pleasant enough on the whole. I settled down to the routine after a couple of initial frights.”17 The officer training structure and organization began to adapt immediately. In 1939, the OTS at Belgaum was established, taking 300 British cadets. It continued to take only British cadets throughout the war, whilst the IMA shortened the regular course and took 50 Indian cadet officers and later some British cadets for emergency commissions. In May 1940, OTS Bangalore for British officers and OTS Mhow for Indian officers were established. Bangalore and Mhow took British and Indian cadet officers except officer cadets for the Indian Engineers and the IAOC, who went to the OCTU at Bangalore, Kirkee and Roorkee and the IAOC Training Centre, Jubbalpur.18 By September 1941, 5,000 officers had been trained in the four OTS establishments. Most of the British cadet officers by 1943 either came from the ranks or through the schoolboy cadet scheme. By mid-1943 about 200 other ranks became cadet officers per month but this had decreased to a hundred by 1944. At the same time, Indian cadets were in the region of a 160 a month.19 The retired Indian Army officers were attached to Army Home Commands as GSO1 Liaision officers to lecture at schools in their areas and select cadets. The first cadets left the United Kingdom in September 1940 and by May 1945 about a thousand had gone to India with these cadets being praised by an OTS commandant as good officer material.20 Alternatively, the cadets also volunteered after similar lectures at the pre-OCTU at Wrotham, Kent, and some were put down on the ‘Pink List’ (draft for the Indian Army) without their knowledge.21 The Great Central Hotel at Marylebone Station was the base for the Indian Army Selection Board, then cadets enlisted in

17 Lieutenant-General S.D. Verma, To Serve with Honour: My Memoirs (Kasauli: 1988), 7. 18 See Notes for the benefit of Volunteers arriving in India from overseas for appointment in India as Officers in his Majesty’s Land Forces after training as cadets in an Officers’ Training School, 30 December 1941, p. 7, L/MIL/17/2287, IOR, BL, London. 19 See John Shipster, Mist on the Rice-fields: A Soldier’s Story of the Burma Cam- paign and the Korean War (Barnsley: 2000), 15. 20 Prasad, Expansion, 99–104. 21 John Irwin, “A Royal Engineer at OTS Mhow, India, 1944”, Journal of the Soci- ety for Army Historical Research, vol. 78 (2000), 291; Major Ian Gibb, A Walk in the Forest (Unpublished Memoir), p. 2, 86/3/1, IWM, London; Patrick Davis, A Child at Arms (Stroud, Gloucestershire: 2006), 2; Captain Peter Gorb, My Phoney War 1939– 1948: A Memoir (Unpublished Memoir, 2005), p. 10, 06/39/1, IWM. 290 alan jeffreys the Royal Scots or the Queen’s Regiment as the training detachment for the Indian Army based at Invicta Lines, Maidstone. They trained under a joint Queen’s Regiment/Royal West Kent Regiment organization commanded by Indian Army officers for 6 weeks basic training, followed by 12 weeks infantry training, and one week at the pre-OCTU at Wrotham. After embarkation leave, cadets assembled again at the Great Central Hotel, which was a transit camp and marched to a railway station for a train to Liverpool or Glasgow where they embarked for a troopship to India.22 The IMA virtually became another OTS with 49 ‘war courses’ being held at the academy, with 8 courses for schoolboy cadets and the remainder for British and Indian cadets, culminating in 3,887 commissions.23 The editor of the IMA Journal commented on the Academy in June 1942: “The Public School atmosphere has been blown away and replaced by an air of toughness, a more intense programme. . . .”24 Pradeep Barua has stated that: The IMA proved invaluable to the British war effort in the Southern hemisphere. Without the academy’s invaluable work in churning out Emergency Commissioned Officers (ECO’s), it is doubtful if the Indian Army could have maintained the massive formations it had on the Burma Front.25 The training schools meant a huge increase in the amount of officers generally and Indian officers in particular who numbered 15,540 by the end of the war. Cadet officers coming out from the United Kingdom, with little knowledge of India and no family tradition of service in the Indian Army, were issued with pamphlets explaining Indian culture, the organization of the Indian Army and the importance of leadership through personal example stating: It is a big thing, this personal example, and it counts for a lot. It is true in any army, but it is a hundred times more important in the Indian Army. Your own integrity must be beyond reproach. You must be honest with

22 Interview with Colonel Denis Wood, 13 October 2007. See also Davis, A Child at Arms, 2. 23 Barua, Army OfficerCorps, 50. See also B.P.N. Sinha & Sunil Chandra, Valour and Wisdom: Genesis and Growth of the Indian Military Academy (New Delhi: 1992), 155. 24 Sinha & Chandra, Valour and Wisdom, quoted on 159. 25 Barua, Army Officer Corps, 50. francis tuker 291

yourself and others. Your men must have confidence in you and you have to got to earn, and deserve that confidence.26 The pamphlet finishes with the 10 commandments for aspiring officers which were learning the language, knowing your job, do what you ask your men to do, be firm and impartial, don’t lose your temper, know your men’s country and customs, be accessible and sympathetic, not introduce reforms into a unit until settled in and make them seem to come from within rather than imposed and finally: “Work hard, play hard, fight hard, and when necessary, die hard.”27 However, views of the training were mixed with Patrick Davis commenting about 1943 that “Mhow taught me nothing new about infantry tactics at section level and we had few chances to practice with a platoon or company.” He continued “. . . I am left with a conviction that much of the instruction was unnecessarily out of date and some of it near to comedy.”28 This seems to be a common view of the OTS and Mhow, in particular, where in the earlier years of the war the instructors were using such pre-war and early Second World War training manuals as Infantry Section Leading, Infantry Training, Frontier Warfare India and Field Service Regulations Volume 2.29 However, more realistic training progressed in the last couple of years of the war with Captain Taylor commenting on his fellow officer cadets at Mhow in late 1944 “. . . they are a grand crowd, chosen, in modern style, for their abilities. The only trouble is that they are all so keen that the standard they set is pretty stiff and takes some keeping up with.”30 Major Gibb attended Mhow in early 1945 stating that “Our demonstration platoon was dressed as Japanese soldiers and our tactical manoeuvres were designed specifically to fight the Japanese in Burma.”31 The OTS Belgaum by 1941 already had a good reputation with both students and instructors. Captain E.L.G. Stones wrote that “The instruction I found extremely good.” Commenting that in contrast to the

26 Four Lectures by a Commanding Officer for Officers joining the Indian Army (Delhi: 1942), 25, L/MIL/17/5/2225, IOR, BL. 27 Four Lectures by a Commanding Officer for Officers joining the Indian Army (Delhi: 1942), 30. 28 Davis, A Child at Arms, 11. 29 See Paul Byron Norris, Willingly to War: 1939–1945 (London: 2004), 23; Ship- ster, Mist, 16 and Papers of Captain V.P. Sams, p. 3 and Officers’ Training School, Mhow C.I. Instructions to Cadets for Outdoor Work, 05/2/1, IWM. 30 Captain L.M. Taylor, Forgotten Diary (unpublished memoir), 232, 87/38/2, IWM. 31 Gibb, A Walk in the Forest, 11. 292 alan jeffreys

British Army the “. . . . drill was simpler, their whole attitude more reasonable, and for those of us who a few months before had been impatient about fussiness, this was a great tonic. The lectures, too, were, on the whole, admirable.” He described his company commander Colonel Pettigrew as “remarkably lucid, rational and convincing.”32 Although it was noticeable that equipment was lacking in India and attitudes towards the experience differed between regular Indian Army officers and ECOs as Captain Stones noted: “Generally speaking the staff at Belgaum had come to India in peacetime, of their own accord; most of us were there only because of Hitler, and did not want to stay any longer than we had to.”33 Colonel Pettigrew said of his time as a company commander and instructor at Belgaum: I was one of four company commanders and a good ten years younger than the others. Each of us had a hundred officer cadets at a time, with sixteen weeks in which to turn them into officers fit to join an Indian cavalry regiment or infantry battalion. To help us we had a good British company sergeant major and four experienced British sergeants. All the weapon training, physical training, map reading and Urdu instruction were centralized under specialist staff. So my particular responsibilities were, drill and discipline, individual field skills, section and platoon training, and all the general administration and military education of my ‘boys.’34 The IMA syllabus developed over the same period, by 1943 the funda- mentals of jungle warfare were being taught at the OTS and lectures were continually being updated.35 The routine is much remembered by the ECO cadets being in contrast to austerity measures in the United Kingdom. For example at OTS Bangalore the day began at 6 AM with Chota Hazri (Little breakfast of tea and biscuit) followed by parade and 2 hours exercise such as an assault course, then breakfast with a morning of instruction on organization and administration, Urdu lessons, weapon training, drill or map reading. After lunch more training with compulsory sport after tea time followed by dinner in the mess. There was a demonstration platoon, from an Indian regiment such as

32 Captain E.L.G. Stones, Indian Reminiscences of Professor E.L.G. Stones, as a Cadet and then an Officer in the Royal Corps of Signals (1941–45) (Unpublished Memoir), 15, 85/52/1, IWM. 33 Stones, Indian Reminiscences, 19. 34 Colonel H.R.C. Pettigrew, “It seemed very ordinary”: Memoirs of Sixteen Years in the Indian Army 1932–1947 (Unpublished Memoir), 115, 84/29/1, IWM. 35 See Indian Military Academy Precis Book, Cottle MSS, 67/289/1, IWM. francis tuker 293 one of the Gurkha Regiments and the course finished with a day and night exercise.36 The lengths of OTS courses varied according to arm of service. For example, the course for the infantry was for 4 months. Those joining the Royal Indian Artillery attended the School of Artillery (India) and Cadet Wing at Deolali for a further month. The cavalry and engineer officers underwent a 6 months course.37 The officers for the RIASC spent 3 months at the OTS followed by 3 months at the RIASC School at Chaklala. The training and assimilation of recently commissioned officers, as in the pre-1939 Indian Army, continued once they joined their units under the tutelage of their fellow officers and the VCOs.

Operational Training

The Indian Army was well versed in mountain warfare due to the experience of fighting on the North-West Frontier. This experience was drawn upon during the Second World War with Indian Army officers being loaned as mountain warfare advisors for the Norwegian Campaign in 1940 and the 4th and 5th Indian divisions fighting at the Battle of Keren in 1941. The 4th, 8th and 10th Indian divisions, together with the 43rd Gurkha Lorried Brigade, mounted successful operations on the mountainous Gothic Line underpinned by their training in mountain warfare. The War Office set up the Mountain Warfare Committee in 1944 where 2 of the 3 man committee were Indian Army officers, namely Colonel Le Marchand, who had been commandant of the Mountain Warfare School in India and had helped train British formations in the Middle East and Mediterranean theatre, and Brigadier Donald Bateman, who had commanded 5th Indian Infantry Brigade in Italy. It was responsible for the ensuing doctrine that was produced in MTP No. 34 on Snow and Mountain Warfare in December 1944.38

36 See Robin Sharp, The Life of an ECO in India (Bishop Auckland, Durham: 1994), 11, 14. See also Captain J.E. King, Memoirs of a “Reluctant” Infantry Officer (Unpub- lished Memoir), p. 9, 85/6/1, IWM. 37 See Notes for the Information of British other ranks proceeding to India for Training at an Officers’ Training School, issued March 1943, p. 9, L/MIL/17/5/2288. 38 See Alan Jeffreys, “Indian Army Training for the Italian Campaign and the Les- sons Learnt”, in Patrick Rose et al. (eds.), Allied Fighting Effectiveness in North Africa and Italy 1942–1945 (Leiden: 2011), forthcoming. 294 alan jeffreys

In contrast, knowledge of jungle warfare was generally lacking in both the British and Indian armies as a whole. The knowledge that did exist was largely limited to those officers who had been hunting, also known as shikar, an activity often seen as one of the advantages of service in the Indian Army. This did not, however, amount to a viable doctrine. After the disastrous defeats in Malaya, Burma and First Arakan Campaign, the Indian High Command made sweeping changes in senior staff officers and frontline commanders to improve military effectiveness. Major-General Reginald Savory was appointed Inspector of Infantry. He had commanded 23rd Indian Division in Assam. In his own words: I spent most of my time, not only visiting the training establishments, but also infantry units throughout India. I also made regular trips to the front, so as to acquaint myself with conditions at the time and apply the lessons learnt.39 Major-General Roland Inskip was appointed Inspector of Training Centres, in order to help the DMT, and he made a tour of all the centres to improve standards. For instance, the Regimental Centre of the 1st Punjab Regiment was visited in 1943 by instructors from most other training centres because of its high standards of jungle warfare training and its mock up jungle and these ideas were later circulated. 40 The result was the setting up of the Centres Organization on 1 April 1943. The Centres now came under the control of GHQ India with a headquarters that included specialist staff. They were renamed regimental centres and provided general training and holding battalions for the regiments and the commanding officer of each centre was upgraded to a colonel.41 A new DMT was also appointed in May 1943, namely Major-General Edward Gurdon, a month later he commented on the poor standards of current training: I have stepped into a proper hornets nest and the whole training of the infantry out here is now being reorganized. The standard of training recruits and reinforcements has been disgracefully low. . . . I have now demanded 10 months basic and 2 months post recruit training, which

39 Letter from R. Savory to Professor Callahan, 24 October, 1976, Savory MSS, 7603-93-71A, NAM, London. 40 See Major Mohammed Ibrahim Qureshi, History of the First Punjab Regiment 1759–1956 (Aldershot: 1958), 277. 41 See Lieutenant-Colonel H.J. Huxford, History of the 8th Gurkha Rifles 1824–1949 (Aldershot: 1954), 276. francis tuker 295

of course is having immediate and big repercussions. I also said that I cannot provide trained reinforcements for the existing number of active battalions and that they must be reduced.42 The DMT was short of available training pamphlets and material. Prior to taking up the post he had asked for them to be sent to him as quickly as possible: “We need every help we can get at the moment we are miles behind planning & operations without training and the time is all too short.”43 Most significantly, Field-Marshal A. Wavell was appointed Viceroy of India and was replaced by General Claude Auchinleck as C-in-CI in June 1943 and operational control for campaigns was now to be conducted by the newly appointed Supreme Allied Commander in South-East Asia, Lord Louis Mountbatten. A change in frontline leadership was also made. The Arakan failure brought about the dismissal of General Irwin, GOC Eastern Command, who was replaced by Lieutenant-General Sir George Giffard, a veteran of the bush fighting in East Africa during the First World War.44 Later that year, General Slim was appointed as 14th Army Commander and a range of experienced divisional commanders were also appointed such as major-generals Frank Messervy and Pete Rees in 7th and 19th Indian divisions respectively. Just before Wavell became Viceroy, he convened the Infantry Committee in June 1943. Its brief was: “To examine and report on the present standard of readiness for war of British and Indian Infantry Bns in India, and to make recommendations for their improvement.”45 The committee’s proposed solution was thorough basic training of recruits which would be followed by a period of jungle training for both British and Indian troops. It had become apparent that Regimental Training Centres were unable to deal with all basic training needs. The 13th Frontier Force Rifles, for example, had 14 active battalions organized, equipped and armed in 6 different ways. The committee accepted the DMT’s proposal that training divisions be set up in order to teach jungle warfare after basic training. All Indian and British reinforcements

42 Letter from Major-General E.T.L. Gurdon to Brigadier Gordon Thompson, WO, May 1943, L/WS/1/766, IOR, BL. 43 Letter from Major-General E.T.L. Gurdon to Brigadier Gordon Thompson, WO, April 1943, L/WS/1/766. 44 See Ronald Lewin, Slim: The Standard Bearer(London: 1976), 124. See also Mal- colm Page, A History of the King’s African Rifles and East African Forces(Barnsley: 1998), 173–75. 45 Report of Infantry Committee 1943, 1st-14th June, p. 1, L/WS/1/1371, IOR, BL. 296 alan jeffreys would now undergo 2 months jungle training under designated training divisions.46 The need for a comprehensive Jungle Warfare doctrine had been highlighted by the Infantry Committee. This came with the publication of the fourth edition of Military Training Pamphlet No. 9 (India), The Jungle Book, in September 1943. The new edition had doubled the circulation of the previous editions of the training manual. Its clearly stated purpose was to help commanding officers train their units in the specialized fighting methods needed to beat the IJA in the jungle, indicating that there was nothing new in jungle warfare, but as the jungle was alien to most troops training was needed to acclimatize to jungle conditions and teach jungle methods. It gave the examples of the importance of training, jungle craft, physical fitness, good marksmanship and decentralized control as the necessary attributes that needed addressing in jungle warfare training. The pamphlet was the basis of jungle fighting methods used by the Indian Army for the remainder of the Second World War. Indeed, it later formed the basis for two War Office manuals in 1944–45, demonstrating that it was the Indian Army rather than the British Army who pioneered jungle warfare doctrine. The 14th and 39th Indian divisions were chosen as the training divisions and were withdrawn from front line duty for reorganization. The 14th Division had served on the North-East Frontier during 1942, the Battle of the First Arakan and was now based at Chhindwara in Madhya Pradesh. It was surrounded by jungle and the climate was comparatively mild, which meant that training continued all year round. According to the official report of the division: “The tr[ainin]g was designed primarily for jungle fighting , but it did in fact develop qualities in the young soldier which are essential for fighting in any theatre.”47 Not only infantry, but all arms underwent jungle training as it was such an alien environment to all soldiers. The emphasis was on individual and section training for the infantry, whereas the other arms concentrated on weapons training. Recruits, including officers and NCOs, were trained at section and platoon level by a representative training battalion from their regiment within the 2 training divisions. This was a continuation of the practice of using training

46 See Report of Infantry Committee 1943, 1st–14th June, p. 16. 47 Report of 14th Indian Division Jul. 1943–Nov. 1945, p. 1. Curtis MSS, P140, IWM. francis tuker 297 battalions in a particular regiment but for a specific terrain and type of warfare. The training battalions had been instituted in 1921 as a permanent depot with one training company for each of the battalions in the regiment.48 The division was commanded by Major-General Alfred ‘Tiger’ Curtis who had served during both the retreat from Burma and the First Arakan Campaign. Only a handful of officers in the division had battle experience against the Japanese. Some instructors were sent from serving battalions, but units rarely sent their best men and, as it took 3 months to train the instructors, they “were far from perfect by the time they had to receive the first intake.” The training was intensive, illustrated by the 9 hour days, 6 days a week and often including 3 nights work per week.49 Recruits spent the first month in the camp training in battle drill, field movement and weapons training. The second month involved training in the jungle, making and living in bashas (shelters made out of bamboo) with numerous exercises using live ammunition. One exercise that helped introduce the troops to the noise of battle and accustom them to the supporting arms involved troops advancing 250 yards towards an enemy held nullah. The artillery support came from 25-pounders with medium machine gun fire from the flanks. Once they had reached the enemy lines explosive charges were set off to emulate enemy artillery and support for a counter attack.50 In all the exercises, there was strict discipline. Silence was maintained at all times, no litter was dropped and all ranks were stripped to the waist to aid acclimatization, earning the division the nickname ‘The Bareback Division’.51 There were long patrols of between 36 and 48 hours and leaders were responsible for their troops’ administrative needs and anti- malarial discipline. Jitter parties were organized using likely Japanese ruses. Swimming lessons were encouraged as few Indians, and even fewer Gurkhas, could swim. At the end of the 2 months, the trainees were expected to march 25 miles a day with full equipment.52

48 Gaylor, Sons of John Company, 18. 49 14th Indian Division Report, 2, 8, 15. 50 14th Indian Division Report, 39–40. See also Michael Branch, The Years of the Locust (Unpublished Memoir, 1980), p. 107, Branch MSS, 84/23/1, IWM. 51 ‘M.L.T.’, “An Indian Army Training Division”, Army Quarterly, vol. LXXVI (1958), 64. 52 14th Indian Division Report, 23–25. 298 alan jeffreys

There were visits from serving officers to lecture on operational lessons from Burma and other experts such as Jim Corbett, who was an expert in tracking and killing man eating tigers in the Indian jungles. He “had a roving commission as a Lt Col. to instruct men of the two jungle training divisions—14th and 39th—in Jungle Lore.”53 His biographer remarked: His lectures were varied. He dealt with animal (and human) tracking and methods of snaring small mammals for food. He gave a course in edible and inedible plants and how to obtain clean water, how to make smokeless fires in wet habitats and brew tea over them without a metal pan and how to find and gather wild honey without being stung. He studied and explained how to differentiate poisonous snakes from the rest and which were edible. He taught herbal, ‘natural’ medicine and how to make bird calls with reed pipes that could be translated into a ‘natural’ system. He allayed fears in British and American troops for whom the jungle was as much of an enemy, in their own minds, as were the Japanese. Jim was able to show that this was not so. To his students, he seemed almost wizard-like, a cross between, as one of them put it after his death, a magician and a master-detective.54 His book, Man-Eaters of Kumaon, was recommended reading in the training division, and was translated into Roman Urdu by GHQ India. It described some of Corbett’s experiences of tracking down tigers in the jungle. It was thought that valuable lessons of jungle lore could be learnt and then applied to operations against the Japanese.55 Other reading material included the AITM’s and MTP No. 9 and as: Officers had little time for study or even to read important pamphlets issued from higher authority. The issue of paper was kept down to essential limits and all pamphlets, circulars and directives were suitably marked in coloured pencil by Div HQ. This enabled officers to concentrate on those points that concerned them, and saved some reading.56 When the brigadier of the infantry visited the division in May 1945 he reported that “I found a sound, well thought out training and administrative programme constantly supervised by senior commanders, imparted by keen and painstaking instructors to a physically fit, alert

53 W.H. Alston, “My Day and Age”: The Memoirs of William Lowry Alston at one time a British Soldier in H.M. Indian Army 1917–1947 (Unpublished Memoir, 1961–2), Ch. 37, 7304-1-2, NAM. 54 Martin Booth, Carpet Sahib: A Life of Jim Corbett (London: 1986), 224–5. 55 14th Indian Division Report, 16–17. 56 14th Indian Division Report, 17. francis tuker 299 and cheerful body of trainees.” His visit showed that lessons had been learnt and the ensuing doctrine was promulgated: “Thought, planning and rehearsal has resulted in doctrine and lessons from the front being presented in a practical and interesting manner.”57 The training divisions made an important contribution to teaching individual jungle skills, shown by the example of the Punjab Regiment, in which the 16th (training) Battalion of 55th Infantry Brigade, 14th Indian Division, sent 1,957 trained soldiers to the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 14th and 15th battalions of the regiment.58 As the regimental historian notes: “The 16th’s role may have been unspectacular, but it was none the less essential, for it contributed very largely to the ultimate collapse of the Japanese in Burma.”59 After 2 months in the training divisions the recruits were sent to the reinforcement camps, where training was continued until they could join their battalions. The rest and reinforcement camps were reorganized under Colonel Gradige. They had been set up in April 1943 on the example of those in the Middle East and were designed to hold and train 3,000 troops. The instructors were from India, often with little experience of frontline conditions, and ratios of instructors to troops were very low with little direction for training, all resulting in poor morale and cases of ill discipline. After August 1943, each camp was allocated to a particular division and realistic training was undertaken and discipline restored.60 Auchinleck, C-in-CI, ensured that jungle warfare training formed the main focus of all training carried out by units, formations and at training establishments throughout India. The Jungle Warfare School at Comilla initially run by the 14th Indian Division moved to Sevoke near Darjeeling in North Bengal in 1943 and continued turning out trained officers who could instruct in jungle warfare skills. Each course lasted for 15 days and demonstrated new tactics required for jungle warfare to British and Indian officers and other ranks. The syllabus included patrolling, living off the land, fire control, minor tactics, preparation of road blocks and other obstacles, house to house

57 14th Indian Division Report, 25–6. 58 Major Mohammed Ibrahim Qureshi, History of the First Punjab Regiment 1759– 1956 (Aldershot: 1958), 419–21. 59 Qureshi, History of the First Punjab Regiment 1759–1956, 421. 60 Brigadier J.H. Gradige, “How the Fourteenth Army was Reinforced”, Journal of the United Services Institution of India, vol. LXXV (1945), 452–3; Field-Marshal Viscount Wiliam Slim, Defeat into Victory (London: 1957), 190–91. 300 alan jeffreys fighting, camouflage, use of small craft, explosives, booby traps and jungle lore. It finished with a 3 day course in the jungle which was “a first class test for endurance and quickwittedness on which our lives were soon to depend.”61 Lessons learnt at the school were then taken back to the battalion by officers who acted as instructors and ensured these ideas were put into practice. Due to the demand for places on the course a second jungle warfare school was opened at Shimoga in November 1943. Although not all training establishments included jungle warfare in their syllabuses. As late as October 1944, the Staff College at Quetta did not treat it as a separate subject, as shown in the commandant’s words: “the conditions and limitations imposed by jungle are studied in each series dealing with an operation of war.”62 Captain H.R.C. Pettigrew and Captain Walter Walker both taught at Quetta, however, and used their experiences of the retreat from Burma as the basis for their lectures.63 Pettigrew remarked: There was an interval of a few weeks before the next course was due to start but even so I and the other new instructors had a great deal to learn and to prepare for. The emphasis was still on the Western Desert type of warfare, and certainly the terrain around Quetta was eminently suited to it, and I was one of the few with any experience of jungle conditions. Frontier warfare of the Waziristan and Tocol type had entirely dropped out. The mountainous Abyssinian campaign had ended long ago and it was now all North Africa and Burma, with half an eye on Italy and even France.64 Charles MacFetridge remembered a sudden change of emphasis mid- term at Quetta in 1943 from the Western Desert to Burma, and from Tactical Exercise Without Troops to Jungle Exercises Without Trees. As he wryly commented later: “A year after the Japanese had reached

61 DMT India’s Liaison Letter no. 11, 18 June 1943, L/WS/1/1302, IOR, BL. 62 Morale Reports, Aug, Sept. & Oct. 1944, L/WS/1/761, IOR, BL. 63 See Colonel H.R.C. Pettigrew, “It Seemed Very Ordinary”: Memoirs of Sixteen Years in the Indian Army 1932–1947, pp. 147–148, Pettigrew MSS, 84/29/1, IWM. See also Tom Pocock, Fighting General: The Public and Private Campaigns of General Sir Walter Walker (London: 1973), 61 and General Sir Walter Walker, Fighting On (London: 1997), 64–5. 64 H.R.C. Pettigrew, “It Seemed Very Ordinary”: Memoirs of Sixteen Years in the Indian Army 1932–1947, 147. francis tuker 301 its North-East Frontier, the Indian Army was at last concentrating on the war in Burma.”65 The formations underwent jungle training, with the 5th Indian Division started training in June 1943 in Bihar, and then moved to Ranchi, where it reorganized as a combined animal and motor transport division and retrained for fighting in the jungles of Burma. The division was already battle hardened after its experiences in the Western Desert, but had to adapt to jungle warfare conditions. A new series of Training Instructions starting again at No. 1 (India) were produced. The first one stated: “This division has now to train for operations of a character different to which it has been accustomed and to train quickly, hence every lesson must have a specific object and be practical.”66 As they were training before the issue of the jungle book, the division was relying on the earlier edition of MTP No. 9 published in August 1942 calling it ‘our Bible for jungle tactics.’67 A very thorough set of training instructions together with training instructions as a result of GOC’s conferences were again produced by the division before going into action in the Arakan. Even after action, weekly newsletters were produced by the division with the aim of informing the reinforcement camp of the division’s activities with news of training and the lessons learnt.68 By December 1943, other Indian Army divisions also trained in jungle warfare, such as the 19th Indian Division which had completed its jungle training at Coimbatur. By the time 19th Indian Division went into action in late 1944, it was known as the best trained division in the whole of India. In 3 years it had undergone training for internal security, combined operations, mountain, desert, air landed, mobile and jungle warfare. Thus, India Command, the training divisions, training within 14th Army’s divisions and the new doctrine of jungle warfare encapsulated in The Jungle Book, provided a basis for

65 Charles MacFetridge, “The Indian Army in Burma: A Personal Reminiscence”, in David Smurthewaite (ed.), The Forgotten War: British Army in the Far East 1941–1945 (London: 1992), 62. 66 5th Indian Division Training Instruction no. 1 (India), July 1943, WO 172/1936, PRO, TNA. 67 5th Indian Division Training Instruction no. 1 (India), July 1943. 68 5th Indian Division Weekly News Letter no. 1, 3 Jan. 1944, WO 172/4278, PRO, TNA. See also Anthony Brett-James, Ball of Fire: The Fifth Indian Division in the Second World War (Aldershot: 1951), 249–53. 302 alan jeffreys uniformly jungle trained troops ready to defeat the enemy, as well as the terrain, the climate and the diseases. In contrast, the British Army formations such as 2nd Division were much slower to learn the lessons of jungle warfare and ignored the Indian Army experience.69 The 5th Indian Division together with 7th fought in the Second Arakan Campaign where during the Battle of the Administration Box, the defensive ‘boxes’ were successfully defended from repeated Japanese attacks, whilst supplied from the air. This heralded the turning point of the Burma Campaign. This growing ascendancy over the Japanese in the jungle was reemphasised later in 1944 when the Japanese 15th Army, under the command of General Renya Mutaguchi, made its main attack Operation U-GO whose prime objective was the speedy capture of Imphal to forestall the imminent Allied invasion of Burma. During the battles for Kohima and Imphal, the Commonwealth armies inflicted a crushing defeat on the IJA with 53,505 casualties in the 15th Army out of an overall strength of 84,280 in contrast to 16,700 casualties in the Commonwealth forces.

Lieutenant-General Francis Tuker

The last part of this paper is a case study of Lieutenant-General Sir Francis ‘Gertie’ Tuker’s contribution to training the Indian Army from 1939 until 1945. When Tuker took over command of the 1st Battalion, 2nd Gurkha Rifles in 1936, he immediately instigated a new training regime for the battalion. The regimental historian commented: “His contribution to his regiment and to the Indian Army was in effect the replacement of offensive for defensive thinking.”70 In a paper on training infantry written in 1934 Tuker remarked that “All is most certainly not well with the training of our infantryman.”71 Within the battalion, he issued training circulars, training orders and training instructions. In Training Circular No. 50, Tuker noted:

69 Moreman, Jungle, 135–6; Lieutenant-Colonel O.G.W. White, Straight on for Tokyo: The War History of the 2nd Battalion the Dorsetshire Regiment (Aldershot: 1948), 62–3, 68. 70 Lieutenant-Colonel G.R. Stevens, History of the 2nd King Edward VII’s Own Goorkha Rifles (The Sirmoor Rifles), vol. 3, 1921–1948 (Aldershot: 1952), 27. 71 The Training of Infantry 1934, p. 1, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/2, IWM. francis tuker 303

The training that our men (and all men of the I.A. and B.A. for that matter) have had for years has been static. No man has been allowed to progress in his training beyond his first year as a trained man. In early 1937 we made a beginning by putting about 100 riflemen through a higher rifleman’s cadre, devoted mainly to map reading, minor tactics, application of fire, visual training, use of ground. The results were most encouraging and undoubtedly had an excellent effect on our minor tactics in Waziristan.72 Some of his ideas on infantry training were assimilated into Indian Army doctrine, for example AHQ Training Memorandum No. 17 published in 1938 copied Tuker’s ideas almost word for word.73 The battalion trained for night work, patrolling and forest fighting. As a result of his thorough training of the battalion, Tuker came to the attention of GHQ India and was made Deputy Director of Staff Duties, GSO1 in 1939.74 He was moved to the training directorate in October 1939. The Military Training Directorate consisted of 12 officers at the beginning of the war divided into 3 sections. The M.T.1 was responsible for the military training schools and establishments, M.T.2 responsible for higher training and training publications and M.T.3 looked after individual training and had control of training schools.75 The original Director of Military Training was the controversial Brigadier Dorman-Smith but he had requested a transfer to the Staff School at Haifa.76 In October 1940, Tuker was appointed Director along with a Deputy Director, Lieutenant-Colonel David ‘Punch’ Cowan, who later commanded 17th Indian Division. The directorate slowly grew with another 10 officers by the end of 1941 as well as the upgrading of the director and his deputy to major-general and brigadier respectively. As Tuker stated in his address to the British Army Infantry School in 1943: “It is a pity that the Training Directorate is so often regarded as the junior of all our directorates and the Cinderella. How much it can achieve in the direction of thought for war if it has the encouragement and the means!”77

72 Training Circular no. 50, Tuker MSS, 71/21/5/1, IWM. 73 See AHQ Training Memorandum No. 17: Notes on Individual Training Period 1938, pp. 15–17, Tuker MSS, 71/21/5/1, IWM. 74 Stevens, 2nd Goorkha Rifles, 34. 75 Prasad, Expansion, 305–6. 76 Lavinia Green, Chink: A Biography (London: 1989), 137–48. 77 Major-General F.S. Tuker, “The Preparation of Infantry for Battle”,Army Quar- terly, vol. XLIX (1944), 74–83. See also The Preparation of Infantry for Battle, 1945, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/6, IWM. 304 alan jeffreys

In this period the directorate produced a huge amount of training pamphlets. Much was based on existing experience, for example, a doctrine was finally produced for internal security with the publication of MTP No. 11 (India), Notes on Training for Duties in Aid of the Civil Power, 1941.78 The directorate also produced new training manuals relevant to Indian Army formations stationed in various parts of the British Empire at the beginning of the Second World War such as the first edition of MTP No. 9 (India) on forest warfare was issued in 1940. It was written by Tuker and based on his experience in Assam in 1919 and training with the 2nd Gurkhas in 1933.79 As Tuker noted in the DMT’s address of 23 September 1941: It has always been our object on the training side to try and get everybody under one hat. We do not wish this so as to control them but to get their help in order to devise our various tactical doctrines, and in order that they may be able to spread the news abroad whenever we have built up new methods and produced new ideas.’80 These training pamphlets were not meant to be the last word on the particular subject and were revised in light of further experience. In the same address, Tuker advocated the importance of all arms cooperation providing Iraq as an example and stating “. . . we are not only up with other people but well ahead in tactical doctrine and training.”81 As Tuker continued, the Indian Army had had to accept the equipment it was given but there was no reason why the army had to be organized in the same way as everybody else stating that: “There is no manner of doubt that the doctrine of warfare comes before anything else in the Army’s make-up.”82 Tuker conducted a tour of the Middle East in 1941 as DMT and learned some valuable lessons as well as how useful the training material produced by the directorate had proved in the theatre. The Indian troops in the theatre were regarded as well trained. However, Tuker noted during his tour that:

78 Military Training Pamphlet No. 11 (India), Notes on Training for Duties in Aid of the Civil Power, 1941 (Delhi: 1942), L/MIL/17/2252, IOR, BL. See also Srinath Raghaven, “Protecting the Raj: The Army in India and Internal Security c. 1919–1939”, in Small Wars and Insurgencies, vol. 16 (2005), 253–79. 79 Military Training Pamphlet No. 9 (India), IWM. See also Notes by Major- General F.S. Tuker, 6 October 1945, 20, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/6, IWM. 80 DMT’s Address of 23 September, 1941, p. 1, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/5, IWM. 81 DMT’s Address of 23 September, 1941, p. 4. 82 DMT’s Address of 23 September, 1941, p. 9. francis tuker 305

Training is the main thing that wins battles, for it is the only thing that makes soldiers out of common citizens. GHQ India as a whole has yet to realise this and to realise that we will never reach a standard that is high enough for today.83 The MTPs (India) were seen to be very useful in the Middle East with the commandant of the Staff School at Haifa saying: “. . . he believed Indian Infantry to be the best soldiers in the Empire. Also said he constantly reminded all his students to try and get hold of every GHQ India Training Memorandum and Pamphlets they could lay hands on.”84 The MTP’s nos. 13 ad 14 proved very popular on Navigation by Stars and leading Infantry Section respectively and Tuker promised to send out more training pamphlets across the theatre.85 Tuker also sent all the training pamphlets and memoranda to theatre commanders such as General Auchinleck, Commander-in-Chief GHQ Middle East.86 The training pamphlets derived mainly from the AITMs, a development of the pre-war AHQ Training Memorandum, with the first one appearing in May 1940.87 They were originally meant to complement the War Office Army Training Memorandum (ATM) but in order to cut down the amount of material that officers were meant to read important lessons from the ATMs were copied in AITMs.88 Both dealt “with all aspects of military training carried out by all arms of service.”89 The second AITM published in November 1940 clearly shows the importance of patrolling and ‘infiltration’ for infantry a lesson that had to be repeatedly learnt in most theatres of war throughout the Second World War. It also showed why training was proving difficult at this early stage of the war due to the large number of inexperienced officers, warrant officers and NCOs, in the Indian Army together with the reorganization, mechanization and change of tactical methods within the army and the added problem of the further

83 DMT’s Tour of the Middle East, Note C, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/6, IWM. 84 DMT’s Tour of the Middle East, Note F, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/6. 85 See Military Training Pamphlet No. 13 (India). Navigation by the Stars (Delhi: 1941), L/MIL/17/5/2255, IOR, BL and Military Training Pamphlet No. 14 (India), Infantry Section Leading, 1941 (Calcutta: 1941), L/MIL/17/5/2256, IOR, BL. 86 Letter from Auchinleck to Tuker, 13 July 1941, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/8, IWM. 87 DMT’s Address of 23 Sept. 1941, p. 1, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/5, IWM. 88 AITM No. 3, p. 1, L/MIL/17/5/2240, IOR, BL. 89 List of GS Training Publications 1945, p.1, OIOC L/MIL/17/5/2197, IOR, BL. 306 alan jeffreys expansion of the army.90 The AITM No. 3 listed all the various training material available in 1940 which came to 21 War Office MTPs and 8 Indian MTPs stating that MTPs (India) “cover special subjects and forms of war, on which no other guidance is readily available.”91 The pamphlet stated that War Office ATMs showed the progress made in the United Kingdom, much was applicable to the Indian Army, suggesting that ATMs nos. 25–29 and 35 were worthy of reading.92 The War Information Circulars were also produced that were written by soldiers for soldiers, they were optional reading but could develop the application of the training manuals. Lastly was the series entitled the Field Service Pocket Book which was issued to all officers on arrival in India. In contrast, the British Army had a different series of training pamphlets including the Current Reports from Overseas, Notes from Theatres of War, Army Training Instructions and none of these seem to be distributed or even mentioned in the Indian training material. Although lessons from all theatres including North-West Europe are mentioned in the AITMs. The British formations were forbidden to issue training instructions whereas the Indian formations in all theatres produced them.93 One of the first Indian Divisions to produce Training Instructions was 5th Indian Division in the summer of 1941 when it was training for desert warfare. The training instruction commenting that, like mountain warfare, training for the desert “is a specialist job but it is a job that can be learnt, if not mastered, by well trained troops quickly, if training is practical and intense.”94 Although the new Divisional Commander, Major-General Harold Briggs, had told Tuker that he found the division “very ill-trained and particularly for its role in the desert.”95 The division moved to Iraq in late 1942 and began training for a new role as a ‘mixed infantry and armour division.’ The division issued over 10 training instructions and revisions together with

90 AITM No. 3, pp. 17, 25, L/MIL/17/5/2240, IOR, BL. 91 AITM No. 3, p. 22. 92 AITM No. 3, p. 22. 93 ATM No. 25, p. 16, IWM. 94 5th Indian Division Training Instruction No. 2, 19 August 1941, WO 169/3301, TNA. 95 Notes by Major-General F.S. Tuker, 6 October 1945, p. 11, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/6, IWM. francis tuker 307

General Briggs’ GOC’s training directives for this new role.96 The 4th Indian Division were the next to follow with training instructions when Tuker took over command in December 1941, he, of course, sent copies back to the DMT India.97 Initially, Tuker wrote the training instructions, Training Instruction No. 3 was clearly based on Tuker’s experience with sections on mountain warfare based on MTP (India) No. 7, infantry tank co-operation and night training—all subjects that he had been studying since the 1930s. The Training Instruction No. 6 was the last one he personally wrote on ‘The Infantry Night Attack on a German Armoured Leaguer.’98 Tuker saw the importance of training for a particular type of terrain such as desert or jungle warfare he commented to the General Sir Alan Hartley, Deputy Commander-in- Chief India: No formation can come straight into the show and do well. 1st Armd has been written off twice in 12 months. Most of our Indian Bdes from Cyprus and Iraq were written off out here. The fact is that it is a different sort of fighting just as jungle fighting is different. I would not take 4 Div into Malaya or Burma as it is. It would need and I would need at least a months hard training in the jungle with some instructors who know their job.99 He also commented to Hartley that he brought out his own defensive system out from India that had now been adopted in the Middle East Tactical Schools which he described as: “Part of the mobile reserve and part of the unthreatened garrisons go to thicken up the threatened place or areas and to act offensively.”100 Tuker’s old battalion joined 4th Indian Division in April 1942 and Tuker wrote in a confidential note at the end of the war: By now I had a Goorkha Bn in 7 Bde for I had found when I took over the Division in Jan 42 that the infantry was not up to the standard to which I was accustomed. Frankly, I built the infantry of the Division round that Bn for it had been mine and I had put into it the whole of my knowledge of training and war, and after me, Lovett, a very fine CO, took on my work and brought the Bn to the highest pitch of battle skill

96 See TNA WO 169/7541 and WO 172/1936, PRO, TNA. See also Brett-James, Ball of Fire, 244–7. 97 Letter to General Sir Alan Hartley 23 June 1943, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/3, IWM. 98 Letter from Tuker, 19 January 1961, Tuker MSS, 71/21/2/7, IWM. 99 Letter to General Sir Alan Hartley, 16 October 1942, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/3. 100 Letter to General Sir Alan Hartley, 16 October 1942. 308 alan jeffreys

I have ever seen. With this new example the standard of British and Indian Infantry in the Division rapidly rose.101 The division started training in mountain warfare again in January 1943 with the issue of Training Instruction No. 28.102 The success of the training was demonstrated by the divisional night attack on at the Battle of Wadi Akarit, 5 April 1943.103 In all, the division produced over 40 training instructions in North Africa and Italy and were continually learning the lessons from recent fighting and then instigating it into their training. After Tuker recovered from the illness that had made him resign as GOC 4th Indian Division, he was appointed chair- man of the Frontier Warfare Committee in 1944 due to his experience on the North-West Frontier and in Italy. He thought traditional forms of ‘frontier warfare’ were now outdated and lessons from the experience of mountain warfare in the Italian campaign should be instigated. However, the proposals of the committee were not acted upon due to the 1947 Partition when responsibility for the region went to Pakistan.104

Conclusion

In conclusion, during the Second World War the Indian Army had been transformed from an imperial police force in 1939 to a modern professional army in 1945 making a huge contribution to the Allied cause. Tuker has suggested that the Indian Army, “produced better leaders than did the British Army. They were more experienced in war and training and more flexible of mind. Far more resourceful and inventive.”105 It is clear that the Indian Army performance considerably improved when Indian Army officers were directing operations and training shown by the examples of Auckinleck, Slim, Savory, and Tuker.106 In training terms, by the end of 1944 the Military Training

101 Notes by Major-General F.S. Tuker, 6 October 1945, p. 12, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/6, IWM. 102 4th Indian Division Training Instruction no. 28, Mountain Warfare, 16 January 1943, WO 169/14735, PRO, TNA. 103 Lieutenant-General Sir Francis Tuker, Approach to Battle (London: 1963), 311–32. 104 Tim Moreman, The Army in India and the Development of Frontier Warfare: 1849–1947 (Basingstoke: 1998), 182–5. 105 Notes by Major-General F.S. Tuker, 6 October 1945, p. 1, Tuker MSS, 71/21/1/6, IWM. 106 Callahan, Churchill and his Generals, 202–6. francis tuker 309

Directorate numbered 31 officers which had increased to 64 staff divided into 10 sections by September 1945.107 During 1944–5, new training pamphlets were still being produced such as the Battle Bulletins whose object was “to publish first hand reports received from troops in the forward areas.”108 In 1945, the new DMT was Major-General Donald Bateman and there were now 920 training pamphlets listed by GHQ India, although those listed included both those produced by GHQ India and War Office manuals reprinted in India.109 By the end of the war there were 70 new training establishments that trained 470,000 men at a time.110 The Indian Army was now a well-trained army capable of dealing with almost any tactical situation officered by a large number of Indian officers that went on to form the foundations of the modern Indian Army.

107 Prasad, Expansion, 307, 509. 108 List of GS Training Publications 1945, p. 5, L/MIL/17/5/2199, IOR, BL. 109 List of GS Training Publications 1945, L/MIL/17/5/2199. 110 India and the War 1939–1945: The Facts (Information Department, India Office, Jan. 1946), 5, L/MIL/17/5/4263, IOR, BL.

CHAPTER TEN

THE PRIME MINISTER AND THE INDIAN ARMY’S LAST WAR

Raymond Callahan

Winston Churchill and India. The subject presents problems for his admirers. His obstinate rearguard action against the 1935 GOI Act, his sniping at M.K. Gandhi, and the disdain, captured in remarks that range from colorful to unpleasant, for much of ‘Hindu India’, now seem a bit embarrassing at best. Perhaps for that reason, relatively little attention has focused on this dimension of his long career.1 This lack of attention, in turn, has meant that his impact on the Indian war effort during 1939–45 has not received the critical analysis it deserves.2 India’s war effort was enormous and played a vital role in Britain’s victory—a fact that went unacknowledged in Churchill’s war memoirs and, largely as a result of his omission, is inadequately understood to this day by most students of the Second World War. This essay attempts to sketch out to the degree to which Churchill as the Prime Minister and Minister of Defense shaped—and at times distorted—the last great martial effort of theRaj . What were the attitudes to empire in general and India in particular that Churchill carried with him into 10 Downing Street? Churchill is popularly remembered as a tenacious defender of the empire, a tenacity summed up in his oft-quoted remark that he had not become prime minister to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire (although it is often forgotten that the remark was aimed at his American allies, who he correctly took to be more dangerous foes of

1 Arthur Herman’s Gandhi and Churchill: The Epic Rivalry That Destroyed an Empire and Forged Our Age (New York: 2008) is an interesting popular account. Geof- frey Best, Churchill: A Study in Greatness (London: 2001), the best analytical study of Churchill to date, has a perceptive chapter on Churchill and India. 2 The Indian war effort is another subject in need of full treatment.The Oxford History of the British Empire did little on this subject, but Ashley Jackson’s The British Empire and the Second World War (London: 2006), 351–404 provides an excellent introduction. 312 raymond callahan empire than any colonial nationalists). His real views were however rather more nuanced. Much of his early career was certainly passed in imperial settings—India, Egypt, and South Africa—and at a time when “popular imperialism” was reaching its climax in Britain itself. A true young man in a hurry he saw India and Egypt only as a cavalry officer and war correspondent, while his time in South Africa was exclusively as a journalist, temporary officer—(and POW). He never returned to either India or South Africa. He began his long ministerial career as Under Secretary of State for the Colonies and certainly was exposed to a wide range of colonial issues there (as well as taking a very modern fact finding trip through East Africa that yielded a profitable travel book). When he left the Colonial Office—to sighs of relief from many officials—he also left behind direct concern for imperial affairs for some fifteen years.3 When he returned to the Colonial Office in 1921, it was primarily to sort out, at Lloyd George’s behest, the post-1918 chaos in the Middle East, which he did very effectively, his settlement lasting until the British era in the Middle East came to an end in the mid 1950s. Looking at Churchill’s record on imperial matters upto 1922, it is clear that his knowledge of the empire, although broader than that of many politicians who managed its affairs from London, was not only very different, and shallower, than that of imperial enthu- siasts like his one time Harrow schoolmate Leo Amery (for whom it was a religion) but also marked by the sense that the empire was a vital component in Britain’s standing as a great world power. He valued the empire primarily for what it did for Britain and British prestige, and of no part of its sprawling agglomeration of territories was that more true than of the Raj. Churchill understood that India was an important market for British goods; indeed, the impact on Lancashire of Indian self-government was one of the themes of his crusade against the 1935 Act (although in fact the decline of the Indian market for British textiles was already well underway by then). Far more important was the geostrategic importance of India as the empire’s cost free strategic reserve. It was the combination of Indian military manpower (and British troops paid for

3 Ronald Hyam’s Elgin and Churchill at the Colonial Office, 1905–1908: The Water- shed of the Empire-Commonwealth (London: 1968) is a thorough examination of Churchill’s first official encounter with the empire. Hyam has revisited the subject in “Winston Churchill’s first years in ministerial office, 1905–1911”, in hisUnderstanding the British Empire (Cambridge: 2010), 299–318. indian army’s last war 313 by the Indian budget), made mobile by British sea power, that allowed ‘force projection’ from the late eighteenth century onward everywhere from Egypt to China. Without India, Britain’s global power would be severely truncated—would, in fact, erode rapidly. British officers and officials for whom India was a career—in many cases from families with a long Indian service tradition—often developed a real affection for the subcontinent (or, at least, that part of it where their career had been set). This was worlds away from Churchill’s attitude. He had seen India as a subaltern in a British cavalry regiment. Given the social class from which British cavalry officers were then largely drawn, there was a feeling among them that most other British personnel in India were beneath them, let alone the ‘natives’. Churchill, it is clear, shared these views to the full: when he told his mother in a letter that there was no one in India worth talking to, he was clearly not referring to Indians. They, to him, were a series of stereotypes, and they never really became anything more (anglicized and polo-playing Indian princes were a partial exception). Even the Indian Army, which he saw in action on the North-West Frontier, made little impression in spite of his being very briefly attached to an Indian unit. His despatches to the Daily Telegraph and the book built on them—The Story of the Malakand Field Force—have testimonials to the Sikhs (as well as a great deal of misinformation about them) and a ritual obeisance to the Gurkhas (whom he never saw in action).4 In many ways this lack of engagement with India is quite unsurprising. Churchill was a bumptious young officer in a British cavalry regiment, consumed with ambition, seeing India as way station—where he would spend as little time as possible—on his road to the British political career he passionately wanted. The impressions formed by the subaltern, however, became the mental furniture of the prime minister: the sturdy ‘martial races’ (who would never tolerate the rule of the ‘Hindu priesthood’), the effete, grasping ‘babus’, the ‘loyal princes’, etc. Churchill knew little about India and disliked much of what he thought he knew, but he understood clearly the role India played in the calculus of British power. These two facts provide the backdrop to any consideration of his relationship to India at war.

4 The original dispatches have been collected in Frederick Woods (ed.), Young Winston’s Wars: The Original Despatches of Winston S. Churchill, War Correspondent, 1897–1900 (New York: 1972); Winston S. Churchill, The Story of the Malakand Field Force (London: 1898) is still one the best accounts of an Indian frontier campaign. 314 raymond callahan

This relationship can be broken into two areas for consideration: his impact on Indian politics and governance during the war, and his strategic direction of the Indian war effort. The former, being somewhat better known than the latter, can be dealt with more briefly. When Churchill ended his ‘wilderness years’ by joining Neville Chamberlain’s government in September 1939, India had already become the scene of a political deadlock. The Viceroy, the Marquess of Linlithgow, a mod- erately able but quite unimaginative Conservative peer, had already declared the Indian Empire at war by virtue of the King-Emperor’s declaration of war against Germany. Though constitutionally correct, it was a politically tone-deaf act that led to an immediate halt to the already sputtering implementation of the 1935 GOI Act. The Congress ministries in the 7 Indian provinces where they had swept the 1937 elections and formed governments promptly resigned. The Muslim League ministries remained in office, as did the ‘Unionist’ ministry in Punjab, a key province for military recruiters, supplying about 40% of the pre-war Indian Army. Relations between the INC and the Raj would remain frozen for the duration of the war (Linlithgow’s belated announcement in October 1939 that Britain was willing to renegotiate the 1935 Act after the war made no difference.) This did not necessarily have to happen, but once Churchill had succeeded Chamberlain in May 1940, it became the prime minister’s desired state for India: politics suspended, the viceroy and his officials in control, and recruiting for the steadily expanding Indian Army going smoothly forward. But, in fact, it was no more possible to genuinely freeze Indian politics that it was to arrest the tide. In March 1940, the Muslim League, led by Muhammed Ali Jinnah (the urbane, whiskey-drinking Bombay barrister who would ultimately prove to be Gandhi’s equal in shrewdness and determination), formally committed itself to a demand for a separate, Muslim nation—Pakistan. When Leo Amery became Secretary of the State for India and Burma in May 1940, he immediately confirmed the viceroy’s October statement but also realized that far more was needed to engage Indian political opinion whole heartedly in support of the British war effort—a war effort that, with the collapse of France, was rapidly becoming a desperate struggle for survival. In consultation with the viceroy, Amery therefore began to hammer out a new constitutional offer: dominion status (i.e., self-government) within a year of the war’s end and, meanwhile, the addition of Indian political leaders to the viceroy’s executive council—in effect, membership in an Indian war cabinet. When Amery finally broached this to the prime minister, indian army’s last war 315

Churchill’s reaction was anger. Linlithgow was brought to heel by a sharp cable: “for the first time I realize what has been going on”—and an uncompromising negative: “we here are facing the constant threat of invasion. . . . In these circumstances immense constitutional departures cannot be effectively discussed. . . .”5 Amery was accused at a cabinet meeting of underhanded behavior, and Churchill himself took over the drafting of what became known as the ‘August offer’.6 The August 8 statement by the viceroy was, in fact, not much of an offer at all: the pledge to reopen discussion of the 1935 Act at war’s end was reiterated and Dominion Status for India as Britain’s goal was reaffirmed—but without a timeline in either case. There was a commitment to add ‘representative’ Indians to the viceroy’s executive council, but that was a very different matter from adding Indian politicians (who, in the prime minister’s view did not in any case represent the ‘real India’). The August offer was in fact a clear indication that Churchill did not intend to engage in any discussion of India’s future for the duration (perhaps hoping, in the aftermath of victory, to do so from a position of strength?). However, there was one new element in the statement, and one that cast a very long shadow. Britain would never establish in India, the declaration announced (with a vigor and clarity otherwise lacking in the document), any political structure whose authority was unacceptable to ‘large and powerful elements in India’s national life’. Taken in conjunction with the Muslim League’s resolution at its Lahore meeting held 5 months previously, this marked a long step towards Partition. This was certainly not what the prime minister intended—he sought the prolongation of the Raj, not its demise and division. But, he had always regarded the princes and the Muslims as bulwarks of British rule—and the latter as essential to the functioning of the Indian Army. The statement he generated was intended both to signal that there would be no further political discussion while the war lasted and to reassure two ‘loyal’ groups that Britain would never hand them over to a ‘Hindu Raj’. Meanwhile, there was a war to fight— and win. While Churchill’s action could and did damp down politics, it did not arrest the pace of war induced change in India which was felt in

5 Churchill’s minatory note to the viceroy is in John Glendevon, The Viceroy at Bay: Lord Linlithgow in India (London: 1971), 170–1. 6 The complete text of the ‘August offer’ is in Nicholas Mansergh (ed.),India: The Transfer of Power, 1942–47, 12 vols (London: 1970–1983), vol. 1, 887–9. 316 raymond callahan accelerating fashion in governance, the economy, and, above all, in the Indian Army. The instrument that the prime minister sought to retain under exclusive British direction and control would, as a result of his own decisions, undergo a transformation that would make the demise of the Raj inevitable. The British ruling cadre in India had always been miniscule, as Churchill had noted in one of his early letters from India. In 1921, the ICS, the ‘steel frame’ of the Raj, numbered some 894 officers (a small number of whom were Indians). Recruitment for the ICS had never again been as strong after 1918 as it had been before 1914, a result of changing views in England about imperial careers as well as the sense that Britain’s time in India was now limited. Philip Mason, one of the most distinguished of the last generation of British ICS officers, recalled that he and his contemporaries began their careers with the belief that theirs would be the generation that handed over power to Indians.7 The First World War had led not only to the acceleration of Indian participation in the political life of the Raj but to a commitment to ‘Indianization’. That commitment, taken together with recruitment problems during the interwar years and the suspension of European recruitment in 1939, meant that the steel framework had become, increasingly, an Indian framework—by 1947 there were only 429 British officers left in the ICS, but 510 Indian officers. The process had not gone quiet as far in the police, some 60% of whose officer ranks were still British in 1947. Probably unnoticed and certainly uncommented upon by Churchill, the exigencies of war were attenuat- ing the numbers of British personnel in the governing machinery in a way that made a future that did not include self-government at war’s end a practical impossibility. But, the run-down of European officer cadre in the ICS paled in comparison with the transformation of the Indian Army. The post-1918 changes in India—political advance and Indianization of the Raj’s administrative services—were until the late 1930s echoed only faintly in the Indian Army. The need to Indianize its officer corps was recognized, albeit reluctantly, but exactly how to do it and at what pace provided abundant opportunities for delay. An Indian military academy at DehraDun was finally beginning to produce officers by the mid 1930s, but on the eve of war there were only about 500 Indians

7 Philip Mason, A Shaft of Sunlight (London: 1978), 68 and passim. indian army’s last war 317 holding the King’s Commission out of an officer corps of some 4,500, and they were either subalterns or medical officers.8 The strategic revolution of May 1940 (discussed below) meant open ended expansion for the Indian Army, which would ultimately burgeoned from 183,000 to 2.5 million—history’s largest volunteer army. How to provide the officers needed for this vast force? The prewar Indian Army did not have any substantial officer reserves. British manpower was dedicated, first and foremost, to its own rapidly growing army. Various expedients—limited transfers from the British Army; emergency commissions for British civilians working in India—could not begin to meet the need. The shortage of officers had reached 6,500 by late 1941. The answer had to be found in training and commissioning large numbers of Indians. In 1945, the Indian Army carried 43,000 officers on its rolls; 14,000 were Indians, many now field grade. The British officers, mostly wartime commissions, would rapidly be demobilized; many of the Indian officers would remain. The nature of the Indian Army had fundamentally changed. As the Indian Army’s officer corps ceased to be a British preserve, the use of Indian military manpower as a cost free strategic asset also came to an end. A corollary of the political and constitutional changes after World War I was the acceptance by London of the need to relieve the Indian taxpayer—now no longer completely voiceless—of the burden of military costs incurred for imperial purposes. The massive mobilization of Indian resources after Churchill became Prime Minister drove these costs to dizzying heights: about a million pounds a day—1.3 billion by 1945. Much of this represented the costs of using the Indian Army everywhere from Italy to Hong Kong, but some of it was driven by turning India into a supply center and logistical base for the British war effort, first in the Middle East and then South-East Asia. The Eastern Group Supply Council, established in Delhi in October 1940, oversaw the production and distribution of weapons and supplies of all kinds over a huge arc of territory from the Mediterranean to the South China Sea—placing a great strain on the Indian economy even as it brought unevenly distributed wartime prosperity and adding to the steadily growing sterling balance that turned London into

8 The best study of Indianization during the interwar years is Pradeep Barua,Gen- tlemen of the Raj: The Indian Army Officer Corps, 1817–1949 (Westport, CT.: 2003). 318 raymond callahan

New Delhi’s debtor (something about which Churchill railed but was powerless to stop). All of this—the attenuation of the British administrative cadre (and the exhaustion of those who remained), the rapidly growing number of Indian Army officers who were Indians, the war driven expansion of the Indian economy, and the massive cost to an increasingly impover- ished Britain of the war effort conjured up by theRaj —not to mention the frustration of the Congress Party and the growing assertiveness of the Muslim League made it extremely unlikely, to put it no higher, that Britain would be able, as Churchill so ardently wished, to so control the direction and pace of Indian politics after the war as to ‘keep a bit of India’, the hope he expressed to the viceroy in 1945.9 How did Churchill fail to see any of this? The answer to that lies in the way he envisioned the British war effort and the stamp he placed on the grand strategy of the empire for five years from May 1940. When Churchill had his rendezvous with destiny in May 1940, the strategic foundation of the British war effort was imploding. Adolf Hitler’s pact with Josef Stalin had blown a huge hole in the blockade once assumed to be a vital weapon in what had been foreseen as a long war of attrition. Then, the stunning German conquest of western Europe had left Britain with no great power ally—only its Dominions, India and the colonial empire, all needing British supplies to realize their military potential. The United States was a barely armed neutral, sympathetic but skeptical about British survival. Churchill’s first task was to confront the defeatism that existed in his cabinet (and the upper reaches of British society) and secure a decision to fight on rather than negotiate. That done, the next step was to craft a strategy for survival—and victory—because no matter how dynamic his leadership and stirring his rhetoric, the British public could only be expected to support the rigors of a total war effort if they were offered some prospect of success, however far in the future it might be. This is where India came in. Rejecting suggestions that Britain abandon the Middle East, Churchill chose instead to fight there. The rationale was that to evacuate the Middle East in the wake of the French collapse would be the signal that Britain despaired of holding this key

9 Churchill made this remark to Wavell, whom he had made Viceroy in succession to Linlithgow, in September 1945—an astonishingly late date to believe any such thing was possible. Penderel Moon (ed.), The Viceroy’s Journal (London: 1973), 168. indian army’s last war 319 imperial bastion, which would depress morale at home and perhaps convince the Americans (and possibly even the Dominions) that Britain did not believe it could win. European neutrals would certainly decide Germany had won the war (a view most had, in fact, embraced already). So went the argument, and almost without discussion, the commitment to fight in the Middle East was made. It shaped Britain’s war—and India’s. The first requirement was for troops. There were two British divisions in the Middle East, the soon to be famous 7th Armoured in Egypt and a cavalry division in Palestine, slowly exchanging horses for tanks and armored cars. Reinforcing them from Britain was very difficult. The British Army had left behind in France about 10 divisions’ worth of equipment and faced the massive tasks of simultaneously reequipping and reorganizing to meet the threat of invasion, and growing exponentially. If the forces in the Middle East were to grow rapidly, it could only be done drawing on Dominion and Indian manpower, especially the latter. Dominion manpower meant negotiation with sovereign, if sympathetic, states; the Indian Army could simply be ordered where needed. The 4th Indian Division (which would com- pile a great war record) had moved to Egypt at the outbreak of war in keeping with prewar plans, and the Indian Army had began a planned expansion program that by May 1940 increased its size by about a third—the target was to double the army. The strategic revolution of May 1940 and Churchill’s decision to hold the Middle East led however to a new dramatically larger expansion program: the revised 1940 program now called for 6 infantry divisions and an armored division. Long before this program could be carried out, a second program was superimposed upon it calling for 4 more infantry divisions and a second armored division. A third wave of expansion—4 more infantry division and another armored division—was planned for 1942. It was this expansion of course that drove forward the Indianization of the officer corps—to a rate of 900 per annum in 1941 and 2,000 per annum by early 1942. Although recruits were forthcoming (the army provided employment both prestigious and reasonably paid by the standards of rural India, which provided most of the recruits), men were the only readily available resource. The Indian Army’s modernization program had only gotten underway in 1938–39 and was heavily dependent on the provision of equipment from Britain, equipment in short supply and on which the British Army had first claim. In the autumn of 1941 the Indian Army, already committed to raising 2 armored divisions, 320 raymond callahan did not have a single modern tank. The forced draught expansion in an equipment-starved environment (and with training focused exclusively on the requirements of the Middle East) led directly to a dramatic plunge in quality that became only too apparent in Malaya and Burma in 1941–43. Churchill, whose strategy had compelled the near reckless expansion of the Indian Army, made no attempt to see that expansion was properly supported. John Masters, serving with the 10th Indian Division in Iraq during the brief campaign that reestablished British authority there in spring 1941, was amazed and angered to discover that the British supplied Iraqi Army had better equipment than the Indian units that defeated it.10 Churchill sent a note of congratulations to the viceroy about the performance of the 4th and 5th Indian divisions in the campaign that destroyed Italy’s East African Empire although he insisted on using the locution ‘British Indian’ to describe Indian Army formations as a way of stressing the dependence on their British component. But when General Sir Claude Auchinleck, who had been C-in-CI, before taking over in July 1941 from General Sir Archibald Wavell as C-in-C, Middle East (with Wavell succeeding him in India) raised the issue of the Indian Army’s equipment with Churchill during a meeting at Chequers, the prime minister brushed him aside by asking whether Auchinleck was certain that, once equipped with modern weaponry, Indian soldiers ‘wouldn’t turn and fire the wrong way?’11 This suspicion and disdain foreshadows an attitude that would suffuse his enormously influential war memoirs, where the huge Indian contribution to the British war effort is nowhere acknowledged. Churchill made a second decision in 1940 that would also have a powerful, negative impact on the Indian Army. As a corollary to his commitment to the Middle East, he effectively downgraded Singapore— theoretically ranking second only to the British Isles themselves as a strategic priority—to the position of a residuary legatee. Banking on the United States to deter Japan, he refused to sanction a major commitment of resources, especially modern aircraft, to Malaya and Singapore. He also—as he admitted privately after the war—paid next to no attention to questions of Malayan defense. The result, as is well known, was a colossal imperial debacle, in which 2 Indian divisions

10 John Masters, The Road Past Mandalay (New York: 1963), 17. 11 John Connell, Auckinleck: A Critical Biography (London: 1959), 274 n. 1. indian army’s last war 321 were lost plus the equivalent of a third in raw units hastily thrown in at the last moment. All these Indian formations were the product of the 1940–41 expansion program—incompletely trained and equipped, with inexperienced officers, VCOs and NCOs, leavened with the mer- est sprinkling of prewar regulars. Churchill’s reaction to their predictably uneven battlefield performance was of a piece with his comment to Auchinleck a few months before. In a message to the Australian prime minister he remarked that the early defeats in northern Malaya were ascribable to the fact that the Japanese had been opposed by “only . . . two white battalions and a few gunners, the rest being Indian Soldiers” (a message he would bowdlerize in his memoirs).12 The pattern apparent in Churchill’s treatment of India’s war in 1940–41—insistence on the greatest possible contribution to the imperial was effort, allied to inattention to such details as the supply of equipment and tinged by a deep seated suspicion of India and its army and dismissiveness of the mounting problems there—would never change. This became apparent when a series of disastrous military reverses at Japanese hands triggered a major crisis in India. The political tension that had been building since 1939 came to a head as the prestige of the Raj sank in 1942. There was good reason that novelist Paul Scott set the opening of his ‘Raj Quartet’ chronicle of the Raj’s demise in the spring of 1942, as the British withdrew in chaotic conditions from Burma. Churchill was as firmly opposed to political concession as ever, but his position had been weakened by a long series of defeats, and he had been forced to reconstruct his cabinet to include, among others, Stafford Cripps, a left wing Labour politician and champion of India’s claims. Moreover, the prime minister now faced heavy pressure from Franklin D. Roosevelt, whom he needed to conciliate at almost any cost, for an accommodation with Indian nationalism. This combination of forces drove Churchill to concede something—but not very much. Cripps was sent to India (which removed a powerful critic from the London political scene) with an offer: in return for full support of the war effort, India would receive

12 Churchill to John Curtin, 14 Jan. 1942, Churchill Papers CHUR 4/235A, f. 128, Churchill Archive Center, Churchill College, Cambridge. The published version, in Winston S. Churchill, The Hinge of Fate (Boston: 1950), 11, omits the final 5 words without ellipsis. His team of assistants persuaded him that the words would be read as an adverse reflection on the Indian Army (which of course they were). 322 raymond callahan

Dominion Status at war’s end, with the right of secession from the Commonwealth—provided, however, that no part of India was forced to join the new Dominion. Indians would join the viceroy’s executive council—but the army would remain under British control. The out- lines of Churchill’s ‘August Offer’ were very visible—as was the possibility of Partition. Despite Cripps’ deployment of all the skills that had made him a very successful barrister before the war, and despite his personal links with Jawaharlal Nehru, INC rejected the offer, feeling that the staggering Raj would have to concede more. It is hard to believe that Churchill was disappointed. It is intriguing to speculate about what might have happened if the prime minister had followed up on his briefly entertained idea of flying to India and handling the negotiations himself—the ability to adjust to realities confronted had always been one of his marked characteristics. Churchill had played a weak hand well, neutralizing both Cripps and the Americans. Now, Gandhi and the INC leadership came to his aid as well. Misreading the still considerable strength of the Raj, they launched the ‘Quit India’ movement in August 1942. The most widespread outbreak of disaffection since 1857 (and occurring, interestingly, in many of the same places), it was a miserable failure. Some 57 battalions—the infantry strength of about 6 divisions—were deployed to support the civil administration and police. Most of the troops were Indian, many of them new recruits, some commanded by newly commissioned Indian officers. Some were drawn from groups not hitherto recruited for the Indian Army and with no long tradition of service to the Raj. There were no instances of disaffection—the residual institutional strength of the army was greater than most observers realized. Churchill, who never seemed able to forget 1857, completely failed to notice the Indian Army’s stability in the face of the Quit India movement. Perhaps, it was because it coincided with his trip to Cairo (where nearly all the officers dismissed during his makeover of the Middle East command structure came from the Indian Army) and Moscow. But, that he remained as skeptical as ever about the Indian Army would become clear over the ensuing year. Another Indian development that failed to command his attention was the growing food crisis that would come to a head in 1943 with the great Bengal famine, whose toll may have been as much as a million dead. Densely populated Bengal had long been dependent upon imports from Burma for about 15% of its consumption. The loss of indian army’s last war 323

Burmese rice coincided with a poor crop year in Bengal. Then, in October 1942, a cyclone devastated much of the growing area. Imports from other parts of India could not cover Bengal’s shortage because the great grain growing area of the Punjab also had a bad year and, in any case, rice eating Bengali peasants could no more adapt quickly to other grains than Irish peasants accustomed to potatoes could switch quickly to North American corn in 1845–47. The Bengal provincial administration (one of the Indian administrations that, being largely Muslim, had remained in office) was weak and corrupt. The British Governor, Sir John Herbert, who like all governors retained considerable emergency powers, was mortally ill. His ICS advisors seemed oddly inert. The viceroy and his advisors, distracted by the disasters of 1942, the Cripps Mission and Quit India revolt, not to mention the gargantuan task of mobilizing and directing the Indian war effort, did not focus on the problem in Bengal until much too late. Then, the GOI ran into an adamant refusal in London to divert shipping and grain supplies to India. Amery, who also was late in realizing the scope of the humanitarian disaster in Bengal, could make no headway against Churchill’s refusal to make any adjustments to shipping programs or allocation of foodstuffs in favor of India. In this, Churchill was abetted by his confidante and scientific advisor, Lord Cherwell (Professor F.E. Lindemann), whose attitude to Indians was even more dismissive than the prime minister’s. Only in the autumn of 1943, by which time Wavell had taken over as Viceroy, gone to Bengal (a trip Linlithgow never managed) and ordered the army to organize relief, did Churchill relent. Even then, London only provided a quarter of the shipping and grain for which the GOI had asked. Apparently the argument that finally carried conviction was that the situation in Bengal threatened both army morale (not only Indian but British troops were by that time, and despite orders to the contrary, sharing their rations with the starving Indians) and the viability of India as a base for the war in Burma. Fortunately, the 1943 harvest in Bengal was abundant, even though in some villages there was no one left to gather it in. The conjunction of the war, natural disaster and administrative feebleness that produced the Bengal famine was not Churchill’s fault; however, examining his reaction and that of the cabinet when Linlithgow and Amery belatedly grasped that a vast human disaster was staring them in the face, one cannot but concur with the historians who wrote “. . . it is difficult to escape the 324 raymond callahan impression that the War Cabinet was simply hostile to India.”13 The cabinet’s tone on this matter was set and maintained by the prime minister. And with Indian politics now off the board for the duration— and most of the Congress leadership jailed—Churchill was determined that no further Indian issues would distract from the war effort. During the months when the Bengal famine developed, the Indian issue that primarily concerned Churchill was shaping the war in Burma in a way that satisfied his American allies while preserving the option of an amphibious strategy that would carry the British across the Bay of Bengal to reclaim Singapore and, with it, the prestige lost in the debacle of February 1942. In doing so, he would show once again the skepticism about the Indian Army that had surfaced so many times before and allow that distrust to lead him into making perhaps his worst appointment of the war. The crux of the matter was the American obsession with China. Rangoon had been the port of entry for American supplies bound for China via the Burma Road. When the Japanese conquest of Burma closed that route, the Americans cobbled together a trans-Himalayan airlift to China but wanted the overland route reopened by a British reconquest of Burma or at least enough of it to allow the Americans to build a road from Ledo, in extreme north-eastern Assam, to link up with the old Burma Road. Since there was only one complete British field force division in India in spring 1942, the work of satisfying the Americans would fall to the Indian Army—and here, from the prime minister’s perspective, was where the problem lay. Lieutenant-General William (Bill) Slim’s battered but functional units had barely withdrawn from Burma when Churchill began urging a counter-offensive on Wavell, who had in fact began thinking about how to strike back even before Churchill. The instrument of counter-attack was however as yet totally inadequate. The over-expanded Indian Army reached its low point in Wavell’s offensive in the Arakan, the coastal strip of Burma (December 1942– March 1943). The Arakan Operation was launched because it was the only offensive move open to Wavell, who then drove it forward relentlessly and foolishly. Wavell seriously underestimated the IJA’s fighting skills, a truly remarkable mistake at that stage of the war. Moreover,

13 Christopher Bayly and Tim Harper, Forgotten Armies: The Fall of British Asia, 1941–1945 (London: 2004), 282–91. The quoted phrase is at 286. Richard Toye, Churchill’s Empire: The World That Made Him and the World He Made (London: 2010) is much more blunt. See 315. indian army’s last war 325 he tolerated a clumsy command structure built by Lieutenant-General Noel Irwin (commanding Eastern Army, the formation responsible for the Burma front). Irwin, like Wavell, was a British Army officer and was determined to keep Slim, an Indian Army officer, from having any role in an operation where the overwhelming majority of the troops were drawn from the Indian Army. This was an example of the tension between the two services that was a subtext of the Burma campaign.14 When the heavily outnumbered Japanese counter-attacked, the Arakan Offensive collapsed into a rout worse than anything that had taken place in Burma the year before (or in Malaya for that matter). There followed a volcanic explosion at 10 Downing Street. Embarrassed once again by Indian Army’s failure, Churchill denounced India and its army as a ‘welter of lassitude and inefficiency’ and turned to what had fortuitously been presented to him as a solution to the problem of Burma—a solution that would both satisfy the Americans and sideline the inferior and perpetually disappointing Indian Army. That solution was a new military technique, ‘Long Range Penetration’ (LRP) and its prophet, Orde Wingate. That Wingate was in India at all was Wavell’s doing. He had been Wingate’s patron while commanding in Palestine before the war where Wingate ran a counter-insurgency unit in a manner that, without the cover provided by a very senior patron, might have led to a court martial and again in Cairo in 1940–41 where he employed Wingate to raise, train and lead Ethiopian irregulars against the Italians.15 Wingate’s behavior pushed eccentricity to and across the borders of the unbalanced and unstable. He attempted suicide in Cairo in 1941 and his career ought to have been over, but Wavell brought him to India, hoping to use him in Burma. The concept of LRP involved not irregulars but regular units irregularly configured into ‘columns’ (coordinated by radio and supplied by air), that would operate deep in the enemy’s rear, disrupting supply lines and communications. Thought of originally as a prelude to a ground offensive in north Burma, Wavell allowed himself to be persuaded by Wingate to give LRP a trial, even after lack of resources led to the cancellation of any follow up

14 I have explored this in Churchill and His Generals (Lawrence, KS, 2007). 15 Frank McLynn, The Burma Campaign: Disaster into Triumph 1942–45(London: 2010), 71–3 summarizes Wingate’s record in Palestine. Slim, in a private letter after the war, complained that no one wanted to tell the truth about Wingate. McLynn clearly does. 326 raymond callahan offensive. In February 1943, the 77th Indian Infantry Brigade (the force’s cover name) crossed the Chindwin River into Burma. Over the next 2 months, the ‘Chindits’ (a Wingate corruption of Chinthe, the name of the lionlike guardian of Burmese temples and the name by which posterity would know them) marched and counter-marched across north Burma, doing minor and easily remediable damage to Japanese communications while losing a third of their numbers. Nearly a third of those who survived, were assessed as medically unfit for further service. On this unlikely foundation, a legend was built. Wingate had always been adept at both collecting patrons and ‘spin- ning’ his accomplishments; publicists in New Delhi were desperate for good news. Soon, there were stories labeling Wingate ‘the Clive of Burma’. Wingate produced a highly coloured report on ‘Operation Longcloth’ (also known as Chindit I), exaggerating his successes and sharply criticizing the Indian military establishment. A ‘back channel’ copy went to Amery, who knew and admired Wingate; Amery passed it to Churchill. This shrewd act of insubordination bore spectacular fruit. The prime minister, terminally disenchanted with Wavell and furious at the problems in alliance politics caused by the military failures of the Indian Army, thought he saw the key to the problem of Burma. Wingate was promptly summoned home. Wingate dined with Churchill at Number 10 on the eve of the prime minister’s departure for the August 1943 Anglo-American summit at Quebec (‘Quadrant’). The two had previously met at a dinner party on the eve of the war, which may have helped to break the ice. Wingate’s distant kinship with T.E. Lawrence, whom Churchill had greatly admired, was another connection, as was Churchill’s lifelong admiration for physical courage, which no one ever denied Wingate had in abundance. But, above all, Wingate was the solution to an extremely pressing problem—how to meet American expectations in Burma in the face of the manifest failings of the only military instrument available, the Indian Army. Churchill treated Wavell, also home for consultations and due to be replaced as C-in-CI, by Auchinleck, to a lengthy diatribe on the failures of the Indian Army, going back to the 1857 Mutiny. Wingate thought the Indian Army nothing better than a vast system of unemployment relief. This trope appealed greatly to Churchill—in the spring of 1945, he was still using it in arguments with Amery. Wingate was even critical of the fighting qualities of the Gurkhas, a battalion of whom had served with the Chindits. Wingate was virtually the only senior British officer in the whole long history of indian army’s last war 327 the Anglo-Gurkha connection to take this position. Churchill wanted results in north Burma; Wingate claimed that a vastly expanded Chindit force could reconquer north Burma, with the Indian Army following behind to mop up and do garrison duty. If creating this force involved disrupting the Indian military establishment, neither the prime minister nor Wingate felt that a matter for concern. The results of that dinner party are well known. Wingate was immediately added to Churchill’s entourage for Quadrant, where again displaying his uncanny skill at impressing those whose patronage he needed, he sold himself and LRP to Roosevelt and the American Chiefs of Staff. Long before the official comments from New Delhi on Wingate’s account of Chindit I reached London, the man who, barely 18 months before, was a major with rather dim career prospects had become a major-general who would control a ‘Special Force’ whose size approximated an army corps. The dazzled Americans had added a private air force to Wingate’s private army. A companion decision would cut the GOI and its army headquarters out of the loop by creating SEAC which would run the war against Japan. The SEAC would pursue the amphibious strategy aimed at Singapore for which Churchill yearned; Wingate would handle north Burma, facilitating the reestablishment of the overland supply link with China the Americans demanded. India would raise troops and furnish supplies. Because major European issues were also decided at Quebec, it is sometimes overlooked that the Quadrant decisions on the war against Japan were the biggest single transformation Churchill wrought in any theater structure and command arrangements during the entire course of the war. Reaching SEAC’s ambitious goals was entrusted to Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, who many felt was an over-promoted lightweight of dubious judgment, and Wingate, whose mental balance, tactical and operational skills and ability to function at a senior level many with greater experience of him than Churchill questioned. All this was driven by Churchill’s refusal to accept that whatever was accomplished by the British Empire in the war against Japan would be done on the shoulders of the Indian Army. The high hopes Churchill invested in Wingate (and SEAC) were, of course, doomed to be cruelly disappointed. Long before it became evident how misplaced were the hopes of an LRP solution to the problem Burma posed in alliance politics or how futile were the dreams of a SEAC amphibious strategy, the prime minister’s attention had slipped away from its brief focus on Burma. Ironically, his inattention 328 raymond callahan coincided with a dramatic change in India and the Indian Army. It is, in fact, quite striking how quickly Burma, and the Indian Army, faded from the attention of London. The diary of Field-Marshal Sir Alan Brooke, the CIGS, which is an excellent barometer of the prime minister’s military concerns, has few mentions of Burma and none about the Indian Army in 1944–45. Churchill’s papers for 1944– 45 have no reference to Slim. Wavell, made Viceroy in succession to Linlithgow largely because no one else was available, proved surprisingly able as the Raj’s penul- timate viceroy. He grappled with the Bengal famine, extracting some help from London to meet India’s food crisis, and proved to be very aware of the need to restore a political dialogue with Indian nationalism before war’s end. Here, however he encountered Churchill’s adamant opposition. The British War Cabinet proved no more willing to confront the prime minister over Indian politics than they had over Indian hunger. Wavell’s successor as C-in-CI, Claude Auchinleck (known as ‘the Auk’), was an Indian Army officer for whom India had become, in a very real sense, home. He would be the last and perhaps greatest occupant of his office, seeing the Indian Army through the war, independence and partition. Auchinleck’s immediate contribution was to oversee a remarkable military transformation. The force structure was stabilized (the prime minister had at least been persuaded that open-ended expansion was unsustainable). He brought Major-General Reginald Savory back from divisional command on the Burma Front to become Director of Infantry. Training was revamped, doctrine rewritten, troop welfare and medical arrangements overhauled—in short, a new army was forged. All the while the number of Indian officers crept upward. Slim had rethought the army’s approach to battle following the withdrawal from Burma. Now, installed as the 14th Army commander in October 1943, supported by what Auchinleck and Savory were doing, he shaped that army into one of the war’s greatest fighting forces—one which, by May 1945, had done what neither Churchill nor SEAC had wanted and what many believed impossible—reconquered Burma overland, north to south. In 1944–45, the 14th Army shattered the Japanese Burma Area Army in the most brilliant campaign conducted under British flag in the entire course of the war. By the time Rangoon fell, Slim’s army was nearly two-thirds Indian, and most of the balance was African. The British contingent was about 13%. Auchinleck’s comment about the outlook of the Indian Army as war’s end loomed was that every Indian indian army’s last war 329 officer worth his salt was a nationalist. Churchill’s plea a few months later to the weary viceroy, whose efforts at political negotiation he had so comprehensively blocked—‘keep a bit of India’—captures the gap that yawned between Churchill’s hopes and Indian realities—realities his conduct of the war had done so much to shape. Perhaps the last word on Churchill and India’s war should be given to an Indian Army officer, the fifth generation of his family to serve in India: “If the Prime Minister had an area of weakness, most of us would probably agree that it was India—past, present, and future. Of extraordinary humanity and understanding everywhere else, here he was biased, narrow, and reactionary. . . . To an Indian officer, that is, someone like myself, or to an officer of Indian race . . . on Indian matters he could be right, but he seldom was.”16 The pattern visible in Churchill’s wartime relations with India was continued in his immensely influential war memoirs. Two members of the team that worked with him to produce 6 massive volumes in 5 years—General Sir Hastings Ismay and Denis Kelly—in fact had Indian Army connections. Ismay had begun his remarkable career in the Indian cavalry, and Denis Kelly had served in the Indian Army during the war. It made no difference. There is nowhere an admission of how great was Britain’s debt to the Indian war effort and the Indian Army which by war’s end not only comprised two-thirds of the ‘British’ 14th Army, but a very significant part of the 8th Army in Italy. The activities of the Eastern Group Supply Council, which provided important logistic underpinning for the war in the Middle East and SEAC, go unmentioned. There is an evasive discussion of the Indian political crisis of 1942 and the Cripps Mission and even less informative coverage of the August 1942 revolt. Nothing is said about the Indian food crisis or the Bengal famine. Wavell’s efforts to restart a political dialogue also go unmentioned. The Burma Campaign receives similar treatment: the withdrawal from Burma is covered briefly without any mention of Slim; the great battles of 1944 in which Slim broke the Japanese 15th Army merit barely a page and, again, Slim’s name is never mentioned. So pervasive was this pattern of neglect that the 14th Army veterans’ association protested—a protest carried to Churchill by Slim, by that time CIGS. The result was two chapters on the 1944–45 reconquest of Burma in Triumph and Tragedy, drafted for Churchill

16 Masters, Road Past Mandalay, 131. 330 raymond callahan by another collaborator, Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Pownall (who had been SEAC’s Chief of Staff in 1943–44). In them, Slim’s leadership is at last acknowledged. Even Wingate gets scantier coverage that one might expect—perhaps the result of Churchillian second thoughts about what he had done at ‘Quadrant’ or perhaps the result of the hostility to Wingate of SEAC and Burma veterans among his advisors, like Pownall and Kelly. One could read the entire 6 volumes of The Second World War and come away with only a smattering of information on the Indian war effort—and much of what is provided is misleading. What are we to make of the rather depressing tale? Churchill is normally, and rightly, credited with being neither mean spirited nor vindictive, yet in relation to India, he repeatedly showed himself to be both. Powerful arguments have been deployed to both defend him from the charges of racism and caution against taking too seriously casual remarks that certainly smack of racism made in moments of exasperation and fatigue—or late at night after dinner, and recorded by his Boswellizing doctor, Lord Moran.17 Without necessarily arguing that Churchill was racist in his attitudes to India, it does certainly seem to be true that Amery was on to something when he claimed that Churchill hated India. He clearly did not much enjoy his time there, finding most of the British servants of theRaj , military and civil, infra dig, and nearly all Indians unattractive. The ‘loyal princes’ and the sepoys of the ‘martial races’ (and the ‘sturdy peasantry’ from which they were drawn) were verbal exceptions to this rule, but even Churchill’s acknowledgement of the importance of the ‘martial races’ to the Raj did not lead him to any appreciation of the Indian Army of which they had long been the backbone. Fundamentally, he thought of the Indian Army as inferior and untrustworthy, and owing its fighting power largely to its British component. He shared Wingate’s view that it was made up of second class troops. As to the Indian political classes, they

17 Ronald Hyam’s “Churchill and the Colonial Empire”, in his Understanding the British Empire, 335, makes a judicious and largely convincing defense of Churchill against the charge of racism—but he does not address Churchill and India. Richard Toye, Churchill’s Empire, does, in a wide ranging and nuanced way, concluding that while Churchill held racist views, he also held strongly that Britain should treat its nonwhite subjects with justice and fairness and believed that they could develop in a way that would entitle them to be treated as ‘civilized’ (i.e., white). On Toye’s own showing, however, these views were at their weakest when applied to India, especially to Hindu India. indian army’s last war 331 represented no one but themselves, and Britain had to protect the ‘real India’ from them. To Churchill, India was a key component of Britain’s global power, and Indian manpower and resources had to be used to the full to sustain that power. Moreover, Britain had to continue to dispose of Indian military assets if its global power was to survive. This was Churchill’s core belief about India and, when given the power, he acted on it. While it is always possible, and often easy, to make a case for Churchill’s strategic and political decisions during the war, it is much harder when it comes to India, where unhelpfulness and dislike during the war, and ungenerous forgetfulness afterwards were the norm. Despite his attitude and actions however, the Raj and its army, in a last convulsive effort, played an invaluable role in Britain’s last imperial war, and, in so doing, changed the terms of the Anglo-Indian discussion over India’s future in a way that made Churchill’s dream of preserving the empire ‘in all its strength and glory’ completely chime- rical.18 Some might think that result poetic justice.

18 “My ideal is narrow and limited”, Churchill wrote to the viceroy in 1937. “I want to see the British Empire preserved for a few more generations in its strength and splendor. . . .” Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill: 1922–1939 (London: 1976), 886.

SECTION II

THE INDIAN ARMY AND INTERNAL SECURITY OF INDIA

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE INDIAN ARMY AND CIVIL DISORDER: 1919–22

Nick Lloyd

Between 1919 and 1922, the Raj was convulsed by a series of civil disobedience campaigns led by Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. The response of the Indian Army to these protests has been seen in terms of brutality and coercion, the infamous incident in the Jallianwala Bagh in Amritsar when 379 people were killed, being the most obvious example. Yet, moving from high tempo war fighting to aid to the civil power operations placed the Indian Army in a highly difficult and unusual situation. This essay will look at the Indian Army in the aftermath of the Great War and analyze how it coped with the challenges posed by civil disobedience and the growth of nationalist consciousness in India. The years immediately following the end of the First World War were some of the most difficult in the history of the Indian Army.1 It had to adjust to an unsettled political situation at home and the growth of nationalist discontent, which—it was feared—could jeopardize the loyalty of its sepoys. There had been a number of anti-British plots and conspiracies in India during the war, including the so-called ‘silk letter’ plot and the Ghadar movement. Although these had not fundamentally weakened the British hold on India, they had alarmed many officials and contributed to a growing sense of unease.2 The extent

1 See Byron Farwell, Armies of the Raj From the Mutiny to Independence, 1858–1947 (London: 1989), Ch. 19; T.A. Heathcote, The Military in British India: The Develop- ment of British Land Forces in South Asia, 1600–1947 (Manchester: 1995), Ch. 10; C. Chenevix Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies: 1900–1947 (London: 1988), Chs. 9 & 10; S. Raghaven, “Protecting the Raj: The Army in India and Internal Security, c. 1919–39”, Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 16 (2005), 253–79. 2 See T.G. Fraser, “Germany and Indian Revolution, 1914–18”, Journal of Con- temporary History, vol. 12 (1977), 255–72; Sir Michael O’Dwyer, India as I Knew it: 1885–1925 (London: 1925), 178–82; Richard J. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence: British Intelligence and the Defence of the Indian Empire, 1904–1924 (London: 1995), 186–7; Tan Tai Yong, “An Imperial Home Front: Punjab and the First World War”, Journal of Military History, vol. 62 (2000), 386–8. 336 nick lloyd of the so-called ‘Mutiny Complex’ has probably been overstated, but there is little doubt that by 1919 senior British officials were concerned about the state of the Indian Army and the potential for violent disorder should it become any weaker. These fears were well founded. In April 1919, the Raj was threatened by the most serious outbreak of internal disorder since the Mutiny of 1857. Spontaneous displays of anti-government feeling flared up across India, but specifically in the north and west of the country, particularly Delhi and the Punjab. This had been followed in May by the outbreak of the Third Afghan War, which had strained the already overtaxed forces in India. Although these disorders would be smashed within weeks, the troubles of 1919 only marked the beginning of a new and difficult phase in the history of British power in India, when non-cooperation, civil strife, and the growing spectre of communal antagonism would imperil the order that had been in place since 1857. Furthermore, the actions of the Indian Army would come under increasing scrutiny from the nationalist leaders who were eager to expose its mistakes and undermine its confidence. It is little wonder that historians have seen the period between the outbreak of the Great War and 1922—when Gandhi’s campaign of ‘non-cooperation’ came to an end—as a watershed in the history of British power in India.3 What, then, had gone wrong? In December 1919, almost a year after the ceasefire on the Western Front, the AG of the Indian Army, General Sir Havelock Hudson, was interviewed by a committee of inquiry, known as the Hunter Committee.4 The GOI had ordered the enquiry in the aftermath of the Punjab disturbances to ‘clear the air’, find out exactly what had happened, and try and prevent further outbreaks. Hudson was the most senior member of the armed forces to give evidence and painted a depressing portrait of an army that had nearly broken under the stress of war and was ill placed for the sensitive operations against the civilian population which were now demanded of it. When war broke out in August 1914, the Indian Army consisted of 52 regular battalions of troops, but owing to the clamour for demobilization, by the time of the disturbances in April 1919, it had only 8 regular, with another 15 terri-

3 See for example A. Rumbold, Watershed in India: 1914–1922 (London: 1979). 4 See Report of the Committee Appointed by the Government of India to Investigate the Disturbances in the Punjab, etc. (London: 1920) [Hereafter Hunter Report], Com- mand 681. civil disorder 337 torial battalions available. Furthermore, the various garrison battalions that were scattered across the subcontinent were in a poor condition and were mostly composed of those who were either too old (over 55) or who had been wounded during the war. In Rawalpindi Division, for example, its 3 garrison battalions should have had a nominal strength of 2,925, but it was down to 1,348 men. And of them, only 51 were fit and available for duty. This was not a unique situation. In Lahore Division its 2 garrison artillery companies should have been 280 men strong, but there were only 38 soldiers fit for duty. Likewise, in Pune, the 3 garrison battalions could only muster 65 fit men.5 It was not just the physical state of the Indian Army which left much to be desired. For many British soldiers there was an understandable wish to return home as soon as possible, particularly before the hot weather arrived. Hudson complained that although British soldiers were happy to help restore order during the civil disorders of March and April 1919, they were less enamoured with fighting the Afghans on the frontier in May and June. They said that they did not mind remaining in India to help their fellow countrymen, but a war with Afghanistan was not their business, but the business of the GOI and they ought to keep enough men in India to do it. They were not at all in a contented frame of mind. Therefore the British garrison such as we had, asserted Hudson, was really not an efficient one. As well as concerns over a lack of troops, or about the physical fitness of those available, Hudson also stressed that many of the operations the Indian Army was called upon to conduct in 1919 were new, unplanned for and, in some cases, extremely taxing. Although the fighting on the frontier was relatively well understood, he made the point forcefully that when martial law was declared in the Punjab (on 15 April), the Indian Army had very little understanding or guidance on how it was to proceed. The Manual of Military Law, Hudson complained, contained 900 pages, but “only one page is allotted to Martial Law . . . The soldier has very little to go upon.”6 This would have important ramifications. During his testimony before the Hunter Committee, Hudson wanted to explain the dilemmas and difficulties that had faced the Indian Army

5 Evidence Taken Before the Disorders Inquiry Committee, 7 vols (Calcutta: 1920) [hereafter Disorders Inquiry Committee], 7, p. 101. 6 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 7, p. 104. 338 nick lloyd during 1919; to argue that its actions were effective, reasonable and justified by the perilous situation then existing. But, Hudson’s opinion fell on deaf ears. His testimony was eventually compiled as Volume 7 of what would become known as the Disorders Inquiry Committee, but because his evidence was deemed too sensitive for public release, it remained unseen until 1975.7 This has contributed to a historiographical slant that has all too frequently viewed the Indian Army as an omnipotent force eagerly clamping down on disorder and freely engaging in acts of so-called ‘imperial terrorism’ and brutality against peaceful protestors, particularly in nationalist writing.8 Yet, Hudson’s testimony is worth recalling because between 1919 and 1922, the Indian Army moved from its wartime focus on high intensity fighting to much more sensitive aid to the civil power operations, and it was not entirely an easy process. This period deserves another look.

The Punjab Disturbances of 1919

In 1917, two events would occur that would profoundly affect the future of the British Empire in India. Firstly, on 20 August the Secretary of State for India, Edwin Montagu, announced in the House of Commons that the policy of the British Government was “the increasing association of Indians in every branch of the administration, and the gradual development of self-governing institutions, with a view to the progressive realization of responsible government in India as an integral part of the British Empire.”9 This declaration would eventually result in the GOI Act of 1919; one of the most important pieces of legislation in India’s history and a major step in the devolution of power from the British to its Indian successors. Montagu hoped that the declaration and the subsequent act would usher in a new age of cooperation and goodwill between Britain and the people of her Indian Empire, when the British would rely far more on governing by consent rather than

7 See the published volume by V.N. Datta (ed.), New Light on the Punjab Distur- bances, 2 vols (Simla: 1975), 1, p. 10. 8 P. Mohan, The Punjab “Rebellion” of 1919 and How It was Suppressed (ed.) R.M. Bakaya (1920, reprint, New Delhi: Gyan Publishing House, n.d.); J. Nehru, An Autobiography (1936, reprint, London: 1941), 46–8. 9 The Parliamentary Debates, Fifth Series, volume XCVII, House of Commons (Lon- don: 1917), cols. 1695–6. civil disorder 339 the arbitrary exercise of imperial power.10 Unfortunately, the act did little to rally the so called ‘moderates’ to the British cause and could not stem the growing clamour from nationalists for ‘Home Rule’ or swaraj. Furthermore, by the time the act came into force in December 1919, it had been overshadowed by the controversy over the shooting at the Jallianwala Bagh in Amritsar in April; an event that many historians have seen as a turning point in the struggle for Indian freedom, when the British lost any lingering goodwill towards their Indian Empire.11 The origins of the Amritsar incident can also be traced back to another event in 1917: the formation of a Sedition Committee headed by Mr Justice Rowlatt. This committee was formed to “investigate and report on the nature and extent of the criminal conspiracies connected with the revolutionary movement in India” and to “examine and consider the difficulties that have arisen in dealing with such conspiracies and to advise as to the legislation, if any, necessary to enable Government to deal effectively with them.”12 In some ways, this was the flip side of the Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms. Delhi may have been committed to providing some kind of political ‘new deal’ in India that would take more account of nationalist opinion, but it was also worried that unless dissent could be managed, it might get out of control. This was the thinking behind the Sedition Committee, which recommended that the Defence of India Act of 1915 should be extended into peacetime (with certain limitations). This act had proved useful in dealing with a number of wartime conspiracies, because it allowed for the detention (without trial) of those suspected of political crimes and to deal with their cases without juries.13 Rowlatt’s recommendations were taken into account and on 21 March 1919 the so called Rowlatt Bills came into force, albeit only for 3 years and solely employed against ‘anarchical and revolutionary movements.’ The GOI may have seen the Rowlatt Bills as a reasonable and limited measure intended to ensure stability in a period of great change,

10 For Montagu’s thoughts on reforming the Indian Empire see E.S. Montagu, An Indian Diary (ed.) V. Montagu (London: 1930). See also P.G. Robb, The Government of India and Reform: Policies Towards Politics and the Constitution, 1916–1921 (New Delhi: 1989). 11 See for example D. Arnold, Gandhi (London: 2001), 111. 12 Sedition Committee, 1918 Report (Calcutta: 1918), MSS EUR E264/43, IOC, BL, London. 13 Sedition Committee, 1918 Report, 148. 340 nick lloyd but it certainly underestimated the anger that they would unleash. Perhaps more importantly, it also failed to appreciate the importance of rumours and lies that were freely communicated about its provi- sions that increased the hostility towards the legislation and played upon the high prices and war weariness in certain parts of India.14 The discontent was led by Gandhi—shortly to become known as the Mahatma—an Indian lawyer who had been active in South Africa campaigning for better rights for the Indian population. He returned to India in 1915, eager to re-connect with his homeland after many years abroad, and began to interest himself in Indian politics. And it was the introduction of the Rowlatt Bills, against much nationalist opposition, that sparked Gandhi’s first nationwide campaign ofsatyagraha , what he called ‘soul force’.15 Gandhi toured India in January and February (as the Bills were being made into law) and spoke out against them, urging people to take part in non-violent protest, strikes (hartals) and fasts to convince the GOI that the bills should be repealed.16 Gandhi called for a display of public disapproval on the second Sunday after the bills came into force (6 April 1919), which would include the cessation of all work and a 24 hour fast.17 The extent of support for Gandhi’s movement remains debatable, with strong support in Gujarat and the west of India, but far less interest in the central and eastern provinces. Nevertheless, it was in the north of India that the satyagraha campaign would make its biggest mark, with large demonstrations taking place in Delhi on 30 March and then spreading into the Punjab in the first 2 weeks of April. And, as would become a recurring feature of Gandhi’s ‘non-violent’ campaigns, the protests soon turned ugly with mobs attacking Delhi railway station and marching on Government House in Lahore. In Amritsar, the deputy commissioner arrested 2 leading nationalists on the morning of 10 April, but this only provoked an angry backlash, with gangs going through the

14 Fortnightly Reports on the Internal Political Situation for the First Half of April 1919, p. 1, Home Political (Deposit) Proceedings, July 1919, no. 46, NAI, New Delhi. 15 L. Fischer, The Life of Mahatma Gandhi (1951, reprint, London: 1997); R. Kumar (ed.), Essays on Gandhian Politics: The Rowlatt Satyagraha of 1919 (Oxford: 1971); M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography or The Story of My Experiments with Truth, trans. M. Desai (first published in Gujarati, 1927 and 1929, London: 2001), Chs. 29–33. 16 See H.F. Owen, “Organizing for the Rowlatt Satyagraha of 1919”, in Kumar (ed.), Essays on Gandhian Politics, 64–92. 17 Gandhi, “Letter to the Press on Satyagraha Movement”, 23 March 1919, in Col- lected Works of Mahatma Gandhi Online [hereafter CWMG], vol. 17, pp. 343–4. [http://www.gandhiserve.org/cwmg/VOL017.PDF, accessed 25 March 2010]. civil disorder 341 city burning banks and killing any European they could find. In the ensuing carnage, 5 Europeans were murdered and a female missionary, Miss Marcia Sherwood, was knocked off her bicycle, assaulted, and left for dead. For the British authorities the spread of disorder in the Punjab was highly surprising and deeply unwanted. Most of the main urban centres, including Lahore and Amritsar, as well as smaller localities like Gujranwala and Kasur, witnessed clashes between large crowds and the police sometimes assisted by army units. This was accompanied by an apparently systematic attack on the railway and transport infrastructure in the province, with telegraph wires being cut, trains derailed, stations burnt, and European passengers assaulted. Although, it would be subsequently debated whether the disorders of 1919 were part of a concerted rebellion against British rule or just spontaneous expressions of anger and frustration, to many observers the situation in the Punjab between 10 and 14 April appeared catastrophic. As Havelock Hudson told Lord Hunter: . . . the destruction of railway lines had every appearance of a systematic attempt to isolate the province . . . and for more than 24 hours that only means at the disposal of the Government of India for communicating with the rest of India was the wireless installations.18 For the Indian Army, the experience of suppressing the disorders of April 1919 would become depressingly familiar over the coming years. Many officers, mostly junior with little experience of crowd control or knowledge of the doctrinal subtleties of martial law, had to restore order as best they could. Often it was simply standing with a piquet of troops in front of abusive crowds, occasionally warning them to disperse or pushing them back, sometimes having to resort to controlled bursts of firing. For example, in Delhi a group of British soldiers commanded by Second Lieutenant E.J.H. Shelford lined up in front of “one seeth- ing mass, brandishing sticks and throwing stones.”19 Half of the men under his command sustained wounds, mostly severe bruises to the head and shoulders, and it was only when his men were on the point of being overwhelmed did he order a volley to be fired.20 Likewise, in Amritsar, one picquet of troops found themselves desperately trying

18 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 7, p. 99. 19 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 1, p. 173. 20 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 1, pp. 176, 178. 342 nick lloyd to hold a bridge against a huge crowd that was pushing into them and throwing stones. Although they retreated as much as they could, eventually several rounds were fired. This seemed to work and the crowd stopped coming forward.21 There were numerous instances similar to this across India during April 1919, yet they all pale into insignificance when compared to the most important event that month; a watershed in the history of India and the Indian Army.

Shooting in the Jallianwala Bagh: 13 April 1919

The event for which the Punjab disturbances are best remembered occurred in Amritsar on 13 April when Brigadier-General Reginald Dyer, commander of Jullunder Brigade, fired into a large crowd (estimated at around 20,000 people) that had gathered in a patch of waste ground in the city, known as the Jallianwala Bagh. In 6 to 10 minutes of firing (with 90 soldiers, 50 of whom were armed), 379 people were killed and over 1,000 wounded.22 Dyer’s motives for firing without warning and continuing to do so have been extensively discussed.23 He had arrived in Amritsar on the evening of 11 April, a day after the riot, when the civilian authorities had withdrawn to the railway station and were anxiously awaiting reinforcements. Dyer concentrated his available manpower, formed a column, and marched through the city several times over the next 2 days, reading out a proclamation ban- ning all public meetings and instituting a curfew after 8 PM on pain of death.24 After going through the city on the morning of 13 April, he was told that a great political meeting had been arranged for later that day, which had been organized by local activists. It was this meeting that Dyer broke up when he arrived at the Jallianwala Bagh just after 5 o’clock that afternoon.

21 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 3, p. 43. 22 Hunter Report, 28–9. 23 N. Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar: General Reginald Dyer (London: 2005); I. Colvin, The Life of General Dyer (Edinburgh & London: 1929); V.N. Datta, Jallian- wala Bagh (Ludhiana: 1969); A. Draper, The Amritsar Massacre: Twilight of the Raj (1981, reprint, London: 1985); H. Fein, Imperial Crime and Punishment: The Massacre at Jallianwala Bagh and British Judgment, 1919–1920 (Honolulu: 1977); R. Furneaux, Massacre at Amritsar (London: 1963); R. Ram, The Jallianwala Bagh Massacre: A Pre- meditated Plan (1969, reprint, Chandigarh: 1978); A. Swinson, Six Minutes to Sunset: The Story of General Dyer and the Amritsar Affair (London: 1964). 24 Hunter Report, 28. civil disorder 343

There are 2 main questions associated with the Amritsar massacre: why did Dyer fire and was he justified in doing so? One of the difficulties in assessing these questions is that Dyer made numerous statements and wrote several versions of what happened, which differ in some important respects. He issued his first report on the firing several hours after returning from the Bagh, which was followed by a more detailed and lengthy description in August 1919.25 He was interviewed by Lord Hunter’s Committee in November and then issued a further statement (which had been drafted by his attorney) the following year.26 The reasons why Dyer fired into the crowd in the Jallianwala Bagh—without issuing any warning or ordering them to disperse—has attracted extensive interest, with most historians arguing that Dyer’s actions were based on his fear of further disorders and his belief that only stern action would crush them. Nigel Collett, his most recent biographer, argues that Dyer found himself in Amritsar facing what he believed was a challenge to his way of life and everything he thought it stood for. He evidently believed that the people who had gathered in the Jallianwala Bagh had done so with the intention of defying his orders and feared that they would then become enraged and turn into a violent mob. And this could not be allowed.27 Dyer maintained that he had fired to produce a moral effect, to strike terror into the people of Amritsar and make it clear that the government was back in control. He feared that unless swift and severe action was taken in the Jallianwala Bagh, then he could have faced ‘a second Mutiny’ across the Punjab with large mobs overwhelming the scattered European population and resulting in more bloodshed. By firing at the crowd in the Bagh, Dyer was sending a message that such dissent would no longer be tolerated. As he stated in his report of August 1919: I fired and continued to fire until the crowd dispersed and I consider this the least amount of firing which would produce the necessary moral, and widespread effect it was my duty to produce, if I was to justify my action.

25 Brigadier-General R.E.H. Dyer, “Report of Operations 21–00, 11 April 1919 to General Staff Division”, 14 April 1919, contained inDisorders Inquiry Committee, 3, p. 216; R.E.H. Dyer to General Staff, 16th (Indian) Division, 25 August 1919, contained in Disorders Inquiry Committee, 3, pp. 201–5. 26 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 3, pp. 114–39; Disturbances in the Punjab: State- ment by Brig-General R.E.H. Dyer, C.B. (London: 1920), Command 771. 27 Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar, 423. 344 nick lloyd

If more troops had been at hand the casualties would have been greater in proportion. It was no longer a question of merely dispersing the crowd; but one of producing a sufficient moral effect, from a military point of view, not only on those who were present but more specially throughout the Punjab. There could be no question of undue severity.28 Before the Hunter Committee, he repeated these justifications, arguing that: I looked upon it as my duty, a very horrible duty. . . . It was a merciful act that I had given them chance to disperse. The responsibility was very great. I had made up my mind that if I fired I must fire well and strong so that it would have a full effect. I had decided if I fired one round I must shoot a lot of rounds or I must not shoot at all.29 Then, as now the Jallianwala Bagh was a polarizing incident. Some claimed that his actions were fully justified and ‘saved’ India from further bloodshed.30 Many others, however, saw in Dyer’s actions nothing but premeditated slaughter by an insecure and violent officer whose decision to ‘strike terror’ into the people of Amritsar destroyed any shred of confidence that the Raj was capable of reform. There is even a crude conspiracy theory that claims Dyer met with one of the members of the satyagraha movement in Amritsar, a rather shady secret agent called Hans Raj, and told him to arrange the gathering at the Jallianwala Bagh so that he could fire on those who turned up.31 Yet, while this incredible story scores well for imagination, it does not make sense and, in any case, lacks supporting evidence. From his arrival in Amritsar on 11 April till the moment he fired in the Jallianwala Bagh, Dyer had been endeavouring to do all he could to prevent crowds from forming. Why he would try and provoke the very scenario he dreaded is never explained. Dyer may not have pre-arranged the meeting in the Jallianwala Bagh, but his reputation remains murky. The INC, which conducted its own investigation into the events of 1919, stated that the Jallianwala Bagh

28 Dyer to General Staff, 16th (Indian) Division, 25 August 1919, contained inDis- orders Inquiry Committee, 3, pp. 202–3. Emphasis in original. 29 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 3, pp. 118–23. 30 Colvin, The Life of General Dyer, passim. 31 The Hans Raj conspiracy theory first emerged in Mohan,The Punjab “Rebel- lion” of 1919 and How It Was Suppressed (ed.) R.M. Bakaya, 131–3. Even professional historians have been supportive of this idea, despite a lack of evidence. See Datta, Jallianwala Bagh, 166; Fein, Imperial Crime and Punishment, 34; Ram, The Jallianwala Bagh Massacre, 109. civil disorder 345 massacre was a calculated piece of inhumanity towards utterly innocent and unarmed men, including children, and unparalleled for its ferocity in the history of modern British administration. It demanded the removal of both the Governor (Sir Michael O’Dwyer) and Dyer, as well as petitioned for the recall of the viceroy.32 When it reported in May 1920, the Hunter Report criticized Dyer for not giving the crowd in the Jallianwala Bagh a warning to disperse (before opening fire) and for continuing to fire after they had started to flee.33 Owing to these damning conclusions, Dyer was relieved of command and told he had no future in the Indian Army. When he returned to England in the summer of 1920, he wrote to the Army Council demanding a court martial. Some in the Army Council, including CIGS, Sir Henry Wilson (no doubt with Ireland on his mind), argued that Dyer should be given a fair hearing, but this was denied on the grounds that the matter should be closed as soon as possible.34 It was an unsatisfactory end to the matter, satisfying no one, and leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. Opinions within the Indian Army about Dyer’s actions were mixed. The C-in-CI, Charles Monro, was appalled and bluntly told Dyer that he had not shown “the wisdom and sense of proportion which is expected of officers in his position.”35 Yet, many others sympathized with Dyer’s plight and considered that he had put down a rebellion in the spring of 1919 and was deserving of their support. Speaking in the House of Lords in July 1920, one former officer (a Lieutenant-Colonel James) criticized the manner in which Dyer had been interviewed by the Hunter Committee. He told his audience that Dyer’s actions may have been brutal and horrible, but “if your house catches fire, it is no use telling the fireman, after he had put your fire out, that he had used too much water to do it. You cannot kill a tiger gently.”36 Cheered on by the rightwing Morning Post, supporters in the United Kingdom set

32 ‘Report of the Commissioners Appointed by the Punjab Sub-Committee of the Indian National Congress’, in CWMG, vol. 20, 180–1. (Hereafter Congress Report) [http://www.gandhiserve.org/cwmg/VOL020.PDF, accessed 25 March 2010]. 33 Hunter Report, 29–31. 34 Colvin, The Life of General Dyer, 262–3. 35 Charles Monro cited in Sir George Barrow, The Life of General Sir Charles Car- michael Monro (London: 1931), 207. 36 The Parliamentary Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 131, House of Commons (London: 1920), col. 1753. 346 nick lloyd up a fund and eventually presented Dyer with a cheque worth over £26,000 addressed to ‘the saviour of India.’37 Dyer’s actions posed many questions. Did he provide enough warning to the people in the city that gatherings would be fired upon? Could he have dispersed the crowd in other, less violent, ways? What kinds of people had gathered in the Jallianwala Bagh? Had they come there for political reasons—to show their defiance—or were they innocent bystanders? The INC argued that the crowd was unarmed, innocent and contained women and children, most of whom had not heard Dyer’s proclamation.38 Most recent historians have echoed these points, claiming that the crowd in the Jallianwala Bagh was not the ‘rebel army’ that Dyer believed. It was not armed to the teeth and eager to spill European blood, but a mixed crowd, including some political activists, and villagers, many who had come to Amritsar to attend a religious festival or cattle fair, or those who had wandered into the garden to rest.39 Dyer’s actions, therefore, did not crush a rebellion, but slaughtered innocent women and children, and thus made a major contribution to the decline of British power in India. Is there anything left to say about Dyer’s actions after 90 years? Perhaps. Although the crowd in the Jallianwala Bagh occupies a hal- lowed place in Indian national myth, it has been the subject of relatively little scholarly analysis.40 There is also a lack of appreciation of the scope of the disorders in 1919 with few discussions of what else was happening in the Punjab.41 Regarding the key questions about Dyer, recent work has cast doubt over his motives and the extent to which his actions were premeditated. Most commentators have believed them to have been decided upon before Dyer reached the Bagh, in other words when he was at his headquarters earlier that afternoon. Yet, this neat explanation neglects a number of important points, particularly Dyer’s

37 Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar, 405. 38 Congress Report, 59, 180. 39 See for example, Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar, 254; Draper, The Amritsar Massacre, 86. 40 The most detailed examination of the crowd in contained in S. Hans, “Jallianwala Bagh: The Construction of a Nationalist Symbol”, in V.N. Datta & S. Settar (eds.), Jallianwala Bagh Massacre (Delhi: 2000), 125–44. Important documents on the crowd in the Jallianwala Bagh can be found in the Punjab State Archives, Chandigarh: Home Military B Proceedings, 10495/132, no. 58, May 1922. 41 The Hunter Committee compiled 7 volumes of evidence, which dealt with the disorders throughout the Punjab, but only volume 3 (Amritsar) has been thoroughly analyzed. civil disorder 347 first report on his actions, which explained his decision to fire as being the response to the size of the crowd and the fear of being attacked.42 Traditional explanations have also not given sufficient attention to Dyer’s lack of intelligence, his ignorance of the Bagh and his surprise at the size and composition of the gathering. They also place too much emphasis on his testimony before the Hunter Inquiry when he was baited by lawyers into make some embarrassing, odd and nonsensical remarks.43 Nevertheless, what is not in doubt is the disastrous effect that Dyer’s actions and his testimony before Lord Hunter had on the political situation in India and the government’s wish to bring ‘moderate’ politicians into its new Legislative Assemblies. The Jallianwala Bagh became a watershed in the history of the Indian Army. Some have claimed that the army was forever on the brink of conducting new massacres, but this was not the case.44 The Amritsar Massacre was a unique, never-to-be-repeated, incident that was untypical of the Indian Army’s approach to aid to the civil power. Furthermore, the Jallianwala Bagh was the only time during this period when the Indian Army fired on crowds in an enclosed area, a crucial factor which (in part) explains the particularly heavy casualties suffered on that day. Because the people could not escape, they had no option but to remain in the garden and hence become more vulnerable to Dyer’s fire. While most commentators have explored Dyer’s motivations for acting in the Jallianwala Bagh and then sought to make wider generalizations about attitudes within the Indian Army, this is unhelpful. It is true that many officers supported Dyer, but this was not so much about approving of the killing of 379 people, but about supporting officers on the ground and the need to restore order in a highly disturbed situation. As one member of the ICS grumbled:

42 “I realised that my force was small and to hesitate might induce attack. I immediately opened fire and dispersed the crowd.” Brigadier-General R.E.H. Dyer, “Report of Operations 21–00, 11 April 1919 to General Staff Division”, 14 April 1919, contained in Disorders Inquiry Committee, 3, p. 216. 43 For a revisionist take on Dyer’s actions see my “The Amritsar Massacre and the Minimum Force Debate”, Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 21 (2010), 382–403. 44 Writing about the disorders in Ahmedabad in 1919, Simeon Shoul describes one British officer as a ‘would-be Dyer’, who was only prevented from massacring civilians by circumstances. See S. Shoul, “Soldiers, Riot Control and Aid to the Civil Power in India, Egypt and Palestine, 1919–39”, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. 86 (2008), 123. 348 nick lloyd

What was an officer in the Punjab to do now, if there was a riot? If he used enough force to stop disorder from spreading, he could be condemned for using too much; if he used too little, he could be condemned for allowing disorder to spread.45 This was a widespread sentiment.

Martial Law

Given the concentration on the ‘Dyer affair’, it is unsurprising that the period of martial law, which came into force after the massacre, has been neglected. Nevertheless, this was an important time for the Indian Army and deserves further examination. Martial law was introduced on 15 April and remained in place until June, partly as a result of the outbreak of hostilities with Afghanistan. What little information we have about it has been dominated by nationalist accounts, which have long complained about the abuse of the civilian population, with sinister tales of ‘fancy punishments’, mass floggings and incarceration without trial regularly being repeated.46 One of the most infamous incidents was Dyer’s ‘crawling order’ in Amritsar. Dyer had been hor- rified by the assault on Miss Sherwood and devised a punishment to make it clear that such acts would not be tolerated. He believed that the place where she was assaulted should be considered holy ground and that due reverence should be shown. Anyone who wanted to pass along the street where Miss Sherwood had been assaulted had to do so on all fours.47 It was in place for 5 days between 19 and 24 April and about 50 people crawled along the lane.48 Dyer’s zeal for the honour of English womanhood was widely applauded by the British community in India, but it could not mask the nationalist outcry against this and other so-called ‘fancy punishments’ that took place under martial law. As soon as the authorities in Lahore heard about the ‘crawling order’, they had it cancelled, but they would shortly became aware of other orders and other officers who

45 The Princely India I Knew, p. 13, Corfield Papers, Centre for South Asian Studies, University of Cambridge. 46 See Draper, The Amritsar Massacre, 106–23; Fein, Imperial Crime and Punish- ment, 35–48; Furneaux, Massacre at Amritsar, 99–104. 47 Disturbances in the Punjab, p. 17, Command 771. 48 See Congress Report, 65–9; Collett, The Butcher of Amritsar, 269–93; Furneaux, Massacre at Amritsar, 88–98; Hunter Report, 83. civil disorder 349 had taken matters into their own hands and devised their own way of punishing offenders. In Lahore, there were many complaints about the orders of Colonel Frank Johnson who was particularly angry at the behaviour of students (who had been vocal in their support for satyagraha) and forced them to attend several roll calls each day. While this was highly unusual and most unwise, Johnson believed that exposure to military discipline would be of benefit to them and ‘keep them out of mischief.’49 Likewise, in Kasur, Colonel A.C. Doveton devised a variety of ‘fancy punishments’, including a ‘skipping exercise’, which although not particularly draconian, was certainly distasteful. These were accompanied by floggings and imprisonments.50 There is no doubt that there were instances of abuse and some officers passed crude orders during martial law, which did much to sully the government’s reputation for justice and fairness. Nevertheless, the nationalist criticism should not be taken too far. No one in the Indian Army enjoyed martial law; most found it to be a tiresome, difficult, and thankless task with little guidance from their superiors. Although much was made of certain officers and the sadistic pleasure they are supposed to have drawn from their ‘fancy punishments’, there is little evidence this was this case. Havelock Hudson was at pains to point out that “Martial Law is a thing you really do not want to introduce, unless you cannot possibly help it. You have got to remember that you are placing a very unfair burden on the soldiers.”51 The orders were often a symptom of the heightened atmosphere of April and May 1919 when fears had been sharpened by the murder of Europeans and the growth of discontent. They were also a response to limited detention facilities and a desire to inflict punishment in a swift, salutary manner that would restore law and order as quickly as possible. One of the problems in the Indian Army was that there was only a very rudimentary understanding of what martial law was: namely that the military could do as they wished. This was compounded by a lack of guidance and support. Mr P. Marsden, a Sub-Divisional Officer at Kasur, admitted that he was ‘not particularly well versed in Martial

49 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 4, p. 13. See also p. 14 on the conduct of these students who were spreading sedition and ‘insulting white ladies’. 50 For a new account of martial law and a defence of Sir Michael O’Dwyer, who has commonly been blamed for running the Punjab with an ‘iron fist’, see my “Sir Michael O’Dwyer and ‘Imperial Terrorism’ in the Punjab, 1919”, South Asia (forthcoming 2011). 51 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 7, p. 106. 350 nick lloyd

Law’ and this seemed to have been a common complaint.52 Given that they had to restore order to thousands of square miles of highly disturbed countryside with relatively few troops and limited facilities, it is little wonder that many officers indulged in flogging or ‘fancy punishments’ simply as a way of processing cases quickly. Frank Johnson argued that he had only employed whipping as a punishment because he had a very large population and only limited jail accommodation. ‘When I foresaw that the jails would be full with hundreds of cases,’ he told Lord Hunter, ‘I considered it necessary to resort to the punishment of whipping.’53 Another officer who became a hate figure for the INC was Captain Doveton who administered martial law in Kasur. He was described as ‘excelling’ in his ‘inventiveness, irresponsibility and total disregard of the feelings and sentiments of those who were affected’ by his orders.54 He was notorious for inventing a variety of minor, so called ‘fancy punishments’ in Kasur, including a ‘salaaming’ order, forcing a prisoner to complete a ‘skipping exercise’, and making another compose a poem in praise of martial law. When questioned about these ‘unauthorized punishments’ by the Hunter Committee, Doveton admitted that he was under the impression that he could inflict any form of punishment on an offender that was less than those prescribed (imprisonment, flogging or a fine). ‘I did exactly what I considered to be right at the time,’ he told the committee. “There was no time for thinking, there was no time for meals. One was working at Martial Law from the time one got up in the morning till the time…” Furthermore, the orders he had received ‘were very brief, and anything outside the orders I did entirely on my own; I used my discretion.’55 The period of martial law was an unhappy time for the Indian Army, when it was found wanting in a number of key areas. It is doubtful whether martial law was as punitive and vindictive as nationalist writers have subsequently claimed, but it revealed not only a lack of understanding at the lower levels, but also considerable confusion between senior officers and civilian officials about what exactly martial law was. When it came into force, important issues had not been settled between Lahore and Delhi as to how it was to function and whether the military or the civilian authorities would be in charge.

52 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 4, p. 166. 53 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 4, p. 8. 54 Congress Report, 111. 55 Disorders Inquiry Committee, 4, pp. 209, 218, 223. civil disorder 351

The Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Michael O’Dwyer, wanted the civilian authorities to retain their control, but this was vetoed by the GOI, which ruled that the military would now take over.56 What this meant in practice was that martial law was often administered by officers with only a hazy understanding of what it meant and a civil administration that had been dispossessed of all power. And while O’Dwyer consulted with the military authorities on a daily basis, they often disagreed on what orders should be passed and struggled to get a grip on what was happening in areas of the Punjab that were further afield.57 Together, the Jallianwala Bagh and the period of martial law had a profound effect on the Indian Army and how it dealt with internal security. There was much discussion in 1919 and 1920 about the definition of the British Army’s much-vaunted ‘minimum force’ philosophy and the extent to which Dyer had contravened it.58 Despite a strong showing from those who supported Dyer and maintained that he had employed minimum force in Amritsar (and hence prevented more serious disturbances), the Indian Army issued new guidelines in the aftermath of the massacre. On no account were officers to punish crowds—as Dyer had claimed—they were to disperse illegal assemblies using ‘no more force than is absolutely necessary’.59 Whether or not this lesson was learnt is unclear. Over the following decades, officers in the Indian Army certainly became more reluctant to open fire on rioting crowds (even after extreme provocation), but this was more likely due to a fear of being ‘thrown to the wolves’ by their superiors than any slavish adherence to minimum force. As Srinath Raghaven has commented, officers had to be “constantly reassured that actions taken in ‘good faith’ would not be censured.”60 The ‘Dyer affair’ cut a deep wound in the Indian Army. Martial law presented further difficulties. In April 1920 new guidelines were printed, which emphasized that the military were to

56 See the testimony of Sir Michael O’Dwyer in Disorders Inquiry Committee, 6, p. 39. See also O’Dwyer, India as I Knew it: 1885–1925, 298–9. A pro-Chelmsford interpretation can be found in Robb, The Government of India and Reform, 181. 57 This is a regular theme in O’Dwyer’s accounts. See Disorders Inquiry Committee, 6, pp. 48–9. See also O’Dwyer to Chelmsford, 1 May 1919, MSS EUR E264/22, IOC. 58 Dyer himself argued that he had followed ‘minimum force’ guidelines in the Jallianwala Bagh, although this has not been accepted by most commentators. 59 Shoul, “Soldiers, Riot Control and Aid to the Civil Power in India, Egypt and Palestine, 1919–39”, 124. 60 Raghaven, “Protecting the Raj: The Army in India and Internal Security, c. 1919– 39”, 260. 352 nick lloyd cooperate with the civilian authorities (not supersede them), and to conduct trials with care and due diligence. Whipping was not to be ordered except when it would normally be permitted under ordinary law, and any orders should not offend an individual’s feelings, race or religion.61 While this was a belated recognition that a lack of support and guidance had been a problem in 1919, martial law remained confused and a lack of training compounded matters. Aid to the civil power was always perhaps the least favourite of all the duties asked of the Indian Army, widely seen as difficult and complex, and likely to result in criticism from all directions, from Indian politicians and nationalists, as well as from the government. Even as late as 1946, the Indian Army was still struggling with these concepts, confused about minimum force and unsure when to institute martial law. There was also a lack of clarity within the civil administration about its role if and when martial law was declared.62

Non-Cooperation and Khilafat: 1920–22

Reginald Dyer may have prided himself on preventing another Mutiny in the Jallianwala Bagh, but the political situation in India was becoming increasingly hostile to British rule. The findings of the Hunter Committee and the controversy over Brigadier-General Dyer and his actions in Amritsar rumbled on throughout the twenties and polar- ized British opinion. The Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms had certainly brought a greater measure of democracy and accountability into government, but it failed to silence those voices who had been calling for Home Rule and, indeed, it only increased the demands from nationalists that power be handed over to them more quickly. In 1920, Gandhi started another movement of civil disobedience. Allying himself with Muslim anger over the fall of the Ottoman Empire (the so-called Khalifat movement), Gandhi argued that only total non-cooperation with the British would bring true swaraj. In July 1920, he urged those embarking upon non-cooperation to surrender all titles and honorary offices; to refuse government loans; to suspend the practices of lawyers; to boycott government schools; to boycott the new Legislative

61 Robb, The Government of India and Reform, 192–3. 62 Daniel P. Marston, “The Indian Army, Partition, and the Punjab Boundary Force, 1945–1947”, War in History, vol. 16 (2009), 473. civil disorder 353

Assemblies; and to refuse to accept any civil or military position in Mesopotamia.63 Gandhi’s non-cooperation campaign continued for almost 2 years, proving an annoyance rather than a major threat to British rule, but yet again unsettling the government and putting pressure on the Indian Army.64 Although, the unrest never reached the proportions of April 1919, and many observers had been convinced that another 1857 had been only narrowly averted. And Gandhi’s campaign occasionally resulted in bloodshed. In November 1921, the Prince of Wales arrived in India (where he had been invited to open the new Legislative Assemblies), and in Bombay there were serious clashes between the INC volunteers and the authorities. Peace only returned to the streets after 5 days of pitched battles. The following month the C-in-CI Sir Henry Rawlinson, complained that: . . . there are indications of disturbances in many widely separated parts of India, and I am called on daily all over the country to send troops, generally in small numbers, to support the police, and to deal with disturbances of a more or less serious nature. Between February and May 1922 troops were called out ‘in aid of the civil power’ 62 times.65 To make matters worse, the GOI now found itself in dire financial straits. At a time when the Indian Army was in urgent need of modernization and reorganization, and when many of its battalions were garrisoning Britain’s new conquests in the Middle East, the C-in-CI was forced to slash its costs. Charles Munro’s successor, Rawlinson, had come to India with great hopes of upgrading the Indian Army and bringing in modern technology, but this was difficult to push through in the current climate. In October 1920, shortly before he came out to India, he was privately conceding that: I anticipate some trouble with the Legislative Assembly when they meet at Delhi for the first time. They are sure to go for the immediate recall of all Indian units employed overseas and it is a thorny question not at all easy to defend.66

63 Statement by Non-Cooperation Committee, 7 July 1920, in CWMG, vol. 21, p. 13. [http://www.gandhiserve.org/cwmg/VOL021.PDF, accessed 25 March 2010]. 64 D.A. Low, “The Government of India and the First Non-Co-operation Move- ment: 1920–1922”, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 25 (1966), 241–59. 65 Rawlinson in India (ed.) M. Jacobsen (Stroud: 2002), 71. See also 74. 66 Rawlinson in India, 14–5. 354 nick lloyd

More ominous was the outbreak of communal violence in south India, an area that had generally remained free of Gandhian ‘non-cooperation’ in 1919. What became known as the Mappilla (Moplah) or Malabar Rebellion began in August 1921 and was the most serious outbreak of internal disorder since the Punjab disturbances two years earlier. The violence in Malabar centred on a Muslim sect known as the Mappillas or Moplahs. When the Khalifat agitation was combined with age old grievances against their (mainly) Hindu landlords and rumours of the impending end of the Raj, the Mappillas rose up in their thousands, attacked Europeans and burnt government buildings. As at Amritsar, the clash came when the authorities tried to take action against a ring- leader. On 20 August, the district magistrate moved to arrest a Mappilla named Ali Musaliar at Tirurangadi, but had to give up when his party was attacked by a large crowd. In the ensuing melee, 2 European officers were killed and the revolt rapidly spread across several districts.67 Ali Musaliar was arrested 10 days later, but the situation showed no signs of improving. Even worse, the disorders, which may have started as an anti-government movement, now began to turn into an openly communal revolt that resulted in shocking atrocities against Hindus. The Report on the Administration of the Madras Presidency for the Year 1920–21 describes how the rising got out of control: Public offices were sacked and burned, treasures looted and records destroyed, temples desecrated, railway and telegraph communication interrupted; there were raids on planting estates and Hindu homesteads, accompanied by murders of a particularly revolting kind, burning, rav- ishing, looting and forcible conversion to Islam and for some weeks a large area was entirely in the hands of the rebels who went so far as to set up one or more so-called Khalifat kingdoms.68 Despite the scale of the violence, the British response was muted. The commander of troops in Malabar District, Major-General Sir John Burnett-Stuart, had few troops, and they were scattered across a wide area of countryside that was heavily forested, hilly, and largely impassable owing to the monsoon rains. Martial Law was proclaimed on 26 August but it was weak and proved largely ineffective. All powers of punishment were in the hands of the special civil courts, complained

67 Report on the Administration of the Madras Presidency for the Year 1921–22 (Madras: 1923), 39. 68 Report on the Administration of the Madras Presidency for the Year 1920–21, p. xi. civil disorder 355

Burnett-Stuart. The only way that the men could deal with ‘rebels’ was to either kill them if they were in armed opposition or hand them over to the civil authorities. But, this was not ideal. This meant endless delay in every case; it also meant that notorious leaders lingered on in confinement, unpunished, almost indefinitely as they had successive rights of appeal. Over the following weeks Burnett-Stuart lobbied the GOI vigorously for an extension of Martial Law powers, but initially at least, they proved unwilling to do so. He wrote in his memoirs: The Government of India were still shaken, I think, by General Dyer’s action less than two years before when he had opened fire prematurely on a troublesome mob and killed many people including women and children. An incident which brought down coals of fire on the heads of the government and made them loath to put too much power in the hands of any soldiers.69 There is little doubt that the GOI was suffering from a crisis of confidence caused by the outcry from 1919 and proceeded cautiously. Martial law was gradually tightened, but it was only on 15 October that the military commander was given full powers; Burnett-Stuart grum- bling to Rawlinson that had this been given to him in August “it would undoubtedly have shortened the time needed to suppress the Rebellion and saved many lives.”70 Likewise, it was not until October that sufficient numbers of reinforcements were sent to Malabar to enable the Indian Army to act decisively against the rebels. These included detachments from 3 British regiments, 2 Gurkha battalions, a Garwhali and Burmese battalion, and a new force of 700 military policemen.71 By November, the Indian Army had sufficient force to begin conducting more extensive operations, ‘big drives’ across the countryside that restored government authority, cornered rebel gangs, and convinced wavering people that the Raj was back in charge. Although Martial Law remained in place until the spring of 1922, with the coming of winter, the campaign had been largely completed. Criticisms of this apparently timid response were not long in coming. Sir Michael O’Dwyer, the former Lieutenant-Governor of the

69 General Sir John Burnett-Stuart Papers (2/3/1–2/3/3), ‘Moplah Rebellion Mem- oir’, pp. 101–2, Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, (LHCMA), King’s College London. 70 John Burnett-Stuart Papers (2/3/1–2/3/3), ‘Moplah Rebellion Memoir’, p. 132. 71 Report on the Administration of the Madras Presidency for the Year 1921–22, 39. 356 nick lloyd

Punjab, loudly declaimed the government’s handling of the disorders and complained that: Within a month the rebellion, which at the start was a trivial local affair as compared with the Punjab outbreak, had spread like a forest fire . . . Murder, massacre, outrage went on unchecked to an extent a hundred- fold greater than in the Punjab.72 Losses were certainly greater. Forty-three soldiers had been killed in action, while the numbers of Moplahs who died may have been as high as 2,339 with 1,652 wounded. It also does not include the number of Hindus who were killed, raped, forcibly converted, or fled the districts involved.73 While O’Dwyer’s remarks were certainly true, there were important differences between what happened in the Punjab and in Malabar. Whereas in the Punjab, the authorities had been presented with mainly urban disorder, rioting, and attacks on Europeans or government buildings, Malabar was quite different. Rawlinson complained that the rebels: . . . have broken up into small bands, disappeared into the jungles and low hills of the Ghats, and they are now engaged in ambushes and in guerrilla warfare, not unlike what was going on in Ireland.74 This was a far more difficult problem to solve and would be a disturbing foretaste of what would happen in 1947; when the final days of British power in India would be marred by the breakdown of order into vicious communal warfare that left hundreds of thousands dead.

Conclusion

By the summer of 1922, the violence in Malabar had ended and the districts affected settled down to an uneasy existence. Hindus had to be brought back to their villages, but many were understandably concerned at the fury of their Muslim neighbours and had to be reassured that the government could protect them. Whether this remained the case was a moot point. Although some in the Indian Army prided

72 O’Dwyer, India as I Knew it: 1885–1925, 306–07. 73 Report by His Excellency General Lord Rawlinson of Trent, C-in-CI on the Operations in Malabar for the period 20 August 1921 to 25 February 1922, p. 10, L/MIL/17/12/33, IOC. 74 Rawlinson in India, 63–4. civil disorder 357 themselves on how it had dealt with the Moplahs, many more officers were worried about what had happened and what this meant for the Raj. Peace was not supposed to be this difficult. Between 1919 and 1922, British power in India had been challenged by the growth of non-cooperation and the spread of disorder. Simultaneously, the way in which the Raj was governed began to move from an autocratic to a more inclusive and democratic model. This meant that the GOI had to deal with its opponents in different ways, and be more responsive to the public mood, which was gradually shifting away from the British. The shooting in Amritsar has often been seen as the moment that this shift occurred. Whatever the debates about Dyer’s motives, it remains one of the seminal moments in modern Indian history. It provided a generation of Indian politicians with seemingly indelible proof of the evils of imperial rule, and simultaneously sapped the morale and confidence of theRaj . Yet, the massacre and the subsequent period of martial law should be seen in context and understood as an unfore- seen consequence of the cessation of hostilities in November 1918 and the lack of preparation for it. Amritsar was the exception, not the rule. When the Punjab disturbances had broken out, the Indian Army had found itself unprepared. For over 4 years it had concentrated on war fighting in modern conditions, with heavy artillery and machine guns. Suddenly in the spring of 1919, it had to conduct far more delicate operations against a burgeoning nationalist movement that was committed to recording and (in many cases) magnifying its errors across India. It also had to quickly readjust to internal security operations at the same time as relearning many of the old lessons in frontier warfare than had been forgotten since 1914 with the coming of the Third Afghan War in May 1919 and subsequent operations in Waziristan.75 In this latter campaign, the standard of training in Indian battalions ‘had sunk to a lamentably low ebb’, and those officers who had returned to India after 5 years away “were aghast at the deterioration that had set in among the troops as a result of the Great War.”76 This deterioration was evident in most parts of the Indian Army by 1919; something that Dyer was deeply aware of, and which had been stressed at length by Havelock Hudson. By 1922, it had

75 For the Third Afghan War see B. Robson, Crisis on the Frontier: The Third Afghan War and the Campaign in Waziristan 1919–1920 (Staplehurst: 2004). 76 H. de Watteville, Waziristan: 1919–1920 (London: 1925), 210. 358 nick lloyd recovered somewhat from the nadir of its fortunes in April 1919 when it had been caught out by the spread of discontent in northern India and had reacted in the Jallianwala Bagh with what has often been seen as avenging fury. The Malabar Rebellion had been successfully dealt with and peace returned once more to the Indian subcontinent. The C-in-CI prided himself on an ‘immense economy’ in the cost of the army, down from 82 crores in 1921 to 56 crores 25 lakhs in 1925.77 Yet, this could not dispel the gloomy forebodings that many had about British power in India. Even formerly loyal areas of the subcontinent were now showing disturbing signs of agitation. In 1920, a movement for the reform of the ownership of Sikh gurdwaras in the Punjab, the so called Akali movement, had begun. It would take 5 years for the agitation to subside, with the passing of the Sikh Gurdwara and Shrines Act, but during this time the loyalty of a key ‘martial race’ would be imperilled, forcing the government to do everything in its power to assuage their concerns.78 The firmness that was shown in 1919 would be increasingly replaced by appeasement. There could be no mistaking it: the old Raj willingness to ‘govern and be damned’ was going.

77 Rawlinson in India, 194. 78 Tai Yong Tan, “Assuaging the Sikhs: Government Responses to the Akali Move- ment, 1920–1925”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 29 (1995), 655–703. CHAPTER TWELVE

THE INDIAN ARMY AND INTERNAL SECURITY: 1919–1946

Rob Johnson

Military Aid to the Civil Power (hereafter MACP) was the least popular duty amongst British troops in India but also one of the most important in maintaining colonial rule. Whilst a great deal of attention has focused on the events at Amritsar and British approaches to internal security in 1919, there has been relatively little work on the deployment of British or Indian troops in MACP duties in the interwar years or during the period from Quit India campaign in 1942 till 1944. A study of the 1930s and 1940s allows us to identify certain principles and methods at work in this regard in the history of the Indian Army, including the influence of techniques drawn from the North-West Frontier. The British approach in the inter-war years tended to start from the assumption that the grievances of the Indian people were a security problem, and political concessions were offered in order to maintain colonial rule. This chapter seeks to illustrate how British and Indian troops were used in ‘Aid of the Civil Power’ and how British concerns about maintaining internal security paved the way for the abrupt ending of the Raj.

The Imperative of Colonial Internal Security

Wherever colonial forces found themselves confronted by widespread civil violence, they were compelled to implement measures that, in the first instance, focussed on the restitution of order. Soldiers were rarely involved in the political questions of local grievances in internal security matters as these were the preserve of the civilian authorities. Nevertheless, the Indian Army could not operate in isolation of political issues, not least because of the concern that Indian troops might be affected by nationalist sentiments. The increasingly politicized nature of unrest in the subcontinent in the inter-war years, and the deep resentment of Brigadier-General Dyer’s actions in Amritsar in 1919, caused the army and the colonial authorities to embark on a review of 360 rob johnson their techniques. The consequent methods, which were also shaped by political violence in Ireland, Palestine, Egypt, and Iraq, reveal something of the transition in colonial thinking between 1919 and 1947.1 The Indian Army acting in support of the civil authorities in the subcontinent, developed its approach through the ‘lessons’ it had derived from the Indian ‘Mutiny’ of 1857, its operations on the North-West Frontier and through direct experience of internal security duties.2 The imperative of the colonial period was to maintain order, and significantly, to preserve prestige through a fear of the force at the British Empire’s disposal. The British believed that a failure to act swiftly had been the chief cause of the most serious rebellions against colonial rule, and that particular emphasis should be placed on identifying and neutralizing the ring leaders. The lesson of the Indian Mutiny appeared to be that indecisive British leadership, insufficient force and too much delay had been the cause of an avoidable disaster. It was generally held that swift and decisive action, even with small numbers, could prevent a recurrence. These ideas were engrained in British thinking. Much of the unrest in the 1930s and 1940s stemmed from a challenge to the British colonial dispensation, but it was also the result of communal violence, food riots and on the North-West Frontier, fighting for the preservation of traditional ways of life.3 For the Indian Army, the way to deal with these problems was much the same, namely a rapid and bold strike, but in the inter-war years, it also had to adhere to a far stronger emphasis on the principle of minimum force.

1 David M. Anderson and David Killingray (eds.), Policing the Empire: Government, Authority and Control, 1830–1940 (Manchester: 1991); Martin Thomas,Empires of Intelligence: Security Services and Colonial Disorder after 1914 (Berkeley: 2008); Keith Jeffery, The British Army and the Crisis of Empire: 1918–1922(Manchester: 1984). On the evolution of counter-insurgency methods, see Ian F.W. Beckett (ed.), The Roots of Counter-Insurgency: Armies and Guerrilla Warfare, 1900–1945 (London: 1988); Ian F.W. Beckett, Modern Insurgencies and Counter-Insurgencies: Guerrillas and their Opponents since 1750 (London: 2001); Douglas Porch, Wars of Empire (London: 2000); Charles Townshend, Britain’s Civil Wars: Counterinsurgency in the Twentieth Century (London: 1986). See also Robert J. Blyth, The Empire of the Raj: India, Eastern Africa and the Middle East: 1858–1947 (London: 2003). 2 Gyanesh Kudaisya, “ ‘In Aid of Civil Power’: The Colonial Army in Northern India, c. 1919–1942”, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 32 (2004), 41–68; Tim Moreman, “ ‘Small Wars’ and ‘Imperial Policing’: The British Army and the Theory and Practice of Colonial Warfare in the British Empire, 1919–1939”,Jour- nal of Strategic Studies, vol. 19 (1996), 105–31. 3 M.W. Williams, The British Colonial Experience in Waziristan and Its Applicabil- ity to Current Operations (Fort Leavenworth, KS, School of Advanced Military Studies Monographs, 26 May 2005) www.cgsc.leavenworth.army.mil. internal security 361

MACP was unpopular for the British troops in India, but there was a general reluctance to expose Indian soldiers to rioting and other civil disorder in case they were forced to choose between their military obligations and solidarity with communal or ethnic groups. As an institution, the Indian Army tended to prioritize its roles as conventional war fighting and then frontier warfare, with internal security as the lowest concern.4 It identified itself with the role of meeting the conventional threat, namely a potential attack across Afghanistan by the Soviet Union or an invasion by Afghanistan of the areas it claimed in the North-West Frontier Province, a situation which had led to the Third Afghan War in 1919.5 The experience of the First World War had also reinforced the possibility that the Indian Army would have to send expeditionary forces overseas to the Persian Gulf, East Africa and South East Asia. During the inter-war years, the INC had begun to disrupt British authority and built up a base of support amongst large sections of the population, although it took the crisis of the war in 1939, and the widespread agitation of the ‘Quit India’ campaign in 1942, to change attitudes towards the Raj significantly.6 British political concessions, apparently half hearted before 1939 and delayed for the duration of the war, fuelled the frustration and anger of the INC, and further increased the numbers that demanded swaraj. Although the INC’s official goal was independence by non-violent means, not all adhered to this principle. Once the war had broken out, terrorism and sabotage compelled the British to introduce more comprehensive wartime internal security measures.7 The Defence of India Act (1939) gave the Indian Army considerable license to maintain order but this too added to the weight of opinion that the British security apparatus was unjust and heavy handed. Some of the methods employed by the British during the Quit India campaign had been influenced by pacification operations on the North- West Frontier as well as being wartime restrictions. The long running

4 Expert Investigation of the Strength, Composition and Functions of the Army in India, 1931 (Simla: 1931). 5 R.A. Johnson, “ ‘Russians at the Gates of India’: Planning the Strategic Defence of India, 1884–99”, Journal of Military History, vol. 67 (2003), 697–743. 6 Judith Brown, Modern India: The Origins of an Asian Democracy(Oxford: 1994), 324. 7 F.G. Hutchins, India’s Revolution: Gandhi and the Quit India Movement (Cam- bridge, Massachusetts: 1973), 230–1. 362 rob johnson security problem of the North-West Frontier and Baluchistan, and particularly the unrest caused by the Faqir of Ipi in Waziristan during 1936–1939, had necessitated military operations, but, fortunately for the British, the frontier was relatively quiet during the war years. There was a Pathan movement that allied itself with INC, the famous Khudai Khidmatgar or ‘Redshirts’ of Abdul Gaffar Khan, but its period of protest was short lived and it was easily contained.8 Whilst the Quit India campaign, the INC’s policy towards independence, and British political machinations have been well charted by other scholars, there is much that can be learned from how the Indian Army maintained the internal security in the subcontinent. Of course, the paradox of the war years is that India fielded a vast volunteer army, which was, in essence, fighting Britain’s war. However, when the viability of that army was thrown into doubt, the British realized that the continuation of their rule was simply impossible. The army is therefore central to understanding the narrative of events between 1919 and independence in 1947. Was the Indian Army’s approach to internal security effective in both a political and a military sense? How integrated were the political and military approaches to ‘solving’ internal unrest? Did the British reactions to internal unrest hasten or delay the decision to go in 1947? Within the limits of a short article, a few important areas about how the British tackled disorder in India can be highlighted. This essay is divided into four sections. The first examines the approaches to, and impact of the Amritsar incident; the second attempts to analyze British internal security methods in the inter-war years, with some remarks about its limitations. The third section examines British security methods applied to the North-West Frontier, and the final section suggests that all these strands came together during the efforts to suppress the Quit India campaign.

The Amritsar Incident: 1919

In April 1919, in the city of Amritsar, the arrest of 2 Indian politicians led to rioting, arson and the murder of 4 Europeans. Similar disturbances spread to other cities in the Punjab and then to outlying rural areas where telegraph lines were cut and railway lines damaged. On

8 Mukulika Banerjee, The Pathan Unarmed (Karachi: 2000). internal security 363

13 April, Brigadier-General ‘Rex’ Dyer, Commander of the Jalandhar Brigade, who had been instructed to go to Amritsar with reinforcements to control the unrest, ordered his men to fire on unarmed civilians at Jalianwala Bagh, an extensive enclosed wasteland near the city centre. Although proclamations forbade any mass meetings, no warning was given before the shooting. The firing had continued for 10 minutes, resulting in casualties estimated to be 372 dead and 1,200 wounded. Ever since, controversy has surrounded the incident. The question that has arisen: was the action at Amritsar evidence of routine brutality inherent within British India, or was it an exceptional event, provoked by the unique circumstances of 1919? Dyer appears to have shown little sympathy for the causes of the revolt which, he believed, lay in the hands of the civilian authorities. In the immediate post war period in the Punjab, there was resentment at the extension of the wartime curtailment of civil liberties, known as the Rowlatt Act, into peacetime. Moreover, there was no apparent progress was being made towards self-government, despite a growing expectation of change. There were many local grievances, namely the exhaustion of the railway system, a failure of the rains, deaths through influenza, food shortages and a delay in demobilization, all of which was worsened by wildly exaggerated rumours. There was considerable anger, and whilst the shootings terminated the violence abruptly, they were to have far reaching consequences. Essentially, there were two contemporary views of the incident. On the one hand the riots were regarded as spontaneous, the shooting was a ‘massacre’ and Dyer was a murderer. On the other hand, it was thought either the riots were planned, or that it was the prelude to further violence, and that Dyer was therefore a hero who had saved the region from a worse bloodbath by prompt, if severe action. The Hunter Committee was set up in September 1919 to investigate the incident, but the INC staged its own unofficial Committee of Enquiry. The key evidence in the controversy is the written testimony of Dyer and his oral responses under questioning about the decision to open fire, but attention was also given to Dyer’s explanations of the ‘crawling order’ where Indians were ordered to crawl at a place where an English missionary woman had been beaten and left for dead. It is thought that this incident, which preceded the shootings at the Jalianawala Bagh, had influenced his decision to fire on the crowd. However, it was also clear that Dyer had interpreted the situation as one not dissimilar to the outbreak of the Indian Mutiny, and he felt justified in using 364 rob johnson considerable force to snuff out the flame of revolt. The result of the enquiry was that Dyer was censored and relieved of his command. There was a wave of support for him from sections of society in Britain and from the British community in India. It was this sympathy for Dyer that caused the first Non-Cooperation Campaign by the INC in 1920–1922. Interestingly the Indian Army was at the heart of the original grievances. Punjab had sent more men to the Great War than any other area, due to the military tradition amongst the mainly Sikh population. However, there had been widespread rumours of men being forced to enlist, based on hearsay reports about conscription being applied to India. There had also been a succession of poor harvests, which left many short of food and income, making the military service as one of the few viable types of employment. The Lieutenant- Governor of the Punjab, Sir Michael O’Dwyer, was unpopular with educated Indians because he felt that India was not yet fit for self- government, and he was critical of political agitation, but it was the Rowlatt Acts that caused the most immediate concern. Dwyer’s attitude was out of keeping with the British Government’s view that some recognition would be needed after the Indians’ sacrifices for the British Empire in the Great War. The Montagu-Chelmsford Reform of 1919 stated that the goal of the government was to introduce self-rule by stages. Directly elected provincial and central legislative councils were still subject to the central authority of the viceroy and his council, but the Indian ministers were responsible for agriculture, education and public works. The INC claimed that Dwyer had written a memo, published with the GOI despatch of 5 March 1919, that the desire for self-government came, not from masses, but from a “small and quite disinterested minority, naturally enough eager for power and place.” Dwyer had apparently cautioned that: “we must, if faithful to our trust, place the interests of the silent masses before the clamour of the politicians however troublesome and insistent.”9 Dwyer’s anxieties were not primarily about the degree of self-government but the exploitation of unrest by political agitators. There had been an attempt at rebellion by Sikhs of the Ghadar movement in the Punjab in 1915, but it had failed due to a lack of support. Concern

9 Report of the Commissioners appointed by the Punjab Sub-Commissioner of the INC, Bombay 1920, vol. 1, p. 14, V 13221, IOR, BL, London. internal security 365 about trouble after the war led to the passing of security measures which gave the police the powers to decide which acts were classed as ‘conspiracy against the Government of India’ and provided for trials by special jury. Suspects could also be denied the right to a lawyer and the right of appeal. The Indian politicians regarded the rebellion of 1915 as an isolated event and unrelated to their aspirations. British measures seemed especially retrograde when India appeared to be moving towards home rule. The Rowlatt Act inspired Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi to organize the firsthartals and, although he called them off in April, they had been reasonably well supported in Bombay and parts of Gujarat.10 Gandhi ended the protest because of violence: at Delhi protesters had clashed with police and some were killed. The demonstrations in Amritsar initially passed without incident, but Mr Irving, the Deputy Commissioner, was concerned about the activities of Drs Kitchlew (a communist agitator) and Satyapal. The Government of Punjab ordered him to deport them 100 miles away, but an angry crowd gathered to demand their release. It seems that rioting developed spontaneously, but attacks on Europeans gave the whole episode a racial character. Having stoned the sentries protecting the British quarters, and been fired on, the mob went on to attack the telegraph office and the National Bank, murder- ing 3 European men.11 There was also an attack on the Alliance Bank, where one of the staff fired a revolver at the attackers. They captured and killed him, and burnt his body with the bank’s furniture. A fourth European was killed at Rigo Bridge. The Town Hall, Post Office and Mission Hall were all razed. Part of the Bhagtanwala Station was burnt, while the Chartered Bank was attacked but saved by the Indian staff there. Miss Marcia Sherwood, a teacher, was attacked whilst cycling. She was beaten so badly that her attackers thought she was dead, but the father of one of her pupils subsequently rescued her. There was looting throughout the city. The Majority Report of the Hunter Committee concluded that attacks on the railways were directed against the GOI and were designed to delay the arrival of troops. This suggests it was an organized riot.12 But, the Minority Report disagreed, saying that troops could still use the

10 Brown, Modern India, 212–19. 11 Irving, Hunter Committee vol. 3, p. 11, L/P&J/6/1669. The INS Report (V 13221, vol. 1, Ch. 5 p. 49), IOR, BL. 12 L/P&J/6/1699, vol. 3, p. 62. 366 rob johnson railway. They concluded the reason for the attacks was for only for the purpose of looting.13 The Majority Report argued that, whilst there was no evidence of a revolution being planned, revolutions didn’t occur in that manner anyway: it was they felt they all began in a small way and grew, unless checked by force. By contrast, the Minority Report denied the existence of a revolutionary motive altogether. The crowd had no arms, and there was no attempt to secure arms: just looting and anger.14 Nevertheless, O’Dwyer felt that there had been a national organization at work, which had coordinated the disturbances at Bombay, Ahmedabad and Calcutta.15 The INC report condemned the outbreaks of violence, but explained them as a result of O’Dwyer’s ‘contempt for the educated classes’. The INC report concluded: “The Rowlatt agitation disturbed the public mind and shook public confidence in the goodwill of the government. . . . and the arrests and depor- tations of Kichlew and Satyapal were the only direct cause of hysterical popular excitement . . .”16 On 13 April, Dyer, who had recently arrived to find Amritsar in a state of anarchy, marched a column of troops around the city. Convinced that his tiny force of 1,100 men (some of whom were unarmed) could make no headway against a city inhabited by 50,000, he summoned the population to hear a proclamation of martial law. No entry or exit of the city could be made without a pass; there was to be a curfew, and there was to be no assembly in groups of more than four. Those who disobeyed were to be shot. This was not taken seriously by anyone: give the small number of troops around, it seemed like a bluff. At the same time, a counter-declaration called for a meeting at Jalianawala Bagh, reiterating an announcement that had already been made on 12 April at Hindu Sabha School.17 The Minority Report felt that a large number of ‘innocent peasants’ at the meeting at Jalianwalla Bagh proved that they would not have known about O’Dwyer’s proclamation and consequently, they “cannot be held responsible for the acts of hooligans on 10 April.”18 On arrival at the Jalianwala Bagh, Dyer admitted that he had, in fact, opened fire at once. He wanted to “to

13 L/P&J/6/1699, vol. 3, p. 122. 14 L/P&J/6/1699, vol. 3, pp. 71, 96, 110–1. See the map in the Hunter Report, vol. 14, 1185. 15 L/P&J/6/1699, vol. 3, p. 97. 16 V 13221, I, pp. 157–8. 17 Hunter Report, p. 1032. 18 Hunter Minority Report, vol. 6, p. 134, L/P&J/6/1669. internal security 367 make a wide impression . . . from a military point of view.”19 This was not about dispersing the crowd, but about creating a sufficient moral effect and there could be no question of undue severity. He felt that, with the countryside in turmoil, and his own force outnumbered, this was necessary. Dyer was motivated by the need to restore order at once, and there is little doubt that he was shocked by the murders of Europeans, and by the damage already inflicted. Ultimately, theMajority Report found against Dyer because “no warning [was] given [for the shooting]. . . . and that he continued firing for a substantial period of time after the crowd had commenced to disperse.”20 The Minority Report said that the ‘effect’ had been achieved, but the incident had damaged Britain as it was too akin to the punishments meted out by German officers in Belgium.21 Winston Churchill called it “a monstrous event which stands out in singular and sinister isolation.”22 He felt particularly angry at Dyer’s assertion that more could have been killed to reinforce the effect. Dyer was ordered to resign, but there was some sympathy for him amongst those who felt he had forestalled a revolution. A fund for him raised £26,000, but both the Lords and the House of Commons strongly disapproved of Dyer’s excessive force.23 In India, the damage had been done. Gandhi was convinced that British rule was unjust. Rabindranath Tagore, India’s leading poet, gave up his Nobel Prize for literature because of the (albeit limited) British support for Dyer.24 When challenged about the ‘crawling order’ at the site where Miss Sherwood had been attacked, Dyer said: We look upon women as sacred, or ought to. . . . I was looking for a suitable punishment to meet this awful case. I felt the street ought to be looked upon as sacred. . . . I posted a couple of pickets and I told them no Indians were to pass along there. I also said that if they had to pass then they must go on all fours. It never entered my brain that any sensible or sane man, under those conditions, would intentionally go through that street.25

19 Hunter Minority Report, vol. 3, pp. 117, 126, 203. 20 Hunter Majority Report, 29. 21 Hunter Minority Report, 115. 22 Parliamentary Debates, vol. 131, col. 1725, 8 July 1920. 23 Derek Sayer, “British Reaction to the Amritsar Massacre, 1919–1920”, Past and Present no. 131 (1991), 147–9. 24 Reported in Hindi Weekly, 29 July 1920. 25 Hindi Weekly, 29 July 1920, vol. 3, p. 120. 368 rob johnson

Dyer claimed that this was in keeping with Indian practices for holy ground, and he had the perpetrators flogged in the street for the same reason. However, these measures only served to reinforce the idea amongst the majority of observers that Dyer was using excessive force. In fact, Dyer’s actions, and the sympathy for them, had not been typical, but the result of unique circumstances and interpretations in a period of significant change. On one hand, in 1919 many felt that the British Empire was under threat: soldiers were going on strike because of delays in demobilization, Bolshevik revolutionaries had taken power in Russia and were propagating a doctrine of ‘world revolution’ (which was being broadcast from Tashkent into South Asia), there were anti- British riots in Egypt, and a terrorist war against British rule in Ireland. It was against this background, and memories of the 1857 Mutiny, that Dyer acted with such severity. However, Dyer’s decision to open fire on a crowd of civilians had also come after a diet of atrocity stories during the war years, and his actions appeared ‘neither salutary nor surgical; [but] vindictive.’26 Dyer’s actions raised questions about the appropriate use of force in upholding British rule in India.27 The incident is still one the greatest controversies of the British Empire and interpretations are still used to support partisan views. Little mention is made of the support that Dyer received from the local merchants of the city or from those Indians unconnected with the rioting.28 Equally, the initial statements of approval for Dyer’s actions from senior officials were overlooked when Dyer was subjected to the enquiry. With some justification, Dyer argued that he should have been entitled to a court martial. He may have been a scapegoat for a government embarrassed by the loss of life. Robin Neillands described the incident as ‘disgraceful’ but felt that nationalist claims that 2,000 were killed were a ‘wild exaggeration’. He believed that Amritsar was an exception and even the British Army believed it had been excessive: the army was not, he argued, an ‘instrument of oppression’.29

26 Lawrence James, Raj: The Making and Unmaking of British India (London: 1997), 483. 27 D. George Boyce, “From Assaye to the Assaye: Reflections on British Govern- ment, Force and Moral Authority in India”, Journal of Military History, vol. 63 (1999), 660–8. 28 The Amritsar Massacre (1920, reprint, London: 2000), 150. 29 Robin Neillands, Fighting Retreat: The British Empire, 1947–97 (London: 1996), 3. internal security 369

Christopher Blake, a former officer of the Dogra Regiment, felt that Amritsar was subsequently portrayed: ‘as if it was an everyday occur- rence’. He continued: From what has been written by twentieth century critics, a man from Mars might get the impression that the British Empire was acquired by force and ruled by vain, corrupt autocrats, addicted to alcohol and women.30 Nirad C. Chaudhuri described the British in India in the early twentieth century as ‘the Nazis of their time.’31 Contemporaries however, such as Sir Charles Gwynn concluded that Dyer had not followed the ‘accepted principles’ of imperial policing.32 Certainly, the immediate effect was the withdrawal of the army from the role of ‘military aid to the civil power’ and an attempt to find an appropriate balance in the civil-military responsibility for law and order in India in the years that followed. Militant and violent organizations agitating for self-government or independence continued to threaten British rule throughout the interwar period. Anti-Western activists, such as Lala Lajpat Rai, promoted violence and made use of religious or Indian nationalist concepts to justify their actions. B.G. Tilak revived interest in the philosophical poem, the Bhagavad Gita which stated that it was legitimate to kill in the line of duty. This point was driven home in his paper, the Kesari, which urged people to purge the land of mlechchas. Two young men, inspired by Tilak, murdered 2 British officers engaged on plague prevention duty in Pune and he was imprisoned. This was repeated 10 years later when Tilak had inspired the bombing of 2 English women at Muzzaffarpur. Terrorism became the most common tactic in Bengal both before and after the war. Gangs armed withlathis began to extract funds by force, and police, government workers and witnesses were murdered. Sponsored by organizations in London and Paris, assas- sinations were carried out against British civilians. Conscious of the need for a gradualist approach to self-government, John Morley, the

30 Neillands, Fighting Retreat, 43–4. 31 Nirad C. Chaudhuri, Thy Hand, Great Anarch: India, 1921–52 (London: 1987). Stephen Howe, “The Slow Death and Strange Rebirths of Imperial History”,Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 29 (2001), 135 and n. 5. 32 Sir Charles W. Gwynn, Imperial Policing (London: 1934), 34–5. 370 rob johnson

Secretary of State for India, offered concessions in the Indian Councils Act of 1909 and this extended responsibility for a number of areas of local government and enlarged the numbers of councillors. At the 1911 Coronation Durbar, further concessions were announced, indicating that agitations could have significant political effects. After the First World War, Gandhi, who had emerged as the leading spokesman of the INC, rejected all forms of modernization associated with British rule but advised the acceptance of British political concessions. He felt that materialism was the problem. Such views placed him at variance with his INC colleagues. His followers certainly had difficulty in following Gandhi’s ideal and they found a pacific route to national liberation difficult to accept after the events in Amritsar. In Bombay in February 1922, for example, there was serious rioting in which 53 died, and 21 policemen were burnt to death at Chauri Chaura. The two campaigns of civil disobedience organized by the INC between 1930–1 and 1932–34 plunged India into further violence. Moreover, sectarian rivalry, heightened by the prospect that British rule was about to pass over to the Indian people, descended into rioting and bloodshed. In 1926, at Calcutta there were 40 riots in which 197 died and 1,600 were injured. The GOI Act of 1935 was the British compromise. It gave full responsible government in the provinces and set up dyarchy at the centre. The British saw this as the logical next step in the gradual granting of power, but were still concerned that, whilst the educated Indian classes were impatient and eager for power, the masses of illiterate rural people, and the minorities, might be exploited. The franchise encompassed only 54% of the population, so there was no indication of the feelings of the majority. The reluctance of the princely states to enter into federation, and the opposition from the INC ‘High Command’, stalled the implementation of the Act. This had the effect of convincing the INC that the British were insincere. In the 1937 election, the INC won 7 of the 11 provinces. However, in the United Provinces, an aggressive Hindu government provoked communal violence between Hindus and Muslims. There were 2,000 casualties in just 2 years, and this confirmed the British fear that a hasty implementation of Indian ‘responsible government’ would result in anarchy. The British regarded the sectarian division of Hindu and Muslim, and particularly the communal violence which was to reach its height in the early 1940s, as the reason for caution in granting autonomy. B. Chandra articulated a commonly held belief that communal internal security 371 division was the result of a deliberate policy of divide and rule, designed to perpetuate the Raj.33 However, Lawrence James noted: . . . it is difficult to imagine how successive viceroys could have resisted demands for special representation from the spokesmen of nearly a quarter of India’s population. To allege that the British could have dis- regarded or deflected the pressure assumes the Raj was stronger than it was.34 Since Muslims were disproportionately represented in the army and the police, and they had borne the brunt of the casualties of the Great War, the British were eager not to cause any affront to this minority. Their sense of justice would not allow them to abandon any other minority to a ‘tyranny of the majority’. Therefore, the preservation of communal peace was not just the justification of power; it was the whole basis of British rule in India.

Military Aid to the Civil Power in the Inter-War Years

Charles Gwynn, the Commandant of the Staff College (1926–30), tackled the political dimension to unrest in the British Empire in his influential Imperial Policing and an official manual which carried the same title.35 In light of Britain’s experiences in Egypt, Iraq and during the Mappilla/Moplah Rebellion (1921) in India, Gwynn argued there should be 4 governing principles: primacy of the civil power, the use of minimum force, firm and timely action, and, co-operation between civil and military authorities. The very fact that Gwynn had written such a study was an acknowledgment that the suppression of unrest, when it was serious enough to warrant troops, was being played out in front of a regional, national and international audience. With the exception of the Moplahs, which was a revolt in favour of a creation of an Islamic Khalifat, the nationalist character of the riots had given Gwynn and his contemporaries pause for thought. However, Gwynn did not advocate political concessions to head off trouble: his focus was entirely on the means to restore order, and at times that still involved considerable coercion and collective punishment.

33 B. Chandra, Communalism in Modern India (Delhi: 1984). 34 Lawrence James, Raj, 521. 35 Gwynn, Imperial Policing. 372 rob johnson

MACP was the least popular amongst the troops because it was regarded as glorified policing and a far cry from real soldiering. Most deployments were by British units because of concerns about the loyalties of Indian troops, although, on the occasions that Indian soldiers were put on the streets, as in 1942–3, they were wholly impartial and professional. Yet, in the military circles in India, there was some concern, in light of the treatment of Brigadier-General Dyer after Amritsar, about how civilian authorities might treat officers who used force, and who might deem their actions ‘excessive’. Army regulations in 1904 insisted that officers: “apply as little force, and do as little injury, as may be consistent with dispersing the assembly” and there had to be a clear warning.36 Yet, Dyer had argued that his actions had been justified ‘from a military point of view’ in that they neutralized any prospect of rebellion in the Punjab.37 The number of deaths may not have been proportional to the situation in Amritsar to subsequent critics, but in the minds of the contemporary authorities there was some doubt about the balance between restraint and violence that would be deemed acceptable to achieve the restoration of order. As a result, the Indian Disorders Committee ruled that civilians had to be a part of the martial law apparatus.38 It also specified that the formation of additional armed police would mean there was less need for troops. The committee stipulated that troops were to be deployed as a last resort. To open fire, officers had to have the written support of a magistrate, unless their lives were actually in danger. For the Indian Army, the picture was far clearer. The official manual Duties in Aid of the Civil Power (1937), identified 6 principles for military action in internal security operations: provision of adequate forces, necessity for offensive action, co-ordinated intelligence under military control, efficient ‘inter-communication’ [between agencies], mobility, and security measures to conceal preparations and movements of troops.39 The manual also detailed specific tasks such as cor-

36 Army Regulations India, 1904, War Office, London, vol. 2, p. 76; David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940(London: 1994), 217. See also Rod Thornton, “The British Army and the Origins of the Minimum Force Philosophy”, Small Wars & Insurgencies, vol. 15 (2005), 83–106. 37 The Amritsar Massacre and Boyce, “From Assaye to The Assaye”, 643–68. 38 Indian Disorders Committee, Conclusions, 6 May 1919, CP1240, National Archives, CAB 24/105, PRO, TNA. 39 See also Procedure for employment of troops in Indian States in aid of the civil power, 1932–1937, C/417, R/2/631/224, IOR, BL. internal security 373 dons, searches, ‘drives’ (sweeps through particular areas) and the pro- visions of martial law. Yet, more importantly, it established that the guidelines should be civilian leadership with the army acting in support, the application of minimum force, and that the ultimate objective should be the maintenance of the rule of law. British troops were trained routinely in the drills required to deal with crowds, and there was frequent training alongside the police.40 Soldiers practised setting up cordons, carrying out searches, making arrests, patrolling on foot and in motor vehicles, disarming rioters and dealing with violent individuals.41 Officers exercised their planning skills with the use of large scale models of cities, or in Tactical Exercises Without Troops (TEWTs) by travelling around urban areas to visit possible sites of tactical importance. There was also an exchange of views in the service journals.42 In practical terms, in the event of unrest, the army would operate in three phases. Phase 1 would be the period of ‘immediate action’. The army would attempt to conceal their arrival so that their deployment, when it came, was concentrated, rapid and would achieve surprise, with all the psychological effect that implied. The priority was to disperse the rioters, to carry out arrests (particularly of the ringleaders), order summary trials and make immediate punishments. If hostile crowds refused to heed verbal warnings, the military commanders would open fire, but, if they did so, it was never over the heads of the crowd, but always at them—the intention being to inflict casualties and cause their flight. Control of key areas (such as bridges, communications and police stations or other buildings owned by the authorities) was essential in this phase to provide a secure base for future operations. In phase 2, the objective was to clear and extend areas of control and to gather intelligence on any remaining leaders. Phase 3 would entail preparations for the handover to the civilian authorities whereupon fines and other collective punishments might be imposed. Clearly the army understood the importance of psychology. In urban areas, during riots, the troops adopted a dense ‘box formation’ to

40 Moreman, “ ‘Small Wars’ and ‘Imperial Policing’ ”, 124. 41 Training and Manoeuvre Regulations, 1923 (With Additions for India) (Calcutta: 1924); Notes on Internal Security Training (Simla: 1937); Training Memorandum, 14, Collective Training Period, 1936–37 (Delhi: 1937). 42 Captain and Brevet Major H.P. Radley, “The Suppression of Riots”,Journal of the Royal United Services Institute India, vol. 58 (1928), 28–37. 374 rob johnson create an impression of solidity and strength. The idea of shooting a handful of rioters was to have a salutary effect on very large crowds, a point that seemed imperative when the army was often heavily outnumbered. Moreover, once the key buildings and symbols of authority were secure, it was believed that patrolling would help to assert control of the streets, protect property and provide reassurance for those who had not been involved. For all these military solutions, the C-in-CI, Henry Rawlinson, still acknowledged that the army was usually ineffective in the face of civil disobedience, noting: “you cannot collect taxes everywhere at the point of a bayonet.”43

The Influence of Frontier Warfare

Hannah Arendt once argued that there was a close correlation between totalitarianism, total war and the colonial empires of the European powers, in that systems of violence had become accepted norms.44 A study of frontier pacification would therefore seem to have some importance in any assessment of the Indian Army’s approach to internal security. There had been a succession of punitive campaigns along the North- West Frontier between 1863 and 1898, but the reduction of garrisons and a more concerted effort to make use of political officers led to fewer campaigns in the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the 1936–7 Waziristan Campaign was one of the largest military operations the British conducted before the Second World War, and the methods they used to quell unrest influenced their actions in India in 1944. Britain’s experience of fighting irregular opponents in its colonial wars during the late nineteenth century prompted Charles Callwell, the author of the famous Small Wars, to admit that guerrilla wars were: “the most unfavourable . . . for regular troops” and at times required measures that would ‘shock the humanitarian.’45 When the enemy had no capital city and engaged in hit-and-run tactics, Callwell argued that the destruction of property, crops and livestock would invariably tempt them into battle where force could be concentrated against

43 Rawlinson Diary, 28 December 1921, Rawlinson Papers, 5201/33/23, NAM, London. 44 Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (London: 1951). 45 C.E. Callwell, Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice, 3rd edn (London: 1906), 40–2, 99. internal security 375 them and a decisive result achieved—“which will probably bring the war most rapidly to a conclusion.” The object in suppressing rebellion was to “inflict punishment on those who had taken up arms,” so as to leave the refractory subjects ‘chastised and subdued’. Moreover, decisive and destructive action was more likely to forestall any chance of long term rebellion. However, he warned against unlimited devasta- tion and violence, suggesting that the purpose was to ‘ensure a lasting peace’ and not the ‘exasperation of the enemy’. He concluded that a “moral effect was often far more important than material success” and he drew a clear distinction between civilized European theatres and ‘savage’ enemies in the application of his theory. In actual operations, Callwell highlighted the importance of bold, offensive action and the utility of intelligence, local auxiliaries and mobility. In the twentieth century, the fighting on the North-West Frontier went through several phases of development and some variations in policy.46 Military operations were sometimes required in response to ‘outrages’ of raiding, kidnapping and murder by the tribesmen, but only where local auxiliaries were unable to cope. During the interwar years, the Indian Army could use the methods of ‘air policing’ to augment their columns on the ground, although the terrain meant there were limits to the use of air power alone and the security of the frontier was largely dependent on infantrymen.47 In Waziristan in1936, a pious Tori Khel Wazir, Mirza Ali Khan, or the Faqir of Ipi, as he became known, stirred agitation against the British. The British decided to ‘show the flag’ to impress the tribesmen with the force at their disposal so as to forestall serious violence and sent two columns up the Khaisora Valley in November that year. However, far from overawing the tribesmen, the troops faced armed resistance.48 A brigade with 11th Light Tank Company, armoured cars, artillery and 2 more infantry battalions subsequently reinforced the area. Their objectives were to prevent the trouble from spreading, punish the Tori Khels, and construct a road through the Khaisora Valley to facilitate future pacification. To unify the direction of operations, General Sir John Coleridge was given the command of all the military forces, Civil Armed Forces and the RAF units. Given the failure of local political

46 Report on the Administration of the Border of the North-West Frontier Province (Peshawar: 1921–38). 47 See Waziristan and the Lessons of the last 60 years (Simla: 1921). 48 7–11 Nov. 1936, L/PS/12/3230, IOR. 376 rob johnson officers to have the fugitive leader handed over by locals, the solution to the unrest was seen in entirely military terms. The road was built in just 2 months whilst the fortified houses of known insurgent leaders were destroyed. The region was saturated with troops to concentrate force, but air operations were limited to an area 5 miles ahead and either side of the subsequent advance by KHAICOL, another well armed column. British civilian control was then re-established when, the Tori Khel waziris submitted.49 However, the fighting was far from over as theFaqir kept on the move and did his best to encourage further resistance. In northern Waziristan in the spring of 1937, hostile parties attacked villages in the settled area of Derajat. The political officers negotiated and demanded submission, and there were limited punitive air operations, but these had no effect.50 A low intensity campaign manifested itself in the form of sniping at piquets, or attacks on bridges, culverts and telephone lines. Two brigades were sent to reinforce the garrison of North Waziristan, but the local Khassadars looked unreliable and so regular troops were soon tied down in route protection. To improve road security, permanent piquets were established, and sweeps were conducted to open the road every day. Avoiding a direct confrontation, the Faqir’s men made isolated and intermittent attacks, although some were far more serious. At Damdil on 20 March 1937, for example, a determined night attack was made on 1/6th Gurkhas’ camp piquet.51 Swordsmen, supported by riflemen laying suppressive fire, rushed the Gurkhas’sangar s, fling- ing hand grenades as they approached. The attacks were beaten off, and, with daylight, the machine gun fire of armoured cars, artillery, and strafing by aircraft compelled them to withdraw. Over the summer of 1937, the Faqir’s lashkar made further raids into settled areas, with more attacks on bridges, culverts and piquets along the new road. Sniping against patrols was also frequent. Eventually, sustained military pressure caused the Faqir’s campaign to become little more than harassment. The majority of the Tori Khel’s

49 Report on the Operations in Waziristan, 25 November 1936 to 16 January 1937, 21 June 1937, IOR L/MIL/7/16971; T.R. Moreman, The Army in India and the Devel- opment of Frontier Warfare: 1849–1947 (Houndmills, Basingstoke: 1998), 156. 50 Operations on the North-West Frontiers, Intelligence Summaries, 1936–7, L/PS/12/3192, IOR; Resident to Governor North-West Frontier Province, 18 Feb. 1937, pp. 38–41, File 514/IV, R/12/69, IOR. 51 Alan Warren, Waziristan: The Faqir of Ipi and the Indian Army, The North-West Frontier Revolt of 1936–7 (Karachi: 2000), 146, 148. internal security 377 had obeyed their maliks, under the pressure of the British political officers, to keep out of the fighting. This was evidence of the weakness of the Faqir’s cause and exemplified the importance for the British of a political effort alongside the military one. Moreover, when his base at Arsal Kot was taken, and his cave complex destroyed, the Faqir’s prestige and credibility was further reduced.52 Many of his promises that the British would be turned back had been proven false, and, although he maintained a small group of acolytes, the worse of the fighting was over. A new circular road was constructed during the summer and autumn of 1937 and mopping up operations were carried out against the remaining hostiles, with a column making its way through Bhittani country following tribal raids on settled areas. Small ambushes, the cutting of telephone lines, and the destruction of bridges and culverts continued, but these were regarded as a nuisance rather than events of any significance. In November 1937, British and Indian troops again swept through the Khaisora. TheFaqir had to keep on the move to avoid capture making it harder for him to maintain resistance and the momentum of support, and, as a result, raiding fell off to practically nil by the years’ end. The Indian Army had been restricted in the campaign by political considerations. Rules of engagement were considered irksome, and John Masters, a subaltern in the 4th Gurkhas believed: “we fought with one hand tied behind our backs.” The area of operations was strictly limited to a defined ‘proscribed area’. Outside of this zone, they could not fire unless shot at. Within the zone they could only engage groups of more than 10 men if they were armed. Given that tribesmen dressed the same as the inhabitants and could conceal their weapons, the rules were not adhered to if “there was no Political around.”53 Inexperienced units inflicted their own punitive measures against those closest to routes where hostile action had occurred. The tribesmen would often mine roads and construct booby-traps with grenades, but the tribesmen’s practice of mutilating the dead or wounded elicited the strongest reactions. In one incident, the troops retaliated by refusing to take prisoners.54

52 John Masters, Bugles and a Tiger (London: 1956), 225–31. 53 Arthur Swinson, North-West Frontier (London: 1967), 377. 54 Swinson, North-West Frontier, 378. 378 rob johnson

Masters parodied the rules of engagement with other military maxims. In response to the traditional idea to: ‘shoot first, shoot fastest, shoot last and shoot to kill’, he wrote the new rules implied: “Do not shoot unless you have been shot at, and then try not to hurt anyone, there’s a good chap!”, and furthermore, to the maxim: “Mystify, mislead and surprise your enemy, then never leave him a moment to gather himself again, but fall on him like a thunderclap and pursue him to his utter destruction, regardless of fatigue casualties or cost.” Masters wrote: Announce your intentions to the enemy, in order that he may have time to remove his women and children to a place of safety—and time to counter your plan. At all events, stop what you are doing as soon as he pretends to have had enough, so that he may gather again somewhere else.55 However, the most controversial rules governed the use of air power. The olderManual of Operations on the NWF of India was eventually replaced in November1938 by Frontier Warfare (Army and RAF) 1939 but the publication was delayed because of sensitivity about the issue of bombing, especially of villages.56 Warnings were always issued by dropping leaflets prior to a bombing run on property, usually twice; although in certain circumstances it might only be once. The length of time between warnings and a bombing was determined by how long it would take for a village to convene, discuss and then present a response or submission, but was never under 24 hours. The warnings had to specify which tribe and section was affected, and an outline of the circumstances that led to the threat. Clear instructions including the precise course they had to follow, and the place and date where a submission was to be made, were also to be included. The final warning note was printed on red paper, which included the same details and the explicit reason why air action was about to be taken against them, and a description of the nearest place of refuge. To avoid the risk that civilians would not get the warnings, ground messages were also delivered if possible. After the action, white leaflets were dropped, and efforts

55 Masters, Bugles and a Tiger, 205. Instructions governing the employment of armed forces in the maintenance of tribal control of the NWF of India and in Baluchistan, 1940, L/PS/20/B308, IOR. 56 Instructions governing the employment of armed forces in the maintenance of tribal control of the NWF of India and in Baluchistan, 1940. internal security 379 would be made to destroy any unexploded ordnance less the tribesmen try to make use of them as road mines. In certain circumstances, action could be taken by ground and air forces without the sanction of the GOI, but all ‘Deliberate Operations’ had to have official sanction with clearly defined political objectives. In periods of ‘Watch and Ward’, including maintaining the security of communications or action against gun runners and raiders, the civil authority could call on the Indian Army for support, but when a situation arose which could not be controlled by the Civil Armed Forces, the deployment of regular troops became imperative and control would naturally shift to the local military commander. Nevertheless, the GOI insisted on the full cooperation of the civilians and the military, and ‘political control’ could be transferred only by the GOI. The army units were expected to consult the political officers before entering tribal areas, except in maintenance of security in ‘road open’ days, although the army and air force could be deployed in readiness for action. During the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939, there were 48 British and Indian battalions on the North-West Frontier, which represented 38% of the army’s peacetime strength. By 1943, there were 57 British and Indian infantry battalions and 4 armoured car regiments committed to the frontier, although, by then, it was the threat of invasion on the north-eastern border that was absorbing the lion’s share of the wartime expansion of the Indian Army. The North-West Frontier Province governor’s fortnightly intelligence reports provide an interesting assessment of the falling away of tribal resistance during the conflict. Initially, the Faqir of Ipi and the tribesmen kept up their routine of raids and ‘outrages’.57 By February 1942, the situation had changed and the Governor wrote: “I believe that the efforts we have been making for some time to influence the Faqir through two or three important mullahs are bearing some fruit.”58 In August 1942, it was estimated there had been 57 incidents for the year to date, which compared with 59 incidents in 1941, and 176 in 1940.59 The steady decline in violence continued so that by 1944–45, the frontier was relatively quiet.

57 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, 24 January 1942, L/PJ/5/219, IOR. 58 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, 23 Feb. 1942, L/PJ/5/219. 59 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, Report for first half of August 1942, L/PJ/5/219. 380 rob johnson

There were multiple explanations for this trend. The governor admitted that during the war “we have a large number of local people of influence, including many of the best knownmullah s, working for us.”60 Newspapers were carefully monitored for signs of propaganda.61 Recruiting was also more problematic for both the Indian Army and the Faqir during the late summer when labour was needed for wheat cultivation, and this also dried up the numbers of young raiders. The governor noted that: “In all the country through which I have toured the paucity of young men of military age is now very noticeable.” A confidential report in December 1942 noted that in Kurram and Dera Ismail Khan, “the general attitude of the people [was] excellent.”62 The same report noted that at all thejirgas , the tribesmen expressed pleasure in the Allied victories in North Africa and Stalingrad, whilst the INC was “rarely mentioned.” They were “far more interested in their own small problems of irrigation” and the rising cost of foodstuffs, but the report noted that it was remarkable how well informed the average villager was regarding the general trend of the war. Swabi Tehsil in Mardan district was one of the ‘bad spots’ in 1930, and the report stated: It is difficult to picture it as ever having been in that condition. It is a great recruiting area, and has a very fine record during this war. One village which has produced 550 recruits in the last three years has got a war memorial of the last war which shows only 112 were enlisted between 1914 and 1918.63 In the Review of Frontier Defence in 1944, in a tacit acknowledgement that forward garrisons tended to encourage resistance, there was a rec- ommendation to revert to Lord Curzon’s policy of 1901, namely to withdraw the Indian Army from its garrisons inside tribal areas to be replaced with smaller bodies of Frontier Armed Civil Forces. However, as the Indian Army prepared for its greatest trial in the Second World War, it would be faced with the concurrent problem of internal security in India, and, in essence, the greatest challenge to its legitimacy.

60 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, no. 18, 23 Sep. 1942, L/PJ/5/219. 61 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, no. 10, 23 May 1942, L/PJ/5/219. 62 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, no. 23, 8 Dec. 1942, L/PJ/5/219. 63 NWFP Governor’s Fortnightly Intelligence Reports, no. 2, 19 Nov. 1942, L/PJ/5/219. internal security 381

Quit India: 1942

The major wartime challenge to British internal security in India broke out at precisely the moment that India faced the prospect of a Japanese invasion. In August 1942, Gandhi’s ‘Quit India’ campaign was supposed to be a mass movement of non-violence, and the objective was that the retraction of cooperation with the British would force the Raj to collapse. Brutality would be met with satyagraha which assumed the self-sacrifice of Gandhi and his supporters would shame the British into halting their operations. But, the British moved first. To isolate the ringleaders, the British attempted to arrest the INC’s most senior members and some 66,000 were eventually detained. There was a press blackout. With its committees outlawed and its offices and papers seized, the left wing of the movement advocated a campaign of sabotage, but the INC leaders knew that, while the Indian Army remained loyal to the British, there was no chance of a violent campaign succeeding.64 Nevertheless, as previous campaigns had shown, it proved difficult for Gandhi and the INC leaders to persuade all the followers to adopt an entirely non-violent path. News of Gandhi’s arrest sparked 2 weeks of rioting while boycotting and civil disobedience spread. Disruptions to food supply caused acute shortages in some areas. Telephone lines, post offices, courts, revenue offices and even police stations were the targets for attack and arson. In extreme cases, railway tracks were torn up. At its height, the Quit India campaign required an entire British division to be diverted to Bombay to quell the unrest. But, the vulnerability of the strategic railways really alarmed the British authorities, and the Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, authorized the RAF to fly sorties over crowds that appeared to menace railway lines running across the Eastern Provinces and Bihar.65 Their instructions were to fly low, fire Verey light flares and warning shots. The INC accused the British of machine gunning the demonstrators.66 Linlithgow clearly felt that

64 WO 208/819A, 25C, PRO. Memorandum by Deverell, Chief of Staff, 26 May 1930, WO 106/5443, PRO, TNA. Home Department: History of the Congress Rebel- lion, Part 1, 1942–3, Gandhi’s Independence Campaign: Statistics to assist the S[ecretary of ] S[tate] to reply to P[arliamentary] Q[uestions] L/PJ/8/628, IOR. 65 Gandhi’s Independence Campaign: Statistics to assist the S[ecretary of ] S[tate] to reply to P[arliamentary] Q[uestions], 174/44/41, L/PJ/8/628. 66 James, Raj, 566; P.N. Chopra, “ ‘Quit India’ Movement of 1942”, Journal of Indian History, vol. 49 (1971), 39–40; Chopra, Quit India: British Secret Documents (New Delhi: 1986). 382 rob johnson saboteurs of railways deserved to be shot down by aircraft, and the authorities were prepared to take every measure necessary to crush the unrest in order to release the 35,000 troops that they might need as a strategic reserve to confront a Japanese offensive. The calculation was that they had a window of opportunity of just six weeks before that attack came. Linlithgow informed Churchill that he was: . . . engaged here in meeting by far the most serious rebellion since that of 1857, the gravity and extent of which we have so far concealed for reasons of military security. . . . Mob violence remains rampant over large tracts of the countryside and I am by no means confident that we may not see in September a formidable effort to renew this widespread sabotage of our war effort.67 When the idea of strafing saboteurs from the air was raised in the House of Commons on 8 October 1942, there was support for a firm line.68 Gone were the qualms of Amritsar: Britain was on the defensive in Europe, had been inoculated by Dunkirk and the Blitz, and felt that it had been stabbed in the back by the INC. Churchill was particularly defiant, claiming he had: “not become the King’s first minister in order to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire.”69 The British and Indian troops were deployed wherever the police had either lost control or were hard pressed. Lathis and canes were wielded to discipline those that sought to obstruct them, and in Bihar and Bengal pacification measures included flogging and shooting incidents. However, the troops had other solutions short of violence. The INC activists were known to court gaol terms as a badge of honour, so the authorities took to dumping them naked after a short period of detention to humiliate them in the eyes of the population. Similarly, women could not be manhandled during their sit down protests, so fire hoses were used to soak them and make theirsari s virtually trans- parent. One soldier recalled: “When the crowd was getting very angry and very unruly and pressing up against us we would ease them back

67 N.M. Mansergh, E.W.R. Lumby and P. Moon (eds.), Constitutional Relations between Britain and India: The Transfer of Power: 1942–47, vol. 2 (London: 1970), 853–4. 68 Hansard, 5th Series, 383, 1342, Parliamentary Debates, House of Lords, 1942. 69 Leo Amery, The Empire at Bay: The Leo Amery Diaries, 1929–45 (eds.), J. Barnes and D. Nicholson (London: 1987), 830. internal security 383 by gently dropping the butts of our rifles on their toes.”70 There were plenty of efforts to portray the British as brutal thugs: it was alleged that rifles were fired at the road to cause a ricochet that would inflict more casualties. Yet, the troops had always had a shoot to kill policy, and were always instructed to aim directly at the rioters.71 More often than not the British were simply outnumbered. At Sasaram, on the line from Lucknow to Calcutta, thousands of students, protestors and opportunists set fire to the railway station and signal box, and then occupied the local court house. The Hindu policemen, fearing for their lives, retreated to the gaol, whereupon 20 British soldiers appeared to reinforce them, but it was not until the Bedfordshire Regiment appeared in strength that the crowds began to disperse.72 Although outnumbered, the British possessed the ability to manage the unrest. During the Quit India campaign, the police and the army had been compelled to open fire 369 times, killing an estimated 1,000 and wounding a further 2,000.73 However, there had been some problems. The army, which did not wish to prioritize internal security over the campaign in Burma, was reluctant to be involved, while the civilian provincial authorities were just as reluctant to admit they had lost control. New police forces that were drafted tended to be inexperienced and there was a shortage of firearms because of the competition of resources caused by the war. Over 200 police stations had been razed. Some 332 railway stations had been destroyed and large amount of rolling stock were damaged which delayed troop movements, the construction of air bases and the delivery of essential coal supplies by approximately 3 weeks. Strikes had resulted in the reduction of vital steel production by 10%. However, it was the Indian Army, swelled by the war, which had the manpower and the weaponry to contain the violence, and, in a departure from general pre-war practice, the British deployed them in several trouble spots. The civilian intelligence network, which also contained Indian staff, remained largely intact and the morale of Indian military personnel was described as ‘steadfast’.74

70 WOII Charles Wright, The Black Watch, cited in Charles Allen,Plain Tales from the Raj (London: 1975), 249. 71 Air 23/2053, 5, 13, PRO, TNA. 72 Martin Papers, IOR MSS EUR F180/21, 34–6. 73 Mansergh, Lumby and Moon (eds.), Constitutional Relations between Britain and India, vol. 2, 933. 74 Home Department: History of the Congress Rebellion, Part 1, 1942–3, Gandhi’s Independence Campaign: Statistics to assist the S[ecretary of] S[tate] to reply to Parlia- mentary Questions. 384 rob johnson

Nevertheless, British officers were cautioned to avoid suggestions of “scorn for the ‘unenlightened Indian’ who wants independence . . . since freedom and independence are probably sought after by the troops themselves.”75 The problem was to be framed solely in terms of the restoration of order. The viceroy and the C-in-CI were in accord on the necessary security measures, and the troops were deployed in small groups for their ‘policing’ tasks, rather than as concentrated units as the Indian Army would have preferred. Nevertheless, any assessment must take account of other contex- tual factors. The fact is that many had a stake in the survival of the Raj. The Muslim League, fearing a Hindu dominated successor state to the Raj, had sided with the British against the INC. The high percentage of Muslims in the Indian Army meant that they not only felt less sympathy with the INC rioters, but they expected to benefit from their loyalty in the future. The princely states also remained in league with the British, particularly as they faced INC unrest in their own principalities. Many ‘supporters’ of INC during the unrest were in fact politically neutral, but for their own safety made declarations that favoured INC only for the duration of the troubles. Some peasants and workers, who had suffered the higher wartime prices, also used the political unrest as a means to raid granaries and stores for material gain, but quickly abandoned their opportunism when the police and army appeared in force. Moreover, as far as internal security was concerned, during the war as a whole, communal unrest was more common than the short lived political violence of the Quit India campaign. In the period July 1937 to October 1939, the army was called out on 25 occasions to deal with communal unrest, and in the first 3 months of the war in 1939, the army was called out 15 times, with deployments lasting from one day to 2 weeks.76 Between October 1939 and March 1943, it was estimated that 492 had been killed in communal rioting with 1,902 injured, but some of these casualties were inflicted by the police or the army when riots got out of hand.77 A district magistrate explained:

75 Brigadier-General Cawthorn, DMI, 31 Aug. 1942, L/WS/1/1337, IOR. 76 Use of Troops for Maintenance of Essential Services in Case of an Emergency, L/PJ/8/571, IOR. 77 Official Reports of Riots and Disturbances in India, Jan. 1940–July 1944, L/PJ/8/ 572A, IOR. internal security 385

Some stupid little thing would happen, a rumour that Pathans were abducting Hindu girls, or that somebody had killed a Mohammedan. Usually it was quite untrue, but then the trouble, which was always smouldering in certain cities, started . . . you couldn’t prevent it, but you might, if you were sufficiently prompt and on the spot at the time, prevent it assuming a serious form. I was a great believer in the maximum display of force at the very beginning to try and overawe people. I was also a great believer in using force effectively if you had to use it at all. I didn’t believe in firing one or two rounds; I used to say to my magistrates: “if ever you have to open fire, fire at least five rounds. If you open up make sure that it is effective, so that people are seen to fall and the mob takes fright.” It didn’t occur to me as ruthless. It occurred to me as plain commonsense.78

The Crises of 1943

The nadir of British fortunes came in 1943. In Burma, the Indian Army’s attack at Arakan failed. Morale was so low that some Indian troops talked of simply giving up, although this was against a background of difficult conditions, insufficient equipment and the memory of the defeats in Malaya and Burma. There were already large scale defections by prisoners of the Japanese to the INA which at this stage numbered 12,000. Anxiety about Indian loyalties were revealed not just by the effort put into orchestrated josh‘ ’ measures in the Indian Army, but also by the correspondence surrounding the Special Powers Ordinance for the Military Operational Area passed in 1943.79 The ordinance provided for the setting up of measures to deal with fifth column activity in the zone behind the front line. An Ordinance of Special Powers was seen as preferable to martial law, since a friendly rural population was more likely to turn in enemy agents than a fright- ened and resentful one.80 Moreover, the viceroy was concerned that,

78 Penderel Moon, Indian Civil Service and District Magistrate, cited in Allen, Plain Tales, 246. 79 “Secret Appreciation of Indian Morale”, Overseas Planning Committee, Min- istry of Information, 1942, National Archives, INF 1/556. Reactions in Indian units to Japanese Propaganda, Weekly Intelligence Survey, India Internal, 31 March 1944, L/WS/1433, IOR and The Future of the Internal Security Situation in India, 31 Aug. 1942, L/WS/1/1337, IOR. J.A. Thorne,Confidential Report on the Control during the War of the Press, Broadcasting and Films, and on Publicity of the purpose of the War (Delhi: 1939), L/I/1/1136, IOR. 80 Viceroy to secretary of state for India, Telegram, 38421, 9 Oct. 1943, and Viceroy to secretary of state for India, Telegram, 38463, 13 Oct. 1943, L/PJ/8/566, IOR. 386 rob johnson in previous episodes of martial law, the army in Bihar had established special courts ‘untrammelled by the usual controls’, which tended to be “hasty in decision and inadequate in record of summaries of evidence,” adding “I fear the same results if the army is given carte blanche.” However, he admitted that “speed of trials in the circumstances [are] essential.”81 His solution was to attach the deputy judge advocate on the military staff in the operational area. The army too wanted assurances. General Molesworth wanted careful drafting of what the limits of military authority and territorial jurisdiction were.82 It seems that both the army and the government were eager to maintain the primacy of political leadership and to ensure the close cooperation of military and the civilian authorities. The famine of 1943 was another crisis with implications for the maintenance of security and order at a critical stage during the Second World War. Subhas Chandra Bose, the leader of the INA, exploited the propaganda potential of the situation and offered rice ‘as a gift to the people’ from the Japanese.83 The British responded by intensifying their efforts to sustain the morale of Indian soldiers.84 When Archibald Wavell became Viceroy (1943), he injected a new energy into the relief effort. He was ably supported by General Sir Claude Auchinleck as C-in-CI, who expanded the Indian officer corps and gave them more responsibilities, including command of the British troops.85 Indian troops were entrusted without British officers, and wherever possible racial discriminations were brought to an end. He increased rates of pay for Indian troops, visited their villages and talked with ‘josh’ groups to lift morale. His personal style left a legacy of greater consensus. He made particular visits to Indian princes to enlist their people for the war effort, but he also met Muslim and INC leaders to hear their grievances. He would not allow the authorities to condemn INC leaders, and aimed for their political neutrality. This approach paid

81 Viceroy to secretary of state for India, Telegram, 36616, 23 Sep. 1943, L/PJ/8/566. 82 Note by under secretary of state, 29 Sep. 1943, L/PJ/8/566. 83 See Peter Ward Fay, The Forgotten Army: India’s Armed Struggle for Independ- ence (Ann Arbor: 1993), 419–22. 84 See Sanjoy Bhattacharya, Propaganda and Information in Eastern India, 1939–45: A Necessary Weapon of War (London: 2001). 85 Daniel Marston, “A Force Transformed: The Indian Army and the Second World War”, in Daniel P. Marston and Chandar S. Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia: From the East India Company to the Nuclear Age (Bloomington, IN: 2008), 121. internal security 387 off. Although still censored, letters by soldiers reveal that they felt new skills could be learned by military service. Military equipment, which had always been limited in quality and quantity before the war, now arrived in abundance. These new weapons and vehicles gave the men confidence, and was a useful propaganda tool. It seems the British understood that they needed to ‘localize’, in this case to ‘Indianize’, the military forces, but equally, Wavell and Auchinleck both knew that the British had to be able to rely on the police and the Indian Army to maintain security and to sustain the war effort: they simply could not afford further shocks like the famine and the Quit India campaign. The mobilization of the Indian population, in the armed services but also in war industries, was important in creating a temporary alliance between the Indian people and the British authorities. Moreover, the war created a stimulus from which many could benefit in terms of opportunities and material gain. Unsurprisingly, many were concerned about the consequences of a Japanese invasion and occupation. Either the Japanese might destroy everything during their conquest, or the British might be tempted to repeat the scorched earth policy they had used in Burma. Many Indians were therefore prepared to fight for a stake in the future. The Anglo-Indians thought of themselves as inherently loyalist despite all the pre-war prejudices against them, while the Hindu right and the Muslim League shared an ideological dislike of the Axis powers with the British, and Punjab was on the verge of declaring jihad against Japan for mistreatment of Sikh prisoners of war. For the communists, the Soviet Union was an ally of Britain and their orders from Moscow dictated they should work with Raj, but many on the political left genuinely hated the idea of Japanese imperialism as much as they disapproved of the British. Even the INC was wary of a break with Britain when the Japanese threat was so grave; not only might it lead to chaos and occupation, but it would jeopardize the moral imperative to support their own Indian troops. Some, of course, felt Britain’s presence might actually cause a Japanese attack, but Gandhi expected the British to leave and to defend India, which did not resolve their dilemma. In light of these considerations, potential insurgents were neutralized, which perhaps helps to explain why there was no widespread insurrection between 1944 and 1945. Yet, from 1942 onwards, the authorities anticipated that the end of the war would mean a return to widespread violence that the Indian Army would be unwilling to contain. The Indian Army, claimed the military secretary: “It is fair to say that, as the war draws to its close . . . the 388 rob johnson general I[nternal] S[ecurity] position is bound to deteriorate, as interested parties begin to prepare (as they are now preparing) for the eventual struggle for power.”86 In 1945, plans drawn up to deal with political agitation and violence showed that everything depended on the loyalty of the Indian troops, but since 1943, this had been in doubt.87

Conclusions

From their experience of the frontier campaigns, the British knew that the first component of pacification was to use force to establish security, and that prompt action was essential. They also knew that enlisting the local population in various capacities, from military service to political responsibility, gave them a stake in the continuation of the occupation. In the initial stages of an occupation, the aim was to inflict heavy casualties, and to find measures to bring an elusive enemy into battle. The army would then seek to establish control of the area and limit the mobility of their enemies. To minimize the expense of occupation, auxiliaries were deployed in the place of regular troops, and they could bring in vital intelligence and local knowledge. In the inter-war years, air policing on the North-West Frontier at first offered the possibility of being able to dispense with some ground troops altogether. However, subsequent operations on the frontier had indicated that a combination of these arms and a sufficiently strong element of mobile light infantry were essential. Force could not, however, be used in an unlimited fashion. Whilst the principle of minimum force had long been established, the shock of Amritsar had jolted the British authorities into a more comprehensive review of their methods. However, these principles were not easily applied to the situation on the North-West Frontier. Ways had to be found to incorporate the principles of minimum force in the use of new technologies, such as armoured cars and air power, without entirely jeopardizing the ability of the army or the police to operate.

86 GHQ (India) to the Military Secretary, India Office, 20 December 1942, L/WS/ 1/1337, IOR. 87 Defence HQ Outline Plan, Operation Asylum, 9 December 1945, L/WS/2/65, IOR; Chiefs of Staff Committee, Indian Army, Subversive attempts on the loyalty of the Indian Army, 10 May 1943, L/WS/1/707, IOR. internal security 389

To some extent there was a discernable ‘hearts and minds’ element to their operations. On the frontier, respect for force (potential and actual) was more important since there was no illusion that the British would ever be accepted as occupiers. The British attempted to use restraint as a proxy for respect for tribal ways, and therefore create the conditions where peace might be sustained. Violence by tribesmen ebbed and flowed, but was never entirely prevented, so the aim was to reestablish equilibrium and a respect for order. From the end of the First World War it was already recognized that frontier warfare and conventional warfare were distinct, and even required ‘contradictory’ approaches, which echoes the dilemmas of modern counter-insurgency doctrines.88 However, on the North-West Frontier, the British felt operations there had more in common with fighting ‘small (conventional) wars’, than politicized opponents. For the Indian Army in the 1930s, internal unrest was seen as a security problem, not necessarily solved by political change, reform or concessions. Nevertheless, despite the lack of sympathy for political change, the Indian Army accepted civilian primacy in internal security matters and this dictated the way the British dealt with the agitation in India in 1942–44. The wartime measures were severe, but both civilian and military authorities were in no mood to brook the disruption of the war effort against the Japanese. Their priority was to win the war and to maintain order and they were prepared to pay a high political cost for the decision. In their own minds, they felt their decisions were in India’s best interests and they believed they protected the majority form both a vocal but politically immature minority and the brutal IJA. The idea of political concessions to enhance the security of India had existed amongst civilian authorities long before the war, but emerged more strongly after 1942, and were regarded, universally, as inevitable after 1945. If the British had relied only on internal security measures to maintain their rule, they would have had to ensure the Indian armed forces remained loyal as it was quite clear that they depended on their manpower. However, after the mutiny in the Indian Navy and the trial of INA officers after the war, it was clear that the British could no longer rely on their security apparatus. Sir Stafford Cripps noted in

88 Moreman, The Army in India, p. 178; compare similar comments in the introduction of the American Field Manual on Counterinsurgency, FM3-24 (Chicago: 2007). 390 rob johnson a House of Commons debate in 1947 that the only way to hang on to India was through ‘total repression’ which would be possible only with the deployment of a large number of British troops and that, under the financial and international climate of the time was impossible.89 Wavell had recognized the need to combine the British and Indian views of the conflict to create a united war effort and his successor, Lord Louis Mountbatten, avoided a protracted and futile British counter-insurgency in the subcontinent by recognizing that the end had come, and a political solution was the only option. Nevertheless, the greatest tragedy was that the Indian Army was unable to stem the spate of violence that engulfed the newly independent nations in 1947.

89 V.P. Menon, The Transfer of Power in India (Bombay: 1950), 346. SECTION III

WARFARE, SOCIETY AND THE INDIAN ARMY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MORALE OF THE INDIAN ARMY IN THE MESOPOTAMIA CAMPAIGN: 1914–17

Nikolas Gardner

While the Indian Army fought on multiple fronts from 1914 to 1918, it experienced its greatest privations in the Mesopotamia campaign. Over 300,000 Indian combatants served in Mesopotamia, more than twice as many as in France or Palestine.1 In addition to suffering at the hands of a capable and recalcitrant Ottoman enemy, IEFD faced an often hostile indigenous population. Throughout 1916, insufficient support from the GOI combined with an underdeveloped logistical system led to malnutrition and the outbreak of diseases such as scurvy among Indian soldiers. These factors also deprived sick and wounded soldiers of adequate medical care. Moreover, the prospect of fighting an Islamic enemy in the vicinity of Shia holy sites in Iraq perturbed some Muslim sepoys, who comprised a significant proportion of the force. These challenges became particularly acute during the siege of Kut- al-Amara, when over 8,000 Indian soldiers of Charles Townshend’s 6th Indian Division suffered for more than 4 months before surrendering to the Ottomans in late April 1916. Clearly, Indian soldiers faced significant physical and psychological hardships in Mesopotamia. It is difficult, however, to measure the impact of these hardships on their morale. The vast majority of Indian soldiers were illiterate and therefore generated no written records of their experiences during the campaign. While some sepoys employed scribes to write letters on their behalf, the bulk of surviving correspondence refers to conditions on the Western Front.2 Consequently, it is from the diaries, correspondence and memoirs of British soldiers

1 Kaushik Roy, “From Defeat to Victory: Logistics of the Campaign in Mesopota- mia, 1914–1918”, First World War Studies, vol. 1 (2010), 38; Edwin Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918, Part 1”, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. LXXII (1994), 92. 2 See Indian Voices of the Great War: Soldiers’ Letters, 1914–1918, ed. and Introduc- tion by David Omissi (London: 1999). 394 nikolas gardner that we must extract the majority of evidence regarding the morale of sepoys in Mesopotamia. This evidence must be treated carefully, as it provides the perspective of individuals with an imperfect understanding of the motivations and priorities of Indian soldiers. Indeed, senior commanders such as James Willcocks and Charles Townshend, who spoke derisively of the Indians in their memoirs, actually had little direct contact with sepoys. The British regimental officers serving in Indian battalions often had extensive knowledge of the language, habits and religious practices of their subordinates, and their observations can provide valuable insights into the state of Indian morale. Their explanations of Indian soldiers’ behavior, however, should be treated with caution. Based on a careful examination of sepoys’ letters, David Omissi has argued that these officers overestimated their own role in maintaining Indian morale and discipline. According to Omissi: The cult of the British officer partly reflected the tendency of the ruling elite to explain other processes in terms of themselves. It also suited the British to believe themselves essential. It gave them a sense of purpose, and inflated their self-esteem.3 It is important not to discount the importance of regimental officers entirely. During the First World War, these individuals played a vital role as intermediaries between Indian soldiers and the higher command structure of the Indian and British armies in the midst of a conflict of unprecedented scale and intensity.4 As a result, the loss of familiar British officers had a detrimental effect on the morale of their Indian subordinates. Nonetheless, it was certainly not the only, nor even the predominant factor that influenced sepoys’ behavior. Therefore, rather than conceiving of Indian soldiers as dependent on British regimental officers, recent scholarship has interpreted the relationship between sepoys and the command structure above them in contractual terms.5 Rather than simply serving their ‘sahibs’ with steadfast devotion, Indian soldiers agreed to perform a defined set of

3 D. Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (London: 1994), 103–4. 4 Jeffrey Greenhut, “The Imperial Reserve: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915”, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 12 (1988), 54–73. 5 For examples of this approach, see Nikolas Gardner, “Sepoys and the Siege of Kut-al-Amara, December 1915-April 1916”, War in History, vol. 11 (2004), 307–26; G.M. Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–1915: A Portrait of Col- laboration”, War in History, vol. 13 (2006), 329–62; Mark Harrison, “Medicine and the Management of Modern Warfare”, History of Science, vol. 34 (1996 ), 397–8. morale of the indian army 395 tasks over a specified duration, in return for which they received a range of tangible and intangible rewards and benefits. These included regular pay and rations, adequate medical care, and the prospect of a pension for themselves or their families if they were wounded or killed on active service. In addition, Indian soldiers expected their superiors to support their traditional beliefs and practices, including religious ceremonies and dietary requirements. Their morale suffered when they believed the command structure to be in breach of this implicit contract. In extreme circumstances they could and did reconsider their commitment to service. This essay will use this contractual model to explain the morale of Indian soldiers during the Mesopotamia campaign, focusing in particular on the period prior to the surrender of Kut-al-Amara in the spring of 1916. It will argue that the campaign required unprecedented sacrifices on the part of Indian soldiers, while the command structure struggled to provide the support, leadership and rewards that they expected. This led increasing numbers of Indians to reconsider their commitment to military service, particularly during the siege of Kut-al-Amara. Indian morale improved in 1917 in part because of the increased resources that Britain devoted to the campaign, but also because British political and military leaders made a concerted effort to honour the terms of their implicit contract with Indian soldiers.

Decline of Morale in Mesopotamia: 1914–16

The Indian Army of 1914 was the product of recruitment and retention strategies developed in response to the 1857 Mutiny. In the decades after the uprising, and particularly from the 1880s, the focus of the army’s recruiting efforts shifted steadily northward. By 1914, soldiers from Nepal, Punjab and the North-West Frontier Province of India comprised 80% of the strength of the Indian Army.6 Colonial authorities defined inhabitants of these areas as ‘martial classes’, assigning recruits from specific ethnic, religious and linguistic groups such as Gurkhas, Sikhs and Rajputs to homogenous companies and even regiments. The British extolled supposedly inherent characteristics that made specific groups particularly suitable to military service. At least as important

6 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 10–11. 396 nikolas gardner as any of these alleged martial traits, however, was their perceived amenability to British rule. These groups inhabited remote and overwhelmingly rural areas with low rates of literacy, authoritarian social structures, and little exposure to Western notions of self-government. Not surprisingly, they had also abstained from the uprising in 1857.7 In addition to recruiting from ostensibly compliant sections of Indian society, British military authorities emphasized distinctions between different groups to reduce the likelihood of their Indian subordinates uniting against them. By supporting specific religious practices, dietary restrictions and religious ceremonies, the British constructed unique regimental identities for the groups they recruited.8 They sought to reinforce and perpetuate these identities by recruiting from particular communities and even families. As Gordon Corrigan has observed: “In some areas pre-war recruitment had become more and more incestu- ous, with specific small villages, sub clans and families providing most of their menfolk to one or two regiments.”9 While these practices reinforced distinctions between ethnic and religious groups in Indian society, the regimental system also provided a means for individual soldiers to gain status within their own communities, a matter of paramount importance to young males seeking to return to these communities and raise families upon completion of their military commitment. In particular, loyal service to the King- Emperor of India was a means of acquiring izzat, a concept similar to honour or prestige. As Omissi has observed: “Judging from their letters, Indian soldiers fought, above all, to gain or preserve izzat—their honour, standing, reputation or prestige.”10 Achieving this did not require an extended deployment overseas. Most of those who enlisted in the Indian Army expected to serve in the subcontinent, operating against ‘Afghan tribesmen or urban crowds.’11 In 1914, however, the scale and duration of the First World War was largely unknown to senior British

7 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 26–9. See also Jeffrey Greenhut, “Sahib and Sepoy: An Inquiry into the Relationship between the British Officers and Native Soldiers of the British Indian Army”, Military Affairs, vol. XLVIII (1984), 15–8. 8 Kaushik Roy, “The Construction of Regiments in the Indian Army: 1859–1913”, War in History, vol. 8 (2001), 127–48. 9 Gordon Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915 (Staplehurst: 1999), 129. 10 Omissi (ed.), Indian Voices, 12. See also George Morton Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front, 1914–1915: A Portrait of Collaboration”, 336. 11 Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front”, 335. morale of the indian army 397 military and political leaders, let alone sepoys from remote villages in India. Therefore, most Indian soldiers do not appear to have anticipated that the conflict would entail unprecedented sacrifices on their part. For some, the prospect of travel overseas may even have been an enticement.12 Thus, most Indian soldiers appear to have welcomed the outbreak of war in 1914 as an opportunity to accrue izzat while serving alongside familiar comrades and even relatives from their own communities. During the first 2 years of the campaign in Mesopotamia, however, a combination of factors progressively corroded Indian morale. Foremost among these was the inadequacy of the logistical system supporting IEFD. As Kaushik Roy has explained, port facilities at Basra, the principal point of entry for supplies arriving in Mesopotamia, were woefully inadequate from 1914 to 1916. Moreover, there was not enough river transport available to supply the force as it advanced up the Tigris from Basra. Consequently, British and Indian units lacked essential supplies such as blankets, tents, clothes and boots. They also lacked adequate rations. The only fruits or vegetables shipped from India in this period were onions and potatoes, which often spoiled due to a lack of cold storage facilities in Mesopotamia.13 This dearth of fresh produce had a particularly detrimental effect on the Indians, who received much smaller rations than their British counterparts. To supplement these rations, British military authorities provided the Indians with an allowance so that they could purchase food in accordance with their ‘custom, caste and religion.’14 In the relatively austere environment of Mesopotamia, however, they were unable to secure sufficient quantities of meat, fruits or vegetables on a regular basis. As a result, medical authorities noticed the appearance of scurvy among Indian soldiers as early as March 1915. The disease grew more prevalent as the campaign progressed and the nutritional deficiencies of Indian

12 Tan Tai-Yong, “An Imperial Home Front: Punjab and the First World War”, Journal of Military History, vol. 64 (2000), 378. 13 Roy, “From Defeat to Victory: Logistics of the Campaign in Mesopotamia, 1914– 1918”, 41. 14 Mark Harrison, “The Fight against Disease in the Mesopotamia Campaign”, in Peter Liddle and Hugh Cecil (eds.), Facing Armageddon: The First World War Expe- rienced (London: 1996), 485. 398 nikolas gardner soldiers worsened. According to Mark Harrison: “. . . over 11,000 Indian troops succumbed to scurvy in the last six months of 1916.”15 In addition to scurvy, soldiers suffered from dysentery due to a lack of clean drinking water. Shortages of medical supplies and personnel inhibited the treatment of these diseases, as well as wounds suffered in battle. Nor could sick and wounded personnel expect a prompt return to India. According to Roy, until June 1915 there was only one hospital ship available to evacuate casualties from East Africa and Mesopotamia to Bombay.16 While the dearth of adequate rations, supplies and medical care did nothing to increase the enthusiasm of Indian soldiers for the campaign in Mesopotamia, the uncertainty of a prompt return home for those who became casualties was likely even more vexing. An Indian soldier who sustained a wound while on active service generally believed that he had faithfully fulfilled his commitment to the army, and he expected to be discharged and allowed to return to India. As Sir Walter Lawrence, commissioner for Indian hospitals in England and France, explained in a letter to Lord Kitchener in 1915: “His simple idea is that he has done his duty, and that having been wounded it is his right to go home.”17 For wounded sepoys, the inability of the command structure to honour its perceived obligation and promptly extract them from an inhospitable environment and return them to their homes was particularly discouraging. For those soldiers who remained with their units, the loss of leaders and comrades also strained morale. As discussed above, it is possible to overestimate the extent of sepoys’ devotion to their ‘sahibs’. Nonetheless, experienced British officers were essential to the cohesion and effective performance of Indian units in combat. At the beginning of the First World War an Indian battalion at full strength contained 17 VCOs and 13 British KCOs. The Indian officers executed important leadership functions, but most were illiterate. As the only members of these units capable of reading English, the KCOs played a vital role in interpreting and disseminating operation orders to their Indian subordinates. In addition, they led these subordinates personally in battle. According to Corrigan:

15 Harrison, “The Fight against Disease in the Mesopotamia Campaign”, in Liddle and Cecil (eds.), Facing Armageddon, 475, 477. 16 Roy, “From Defeat to Victory”, 41. 17 Sir Walter Lawrence to Lord Kitchener, 27 December 1915, Lawrence Papers, MSS EURF143/65, IOR, BL, London. See also Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 118. morale of the indian army 399

British officers led from the front. They had to, even when it was patent tactical nonsense so to do. If you want to lead men who do not share your culture, background or cause, you have to demonstrate your own belief in that which you have ordered them to do.18 Given the intensity of the campaigns in East Africa, Europe and Mesopotamia during the first year of the war, however, this leadership style took a heavy toll on the Indian Army’s cadre of KCOs. By the autumn of 1915, the shortage of British officers had become so acute in Mesopotamia that battalions in Charles Townshend’s 6th Indian Division were reduced to only 7 KCOs in each unit, a level that Townshend called ‘criminally foolish’.19 Moreover, the British officers who arrived as reinforcements were seldom as effective as their predecessors. In the first months of the war, hundreds of British civilians in India took commissions in the Indian Army Reserve of Officers. While these volunteers helped replenish the army’s rapidly dwindling officer corps, most had little combat experience and lacked sufficient knowledge of Indian languages to communicate effectively with their troops. The willingness to follow one’s superiors into battle depended in no small part on trust in their leadership capabilities. It is therefore not surprising that Indian soldiers preferred to serve under British officers with whom they were familiar.20 The progressive disappearance of such officers, and the difficulty of forming bonds with their replacements given linguistic barriers and the stress of active operations, left Indian soldiers increasingly without the leadership to which they had grown accustomed before the war. This leadership was not just important in battle. The First World War introduced sepoys to entirely new environments, procedures and technologies, all of which British officers were instrumental in interpreting.21 An illuminating example can be found in the war diary of the 27th Punjabis, which describes the difficulty of convincing soldiers to accept inoculations for cholera in Mesopotamia the spring of 1916. According to the diary: On May 9th half the Regiment received its first inoculation against Cholera. The Khattacks except the Indian officers and NCOs refused to be done as they still believed the stories they had heard in Egypt about

18 Corrigan, Sepoys in the Trenches, 12. 19 Charles Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia, (London: 1919), 220. 20 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 106. 21 This argument is developed in Jeffrey Greenhut, “The Imperial Reserve: The Indian Corps on the Western Front, 1914–1915”, 54–73. 400 nikolas gardner

all inoculation rendering men impotent. Even when told in turn that this inoculation was not voluntary but by order they still refused and had to be marched back to camp under arrest. Subedar Major Mir Akbar found out who was at the bottom of this refusal and persuaded them to agree to be inoculated the following day.22 While this case may seem trivial in comparison to some of the challenges faced by the Indian Army in the First World War, it demonstrates the importance of officers who could penetrate the cultural milieu of Indian units and explain concepts and practices that may have been alien to the soldiers. Familiar KCOs with knowledge of the languages spoken by their subordinates were clearly more effective in this role than the inexperienced officers that replaced them. The loss of comrades also affected the morale of Indian soldiers in several ways. The Indian Army was not prepared for the level of casualties it suffered in the initial stages of the First World War. Its prewar recruitment practices left the class companies and the regiments reliant on reinforcements from specific communities which were not large enough to replace casualties over an extended period. Communities that did not contain preferred classes remained untapped regardless of the enthusiasm of their inhabitants for military service. Thus, the army’s pool of willing and able reinforcements was quickly depleted. By the spring of 1915, the situation had become sufficiently dire that the army was recalling reservists with 18–25 years of previous service. Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon of the 27th Punjabis described the reservists he encountered while serving in the Indian Corps in France. According to Vernon: The Reservists were the most disappointing. Many too old, many consistently half starved since their last training two years before. I was surprised at the number with very bad teeth. There were some Sikhs who were perfectly useless unless they had doped themselves with opium.23 The fact that these men were often in poor health undermined the fighting efficiency of Indian units. Moreover, many had little enthusiasm for an extended deployment overseas.24 Their demeanor likely did little to lift the spirits of the soldiers in the units they joined. The

22 War Record of the 27th Punjabis, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744, IOR. 23 H.S. Vernon, “Lecture: Indian Reservists in France”, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744, IOR. 24 Omissi (ed.), Indian Voices, 10. morale of the indian army 401 summer and autumn of 1915 saw the arrival of new recruits, many of whom had enlisted since the outbreak of the war. These soldiers, however, had little military experience. According to A.J. Barker: “The best drafts—those of trained soldiers—were sent to units serving in France, and Mesopotamia had to be content with recruits who had no more than eight months service.”25 In addition to being of uneven quality, reinforcements progressively undermined the cultural homogeneity of Indian units as the Mesopotamia campaign progressed. This was particularly true of drafts sent from battalions in India to reinforce units overseas. As Edwin Latter has observed: Recruiting was too localized, and specialized, to permit the replacement of wastage without changing the social, and even ethnic, make up of company level units. Drafts, even from battalions of the same martial race, might not speak the same tongue or eat the same food.’26 Sir Walter Lawrence explained the impact of repeated reinforcement on the esprit de corps of Indian units. He maintained: The Sepoys have been accustomed to look upon their regiment as a family: they have lost the officers whom they knew, and the regiment, which formerly was made up of well-defined and exclusive castes and tribes, is now composed of miscellaneous and dissimilar elements. . . . This is no longer a regiment. It has no cohesion.27 In addition to diluting the esprit de corps of Indian units, the arrival of reinforcement drafts created tensions among soldiers vying for promotion. Under normal circumstances, sepoys gained promotion on the basis of seniority. Thus, it was not uncommon for a soldier to serve for decades before being even reaching the rank of naik, roughly equivalent to a corporal in the British Army.28 War brought the opportunity for relatively rapid advancement as VCO casualties frequently created vacancies to be filled in Indian units. Soldiers from these units naturally expected first consideration for these positions, but so too did members of reinforcement drafts, who were often older men, handpicked by the commander their own regiment on the basis

25 A.J. Barker, The Neglected War: Mesopotamia, 1914–1918 (London: 1967), 122. 26 Edwin Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part II,Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. LXXII (1994), 168. 27 Lawrence to Kitchener, 15 June 1915, MSS EUR 143/65, IOR. 28 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 156. 402 nikolas gardner of their courage and competence. The war diary of the 27th Punjabis describes the resulting dilemma: A Regiment suffers heavy casualties in action. The class which has the heaviest losses not unnaturally regards this as one of those opportunities for quick advancement in war time which is held out as an inducement to the soldier. A draft of the same class arrives from another Unit as reinforcement. This draft has been induced to volunteer, partly by hopes of rapid promotion. Because it has come from a Regiment which is not on service and therefore has not suffered casualties it probably contains a number of senior men—the Commanding Officer of the battalion from which it comes is likely to have tried to pick the best men possible and will have written saying so. The Commanding Officer of the reinforced regiment knows nothing of the new arrivals, wants to do the best he can for the men who have been in the thick of heavy fighting, wants to promote men who have actual experience of the conditions of the campaign, [and] wants to be fair to the new arrivals.29 Perhaps not surprisingly, commanders appear to have favoured soldiers of their own units over the members of reinforcement drafts, often despite the seniority or other attributes of the reinforcements. This frustrated soldiers who had volunteered for service overseas in the hope of gaining an accelerated promotion but found themselves overlooked in both their original units and those that they joined. As one sepoy complained in a letter to a newspaper for Indian soldiers serving in Europe: . . . the rank and file of these drafts do not get promotion either in the regiment into which they are incorporated or in their own regiment, whilst their juniors are given promotion and thus become their seniors.30 In addition to this range of hardships and disappointments, news from India also increased soldiers’ desire to return home. As 1915 progressed, reports of drought, disease, and price inflation increased their concern for the welfare of their families. They also worried about the prospect of their children entering into unsuitable marriages, or the failure of their own marriages in their absence.31 Walter Lawrence explained the anxieties of Indian soldiers in a letter to Lord Kitchener

29 War Record of the 27th Punjabis, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744, IOR. 30 Jaqual Singh to Akhbar-I-Jang, 10 August 1015, MSS EUR F143/75, IOR. See also Jehan Khan to Gholem Mohamed Khan, 23 February 1916, MSS EUR F143/91, IOR. 31 Jack, “The Indian Army on the Western Front”, 359; Omissi, Indian Voices of the Great War, 17. morale of the indian army 403 in June 1915: “Their enemies in the village are trying to seize their land; they have trouble about their debts; and they are anxious to look after marriages and other domestic details which form an important part in the life of an Indian.”32 ‘Trans-frontier’ Pathans, whose homes lay beyond the control of British colonial authorities, had particular reason for concern. As Edwin Latter explains: “The security of their wives, children, cattle and land depended on their occasional appearance in their village. Their interests could not be protected by the magistrates and police of the Raj.”33 Such domestic concerns appear to have fueled religious objections to the war, particularly among Indians serving in Mesopotamia. Many Indian Muslims had reservations about fighting the Ottomans, who were not only fellow Muslims, but served the Ottoman Sultan, recognized by Sunnis as the Khalifa. Furthermore, Shia Muslims expressed concern about fighting near holy cities and sites in Mesopotamia, such as Karbala and Salman Pak.34 The Ottomans attempted to capitalize on Muslim ambivalence by portraying the war against Britain as a jihad. The British countered by emphasizing that the Ottomans had initiated hostilities against the King-Emperor. Moreover, they pledged not to attack Islamic holy cities and shrines in the Middle East, and secured statements of support from Indian Muslim leaders such as the Nizam of Hyderabad.35 These efforts were apparently sufficient to dispel the concerns of most Muslim soldiers. Members of Pathan tribes from the North-West Frontier, however, voiced strong objections to the war on religious grounds. Abstentions and desertions among Pathans in the initial stages of the campaign exceeded those among all other martial classes.36 In early 1915, 2 Pathan units refused even to embark for service in Mesopotamia, with members of one unit opening fire on their officers.37

32 Lawrence to Kitchener, 15 June 1915, MSS EUR 143/65, IOR. 33 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part II, 167. 34 Omissi (ed.), Indian Voices, 14–5; Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 121, 140; Arnold Wilson, Loyalties: Mesopotamia, 1914–1917: A Personal and Historical Record (London: 1930), p. 84 n.2. 35 Report of the Sedition Committee, 1918, Papers of 1st Viscount Chelmsford, MSS EUR E264/43, IOR. 36 Telegram from Viceroy, 3 February 1915, Edmund Barrow Papers, MSS EUR E420/10, IOR. 37 Omissi (ed.), Indian Voices, 14–5. 404 nikolas gardner

The intransigence of Pathans in comparison to other Muslim soldiers stemmed from a combination of factors. First, they were apparently influenced to a greater extent than other Indian Muslims by anti-Western variants of Islam emanating from Afghanistan. Of particular concern to colonial authorities was a Wahabi community in Afghanistan, which for decades had preached jihad against the British. While these arguments clearly had little resonance with Pathan sepoys, it would not be surprising if the circulation of such sentiments in relatively close proximity their home communities diminished their enthusiasm for a war against a Muslim power.38 Second, while the majority of Pathans initially proved willing to fight the Ottomans, the length of the campaign left them increasingly anxious about the security of their interests at home. At the same time, they could not abandon their military commitment without losing izzat. In this context, Edwin Latter has argued that an appeal to Islam ‘offered the one decent retreat from an intolerable situation’, as it justified refusal to serve without a loss of face.39 Finally, the fact that their homes lay beyond the control of British authorities meant that Pathans could consider desertion without the same fear of punishment that probably deterred other Muslim soldiers.40 All of these factors combined to place increasing strain on the morale of Indian soldiers during the first year of the campaign in Mesopotamia. The Pathans proved particularly vulnerable. As Omissi has observed: “From early 1915, letters written by Pathan sepoys show that they were willing to consider absconding.”41 By March, Major- General Arthur Barrett, the original commander of 6th Indian Division in Mesopotamia, had twice requested the replacement of 4 companies of Pathans which he did not trust. The authorities in India refused on the grounds that they could not depend on Muslim troops to fight on the North-West Frontier either, and therefore could not spare any non-Muslim units for service overseas.42 Thus, as the campaign intensified in the spring of 1915, IEFD retained several units that displayed little enthusiasm for active operations against the enemy. Casualties

38 Report of the Sedition Committee, 1918, Papers of 1st Viscount Chelmsford, MSS EUR E264/43, IOR. 39 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part II, 167. 40 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 121. 41 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 120. 42 Telegram from Viceroy, dated 11 March 1915, Telegram from Viceroy, dated 3 March 1915, Edmund Barrow Papers, MSS EUR E420/10, IOR. morale of the indian army 405 sustained in the spring and summer further undermined morale and unit cohesion, as soldiers lost familiar leaders and comrades, who were replaced by inexperienced reservists. In addition, the harsh climate of Mesopotamia, combined with the dearth of rations, medical care and other necessities, discouraged many soldiers, particularly those familiar with the relative abundance of amenities enjoyed by Indians in France. As one cavalryman complained in a letter to a friend in Europe: The country in which we are encamped is an extremely bad place. There are continual storms and the cold is very great, and in the wet season it is intensely hot. . . . If I had only gone to France, I could have been with you and seen men of all kinds. We have all got to die someday, but at any rate we would have had a good time there.43 Disciplinary problems intensified in the autumn as the 6th Indian Division, now under Townshend, advanced up the Tigris in an attempt to capture Baghdad. After the Battle of Kut-al-Amara in late September, W.S. Delamain, one of Townshend’s brigade commanders, reported that some of his Indian units were ‘without spirit’, and that he doubted their ability to assault prepared defensive positions. Reinforcements arrived in October, but these did little to raise the morale or effectiveness of the division’s Indian units. According to Townshend: “I have never seen such a wretched class of recruits in the whole of my Indian experience. . . .”44 Religious grievances intensified as the division advanced towards Salman Pak, Baghdad and other Islamic holy sites. On 23 October, 2 Pathan soldiers shot 2 sentries and deserted to the enemy. Faced with a growing desertion rate, Townshend decided to send an entire battalion composed largely of Pathans back to Basra.45 Townshend attributed his failure to defeat the enemy at Ctesiphon in late November partly to the lack of discipline in Indian units. During the crucial first day of the battle he observed, “. . . hundreds of Indian soldiers streaming to the rear, because there were not enough white officers to keep them steady and in hand.”46 Given the high casualty levels among British officers in Indian units, the lack of capable

43 Sowar Jivan Mal, 28th Cavalry, Persian Gulf, to Lance-Dufadar Ganda Singh, 28th Cavalry (attached 2nd Lancers) France, 17 November 1915, MSS EUR F143/88, IOR. 44 Charles Townshend, My Campaign (New York: 1930), 226. 45 Townshend, My Campaign, 226; AG’s War Diary, 6th Indian Division, 23 Octo- ber 1915, WO 95/5113, PRO, TNA, Kew, London. 46 Townshend, My Campaign, 287. 406 nikolas gardner replacements, and the numerous other hardships facing sepoys in Mesopotamia, it would not be surprising if some proved shaky during the largest battle that most had ever experienced. In reality, however, the outcome of the Battle of Ctesiphon resulted more from intelligence failures and Townshend’s own conduct of operations than from shortcomings on the part of Indian units involved in the battle. The majority of Indian soldiers performed well at Ctesiphon, maintaining their cohesion under fire and repelling fierce enemy counter-attacks. On the fourth day of the battle they initiated a 90 mile retreat, during which they inflicted significant casualties on the pursuing Ottomans and maintained control over 1,500 prisoners. Clearly, while the opening year of the campaign tested Indian morale in numerous ways, driving some to desertion, the majority of sepoys in Mesopotamia continued to deem the sacrifices required of them as proportional to the rewards that they received.

Siege of Kut-Al-Amara and the Crisis of Morale: December 1915–April 1916

The retirement from Ctesiphon ended on 3 December 1915, when the 6th Indian Division returned to Kut-al-Amara. Here Townshend decided to halt, prepare defensive positions, and await relief. While most Indian soldiers remained resolute in their commitment to the King-Emperor through the autumn of 1915, they faced unprecedented hardships during the siege of Kut-al-Amara. This was true not only of those trapped inside of Kut, but also those sent to break the siege. The force sent to relieve Townshend comprised 3rd (Lahore) and 7th (Meerut) Indian divisions, both of which had fought on the Western Front since the autumn of 1914. The British military commanders withdrew these 2 divisions from France in late 1915 at least in part because of concerns for the morale of their Indian troops. According to the British war correspondent Edmund Candler: The original plan had been that the Lahore and Meerut Divisions were to reorganise in Egypt. But Townshend’s investment at Kut had altered the whole situation. Reinforcements were to be pushed through without delay, though we knew nothing about this.47

47 Edmund Candler, The Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1 (New York: 1919), 28. morale of the indian army 407

The unexpected reassignment to Mesopotamia came as an unpleasant surprise to the sepoys, at least some of whom believed that they were returning to India.48 The conditions they faced upon their arrival compounded their disaffection. The perceived necessity of relieving the Kut garrison as quickly as possible meant that the 2 divisions began advancing up the Tigris before their full complement of staff officers, artillery, transport and ambulances arrived at Basra.49 The relief force also lacked sufficient medical personnel and supplies. Moreover, the inadequacy of the logistical system in Mesopotamia forced soldiers to survive on reduced rations for months after their arrival.50 To make matters worse, sepoys serving in Mesopotamia received less pay than they had received in France. Not surprisingly, Indian soldiers disliked the new theater of operations. Some objected to fighting a Muslim enemy in the vicinity of Islamic holy sites. In February 1915 an entire regiment, the 15th Lancers, refused to leave Basra on these grounds.51 While this was an isolated incident, and most Indian soldiers apparently viewed the behavior of the 15th Lancers as disloyal. The Pathans who advanced up the Tigris with the relief force were also reluctant to fight the Ottomans. Consequently, in late February, all trans-border Pathans were removed from the force and sent back downriver.52 The soldiers’ letters indicate that even those without religious qualms about the campaign found that the conditions they encountered in Mesopotamia compared unfa- vourably with their service in Europe. One observed that the fighting in Mesopotamia was “much more severe than against the Germans”, perhaps because the hastily deployed relief force fought without the elaborate defensive fortifications and the artillery support that Indian units had in France.53 Others commented on the Spartan conditions they faced in the new theater. As one Sikh wrote to a comrade still in Europe: “In France there was no lack of anything. It has remained for

48 F.J. Moberley, The Campaign inMesopotamia, vol. 2 (London: 1924), 204. 49 Candler, The Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 28; War Record of the 27th Punjabis, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744, IOR. 50 Moberley, The Campaign in Mesopotamia, 406–7. 51 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 140. 52 War Record of the 27th Punjabis, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744, IOR. 53 From ____, Force ‘D’, Mesopotamia, to ____, France, 5 February 1916, MSS EUR F143/92, IOR. Letters are included in a published censor’s report and do not include soldiers’ names. 408 nikolas gardner us to encounter the greatest of difficulties in this place. There is no sign of milk or sugar, and for drink we have nothing but water of the Dijah (Euphrates).”54 Another lamented: We are marching every day, and have the greatest difficulty about water. There are no trees to be seen anywhere. The misery we are enduring here is as great as the comfort we enjoyed in France.55 The vast majority of Indians in the relief force did not go to the lengths of the 15th Lancers. Nonetheless, the stark contrast between the support they received in Europe and Mesopotamia diminished soldiers’ confidence in their leaders. As Candler has observed: “The Indians did not understand the change of conditions after France. There everything was done; here, it seemed, nothing. It was as if the Sirkar had forgotten them.”56 Whether due to misgivings on religious grounds or the perceived failings of the command structure, Indian soldiers displayed limited enthusiasm for operations in Mesopotamia. Fenton Aylmer, who commanded relief operations until March 1916, complained to his superior that the Indian soldiers in his force were dis- inclined to attack. They also appear to have been prone to retiring in the midst of battle. The Indian units received orders in March specifically instructing soldiers “. . . not to leave the firing line either to attend the wounded or assist them back to first aid posts.” This may also be the reason that Aylmer posted British NCOs and other ranks alongside Indian soldiers.57 In addition, Indians were apparently more inclined to surrender to the enemy than their British counterparts. The Ottomans captured over 700 Indian soldiers and only 81 British soldiers during the efforts to relieve Kut.58 Admittedly, this number represents only a small proportion of the Indians serving in the relief force. Moreover, incidents of mutiny, desertion and self-inflicted wounds remained isolated. Nonetheless, there is evidence to suggest that for several reasons Indians in the 3rd and the 7th divisions perceived the conditions of service in Mesopotamia to be appreciably worse than those they had

54 From ____, Force ‘D’, Mesopotamia, to ____, France, 7 February 1916, MSS EUR F143/92, IOR. 55 From ____, Mesopotamia, to Sowar ____, France, 11 March 1916, MSS EUR F143/92, IOR. 56 Candler, The Long Road to Baghdad, vol. 1, 97. 57 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part II, 161; War Record of the 27th Punjabis, 1916, Lieutenant-Colonel H.S. Vernon Papers, MSS EUR D744. 58 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part II, 162. morale of the indian army 409 endured in France. While few responded by deliberately opting out of service, a larger proportion appear to have chosen to limit the sacrifices they were willing to make under these conditions. The Indians trapped inside Kut faced even bleaker conditions. The strength of the Kut garrison totalled approximately 300 British officers, 2,850 British other ranks, 8,250 sepoys, including Indian officers, and 3,500 Indian camp followers such as cooks, servants and drivers. Also ensconced in the town were about 6,000 Arab civilians.59 Townshend’s garrison was not in optimal condition. Particularly significant was the lack of officers in the 6th Indian Division. As noted above, by the fall of 1915 the cadre of British officers in its Indian units had been reduced to only 7. Losses sustained at Ctesiphon exacerbated this shortage. Of the 317 British officers in the division prior to the battle, 130 were killed or wounded. Of 235 Indian officers, 124 became casualties. In several Indian battalions the shortage of British officers reached critical levels. According to Arnold T. Wilson, a British political officer in Mesopotamia during the war: “The 110th Mahrattas had 1 officer, the 104th Rifles 2; the 66th Punjabis, 117th Mahrattas and the 2/7th Gurkhas 4 each.”60 The fact that many of the remaining British officers and Indian soldiers lacked experience and even adequate training compounded the disciplinary problems created by such losses. Once the siege began, the conditions faced by Townshend’s force tested the resolve of British and Indian soldiers alike. Upon their arrival at Kut, the exhausted soldiers of the 6th Indian Division immediately began constructing defences. For the first two weeks of the siege, the soldiers worked until as late as 4 am preparing trenches. Although most of the work took place in darkness, enemy fire still inflicted 10 to 20 casualties each day. Ottoman pressure intensified on 12 December and around Christmas, when the enemy launched heavy infantry attacks on Kut.61 Townshend’s force repelled these attacks, but at the cost of additional casualties. Despite these difficulties, late December 1915 saw the besieged soldiers in continued good spirits, as they expected Fenton Aylmer’s 12th Indian Division to relieve

59 Extracts from Diary kept during the Siege of Kut-el-Amara, W.C. Spackman Papers, University of Leeds, Brotherton Library, Liddle Collection, MES 100; Captain W.A. Phillips Papers, CAB 45/93, PRO, TNA. 60 Wilson, Loyalties: Mesopotamia, 1914–1917, 86. 61 E.W.C. Sandes, In Kut and Captivity with the Sixth Indian Division (London: 1919), 153. 410 nikolas gardner them by mid January. Early in the new year, however, deteriorating weather began to sap the morale of the garrison. The soldiers endured nights with below freezing temperatures clad only in their summer uniforms, which led to an increase in sickness. In addition, heavy rain fell throughout January, adding to the discomfort of the troops and making newly constructed trenches uninhabitable. The rain also inun- dated the countryside south of Kut-al-Amara, delaying the relief force. Thus, by the end of January, the expected date of Aylmer’s arrival at Kut had been postponed repeatedly.62 While these conditions tried the patience of the entire garrison, by late January sepoys faced additional problems. Since the beginning of the siege, the Ottomans had subjected the force at Kut to an unwavering propaganda campaign designed to encourage desertion. The enemy bombarded the garrison with leaflets printed in various Indian languages calling on sepoys to murder their British officers and join the Turks.63 The British officers contended that these efforts had little effect. The appeal of enemy admonitions probably increased in January, however, as a growing food shortage compounded the difficulties of Indian soldiers. As vegetables became increasingly scarce inside Kut, British and Indian soldiers alike were deprived of essential nutrients. Furthermore, by the end of the month, the garrison’s fresh and tinned meat supplies were almost exhausted and Townshend’s force had begun to consume its pack animals. While British soldiers readily incorporated horse and mule into their diet, the vast majority of sepoys refused to eat either animal, leaving them without an adequate source of protein.64 The British officers recognized the potential consequences of sepoys’ aversion to horse and mule, but they interpreted it as an expression of Indian religious beliefs. Since the mutiny of 1857, the British had been sensitive to Indian religious grievances because of the belief that similar issues had sparked the uprising. Therefore, rather than simply ordering Indian soldiers to consume the meat, Charles Townshend took a more cautious approach. In early February,

62 A.J. Anderson Papers, MES 003, Liddle Collection, Brotherton Library, Univer- sity of Leeds; Extracts from Private Diary of Captain A.J. Shakeshaft, C Company 2/Norfolk Regiment, 17th (Ahmednagar) Indian Infantry Brigade, 6th Indian Divi- sion, CAB 45/92, TNA; Private Diary of Colonel E.G. Dunn, DSO, CAB 45/94, TNA; Sandes, In Kut and Captivity, 166–78. 63 Townshend to GOC, IEFD, 10 March 1916, WO 106/907, PRO, TNA. 64 Sandes, In Kut and Captivity, 178, 187; Captain W.A. Phillips Papers, CAB 45/93, TNA. morale of the indian army 411 he requested statements from Indian religious leaders sanctioning the consumption of horseflesh during the siege. When the statements arrived, British officers then posted copies around Kut in the hope of swaying the Indians.65 These proclamations, however, had little impact. For the Indians, the consumption of horsemeat was problematic not just because they believed it violated religious orthodoxy, but also because it differed from practices in their own communities.66 By 1916, the original ranks of many Indian battalions had been depleted by casualties and diluted by reinforcements, but many men from the same community or region still served together in the same unit. Sepoys were therefore concerned that if they broke dietary taboos at the front without the complicity of their comrades, news of their conduct would reach their home communities and they would be ostracized upon their return. Thus, the blessing of religious leaders remote to the daily lives of most Indian soldiers did little to quell their fears. The lone battalion of Gurkhas in Townshend’s force took to horsemeat fairly readily. The vast majority of sepoys, however, continued to abstain. By February 1916, the health of Indian forces inside Kut had deteriorated significantly. The disappearance of regular rations and their refusal to eat horse or mule forced Indians to subsist almost entirely on flour and unprocessed grain. This inadequate diet left them increasingly susceptible to scurvy. The sepoys also suffered more acutely than their British counterparts from pneumonia, jaundice and dysentery.67 In addition, as malnutrition set in, the soldiers became increasingly unable to recuperate from wounds. By March, their health had declined

65 Ronald Millar, Kut: The Death of an Army (London: 1969), 190–91; Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia (London: 1919), 273, 278; Townshend to HQ, 8 Febru- ary 1916, Appendix Y, Report from Lieutenant-General P.H.N. Lake on the Defence of Kut-al-Amara under Major-General C.V.F. Townshend, WO 106/907, PRO, TNA. 66 On sepoys’ fear of losing status in their communities, see F.J. Moberley, The Campaign in Mesopotamia, vol. 2 (London: 1924), 443; H.C.W. Bishop, A Kut Pris- oner (London: 1920), 28; Resume of the Siege, Private Diary of Captain W.A. Phillips, I.A.R.O., CAB 45/93, TNA. On religious prohibition of the consumption of horse by Indian Muslims, see W.F.G. Bourne, Hindustani Musulmans and Musulmans of the Eastern Punjab (Calcutta: 1914), 13. 67 Walker Diary, 8–22 February 1916, Major-General Sir Ernest Walker Papers, IWM, London; Anderson Memoir, A.J. Anderson Papers, Liddle Collection; Extracts from Diary Kept during Siege of Kut-el-Amara, W.C. Spackman Papers, Liddle Col- lection; A Diary of the Siege of Kut-al-Amara, W.M.A. Phillips Papers, Liddle Collec- tion; E.O. Mousley, The Secrets of a Kuttite: An Authentic Story of Kut, Adventures in Captivity and Stamboul Intrigue (London: 1921); Sandes, In Kut and Captivity, 193. 412 nikolas gardner considerably, with approximately 12 soldiers succumbing to disease each day. According to E.W.C. Sandes, a British officer at Kut: “ . . . the hospitals were full of previously able-bodied soldiers, now mere bags of skin and bone with all their former energy gone.”68 Moreover, disaffection was becoming increasingly evident among certain groups. For example, Townshend removed the 24th Punjabis from the firing line and disarmed the regiment’s double company of Afridi Pathans in March because of suspicions about the loyalty of its members, who had been discouraging other Indians from eating horsemeat.69 As the siege continued, the morale of the Kut garrison rested increasingly on the expectation of imminent relief. The failure of Aylmer’s force to break through Ottoman defences below Kut and the subsequent flooding of the Tigris in the first half of March diminished these expectations significantly. To make matters worse, the continuation of the siege forced Townshend to reduce rations even further. By the end of March, sepoys’ daily allotment consisted of little other than 6 oz of barley flour, which they made into chapattis, and 4 oz of unground barley for roasting. The garrison still had relatively abundant supplies of horse and mule, but the vast majority of Indians still refused to consume it.70 In this context, dissent and despair intensified in Indian units. This is evident in the growing number of soldiers who deserted in this period. Officers attempted to deter soldiers from absconding by shooting any soldiers caught in the act. They also posted notices threatening that deserters would be proclaimed outlaws in their home districts and have their property confiscated.71 Nevertheless, both British and Turkish accounts suggest that the rate of desertion increased in March 1916, particularly in Muslim regiments. A total of 147 Indians successfully deserted during the siege.72 Admittedly, this was a very

68 Sandes, In Kut and Captivity, 195. 69 Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia, 273; Spooner Diary, 30 March 1916, Rev. H. Spooner Papers, IWM; Resume of Siege, Captain W.A. Phillips Papers, PRO, CAB 45/93, TNA. 70 Sandes, In Kut and Captivity, 195; Captain W.A. Phillips Papers, CAB 45/93, TNA; Extracts from Diary kept during Siege of Kut-el-Amara, W.C. Spackman Papers, Liddle Collection. 71 Millar, Kut, 181; Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia, 237; P. Liddle interview with H.H. Rich, June 1973, MES 086, tape 55, Liddle Collection; Spooner Diary, 30 March 1916, Rev. H. Spooner Papers, IWM; Rogers Diary, 6 April 1916, G.N. Rogers Papers, IWM; Resume of the Siege, W.A. Phillips Papers, CAB 45/93, TNA. 72 Muhammad Amin Bey, The Siege of Kut Al Amara, tr. by Lieutenant-Colonel G.O. de R. Channer, CAB 44/34, TNA; Townshend, My Campaign in Mesopotamia, 299; Shakeshaft Diary, 14 March 1916, CAB 45/92, TNA. morale of the indian army 413 small fraction of the total number of Indian soldiers in the garrison. Given the penalties facing both successful and unsuccessful deserters, however, the growing frequency of desertion in this period suggests mounting disaffection, or desperation, among those trapped in Kut. Even more revealing is the incidence of suicide in this period. W.H. Spackman, a medical officer, recalled attending to “a young sepoy who had put the muzzle of his loaded rifle against his stomach and discharged it with his toe.” Others chose less direct means. According to another officer: Although the garrison was being issued with horsemeat, many of the Indian troops refused to eat it. Gen. Townshend obtained permission for them to do so, from their leaders in India, but some of them, rather than break their caste, preferred to commit suicide. To do this, they would walk to the river bank, stand with folded arms, and wait for an enemy sniper to shoot them.73 The situation inside Kut deteriorated even further in April. The deple- tion of food supplies forced Townshend to cut rations dramatically in order to prolong the resistance of the garrison. From 10 April, the daily allotment of flour was reduced to only 5 oz, which was not enough to sustain the Indians if they continued to refuse horsemeat.74 In this context, the commander of the Kut garrison finally attempted to compel the sepoys to eat it. Rather than simply ordering them to do so, however, on 12 April he threatened “to replace all non-meat eaters who become too feeble to do their work efficiently as officers and NCOs by other men who do eat meat and remain strong.”75 Given the very slow rate of promotion in Indian units, the prospect of losing rank was a powerful incentive for VCOs and NCOs to abandon their reservations regarding the consumption of horsemeat. In the process, they set an example for the rank and file, the majority of whom proved willing to supplement their meagre rations with horse once the taboo had been broken by their superiors, who were often respected senior members of their home communities. By 14 April, Sikhs, Muslims

73 H.J. Coombes, “The Baton”, H.J. Coombes Papers, MES 025, Liddle Collection. “March and April in Kut”, W.C. Spackman Papers, MES 100, Liddle Collection. 74 Shakeshaft Diary, 10 April 1916, CAB 45/92, TNA; Private Diary of Captain W.A. Phillips, CAB 45/93, TNA. 75 Communique to Indian Troops, 12 April 1916, CAB 45/92, TNA. Emphasis in original. 414 nikolas gardner and Hindus had abandoned their earlier objections, and nearly 10,000 Indians were eating meat.76 Given the harmful impact of the Indians’ aversion to horse and mule, and the fact that most eventually incorporated it into their diets, it is puzzling that Townshend did not compel them to do so earlier in the siege. While 2 of Townshend’s brigade commanders, Sir Charles Melliss and W.S. Delamain, favoured ordering the Indians to consume horsemeat, this opinion was not universally held. Indeed, many officers apparently believed that the risks associated with such an order outweighed its potential benefits. According to the official historian of the Mesopotamia campaign: It was a common impression among the British officers of Indian units before the war that, if it was absolutely essential, their men would generally be prepared to accept a definite order that they were to eat what was necessary, and that they would be absolved by their religious authorities of any religious misdemeanor entailed by their action on the justification of emergency. . . . Anyone, however, with experience of the power and influence which caste, religion and tradition exercise in India will understand the difficulties and dangers in issuing such an order, especially if there is any chance of it not being universally obeyed.77 The perceived danger of creating dissent in the ranks evidently deterred Townshend from ordering the Indians to eat horsemeat, despite their deteriorating condition. Nor did officers in the vast majority of Indian units independently direct their troops to augment their rations with horse.78 On the whole, British officers proved reluctant to force the matter, even after they had gone to the trouble of obtaining the blessing of Indian religious leaders. Townshend and his subordinates may have underestimated the Indians’ willingness to break dietary taboos if compelled to do so, but their wariness is understandable. Given that some sepoys disapproved of the entire Mesopotamian campaign on religious grounds, British officers were undoubtedly reluctant to exert excessive pressure on the Indians over another issue perceived to be of religious significance. This cautious approach was consistent with

76 Shakeshaft Diary, 13 April 1916, CAB 45/92, TNA; Lock Memoir, A.C. Lock Papers, IWM; Diary of the Siege of Kut-el-Amarah, Bell-Syer Papers, MES 008, Liddle Collection; Phillips Diary, 12–13 April 1916, W.A. Phillips Papers, CAB 45/93, TNA. 77 Moberley, Campaign in Mesopotamia, vol. 2, 443; Wilson, Loyalties, 95. 78 B. Farwell, Armies of the Raj: From the Great Indian Mutiny to Independence, 1858–1947 (London: 1989), 260. Only in two battalions, the 2/7th Gurkhas and the 103rd Indian Infantry, was the consumption of horsemeat made compulsory. morale of the indian army 415 the post-1857 British policy of respecting Indian religious beliefs and practices.79 The British officers perceived this element of their relationship with their Indian subordinates to be of such importance that they proved exceedingly reluctant to alter it even in the most dire of circumstances.

Recovery of Morale: 1916–1918

Townshend’s surrender at Kut marked the nadir of the British campaign in Mesopotamia. After reorganizing for 8 months, the renamed Mesopotamia Expeditionary Force, now under Stanley Maude, resumed operations against the Ottomans in December 1916. In February 1917 Maude retook Kut and in March he captured Baghdad. Afterwards he continued pursuing the enemy northwards, winning a string of victories before Turkey bowed out of the war on 1 October 1918. In contrast to the first 2 years of the campaign, Indian morale in 1917 and 1918 appears to have been relatively robust. According to Edwin Latter, the hesitancy of Indian soldiers during active operations in 1915 and early 1916 was replaced by an ‘eagerness to attack.’ Although he had a wholly British division at his disposal, Maude relied on Indian units to spearhead his offensive in December 1916.80 The improvement of Indian morale stemmed from a combination of factors. First, after Townshend’s surrender, the Expeditionary Force enjoyed an 8 month respite from active operations. This period saw dramatic improvements to its logistical system. The expansion of port facilities at Basra, the availability of more river transport and the construction of rail lines and roads placed more troops, ammunition and supplies at the disposal of senior commanders.81 The Indian soldiers advancing on Baghdad in early 1917 still had to survive on reduced rations, but in comparison to their predecessors a year earlier, they could expect better medical care and relatively prompt evacuation if they were wounded.82 They also benefited from new leadership more

79 Kaushik Roy, “Coercion Through Leniency: British Manipulation of the Courts- Martial System in the Post-Mutiny Indian Army, 1859–1913”, Journal of Military His- tory, vol. LXV (2001), 937–64. 80 Edwin Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918, Part III”,Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, vol. LXXII (1994), 235–6. 81 Roy, “From Defeat to Victory”, 46–50; Wilson, Loyalties, 192–7. 82 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part I, 95. 416 nikolas gardner attuned to the character of the First World War. According to one British officer, after Kut, . . . [t]he Army was reorganized with furious speed and all dead wood was sorted out and returned to store. Amongst the casualties was one of our Majors of more than 20 years service who was found incapable of reading a Compass accurately on all occasions.83 Capable leaders introduced tactical reforms. In particular, Maude brought with him a variety of lessons from the Western Front, including the importance of careful preparation for attacks, concealment and counter-battery fire. He also emphasized limited objectives in battle. This approach, combined with more competent leadership at all levels, produced a series of victories that helped to sustain morale. In addition to preparing the Mesopotamia Expeditionary Force more effectively for the realities of modern war, however, military and political authorities made efforts to restore the unique characteristics of Indian units, and the rewards for service in the Indian Army that had developed since the mid nineteenth century. Thus, Indian units that suffered heavy casualties were subsequently excused from active operations until they were reconstituted. In addition, Maude attempted to restore the frayed connection between sepoys and the command structure by learning Urdu himself and by visiting soldiers at the front and in hospital. The British officers wounded in Europe were sent to India to learn Indian languages and become acquainted with Indian soldiers before being posted to Indian units. To prevent the decimation of the officer cadres of Indian units and the resulting vacuum of familiar leadership, a proportion of KCOs and VCOs did not participate in attacks.84 Just as importantly, British authorities in India improved incentives for military service and addressed the concerns of soldiers regarding their domestic affairs. Incentives included larger enlistment bonuses and grants of land. The British also convened committees comprising local leaders who settled legal disputes and resolved family issues such as marriage arrangements on behalf of soldiers serving overseas. Thus, soldiers “were assured that,

83 Sir Cyril Hancock to Lieutenant Colonel P.M.W. Doyle, February 1981, Hancock Papers, MSS EUR F226/12, IOR. 84 Latter, “The Indian Army in Mesopotamia, 1914–1918”, Part III, 237–8. morale of the indian army 417 in their absence, their interests would be well taken care of by men of acknowledged position and influence in the neighbourhood.”85

Conclusion

Indian soldiers entered the Mesopotamia campaign expecting well defined rewards, benefits and levels of support in return for their military service. During the first 2 years of the campaign, however, the Indian Army proved increasingly unable to uphold its implicit commitments to the Indians. The sepoys’ morale suffered in light of inadequate rations, medical care and leadership in a conflict against an enemy with whom many sympathized. Growing domestic concerns compounded their discontent. Under these circumstances, a growing number of Indian soldiers began to reconsider their commitment to service. For many, discontent turned to despair during the siege of Kut-al-Amara. Soldiers in the relief force showed little enthusiasm for battle. Inside Kut, soldiers resorted to desertion and even suicide to escape service. While some British officers were critical of the Indians, it is difficult to fault them for expecting the Army to provide the same benefits and support that they had long been accustomed to receiving. In many ways the implicit contract between Indian soldiers and the British command structure proved ill suited to the demands of industrial warfare. Faced with mass casualties, the Indian Army could not train officers with highly specialized language skills and the requisite cultural knowledge sufficiently quickly. Nor could it maintain the homogeneity of units composed of specific castes and ethnic groups. In addition, the logistical system struggled to cater to the diverse needs of these groups. Ultimately, Indian morale recovered not because British political and military leaders modified the terms of this contract to reflect the demands of modern war, but because they redoubled their efforts to maintain the existing contract. This helped Maude achieve victory in 1918. In the long run, however, it would not be sustainable.

85 Tai-Yong, “An Imperial Home Front”, 395.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ARMY, ETHNICITY AND SOCIETY IN BRITISH INDIA1

Tarak Barkawi

“The Sikhs have many religious customs; we see that they keep them whether they like it or not.” A British wartime officer on the training of Sikh troops2 Colonial armies occupy a paradoxical political position, as both guar- antors of and threats to imperial rule. “There is no doubt that whatever danger may threaten us in India,” remarked the nineteenth century soldier and administrator Henry Lawrence, “the greatest is from our own troops.”3 Considerations of imperial control play a significant role in the military organization of colonial society. Questions of loyalty directly confront officers and administrators, and are often addressed with some forthrightness. A classic imperial response, as for many states, is to recruit soldiery from minority populations, establishing bonds of sentiment and interest with specific communities which then can be relied upon to suppress others. “TheRaj could only coerce one section of the Indian population because it had won the active support of another.”4 But this was not as simple as it seemed, as Lawrence knew. Imperial power risked dependence on the chosen minority, to whose demands it would be hostage. Were recruitment expanded to some delimited set of groups, a further danger loomed: military service would bind together soldiers from different communities, creating an armed ‘bloc’ out of what had been but mutually suspicious groups in ‘native’ society.

1 This chapter draws in places on material first published in Tarak Barkawi, “Peo- ples, Homelands and Wars? Ethnicity, the Military and Battle among British Imperial Forces in the War against Japan”, Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 46 (2004), 134–63. 2 Quoted in Hannah Cohen, Let Stephen Speak (London: 1943), 116–7. 3 Henry Lawrence, Essays on the Indian Army and Oude (Serampore: 1859), 25. 4 David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (London: 1994), 236. 420 tarak barkawi

Lawrence, who died of wounds during the Siege of Lucknow in 1857, was a clear-sighted thinker in matters of army, society and imperial power, which for participants too easily become caught up in the racial and ideological context of empire. The British understanding of their situation in India, and of the Indian populations they governed, was burdened by their evolving sense of superiority and corresponding account of Indians as backward, as the culturally and racially determined products of primitive conditions and states of mind. The contemporary shorthand for these knowledges of self and other, colonizer and colonized, is ‘Orientalism’, or more specifically ‘colonial discourse’: the institutionally authorized and historically changing knowledges through which colonial governance was conducted, and which informed the exercise of imperial power more generally.5 Ethnicity in the British led Indian army cannot be conceived separate from imperial power politics, on the one hand, and the Orientalist discourses that informed military recruitment and organization on the other. After Britain formally took over the East India Company’s sovereign responsibilities and reorganized the army in the wake of the 1857 Uprising, Indian society was increasingly conceived in ethnographic and communal terms, as inherently divided by caste, region and religion. The root meaning of communalism as a colonial discourse, as Gyanendra Pandey argues, is religious bigotry of a fundamentally irrational character.6 In official terms, the mutiny and rebellion were conceived as having resulted from Western interference in indigenous belief, from missionary efforts to convert Indians, and more generally from a lack of understanding of Indian custom and religion and from too much ‘modernization’ too quickly for a non-Western people. This way of understanding the events of 1857, as well as of later anti- colonial unrest, deprived them of political and economic meaning and placed them under the sign of ‘culture’, of the unreasonable reactions of ‘natives’ to a well-intended civilizing mission. It meant also that effective colonial rule was conceived as requiring adequate ethnographic knowledge of indigenous culture. Consequently, the latter half

5 See e.g. Bernard Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge (Princeton: 1996); Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: 1979); Culture and Imperialism (New York: 1993). Cf. Chris Bayly, Empire and Information: Intelligence Gathering and Social Communication in India, 1780–1870 (Cambridge: 1996). 6 G. Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India (New Delhi: 1990), 10. army, ethnicity and society 421 of the nineteenth century was the heyday of colonial anthropology in India, as British officials and scholars sought such knowledge through a variety of means and methods. The results of their studies informed the operation of government and economy by creating official under- standings of caste, religion and identity and upon which policies were based.7 By the late nineteenth century, the army was organized along communal lines in accordance with the theory of the ‘martial races’ and the elaborate body of knowledge produced under its auspices.8 Official versions of Indian communal identities framed the recruitment and discipline of Indian soldiers. Along with other dimensions of colonial governance and economy, these official identities began to interact with and shape the communities from which soldiers were recruited. Thus, communalism was a central facet of life in the Indian Army, but it was a communalism produced through colonial power/knowledge and its interaction with Indian society, not communalism as a set of truths about how Indian society and Indians really were, as ‘endemic, inborn’ qualities of Indians.9 Mediated by imperial power politics and colonial discourse, ethnicity was used to draw boundaries around groups of soldiers and the communities from which they were recruited, and in organizational processes of discipline and subjectification.10 Ethnicity is approached here as a field of relations, not an inherent or fixed characteristic of a given group of people, one potent with possibilities for group formation whether in civil society or the army. Imperial power shaped this field, but so too did Indian soldiers, who often turned it to their own purposes. Ethnicity had military uses as a convenient store of cultural resources and rituals for unit identity and cohesion, but Indians could also use its potential for group formation to organize resistance and negotiate conditions of service. It connected soldiers to communities in civil society and their politics

7 N. Dirks, Castes of Mind (Princeton: 2001). 8 Dirks, Castes of Mind, 177–80; Lieutenant-General Sir George MacMunn, The Martial Races of India (London: n.d. [1933]); Philip Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army, Its Officers and Men (London: 1974), Ch. 14; Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, Ch. 1. For an example of a handbook, see R.M. Betham, Handbooks for the Indian Army: Marathas and Dekhani Musalmans (Calcutta: 1908). 9 Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India, 10. 10 Fredrik Barth (ed.), Ethnic Groups and Boundaries (London: 1969); Richard Fox, Lions of the Punjab: Culture in the Making (Berkeley: 1985), Ch. 8; Joseph Massad, Colonial Effects(New York: 2001), Ch. 3. 422 tarak barkawi and conflicts. But, military unit identities, and more generally the experience of military life, also offered resources for overcoming ethnic difference. Shared meals, and shared danger, not to mention close living created opportunities and experiences for building group feeling across boundaries, as happened in many Indian Army formations during the war. The first section below develops further the discussion begun above of power, ethnicity and military organization in British imperial context, and of the ‘class’ or communal organization of the post-mutiny Indian Army. The second section turns to the character of ethnic relations in the Indian Army in the Second World War. The pressures of expansion and wartime disruption in personnel policies destabilized and, in the support services, undermined, the principle of a communally organized army. Ethnicity proved more malleable in practice, and appeared so, to many British officers and officials, especially those without prior experience of India. Out of wartime exigencies, new ‘martial races’ appeared. The Martial Race discourse still framed the organization and spirit of the fighting arms, but became stretched in practice, while wartime bonds among combat troops and officers were the real basis of cohesion. The third and final section of the chapter takes up the question of military anthropology. Much of the work done on ‘colonial forms of knowledge’, and from which this chapter’s analysis is derived, has focused on texts produced by colonial officials, scholars and other intellectuals who created the knowledges through which India was governed. Elaborate and sophisticated studies of caste relations, for example, led to the changing classificatory categories used in theRaj ’s censuses.11 A military counterpart to these studies were the recruiting handbooks, compiling information on culture, demographics and geography for officers of each class of troops in the Indian Army. However, in practice, the degree of such knowledge achieved by officers was highly variable, even in respect of the seemingly crucial matter of language. Whatever deficiencies long serving professional officers had in this regard, they were vastly compounded by wartime expansion, which led to the arrival on Indian shores of thousands of British ECOs. These men hardly had time to master the Indian Army’slingua franca, much less the native languages and customs of their particular troops, amid training syllabi crammed with the complex business of

11 Dirks, Castes of Mind, Ch. 10. army, ethnicity and society 423 infantry officering. Yet, they more or less successfully led Indian soldiers in combat far more intense than the frontier operations that were the preserve of the peacetime Indian Army and its professional officer corps. In the wartime governance of soldiers, then, only an elementary mastery of colonial forms of knowledge was necessary for low level officials such as battalion officers. Why and how was this so, and what does it tell us about these forms of knowledge in respect of military practice?

Power, Ethnicity, and Military Organization in British-India

What Henry Lawrence understood, that so many of his fellow officers before and after failed to, was thatethnicity was malleable. He remarked of Indian soldiers that “A cap, a beard, a moustache, a strap, all in their time, have given offence—all on pretence of religion. But by a little management, by leading instead of drawing, almost anything may be done. The man who would not touch leather a few years ago, is now in the words of a fine old subedar, ‘up to his chin in it.’ 12” Lawrence conceived of ethnicity as a realm that could be variably managed because in his lifetime East India Company forces had used different models for the military organization of ethnicity, paradigmatically so in the differing attitudes towards caste of the Bombay and Bengal armies.13 What was at issue was not ethnicity per se, but how it was organized by the military in a given political and social context. All other things being equal, ethnicity in civil society did not pose any particular problem for, or limits to, military organization in and of itself. But how one drew upon cultural resources in civil society for military purposes might well prove consequential, especially in imperial context. Lawrence’s solution was as elegant as it was Roman. When the Imperial Roman Army began to rely heavily on ‘barbarian’ recruits, it encountered similar problems in the control and organization of the legions as did the British in India, and it tried similar organizational expedients to maintain loyalty and fighting spirit.14 One was to organize the cohorts of a legion by ethnic groupings, in which each cohort

12 Lawrence, Essays on the Indian Army and Oude, 206–7. 13 Amiya Barat, The Bengal Native Infantry: Its Organization and Discipline (Cal- cutta: 1962); Patrick Cadell, A History of the Bombay Army (London: 1938). 14 Hans Delbrück, The Barbarian Invasions (Lincoln: 1980), Ch. 8; Pat Southern and Karen Dixon, The Late Roman Army (New Haven: 1996). 424 tarak barkawi would be composed of the fighting men of a different tribe, controlled by an overlay of centurions. In this way, a degree of esprit de corps was retained for soldiers who fought among their ‘own kind’ and under the totems of their own gods, while from the imperial perspective different cohorts each with different native languages and identities were unlikely to combine to mount a challenge. The instrument ofdivide et impera—the army—was itself divided and ruled. As Lawrence emphasized, it was necessary to “oppose class against class and tribe against tribe” within the army.15 In this way, the army did not ‘mix’ various ethnicities of native soldiers together, creating a ‘nation in arms’ in the imperial army, while at the same time it avoided reliance on a single ‘praetorian’ ethnicity. Efforts to explain colonial armies by reference to ‘army’ or ‘society’ alone ignore this complex interplay between imperial rule, indigenous society, and the military organization of ethnicity.16 Ethnicity is both mobilized and transformed in imperial militaries. For Lawrence, the reasons for relying on minority populations had to do with considerations of realpolitik, not racial theories concerning the suitability of certain Indian populations for military service.17 But under the stable and long lived Raj, later officers and officials lacked Lawrence’s experience of different British Indian military systems, while his power-political clarity was lost amid the anthropologization of imperial rule. Theydid perceive ethnic and racial limits to military recruitment and discipline, and these were codified in the Martial Race theory which came to dominate (in principle if not always in practice) Indian Army organization from the latter half of the nineteenth century onwards. Military recruitment was to be limited to those populations appropriately identified as martial. Officership was in part conceived as an exercise in ethnography, in knowing the language, culture and customs of the particular class of troops—Sikhs, Dogras, Pathans, etc.—that an officer commanded. The problem is that martial races do not exist in and of themselves, out there in Indian society, as if Victorian racial theories were adequate accounts of real social groups. They are elements of British and Indian imagination, memory and identity. The codified, official

15 Lawrence, Essays on the Indian Army and Oude, 229. See also Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 9. 16 Cf. Stephen Rosen, Societies and Military Power: India and its Armies (Ithaca: 1996); John Lynn Battle: A History of Combat and Culture (Boulder: 2003). 17 Barbara Harlow and Mia Carter, Archives of Empire (Durham: 2003), 413. army, ethnicity and society 425

versions of the martial races found in the Indian Army were made real through imperial power and military organization. They were invented out of the field of ethnic relations in which Indians and their British colonizers found themselves. Their historical substance was created by disciplinary power articulated with local culture. Before the Indian Army could be divided and controlled, its various official component ethnicities had first to be constructed, its soldiers organized into the correct categories, bounded off from one another by unit and uniform, and by official interpretations of religious practice, diet, holidays, and so on, all of which required official knowledges of indigenous practices. Ethnicity was not only malleable, but fluid and fixable, as the Indians were placed in the position of adapting to British accounts of their cultures. Caste, religious, regional and other ethnic relations were sites of an evolving encounter between colonial rule and Indian society, in which Indian populations were disaggregated into ‘convenient stereotypes.’18 British conceptions of Indian ethnicities, derived vari- ously from readings of Indian history, religious texts, colonial anthropology and sociology were used to order populations and control access in politics, the economy, and in the army. British versions of Indian identities came to exercise real effects through colonial rule, shaping Indian society in multifarious ways, not always those intended. The Sikhs serve as a paradigmatic case.19 Sikhism is a syncretic religion that developed out of Hindu and Muslim theology and worship in fifteenth century north India. There were 10 Sikh Gurus, only the last of which, Gobind Singh, gave Sikhism a primarily militant cast in the face of Mughal prosecution. Singh formed the Khalsa, a brotherhood of the pure, and gave them rules of comportment and appearance. All were to take ‘Singh’ as their surname, which means ‘lion’. The Khalsa was attractive to peasants of the Jat caste because it offered social advancement upon the adoption of Singh’s rules, and many converted. TheKhalsa warriors provided the military basis for the rise of Sikh power in the Punjab as the Mughals declined, culminating in the powerful Sikh state established by Ranjit Singh and annexed by the British in 1849 after two wars. Like the Romans who often

18 David Arnold, “Bureaucratic Recruitment and Subordination in Colonial India”, in Ranajit Guha (ed.), Subaltern Studies, vol. 4 (Delhi: 1985), 7. 19 See Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, 107–11; Dirks, Castes of Mind, 177–80; Fox, Lions of the Punjab; Tan Tai Yong, The Garrison State: The Military, Gov- ernment and Society in Colonial Punjab, 1849–1947 (New Delhi: 2005), Ch. 2. 426 tarak barkawi recruited from among those they defeated, the East India Company began to recruit the recently conquered Sikhs, who had fielded a powerful and well trained army that impressed the British. Recruitment was rapidly expanded during and after the 1857 revolt. By 1911, Sikhs accounted for 1% of the Indian population but 20% of the army. For the British, the ‘true’ Sikhs were the Jat Sikhs who they equated with the Khalsa, which in turn was equated with Sikhism. Recruiting handbooks advised officers to recruit Sikhs only among those ‘tribes’ which had converted at the time of Gobind Singh: “those tribes who, though they now supply converts to Sikhism, did not do so then, cannot be considered . . . as true Sikhs.”20 As Richard Fox puts it, “The British Indian army nurtured an orthodox, separatist, and martial Singh identity.”21 In his 1933 primer on the martial races for young officers and the public, Lieutenant-General George MacMunn tells the story of the Sikhs “from the beginning” based on the premise that they are a “martial people”.22 Such a reconstruction of the Sikhs as essentially martial enabled MacMunn to claim that by restricting recruitment to true Sikhs and disciplining them accordingly, it was “the British officer who has kept Sikhism up to its old standard.”23 A turban had not been one of the original items of dress in Singh’s rules, and early representations of Sikhs show at least two different styles of headdress.24 But, by the late nineteenth century, along with a beard, the distinctive ‘Sikh’ turban had become an emblematic mark of Sikhs who served in the army, and as such of Sikhs generally. Uniform regulations specified a turban for the Sikhs distinct from the one worn by Punjabi Muslims or by Dogras in the army. In the troubles that gripped Sikh units early in the Second World War, the turban became a rallying point for resistance as Sikh soldiers refused to exchange it for steel helmets. Similarly, the martial Sikh identity the British had done so much to foster was mobilized for purposes of resistance by what became known as the Akali movement among the Jat Sikhs of the Punjab between 1920 and 1925. Although non-violent and eventually contained, the Akali movement for a time threatened the stability

20 Quoted in Yong, The Garrison State, 72. 21 Fox, Lions of the Punjab, 10. 22 MacMunn, The Martial Races of India, 118. 23 Quoted in Dirks, Castes of Mind, 177. 24 Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, 108. army, ethnicity and society 427 of the Punjab and raised serious concerns for colonial officials.25 The cultural field shaped by British rule could be turned against theRaj . In military contexts, the constructed character of identities can be difficult to appreciate. One reason for this is the emphasis traditional military historiography places on soldiers’ sacrifice for regimental, regional, national and other identities. How could a soldier possibly sacrifice his life for something invented, made up? The very fact of sacrifice seemingly lends the identity for which the sacrifice was made an incomparable ‘reality’, that can appear obvious to participants and more distant observers alike. But, it is precisely this power of sacrifice, and of memories and rituals concerning sacrifice, to construct groups that means that invented identities are not a particular problem for militaries. Those Roman cohorts titled after barbarian tribes later encountered problems keeping up numbers with men from the same tribes who had originally enlisted and for which they were named. Despite their now erroneous unit titles, they carried on with a mixture of different barbarian and Roman soldiers, much as did the Baluch Regiment of the Indian Army after it stopped recruiting Baluchis.26 Soldiers feel attached to their unit totems, to the extent they do, because they serve under them, not because they accurately represent their ethnic origins. The invented character of military identities gives new meaning to the idea of fighting among one’s ‘own kind’ under one’s ‘own totem’. The powers of group formation intrinsic to the regular military can produce common belonging among disparate individuals, while sweating and bleeding under a given symbol can transform that symbol into a group’s own totem. The military is an engine for the construction of group feeling and identity, which can be articulated in various ways with whatever cultural resources are to hand. There were two basic ways of realizing Lawrence’s idea of an army organized around discrete ethnic groups, or ‘classes’ in Indian Army terminology. One was to organize major units around single classes, as in a Sikh Regiment that would recruit only Sikhs for its battalions. This was Lawrence’s preference, the idea being that not every group would become hostile at once and you would always have a plurality

25 Fox, Lions of the Punjab, Ch. 5; Yong, The Garrison State, Ch. 5. 26 Peter Ward Fay, The Forgotten Army: India’s Armed Struggle for Independence, 1942–45 (New Delhi: 1994), 30, 55; Southern and Dixon, The Late Roman Army, 70–1. 428 tarak barkawi of groups/units to put down a rebellion.27 The other was to divide units internally by class, so that no entire unit could mutiny as each class checked the others, and this was progressively but never entirely the direction taken. By World War II, other than in the Gurkhas, most infantry battalions were organized on a class-company basis. In a battalion of around 800 men, each of the 4 maneuver companies would be composed of a different class, the Sikh company, the Dogra company, etc. Each class provided its own NCOs and VCOs, promoted from the ranks, with battalion postings shared equally among the classes to the extent possible. However useful the Martial Race doctrine was for purposes of imperial control and for generating esprit de corps, it had serious organizational drawbacks. It entailed complexity and inflexibility in personnel recruitment and administration, among other difficulties, like the requirement to provide different rations or organize military calen- dars around different religious, holidays or train officers in so many languages. The recruiting and replacement system had to be able to provide the requisite number of each class and each rank. Such issues could be managed by the Raj engaged primarily in low intensity frontier warfare. The world wars were another matter entirely. If it so happened in an action one afternoon that half the Pathan company was wiped out, higher headquarters had to have available an appropriate pool of replacements if that company was to be brought back up to strength. The lack of such a pool proved disastrous for British Indian forces in the First Arakan Campaign. Junior leader and officer casualties posed a similar problem, especially when the different languages and vernaculars used in the companies are taken into consideration. What happens when brigade just does not have available an officer who speaks Pushto?28 The problem was even more diaboli- cal. Within any given Indian Army class, there was great variation in terms of sub-regions and sub-castes and of ties between certain regiments and particular areas and villages, and consequently of the presence within classes of ‘sub-class’ clan and village relations. This was the stuff of the recruiting handbooks and of regimental lore. Balances struck in recruitment and promotion in particular units could be undone by casualties, and by centralized provision of replacements

27 See “Indian Army Reform” in his Essays on the Indian Army and Oude. 28 Mason, A Matter of Honour, 341. army, ethnicity and society 429 at the front that did not take account of regimental preferences and patterns. However, an alternative possibility and one realized in many ways small and large during World War II, was that soldiers and leaders proved more interchangeable than all the ethnic differentiation of Martial Race discourse suggested. Lawrence’s insight of ethnic malle- ability remained the case, especially amid the transformative potential of war to consume and rework culture in all its dimensions.29 What mattered was how ethnic difference was organizationally handled, both in general and at the local level.

Class and the Indian Army in the Second World War

In organizing its infantry around ethnic classes, the Indian Army sought to reinforce ethnic difference, but its systems for doing so were ultimately overwhelmed by the scale and duration of the Second World War. The ethnic distinctiveness of classes was maintained through military discipline, and its regulation of religion, diet and uniform among other matters. An officially constructed communalism was the basic framework in which matters of discipline and group identity were expressed, a communalism that was not a direct reflection of ethnicity in civil society but a conduit connecting army and society and shaping both. Minor mutinies and disciplinary trouble took on a ‘class’ character, as class was a primary characteristic of life in the Indian army. The manpower pressures of expansion, which led to the recruitment of new classes and their insertion into formations composed of pre-war classes, created tensions and rivalries between classes. Organizational responses and leadership could exacerbate or overcome such trouble. Discontent arising from civil society also expressed itself in class terms simply because that was how the soldiers were recruited and organized, even as the source of the discontent might be general matters such as inflation or food shortages. Ethnicity was incorporated into the army in order to divide and rule it, fragmenting the effects of colonial rule on soldiers and their home communities. From a peacetime strength of about 160,000, the Indian Army reached a war time high of around 2 million in 1943.30 The ‘martial

29 Cf. Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (New York: 1975). 30 F.W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organization in Two World Wars (Manchester: 1988), 116; War Department History, Expansion of the 430 tarak barkawi races’ could not provide sufficient numbers, at least among the preferred sub-regions and sub-groups normally recruited in the fighting arms. Already in April 1940, there were insufficient numbers among favored pre-war classes and by the end of 1943, they were more or less exhausted.31 The only solution was to open the army to new classes and sub-classes of troops previously not considered suitable for military service. South Indians were again brought back into the army in large numbers, especially in service, signals and artillery units. But, the army lacked trained cadres for the new classes that could serve as instructors and junior leaders.32 The Punjabi VCOs were foreign to the southern Indians they were now required to instruct, with different languages and religions.33 Claude Auchinleck C-in-CI thought in 1943 that the greatest obstacle to the effective use of new classes was providing them with VCOs and NCOs of their “own kind.”34 In the spirit of the Bombay Army of old, many units mixed recruits together without regard for caste, region and religion. But, the other regional armies maintained class organization, even as they were forced to recruit new classes. Ethnic difference was organizationally reinforced in numerous ways. Each company had its own language or dialect and its own ethnically distinct scale of rations. The VCOs who ideally knit together a class-company battalion usually maintained two messes, one for Hindus and one for Muslims. There were appropriate holy men for each religion in the battalion, who would hold separate services for the Sikh, Hindu and Muslim companies. If a Sikh sepoy, for example, committed a minor infraction, especially one involving an issue of moral character, he could be reported to the battalion’s granthi for punishment, which might involve washing the men’s feet before they entered the gurdwara for a week.35 Religion was woven into the fabric of discipline, making any deviation from religious precepts

Armed Forces, September 1939–September 1943, Appendix A, L/R/5/273, IOR, BL, London. 31 War Department History, Expansion of the Armed Forces, September 1939– September 1943, pp. 27, 30–1. 32 Army in India Expansion 1943, L/WS/1/968, IOR, BL. 33 War Department History, Expansion of the Armed Forces, September 1939– September 1943, pp. 31–2. 34 A Note on the Size and Composition of the Indian Army, L/WS/1/707, IOR, BL. 35 Gadsdon interview by Tarak Barkawi. See also Robin Schlaefli,Emergency Sahib (London: 1992), 49, 56. See Lieutenant-General S.P.P. Thorat,From Reveille to Retreat (New Delhi: 1986), 75. army, ethnicity and society 431 difficult for individuals, while violations of military discipline became a religious matter. By maintaining ethnic distinctiveness, the Indian Army created space for each class to organize resistance on ethnic grounds. Caste could be invoked to avoid distasteful jobs like refusing to bury the dead, whether through conviction or calculation.36 The communal organization of the army made it easy for trouble to spread. In the early period of the war, there were a number of instances of unrest in Sikh units. In Hong Kong, the Sikh 20th AA Battery refused to wear steel helmets. Whatever the ultimate sources of discontent and counter-organization, officials suspected a communist orGhadarite cell conspiring with the granthis, the Sikh turban was the medium for organizing resistance. Any Sikh who followed orders and wore his helmet could be said to have violated his religion. When the 2/14th Punjab arrived to reinforce the Hong Kong garrison, its Sikh company was jeered by the 20th AA for wearing their helmets. The 85 Sikhs in the 20th AA were told that if they did not relent and wear their helmets, they would be tried by court martial. Only 2 did so. The next day Sikh quartermasters refused to handle boxes containing steel helmets. Steel helmets were also a factor in unrest in Sikh motor transport companies in Egypt.37 Grievances that might be local in nature easily could be made to involve other troops of that class through the use of religious and communal symbols. At the same time, general sources of discontent spread among Sikh personnel throughout the army, as with the tensions over ‘Pakistan’ and the potential partition of the Punjab. Troops embarking for overseas service were especially worried these tensions would turn violent, as they eventually did, and that they would be unable to protect their families. More mundane disciplinary matters also took class and sub-class form, as formal and informal groupings and networks of soldiers vied with one another. The NCOs and VCOs of each class watched out for the interests of their troops. Men from the same village or clan promoted and covered for one another. There were charges of nepo- tism, favoritism as well as graft organized on a class basis. Classes in

36 Humphrey Evans, Thimayya of India (New York: 1960), 151. 37 Disaffection of Sikh Troops, L/WS/1/303, Note on Sikhs, L/WS/2/44, IOR, BL; Disaffection in Indian Army, WO/208/763, PRO, TNA. For a general discussion of patterns of dissent in the Indian Army until 1940, see Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, Ch. 4. 432 tarak barkawi a battalion would be acutely sensitive to issues of fairness in terms of promotions, perks, and the assignment of difficult duties. Before the war, the presence of regular officers who spoke their men’s language and of long service VCOs kept such troubles to a minimum. During the war classes often had to be mixed together in the same companies, creating informal hierarchies and rivalries. There was an overall decline in the quality and experience of personnel as units were milked for expansion. Newly arrived ECOs would be struggling to master Urdu, much less their men’s ‘native’ language, while many men who were promoted to NCO and VCO ranks might not have made the grade in a peacetime army. New classes arrived without experienced soldiers, NCOs, or VCOs, leading to dilemmas in how to integrate them into units: spread them out among other classes where they might be shunned, or place them in their own sections and platoons under green junior leaders. Groups in positions of power within units could abuse others, while many wartime officers lacked the experience necessary to understand the terms of the trouble.38 Even though class organization was a cause of trouble, it was simultaneously a source of discipline, especially in the hands of officers who knew how to manipulate it.39 Many Sikhs, for example, realized that the spate of desertions and minor mutinies in the early years of the war might give their class a bad name and lead to a reduction of their presence in the army, on which the Sikh community depended for its livelihood. Some Sikhs told their officers they felt ‘done down’ by the CIH mutiny, that they were worried the whole Sikh community would suffer as a result, and that they were determined to do “all that was in their power to bring back the good name” of Sikhs.40 In the Sikh Light Infantry, a war raised regiment recruiting a lower caste of Sikhs, the

38 For examples and discussions of these difficulties see: War Diary 5th Battalion/ 2nd Punjab Regiment, p. 59, 6509–14, NAM, London; 5th Battalion/Sikh Regiment, p. 2, NAM IND INF 5/11, NAM; Ninth Battalion Fourteenth Punjab Regiment, pp. 19–20 NAM; Four Lectures by a Commanding Officer for Officers joining the Indian Army, Lecture IV, L/MIL/17/5/2225; Morale Reports, August–October, 1943, L/WS/2/71; Report of Infantry Committee L/WS/1/1371; ALFSEA Morale Reports, March, 1946, p. 13; WO/203/4539, PRO; Akram correspondence with Barkawi; Brig. A.B. Gibson, “Unofficial War History of the 2nd Battalion, 13th Frontier Force Rifles”, pp. 65, 73, Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, London, Schlaefli,Emergency Sahib, 78. 39 See e.g. Evans, Thimayya of India, 202, 211, 222. 40 Note on Sikhs, L/WS/2/44, IOR, BL. army, ethnicity and society 433 officers successfully inspired the men by challenging them to prove that they were the equal of higher caste Sikhs.41 Another way in which the communal organization of the Indian Army was productive of discipline and fighting spirit arose from the close ties maintained between soldiers and their civilian communities. The army encouraged these ties through its long and generous leave policies, through the use of family and village connections in recruiting and through grants of land and other benefits to retired soldiers in their home regions. Bad behavior could be reported to a father or uncle, who might have served in the army as well, and they could exert pressure on the man to conform. Likewise, if a man distinguished himself in battle, his reputation among his family and community would be enhanced. While much of this communication between unit and village occurred through VCOs, British officers were well aware of the disciplinary potential of ties to civilian communities.42 The soldiers in the fighting units were generally men of some social standing in their communities and such threats and inducements were by no means hollow. In the Indian Army, it was official policy to maintain ethnic difference, even when the soldiers themselves were able or desirous of overcoming ethnic boundaries. While British officers often thought that Indians would serve in the army only if their religion or caste was respected, there is much evidence to the contrary. Many British officers became aware that they were more insistent on the maintenance of caste and religion than their troops.43 An officer commanding an engineer company in the 10th Indian Division noted with surprise that many of his men were in favor of breaking down caste restrictions in the unit, citing instances in which food which violated caste was eaten voluntarily: . . . [p]rewar NCOs and VCOs are apt to be still a little strict not I think alive to genuine religious feeling but to a ‘diehard’ sense that the Corps always has been run that way and any change is contrary to ‘standing orders.’44

41 Colonel H.R.C. Pettigrew, “It Seemed Very Ordinary: Memoirs of Sixteen years in the Indian Army 1932–1947”, 163, MSS EUR Photo 182, IOR; Singh Interview by Barkawi. 42 “Notes on Lessons from the Operations in Arakan—1943”, p. 3, WO 203/1167, PRO; Brigadier G.H.B. Beyts, The King’s Salt (Southwold: 1983), 27. 43 See e.g. Cohen, Let Stephen Speak, 116–7; Schaefli,Emergency Sahib, Chs. 7–8. 44 Middle East Military Censorship Fortnightly Summary covering Indian Troops, No. CL, 16 June–29 June, 1943, L/PJ/12/655, IOR, BL. 434 tarak barkawi

For many in the Indian Army’s support services it became clear that classes could be mixed. From their point of view, only “Vested class interests, bogus caste prejudices, and parochial minded B.O.’s and V.C.O.’s” stood in the way.45 A British officer in a class company unit during the immediate post-war period observed how “everybody worked together absolutely amazingly, it was always amazing to me how despite these sharp religious differences, when it came to doing whatever had to be done in the army, you had mixed teams . . . and there was never a problem.”46 Especially for wartime officers, the Martial Race discourse was neither fully imbibed nor did it provide a fully convincing account of people and events. Considerations of imperial control, of the kind that came naturally to Lawrence, were displaced amongst a worldwide war effort and the pre-eminence given to UK’s interests. Not a few wartime ECOs went to India with literally a comic book conception of Indian peoples and histories. Yet, along with the usually nationalist ICOs, they officered an army built upon theRaj ’s elaborate ethnography. Somehow, they managed to play their roles and many became effective officers. The underlying military organizational sources of cohesion, and shared wartime experience, were sufficient for the army to work. The categories of colonial discourse, which already appear hackneyed in the hands of someone like MacMunn, were even more simplistic in the wartime practice of company and battalion officers. After all, it is the rare infantry officer who immerses himself in book learning. Even for regular officers, stereotypes leavened with practical experience were the likely frames for thinking about the ethnic identities of their men.

Military Anthropology

Contemporary critics of the use of anthropology for military and wartime purposes have focused on its ‘second rate’ quality and its appropriation of “incoherent, simplistic, and outmoded” ideas and methods

45 War Department History, Expansion of the Armed Forces, September, 1939– September 1943, p. 32, L/R/5/273, IOR, BL. 46 Ken Johnson Tape No. 207, Oral History Archive, British Empire and Com- monwealth Museum, Bristol. army, ethnicity and society 435 when compared to academic standards.47 These critics assume that the purpose of such anthropology is equivalent to its academic counterpart, that is, to find the truth according to modern scientific standards. But colonial forms of knowledge, whether in Afghanistan today or in British India, are primarily concerned with providing a set of categories by which powerful outsiders can conceive and order a strange land and its peoples. Such categories are to be judged by their utility for imperial power, not their truth value. That the martial races did not exist in reality did not have much bearing on the usefulness of martial races discourse for recruiting, organizing and controlling a colonial army. It was however crucial that martial races discourse and its related knolwedge be made available in easily accessed and understood forms for the instruction of officials, and for use in the course of their duties. Language and the communication necessary for colonial governance provide an example of the construction and dissemination of colonial discourse. Indian languages had to be codified and translated into European terms. Indigenous dialects and languages were stabilized and transformed by creating grammars and vocabularies for them based on European languages. Most prominently, the South Asian military patois of Urdu was made into the primary British language of rule, Hindustani.48 But, even as translation into European terms remade indigenous languages, they were still useful for official purposes. The British had the power and capacity to operationalize their versions of these languages, requiring indigenous people to adapt in order to communicate with their rulers, although the potential for miscom- munication offered them strategic possibilities even from a subordinate position. The bureaucratic operationalization of British versions of Indian languages entailed putting them into teachable forms, into grammar texts, dictionaries, teaching aids and language exams, used to educate civil and military officials. In this way, effective knowledge of indigenous language was made available for empire, despite the more or less invented character of the official version. In ‘anthropologizing’ India, and making caste the master key to understanding it, the British imagined India as a place where “religion

47 Marshall Sahlins in Network of Concerned Anthropologists, The Counter- Counterinsurgency Manual (Chicago: 2009), ii–iii. 48 Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, 16–57. 436 tarak barkawi transcended politics” and “society resisted change.”49 But what made constructs of caste, region and religion practicable for actually ruling India’s populations was putting them into utile forms, such as the cen- sus, the legal code, the statistical return, and other official proceedings which activated colonial knowledges for imperial purposes. This is the context in which the Martial Races handbooks belong. They guided officers in identifying and categorizing potential recruits by providing in easily accessible form the relevant ethnographic knowledge. Such handbooks, as the author of one on ‘Marathas’ and ‘Dekhani Musalmans’ noted in his preface, were “intended primarily for the instruction of young officers.” In order to be effective for this purpose, “as much information as possible concerning the history, customs, etc.,” of these groups had to be “put into an easily accessible form.” The handbook does not “profess to give a complete account” of its subject, but does provide a ‘working knowledge’ for young officers to recruit and command such troops, including history, ethnography, lists and tables of clans and their totems, of dynasties and sub-castes, and of religious events in the area, capped off with a map provided in an envelope attached to the back cover.50 Importantly, the text provides instructions and maxims for action designed to overcome the ambiguity and indeterminacy encountered in practice in favor of the categories and constructs in the handbook. For example, a problem encountered by regimental officers on recruiting tours was that of identifying the ‘correct’ caste or other grouping of an individual, as in the case of the ‘true’ Sikhs, so that ‘imposters’ could be weeded out and recruits believed to be appropriate inserted into particular regiments and sub-units. In order to ascertain purity of type, the handbook provides a series of pre-scripted questions, typical answers to them, and rules of thumb by which to decide whether potential recruits really are members of the relevant group: “If he says he is neither or tries to explain what he is, it may be assumed he is not a pure Maratha and should be rejected.”51 Attempts to formalize human interaction at this level of specificity tend towards ritualized and rehearsed exchanges in which utterances are made and positions enacted for the purpose of following a script

49 Dirks, Castes of Mind, 60. 50 Betham, Handbooks for the Indian Army: Marathas and Dekhani Musalmans, unpaginated foreword. 51 Betham, Handbooks for the Indian Army: Marathas and Dekhani Musalmans, 96. army, ethnicity and society 437 that will permit the recruit entry into the army and the officer the experience of legibility, order and control. In this kind of way, the performance of identities is implicated in utile forms, although the degree and manner in which their idealizations approximate practice requires investigation. To focus on the ‘truth value’ of the knowledge contained in these forms, to criticize them for simplicity, or for the gap between representation and ‘what the natives really thought’, risks overlooking some of the functions knowledge serves for power, how it can help create the world power desires through instrumentally useful fictions. From a scholarly point of view, the knowledge contained in colonial utile forms often appears unduly simplistic, as is the case today with many military conceptions of ‘tribes’ and their conduct in Iraq and Afghanistan.52 As Bernard Cohn famously concluded, the British “reduced vastly complex codes and their associated meanings to a few metonyms.”53 In this way, ‘Marathas’ and others could be identified by the British and encased in tradition, so as always to require British tutelage and rule. Simplification is part of what makes utile forms effective in their world ordering and world making roles. Processes of reduction and simplification require forms that simplify, such as the handbook, while the form of the handbook entails simplification. ‘Rules of thumb’, straightforward maxims for action, and clear definitions of social kinds, easily accessed through utile forms, assist officials in putting colonial knowledges to work. As such, the world made through these processes comes ever more to resemble that imagined in colonial discourse. The recruiting officer finds his ‘pure’ Maratha, or Pathan, or Sikh, or what not, and governs him accordingly. The colonized face a field of power/knowledge within which to adapt, strategize, or resist, but one which over time shapes their social identities. That the native was ‘known’, and could be managed through easily accessed knowledges, also helped to secure the identity of the colonial official as separate and distinct, as distanced from those he governed. The relational character of identity was more likely to be kept at bay, and with it doubts and anxieties arising from the constitutive connection between the colonizer and the situation of the colonized. The British did not trap Indians in caste traditions, for they have always

52 See e.g. Jim Gant, One Tribe at a Time: A Strategy for Success in Afghanistan (Los Angeles: 2009). 53 Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, 162. 438 tarak barkawi been that way. By mapping the world of difference in which officials served, by helping to reduce indeterminacy in social exchanges, and by guiding officials in their actions, utile forms made it easier for them to bracket reflexivity. British officers of the Indian Army could believe that the martial races were ‘known’ to be loyal, if rather dim witted, and would remain obedient as long as, among other things, their religions and codes of caste pollution were respected, for instance by assuring appropriate dining arrangements for their troops as described in manuals and handbooks.54 ‘Learning’ about the ‘natives’ through utile forms, and governing them accordingly, helped create, maintain and reproduce a world in which the British colonizers believed they were merely respecting indigenous tradition as they had discovered it. The (reflexive) thought that things might be otherwise, that such ‘tradition’ was in part a British imposition to maintain colonial rule, is not thinkable in the terms of the utile forms. At face value, these forms simply contained information and indicators regarding types of ‘natives’, their character and culture, as they were in themselves, as facts of nature. Made available in accessible form, the colonial discourse helped to secure the morale and identities of British officials and gave them some working principles for dealing with Indians. That said, practical experience could be overwhelming. During his early years in the Indian Army, commanding a company of the 6th Gurkha Rifles in the 1920s, Slim in a letter described listening to and adjudicating complaints and infractions among his soldiers as akin to an Englishman being tried by a Chinese who spoke only Chinese and a little French: “that’s what it amounts to.”55 Slim of course worked hard on improving his Gurkhali and Hindustani but become very concerned about the standard of language proficiency among regular officers as compared to the pre-1914 army, noting in a service journal editorial in 1932 that officers were only learning Hindustani not the vernaculars of their men. Hindustani, of course, is the equivalent of French in his Chinese example, leaving everyone, soldier and officer alike, working in a second language. Slim’s emphasizes the significance of actuallyknowing the language of the men: “It is difficult to know what a man really feels

54 Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, 26–7. 55 Field-Marshal Sir William Slim, 1/2, Letters to P. Pratt, 26/6/1920, Slim Papers, Churchill College Archives, Cambridge, UK. army, ethnicity and society 439 or think unless you speak his language” and again “Knowledge of his language is the closest and strongest link in the bonds between officer and sepoy.” But he also suggests another dimension, that the effort to learn is in itself a compliment that the Indian soldier deeply appreci- ates, “evidence of a real effort to understand him, a real desire to learn about his customs and beliefs.” Since the army was in fact functioning despite the ‘general agreement’ on the lower level of language proficiency his editorial refers to, Slim here suggests how it may be that affectual bonds, of officers showing willingness to learn, might in fact be more important that actual detailed communication.56 In fact, too much learning of Martial Race theory could be dangerous. As many officers discovered in the Second World War, Indians were not in fact as encased in their traditions and caste bigotry as would seem to be the case from studying recruiting handbooks. This insight proved crucial in working around the disruption in personnel policy caused by expansion and the strains of wartime. Like Lawrence, Slim indicated some appreciation of the fact that ethnicity is not a fixed characteristic of people but a variable field that can be manipulated, and he drew on experience in order to challenge the idea that Indian custom had always to be respected. He did so over a central principle of a communally organized army, diet, in an editorial arguing for the introduction of new dry ration biscuit. In wartime, when the need arose, he noted that Indian soldiers readily adapted to unaccustomed foods, and could do so again provided the matter was carefully handled. The real problem, he felt, was not genuine religious convictions regarding caste and diet, but that a minority of discontented soldiers might use the introduction of the biscuit to stir up trouble, just as Sikhs made use of the turban to organize resistance.57 These points suggest how it is that a vastly expanded wartime Indian Army might function with personnel who had little time to learn languages thoroughly and who, while they understood the basic Martial Race theoretical framework, had relatively little grasp of the more elaborate forms of colonial discourse. The following examples concern 3 wartime British company commanders, all of whom earned the MC and served in battalions that saw a great deal of action. Collectively,

56 William Slim, 4/2, CCA; Published Articles by Slim, “Editorial”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, vol. LXII (1932), 291–2. 57 William Slim, 4/2, CCA, Published Articles by Slim, “Editorial”, Journal of the United Service Institution of India, Vol. LXII (April 1932), 143. 440 tarak barkawi they show how wartime officers from the UK effectively adapted to the communal framework of the Indian Army despite the lack of deep knowledge of its cultures or languages. The first is from Peter Gadsdon of 4/14th Punjab, who uses the simplest of stereotypes in describing the classes of his battalion: A Company, the Sikhs, grew their hair long and never cut it during their lifetime . . . [They] also do not smoke, and to offer them a ciga- rette is an insult. B Company were Dogras, many of them Hindus of the high Brahmin caste. The Cow is a sacred animal to all Hindus, and they were very careful in their eating and drinking habits. . . . My Punjabi Mussulmans in C Company held that all pork was defiled and the more strait-laced of them would not touch alcohol. D Company Pathans were also Muslims and held the same views, but, in their case, it was easy to upset them over their honour, about which they could sometimes be touchy.58 In potted form, Gadsdon identifies the ethnic boundaries drawn between each class through religion, diet, and custom, and enforced by discipline, although even here a degree of slippage is allowed (in respect of at least some Muslims drinking alcohol). The basic frame of the communally organized army could operate on as little, stereotypi- cal knowledge as this. The second officer is Clifford Martin of the 7/10th Baluch. Martin emphasized a common feature of colonial armies in general and the Indian Army in particular, the use of an intermediate class of indigenous officers, in this case VCOs, to handle matters of discipline. The result was that in matters of personnel administration and discipline, the British officers were relatively in the dark. “We were really rather figureheads . . . the VCOs dealt with everything.” The basic barrier was language. “The men spoke a sort of country language. The VCOs you could talk Urdu and understand and the NCOs but after that not that much . . . One didn’t’ really know much about the troops, like one would know in a British unit.” Martin also illustrates just how the rivalries and tensions between classes and sub-classes described above could operate without the British officers being aware. He was in the position of having to trust the VCOs and those who spoke English: “You trusted your VCOs. You did trust them. Yes, and the havildar clerk. He spoke very good English.”59 The clerk in question

58 Peter Gadsdon, An Amateur at War, unpublished ms, 29. 59 Martin Interview by Barkawi. army, ethnicity and society 441 described a number of disciplinary issues that were hushed up by the VCOs. One lurid incident concerned soldiers in garrison robbing a pimp in a plan that involved 3 of them keeping his prostitutes busy. “In ‘A’ coy everyone was aware of this incident except the company commander.”60 While this may appear shambolic, it should be remembered this was a wartime unit and none of this prevented Martin from being an effective infantry officer on operations, or the 7/10th Baluch from being a very effective fighting formation. The final officer is George Coppen of the 13/14th Frontier Force Rifles, an extremely capable company commander who successfully recommended one of his VCOs for the VC. Coppen exemplifies Slim’s insight that bonds between officers and men did not necessarily depend on actual knowledge of language and culture. While on the march his subedar would entertain him with stories of the men’s villages. The stories were fantastical, ‘fairy tales’ Coppen described them as, and told in a mixture of Urdu and vernacular, the latter of which Coppen could not understand. “I always used to look in the eyes of chaps around, and you could tell in their eyes whether the old man was having me on or not.” If he was, “I would turn around and say, Subedar Sahib, you’re an old rogue. . . . And he would burst out laugh- ing because he realized that he had me fooled all that long, in fun, and he was a gentleman.” Coppen’s connection with the VCO and the men did not depend on knowledge of the vernacular, but on his willingness to allow himself to be ‘fooled’, and on sufficient comfort with his own authority that he did not need to be overly sensitive about it. This kind of ‘reversal of hierarchy’ is not uncommon in fighting units, and a certain amount of it worked to re-inscribe authority relations, as in the ‘sod’s operas’ of British infantry units. Coppen closes the anecdote with a stereotype right out of Martial Races discourse: “Of course I always reckoned the Dogras were gentlemen as well. The Dogras were some of nature’s gentlemen.”61 The use of this stereotype is much more indicative of Coppen’s affection for his soldiers than it is of close study of MacMunn or recruiting handbooks, a convenient hook on which to hang heartfelt feelings. Given the Western norm of national armies in which officers and other ranks do not face such difficulties in basic communication, and

60 Akram Correspondence by Barkawi. 61 Coppen Interview by Barkawi. 442 tarak barkawi where differences in social class between them do not amount to such extreme cultural difference as in the British officered Indian Army, it is easy to assume that officers need to ‘know’ their men in order to command effectively. But, infantry officers are primarily there to provide an intellectual layer to administration and organization, and for their operational knowledge. Especially in combat, they earn respect through tactical nuance, by spending their soldiers’ lives carefully, and by offering up their own lives when the situation demands leadership from the front. The communication that is essential is that which concerns the conduct of operations, and the ability to give orders to tactical units. Early in the Korean War, the US Army made use of Korean replacements in its own infantry formations. The program was fraught with difficulties for a number of reasons, not least the lack of time for either basic or unit training. But, the infantrymen managed to work together with a limited vocabulary denoting weapons, terrain, and tactical procedures.62 By this standard, even a poor degree of Urdu competence among officers and Indian soldiers was more than sufficient for military purposes. The ethnographic apparatus of the Martial Race theory was necessary for purposes of imperial control. It fundamentally informed the structure of the Indian Army and personnel had to have familiarity with its basic categories to carry out their duties. The utile forms described above served to reproduce this knowledge among British officers to the degree necessary, creating a functioning communally organized army. But while as a colonial army, the Indian Army was based on the Martial Race theory, as a fighting army, it depended on more general military organizational sources of cohesion and fighting spirit. When units had sufficient time to train appropriately, when replacements were available, and when talented officers could be found, the Indian Army could match its opponents. The regular officers imbued with Martial Race theory were not to be found in number among the company and battalion officers who led the Indian Army in the most intense and sustained fighting of its existence during the Second World War. In any case, the most effective regulars were those like Field-Marshal W. Slim who knew when to draw flexibly on practical

62 Roy Appleman, South to the Naktong, North to the Yalu (Center of Military His- tory: Washington, DC, 1992), 385–9; Lieutenant Lindsey Henderson, “My Roks were Good”, vol. 3 (1952), 35–7. army, ethnicity and society 443 experience and ignore the rigid ethnic categories of colonial discourse. The character of ethnic relations in the Indian Army was shaped by its imperial context. But, the potted ethnic stereotypes of the martial races and the reputed language and ethnographic skills of its officer corps were not the sources of is military effectiveness.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ALLIES TO A DECLINING POWER: THE MARTIAL RACES, THE SECOND WORLD WAR AND THE END OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE IN SOUTH ASIA

Gavin Rand

In retrospect, it is hardly surprising that the massive upheaval which the Second World War wrought in South Asia precipitated the termi- nation of British rule in India. While the movement toward self-rule accelerated through the 1930s, it was the specific events of the war, and their consequences, which shaped the terms on which independence and partition were realized. Through these years, just as it had throughout the colonial period, the imperial military played a key role. The rapid expansion of the Indian Army after the outbreak of war, together with the tumultuous events of the war years themselves, had profound effects on Indian society as well as on the attitudes of those Europeans who served in and with the Indian Army. The war punc- tured the colonial fiction that only certain classes of ‘Orientals’ were capable of bearing arms: the defeats of 1942, as much as the victories of 1944–5, demonstrated the martial capabilities of Asian troops.1 More concretely, the war exhausted the financial and political capital which underwrote the British Empire in Asia, at the same time as it created new opportunities—as well as plentiful new hardships—for the Raj’s colonial subjects. The massive expansion of recruitment and of war related industries, alongside the economic transformation and demographic shifts which accompanied the war, helped to radically reshape the social and political landscape of late-colonial South Asia. For the Indian Army, and the populations from which it was recruited, these changes were to have profound effects. An immediate effect of wartime demand for military labour was the exposure of the Indian Army’s anachronistic and restricted recruiting practices. The Martial Race theory, which held that only certain

1 See C. Bayly and T. Harper, Forgotten Armies: The End of Britain’s Asian Empire (London: 2007), 16. 446 gavin rand

segments of the Indian population were capable of bearing arms, hardened during the late nineteenth century rooted in vaguely defined ideas linking race, environment and heredity, the theory continued to shape colonial recruiting until after the outbreak of World War II. The nineteenth century origins of Martial Race theory are now relatively familiar but we know much less about the evolution of the theory during the latter part of colonial rule.2 Less still is known about the experiences of those ‘martial’ recruits who served colonial power during its waning in the 1930s and 1940s.3 In part, these historiographical deficiencies reflect the paucity of work on the Indian Army in the late colonial period, a shortfall which is now, thankfully, in the process of being addressed.4 This chapter seeks to contribute to this literature by exploring how attitudes towards the so called martial races were influenced by the series of economic, strategic and imperial crises which developed during the 1930s and 1940s. The Indian Army was a vital bulwark of the British imperial system and, as the mainstay

2 K. Roy, Brown Warriors of the Raj: Recruitment and the Mechanics of Command in the Sepoy Army, 1859–1913 (Delhi: 2008); H. Streets, Martial Races: The Military, Race and Masculinity in British Imperial Culture, 1857–1914 (Manchester: 2004); David Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army, 1860–1940 (Houndmills, Basingstoke: 1994). 3 In addition to the official histories, most accounts of this period are authored by colonial officers. Though sometimes stylishly executed, these are frequently paternalistic in analysis and explanation. See, for example, J. Masters, Bugles and a Tiger (New York: 1956); J. Masters, The Road Past Mandalay (London: 2002); P. Mason, A Matter of Honour: An Account of the Indian Army, Its Officers and Men (Middlesex: 1976). For official accounts of the Indian Army’s role in the African and Mediterranean campaigns, see The Tiger Strikes (Calcutta: 1942), The Tiger Kills (Calcutta: 1944) and The Tiger Triumphs (Calcutta: 1945). Unfortunately, there is no account of World War II which offers the insight into the experiences of Indian recruits as Omissi’s collection of soldiers’ letters does for WWI. See Indian Voices of the Great War: Soldiers’ Letters, 1914–1918, ed. with an Introduction by D. Omissi (Basingstoke: 1999). 4 Fine accounts of the Indian Army’s role in the Far East are provided in T.R. Moreman, The Jungle, the Japanese and the British Commonwealth Armies at War, 1941–1945: Fighting Methods, Doctrine and Training for Jungle Warfare (Oxon: 2005) and D. Martson, Phoenix from the Ashes: The Indian Army in the Burma Campaign (Westport, CT: 2003). See also D. Marston and C. Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia: From the East India Company to the Nuclear Age (Blooming- ton: 2008), especially chapters by Sundaram and Marston. Detailed, if rather dated, overviews can be found in C. Chenevix Trench, The Indian Army and the King’s Enemies (London: 1988); J. Gaylor, Sons of John Company: The Indian and Pakistan Armies (Tunbridge Wells: 1992). We still know very little about the effects of decolonization on Anglo-Indian military communities. Despite the martial imagery of the frontpiece, the impact of decolonization on the imperial military is barely touched on in S. Ward (ed.), British Culture and the End of Empire (Manchester: 2001). martial races 447 of that force, India’s ‘martial races’ played a prominent role in the defence of the colony (and of metropolitan strategic interests) during the war. However, under pressure from the simultaneous demands of the war, nationalism and increasingly assertive military communities, the strategic alliances formed in the nineteenth century became increasingly unstable. The dissolution of the ‘martial’ army—a process which was both epistemological and administrative—provides a useful perspective on the role of the military in the late colonial period, and may also throw some light on the important and largely unexplored connections between war, the imperial military and Partition of the subcontinent.

Interwar Developments

Like the British Empire itself, the Indian Army which emerged from the First World War was a much-changed institution.5 Having subscribed some 1.4 million men to the British cause—of whom more than 800,000 saw active service—the Indian Army had been transformed by the exigencies of a war that few of its commanders had foreseen.6 The remod- elling of the Indian Army in the nineteenth century had anticipated an Anglo-Russian conflict in Asia and not the intercontinental conflict which began in 1914. Having reduced the army’s size and narrowed its recruiting grounds, the pre-war reforms reflected thoroughly different strategic calculations to those necessitated by the outbreak of war in 1914. From 1917, especially, the demands of the conflict had forced recruiting to be opened up to larger numbers of Indians placing huge demands on the existing recruiting grounds, particularly in Punjab. At the end of the war, nearly 1 million Indian men were serving overseas and, of the approximately 60,000 who were killed, nearly 50% of that

5 Tan Tai Yong, “An imperial Home Front: Punjab and the First World War”, Jour- nal of Military History, vol. 64 (2000), 371–410; Tan Tai Yong, The Garrison State: The Military, Government and Society in Colonial Punjab, 1849–1947 (New Delhi: 2005), especially chapters 3, 5; Rajit Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab (New Delhi: 2003); Omissi, Indian Voices of the Great War. 6 House of Commons Parliamentary Papers 1929–30 [Cmd. 3568], Report of the Indian Statutory Commission, vol. 1: “Survey”, p. 97. See D. Omissi, “The Indian Army in the First World War, 1914–1918”, in Marston and Sundaram (eds.), A Mili- tary History of South Asia, 75. 448 gavin rand group came from Punjab.7 As one officer subsequently noted, “We drained Fortnum and Mason, without tapping Marks and Spencer or Woolworths to any great degree.”8 Wartime recruiting thus both extended and challenged pre-war military organization, a pattern which would be replicated to more dramatic effect during World War II. The war also had important consequences within India: inflation developed as wartime remittances fuelled a spending cycle, especially in the military districts where much of the recruitment was concentrated, and perhaps more importantly, political tensions increased as the nationalist movement lobbied for reform commensurate with India’s military contribution to the war effort. These destabilizing forces would also re-emerge, more violently, after the conclusion of hostilities in 1945. In much of the existing literature, the history of the Indian Army in the interwar period is dominated by the debates over ‘Indianization’ of the officer corps. The emergence of a more forceful nationalist critique of colonial rule—one directed especially at the ruinously expensive and highly partial military settlement—is rightly identified as the political context for the struggle over access to the ranks of the military’s officer corps.9 Like the contemporaneous debates over access to the covenanted ICS, the Indianization debates certainly reflected the development of a more effective nationalist critique, as well as, crucially, the establishment of more meaningful forums in which nationalist critics could challenge the colonial government (as they did, consistently, over the army question in the Central Legislative Assembly). While political factors were undoubtedly important in this period, the difficult questions posed during the Indianization debate— questions which bore not only on matters of race, but also on issues of class, status and professional competence—were profoundly influenced

7 D. Omissi, “The Indian army in the First World War, 1914–1918”, in Marston and Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of South Asia, 86. 8 See ‘Recruitment in India’, L/WS/1/136, IOR, Asia and Africa Collections, BL, London. Punjab’s predominant role as recruiting ground—the province some 62% of recruits for the Indian Army—was latterly presented as evidence which substantiated the Martial Race theory whereas, in fact, the Punjabization of the imperial military was a symptom and not a cause of restricted recruiting. 9 Access to the commissioned ranks was conceded during the later part of World War I, though this was initially envisaged as providing a route to the higher ranks for those already serving. “If he is otherwise qualified race should no more debar him from promotion in the Army than it does in the civil service.” See House of Commons Parlia- mentary Papers 1918 [Cmd. 9109] ‘Report on Indian Constitutional Reforms’, p. 264. martial races 449 by the reorganizations of the late nineteenth century. The seniority system had survived into the twentieth century largely because no better alternative had been devised to replace it. Similarly, the existing structure of the army—a mixture of class and class company regiments, dominated by recruits from Punjab, North-West Frontier Province and the United Provinces—made fundamental reorganizations of the officer corps extremely difficult, especially as the most vociferous criticisms of the existing arrangements came not from communities recruited to the army but from those ‘babu’ communities widely considered, in colonial circles, to be lacking in martial spirit. Of those recruited, the corollary of their martial prowess was widely posited to be intellectual backwardness, a juxtaposition which rationalized the colonial division of military labour: the appropriation of command positions by European officers was justified by the same logic which presented certain Indian classes as inherently warlike (but lacking the intellectual skills necessary for leadership). Tensions over Indianization should thus be seen not only in the context of a more critical political environment, but also as legacies of the nineteenth century recruiting arrangements. These tensions were exposed in 1921 when, following political pressure in the Central Legislative Assembly, it was proposed that, henceforth, one quarter of KCO posts be reserved for Indian youths from ‘good families’, implicitly signifying the educated, upper classes. After objections from within the army, the proposals were adapted so that serving soldiers—largely from the preferred ‘martial races’—were able to enjoy a degree of preference over others.10 Similarly, when the Skeen Commission of 1925–6 proposed a more extensive course of Indianization, the reforms were once again adapted by the GOI to pit the interests of serving soldiers against those classes making new claims on colonial military service. As in the previous century, when ‘balanced recruitment’ emerged as a means of preventing combination amongst the ‘native’ soldiery, so here the interests of the martial races were deployed as a means of resisting the political demands of the emergent nationalist movement. If the tactics deployed by the colonial state had evolved significantly since the deliberations of the

10 See Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj, especially Chapter 5; T.A. Heathcote, The Military in British India: The Development of British Land forces in South Asia, 1600– 1947 (Manchester, 1995). 450 gavin rand

Peel Commission in the aftermath of 1857, the broad strategy—divide et impera—remained much the same. The reworking of this familiar theme reflected the novel political context of the period, and the difficulty of hewing a national army out of a colonial one. As Lord Rawlinson (C-in-CI from 1920–25), reflected in his diary: Will we ever get a young educated Indian to lead a charge of veteran Sikhs against a sangar held by Mahsuds and, if he did, would the Sikhs follow him? Will we ever get the sons of the landowners of the fighting races, who are brought up to despise the Babu . . . sufficiently educated to be trusted with the lives of men in modern war? It will take at least two, and probably three generations to produce Indian officers of the right kind in sufficient numbers.11 As Rawlinson must have known, and as nationalist critics were quick to point out, such a delay—disingenuously premised on the ‘over-riding requirements of military efficiency’—was tantamount to the outright refusal to engage with the question of Indianization.12 The stalled debate about the likely efficiency of Indian officers thus became a means of indefinitely postponing meaningful reform of the officer corps. Through the interwar debates on Indianization, we can chart the shifting dynamics of colonial politics and imperial military strategy. Significantly, the Indian Army was increasingly represented as a mechanism for mitigating communal tensions. Thus, when the Simon Commission addressed the ‘special features of India’s military problem’ in its Report of 1929, the key role played by the military in ‘preventing’ and ‘quelling’ the ‘ever present danger’ of (communal) disorder was said to be one of the army’s essential functions.13 This argument not only provided a justification, of sorts, for the expense incurred on account of maintaining the European garrison in India but also served to explain the lethargic pace of institutional reform.14 However, the

11 Cf. Mason, A Matter of Honour, 454. 12 Despite the concession of principle, the Montagu-Chelsmford Report had made no definite recommendations regarding implementation. See [Cmd. 9109], “Report on Indian Constitutional Reforms”, pp. 260–4. 13 “The reason of course is that the British soldier is a neutral, and is under no suspicion of favouring Hindus against Muhammadans, or Muhammadans against Hin- dus.” See [Cmd. 3568], Report of the Indian Statutory Commission, vol. 1, p. 95. 14 Though somewhat tempered by circumstance, the basic tenet of the Martial Race theory endured, as the Simon Commission made clear. See [Cmd. 3568], Report of the Indian Statutory Commission, vol. 1, p. 96, vol. 2, pp. 171–3. martial races 451 reworking of the Martial Race theory also served an additional imperial purpose, in providing a subsidiary rationale for colonial suzerainty: As things are, the presence of British troops and the leadership of British officers secure that the fighting regiments of India, though representing only a portion of India’s manhood, shall not be a menace to the millions who are conducting their civil occupations without any thought of the consequences which might ensure if British troops were withdrawn and the Indian Army consisted of nothing but representatives of the Indian fighting races.15 In George MacMunn’s oft-cited treatise on the Martial Races of India, the ‘special problem’ identified by the Commission was posed in char- acteristically more dramatic terms: “without the British officer and the British soldier”, MacMunn claimed, “the races of the North, would once more eat up the peoples of the South.”16 Here, as elsewhere, MacMunn’s analysis was partial and myopic, but there is also a dismal irony in the fact that the self-serving premonitions of violence offered by colonial commentators in this period proved so prescient. The violence which followed the British decision to divide and quit may not have taken the form anticipated by MacMunn, but the forewarnings of ‘civil war and anarchy’ offered by the Simon Commission proved to be tragically perspicacious. While much of the historiography of the martial races is focussed on the emergence of the discourse in the latter nineteenth century, it is equally important to recognize how, and to what purpose, the theory was adapted during the later colonial period.17Amidst developing nationalism and increasing communal tension, the reworking and dissemination of the Martial Race theory through the 1920s and 1930s suggests the impacts of colonial politics on the administration of the army. The military settlement of the nineteenth century remained significant throughout this period, even as the assumptions on which military relationships were based became increasingly untenable. How quickly, and with what consequences, these relationships unravelled under the strain of World War II is the subject of the following section.

15 G. MacMunn, Martial Races of India (London: 1933), 98. 16 MacMunn, Martial Races of India, 3. 17 It was in the interwar period, in fact, that the Martial Race theory gained metropolitan currency. On this see G. Rand, “ ‘Martial Races’ and ‘Imperial Subjects’: Violence and Governance in Colonial India, 1857–1914”, European Review of History— Revue européenne d’Histoire, vol. 13 (2006), 1–20. 452 gavin rand

New Wine in Old Bottles: Recruiting and the Second World War

The enormous expansion of the Indian Army during World War II—from less than a quarter of a million men in 1939 to more than 10 times that figure in 1945—demonstrates that the exigencies of war bore simply overwhelmed the remnants of Martial Race theory. Though some officers retained a preference for recruits with ‘a tradition’ of military service, wartime demand for labour trumped the political and doctrinal objections that had militated against wider recruitment throughout the twentieth century.18 Indian troops played a vital role in Allied operations, seeing action in North Africa, the Middle East and Mediterranean, as well in Malaya and Burma. Whereas deployments in North Africa were generally successful, those in the Far East were, initially at any rate, disastrous. Few, if any, of the troops deployed in the defence of either Malaya or Burma had any experience of jungle warfare and problems were compounded by the dispersal of experienced officers amongst the rapidly expanding Indian divisions. The fall of Singapore, and shortly after of Rangoon, marked the nadir of the Allied operations in the Far East; crucially however, despite the capture by Japanese troops of some 60,000 Allied personnel—some of whom formed the cadre for the Indian National Army—the retreat from Burma ensured that a significant body of imperial forces evaded capture and destruction. These troops—a mixture of old and new recruits—would provide the nucleus of the army which reconquered Burma and Malaya, in the process routing the INA. Retrained and reinforced, and better supplied than in the initial campaigns of 1942, Indian forces played a key role in the successes of the 14th Army. Amongst those to be cited for their performance in these campaigns were the Mazhbi and Ramdasia Sikhs of the recently constituted Sikh Light Infantry, whose exploits at Meiktila were commended by both divisional commanders and C-in-CI, Claude Auchinleck.19 The scale of the contribution that India might make to the Allied war effort was suggested even before London had sanctioned any expansion of the Indian Army. Throughout September 1939, officials reported

18 G.N. Molesworth, for example, suggested that the “real limit of recruitment of fighting troops is below 1,000,000” and complained, in words which echoed Mac- Munn, that “We have very definite limitations which U.K. and U.S.A. can never grasp.” L/WS/1/136, 10, IOR. 19 Martson, Phoenix, 196–7, 205. martial races 453 receiving offers of support from across the continent. Initially, many such offers came from the traditionally martial provinces. In September 1939, for example, P. Marsden reported that a tour of several Punjab districts had demonstrated “great enthusiasm for the war. . . . Recruits are panting to come forward in large numbers.”20 While Punjab had long provided recruits for the army, others without such vaunted traditions also recognised the coming war as an opportunity. H.G. Haig, the Governor of the United Provinces, for example, noted that the war provided ‘new opportunities’ for the province to raise additional levies. Significantly, however, he also cautioned that such opportunities might be lost if British operations in the Province were undermined by Congress led campaigns against recruiting drives. Haig thus instructed district magistrates to administer a ‘very serious warning’ to those responsible and, similarly, the secretary of the District Soldiers Board at Etawah wrote to the recruiting depot at Lucknow to complain of the ‘intensive propaganda’ directed against recruiting operations by Congressmen. In contrast and an indication of the way in which the question of wartime support for the British split the Congress—the Collector of Aligarh, A.T. Naqvi, reported receiving promises of personal support from Thakur Todar Singh, Congress’s representative on the Legislative Assembly, as well as numerous offers of help from other residents.21 These examples suggest how, for advocates of both confrontation and cooperation, the war (and the important role played in the war by Indian troops) created new avenues and opportunities to engage the colonial state. While many members of Congress, like Naqvi (as well as both Jawaharlal Nehru and M.K. Gandhi), abhorred Nazism, the increased demand for military labour created opportunities for new claims to be made on the colonial state, which some nationalists sought to pursue by offering support to the British war effort conditional on wide ranging concessions. In July 1942, for example, the Union of the Martial Races of India was formed to represent the martial communities in “the period in which India’s destiny was to be finally decided.” As

20 “Anyhow there is a general feeling that the enthusiasm of the people to be recruited ought not to be choked off, and there is no doubt that a call for fifty thousand recruits would be met at once—and many times more than once.” L/WS/1/136, IOR. See also Yong, The Garrison State, 282–6. 21 “He went on to say that even if the Congress decided not to help Britain, he would render all possible help in his personal and private capacity.” L/WS/1/136, 33, IOR. 454 gavin rand well as protesting against attempts to do away with the distinction between martial and non-martial classes, the Union’s inaugural meeting demanded the ‘total independence’ of India and the immediate transference of power to Indian hands in order that all the resources of the manpower and material of the ‘martial races’ be harnessed for the prosecution of the war.22 Inaugurated initially as a Hindu organization, as it was suggested that an immediate appeal to the Muslim community might precipitate conflict with existing parties, the Union’s programme attracted some positive commentary though their political impact was limited. Indicatively, Delhi’s CID suggested that the spread of communal feeling was likely to hamper the development of a genuinely national movement, reporting that the Union did ‘not appear to be making itself felt’.23 The significance of the Union’s claims on the rhetoric of martiality lie in the evidence they provide of the war’s impacts on a colonized and increasingly militarized society. In appro- priating the language of martiality as a nationalist discourse and yoking Indian participation in the war to political independence, the Union’s fleeting intervention in the politics of wartime recruitment indicates the manner in which the war was transforming attitudes towards the Indian Army and foreshadows the role of the military in post-colonial India. The latent communal pressures which were reflected in the Union’s statement—and made explicit in the police report—suggest how these tensions persisted (and in some ways were aggravated) by the pressures of the war. In 1942, these centripetal forces remained constrained within the colonial system but by the end of the war, as that system collapsed, they were worked out in the violence which accompanied the end of British rule. While the politics of recruiting were unfolding in both colony and metropole, the expansion of recruitment continued unabated. By late 1942, new classes constituted nearly half of all recruits. Many groups without traditions of service were recruited, while some whose military credentials had been recently disparaged, like Madrassi troops, were reconstituted.24 The successes of the enlarged Indian Army, including of its newly raised levies, clearly reflected the marked improvements in training and organization which had followed the

22 Home Department, Political (Internal), File nos. 140–42, NAI. 23 Home Department, Political (Internal), File nos. 140–2. The logic, once again, is that of divide and rule. 24 L/WS/1/136, IOR; Marston, Phoenix, 49–50. martial races 455 reorganizations of 1943. However, while these operations confirm the military efficiency of various supposedly non-martial classes, the success of these operations coincided with the emergence of increasing anxieties concerning the status of some traditional military allies. At the same time that certain groups—like those recruited to the Sikh Light Infantry—had demonstrated their military worth, others, some with long martial traditions, were increasingly falling out of imperial favour. The Jat Sikhs, for example, long regarded as amongst the best of Punjab’s martial races, were increasingly viewed as both politically suspect and wanting in the ‘military qualities’ of old.25 Amongst the most prominent critics of the Indian Army was Churchill himself who, in language redolent of the nineteenth century, urged sweeping reductions in the Indian Army.26 The suspicions attached to certain Punjabi Sikhs had coalesced during the interwar period, and largely reflected the involvement of significant numbers of Sikhs in political disturbances associated with the Ghadar movement and in the demobilization violence which followed the end of World War I. In the strained political atmosphere of the 1920s, the ‘fine physique’, ‘national history’ and ‘martial characteristics’ of Punjab’s Sikh population were viewed with increasing concern, especially as it was feared that seditious propaganda was directed towards the community (and its army recruits).27 Similar anxieties persisted through the 1930s and, despite the loyalty professed by many during the early stages of the war, Sikh (proto)nationalism, allied to fears regarding territorial and security questions in Punjab, threatened both recruitment and the loyalty of those troops already under arms. The abortive mutiny of Sikh troops at Bombay in 1940, for example, reflected these political and material tensions, even if many accounts, including those of some historians, have tended to fall back on the language of the Martial Race theory in explaining the disorder.28 For much of the century which followed

25 See Subversive Attempts on the Loyalty of the Indian Army, 3 April 1943, L/WS/1/707, IOR. For an analysis of shifting narratives of martiality in the twentieth century, see G. Singh, “Finding those men with ‘guts’: The Ascription and Re-ascription of Martial Identities in Colonial India after the Uprisings of 1857”, in C. Bates and G. Rand (eds.), 1857: Military Perspectives ( forthcoming Sage, 2011). 26 Throughout the war, W. Churchill’s analyses of the Indian Army reflected his fixation with forms of ‘divide and rule’. See Class Composition of the Army in India, L/WS/1/456, IOR. 27 Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab, 213–18. 28 Mason, A Matter of Honour, 513–14. 456 gavin rand

1857, the spectre of ‘another mutiny’ had hung heavily over the commanders of the Indian Army. It is ironic, then, that the INA—which constituted the most significant act of organized rebellion by Indian troops since 1857—proved so strategically inconsequential, especially as it was largely recruited from amongst the professional soldiers of the pre-war Indian Army. In contrast, the troops of the Indian Army who defeated the INA and their Japanese sponsors were substantially composed of the so called new classes.29 It is significant that, though militarily irrelevant, the INA proved to be a more difficult adversary in the battle for public opinion. The ill-conceived trials of the INA’s ‘blacks’ succeeded only in demonstrating the increasing impotence of British power: in seeking to display their neutrality in matters of religion, the first trials indicted a Hindu, a Muslim and a Sikh, prompting near national unity in denouncing the trials and providing the INC leadership with a convenient, popu- list vehicle to critique British rule.30 The ensuing outcry, followed by the contemporaneous, though largely unrelated, mutinies of the Royal Indian Navy and Air Force, led to a change of tack on the part of the colonial authorities; the quiet commutation of those INA men already sentenced and the abandonment of further trials testified to the waning of British power and was a tacit acknowledgement of the new limits of colonial authority. Significantly, however, though veterans of the INA were garlanded with rhetorical honours by prominent INC leaders during the final years of British rule, ‘in deference to opinion in the army’ no ex-INA men were enlisted in the army of the post-colonial state.31 Just as Congress’s difficulties in resolving their position on the war effort hinted at the fissures in Indian society, so too did the conflicting attitudes of military men towards the INA. As Chandar Sundaram has suggested, the INA is best understood as the product of particular historical circumstances, principally the effects of the war on

29 Here, as in the counter-insurgency campaigns which followed 1857, it was the organization and capacity of the Indian Army—largely provided by Indian troops— which defeated a force invoking the cause of Indian nationalism. This important fact was as lost on some metropolitan commentators as it has been on some Indian nationalist commentators. See, for example, M. Mukerjee, Churchill’s Secret War: The British Empire and the Ravaging of India during World War II (New York: 2010). 30 K.K. Ghosh, The Indian National Army: Second Front of the Indian Independence Movement (Meerut: 1969). 31 C. Sundaram, “The Indian National Army, 1942–1946: A Circumstantial Force”, in Marston and Sundaram (eds.), A Military History of India and South Asia, 129. martial races 457 relationships between the British, their Indian soldiers and the global geopolitics of empire and decolonization. These circumstances, which reflected the unravelling of the British colonial system and the proximity of independence and partition, were also manifested in the violence which marked the final years of imperial rule. These were also events in which soldiers and veterans of the Indian Army played important, and in many ways, hitherto unrecognized roles and it is to these events that I turn by way of conclusion.

Conclusions

As historians have begun to unpick the violence which attended independence in 1947, the role of the army, and especially of ex-soldiers, in Partition violence remains to be fully explored.32 While there is now an extensive literature on both the Partition and the violence which accompanied it, and an emerging literature on the crucial but long neglected role of the Indian Army during August 1947, there is still much that we do not know about the interface of social and military history in this crucial period.33 The violence that so shaped the Partition in 1947—especially in Punjab—might usefully be understood in the context of the shifting attitudes towards the army and the ‘martial races’ evident during the 1930s and 1940s, as well as in terms of the economic and material consequences of military service. That Partition violence had its most profound effects in those parts of India with longstanding traditions of military service is hardly surprising, especially given the colonial military’s tendency to exploit and exacerbate

32 J. Chatterji, “New Directions in Partition Studies”, History Workshop Journal, vol. 67 (2009), 213–20. 33 The literature on partition is extensive. See, for example, J. Chatterji,The Spoils of Partition. Bengal and India 1947–1967 (Cambridge: 2007); Y. Khan, The Great Par- tition: The Making of India and Pakistan (New Haven and London: 2007); G. Pandey, Remembering Partition: Violence, Nationalism and History in India (Cambridge: 2001). The literature on the military dimension of this history is much less extensive, though important work in this field is now under way. See D.P. Marston, “The Indian Army, Partition and the Punjab Boundary Force, 1945–1947”, War in History, vol. 17 (2010), 469–505; R. Jeffrey, “Punjab Boundary Force and the Problem of Order, August 1947”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 8 (1974), 491–520. See also I. Copland, “The Further Shores of Partition: Ethnic Cleansing in Rajasthan 1947”, Past and Present, no. 160 (1998), 203–39; T.H. Naqvi, “The Politics of Commensuration: The Violence of Partition and the Making of the Pakistani State”, Journal of Historical Sociology, vol. 20 (2007), 44–71. 458 gavin rand

communal identities. More noteworthy, however, are the shifting attitudes towards such communities evident in the run-up to independence and colonial retreat. In retrospect, there now seems something of a grim inevitability about the violence of 1947: this paper has suggested that, contrary to colonial claims, this violence needs to be understood in the context of colonial recruiting strategies and their consequences as much as in terms of pre-colonial communal tensions. The economic and political tensions which developed in the interwar period—and which began to undermine the relationship between certain of the martial races and their colonial paymasters—were vital inputs to the violence of 1947, as sporadic incidents of rebellion and widespread suspicion of it, noted above, attest. As military training and military experience are increasingly recognized as key to understanding the violence in Punjab in 1947, so it is important to recognize the key role played by colonial military strategies in producing and shaping the context in which Partition, and attendant violence, took place.34 Both Partition’s logic, and its violence were rooted, in part at least, in nature of the relationship forged between the colonial state and sections of the Indian population in the late nineteenth century—one particular manifestation of which was the Martial Race ideology. Understanding the basis of this relationship, as well as the pressures which recon- figured it during the twentieth century, is vital to understanding the violent denouement of colonial rule in India and the critical role of the military in this process. The ‘advantageous reciprocity’ which had so distinguished the relationship between India’s ‘military communities’ and the Raj reflected the particular circumstances and strategic imperatives of an imperial military force officered by a minority alien population. By 1942, these imperatives had been almost entirely superseded by the onset of a truly global war: the reconstitution of the Indian Army as a major contributor to the Allied war effort demanded a thoroughgoing reorganization of its recruiting, officering and administration. In subsuming the traditional functions of colonial military policy—aid to the civil (colonial) power and the defence of the North-West Frontier—to the global goals of Allied strategy, the structural relationships on which

34 See, for example, S. Jha and S. Wilkinson, “Veterans and Ethnic Cleansing in the Partition of India”, Available online: http://www.stanford.edu/group/SITE/SITE_2010/ segment_5/segment_5_papers/jha.pdf. (1 October 2010). martial races 459 the Indian Army had long depended were inexorably broken apart. The massive increase in recruitment necessitated by wartime deployments required the opening up of once restrictive recruiting practices and the unfettered expansion of Indianization. Only with these restrictions lifted could the Indian Army provide the manpower the conflict demanded. In truth, the war only expedited (albeit significantly) processes of change which were already well under way: Auchinleck’s reforms acknowledged that changes were necessary to render the Indian Army efficient and, also, probably, that they constituted a conclusive break with pre-war policies and arrangements.35 By contrast, W. Churchill’s entrenched belligerence reflected the opposite: committed to a vision of India and imperial rule which the war had rendered obsolete. Churchill’s denigration of the expanded Indian Army reflected his inability to recognize or adapt to the radically altered terrain of imperial rule. The contrasting viewpoints of Churchill and Auchinleck—the former focussed on Britain’s debt to India’s Muslim minority ‘martial races’, the latter concerned with maintaining a unified India and Indian Army—reflect the various ways in which the pressures of war tested British attitudes towards the Indian Army. In fact, as both men would come to realize, more powerful historical forces determined the readiness, or otherwise, of Indians to enlist. As Indivar Kamtekar’s work has shown, Punjab’s peasantry was reluctant to leave the land and enlist (as their fathers had done) because the onset of war and related demand had significantly increased the returns available from agricultural labour, the infrastructure for which had been developed to secure the mutually beneficial relationship between the colonial state and Punjab’s agricultural/martial classes.36 Ironically, then, it was the legacy of previous recruiting strategies which helps to explain the reluctance of Punjab’s ‘martial races’ to enlist. Those who were more willing to enlist did not volunteer because of their communities’ martial heritage but because military service offered the prospect of steady employment and regular food: in north-west India, for example, military doctors found that, within 4 months of enlistment and “[i]rrespective of age or initial weight, every recruit gained

35 Auchinleck’s obvious regret at the partition of the army in 1947 suggests his preference for a united, independent India and army. See his retrospective on these events in C. Auchinleck, “The British-Indian Army: The Last Phase”,Asiatic Review (1948), 356–71. 36 Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab, 64–92. 460 gavin rand

5 to 10lbs of weight on basic army rations.”37 Given that the Martial Race theory posited a connection between diet and soldierly aptitude, and that recruits’ anthropometric data were recorded first by Eden Vansittart as a means of identifying and encouraging more efficient recruiting of martial Gurkhas, it is deeply ironic that such data should provide the clearest evidence of the material factors which determined recruiting and enlisting patterns during World War II.38 It was poverty and hunger, rather than martial pedigree, which motivated recruitment during Second World War. Whilst the war exploded the myth of the martial races and brought down the curtain on colonial rule in the Indian subcontinent, the events of 1939–1945 can help us to better understand the crucial role of the imperial military, and its alliances in colonial India.

37 I. Kamtekar, “A Different War Dance: State and Class in India 1939–1945”,Past and Present, no. 176 (2002), 191. 38 Eden Vansittart was the pioneering recruiting officer for Gurkhas whose work was central to inspiring the wider refashioning of recruiting techniques from the late 1880s. As well as writing the first of the familiar handbooks for ‘martial races’, Van- sittart devised a system to log anthropometric data in order to encourage recruiting of better ‘specimens’. A similar system provides clear evidence of the material factors which conditioned recruitment during World War II. Military Proceedings, P/3477, June 1889, IOR. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FROM LOYALTY TO DISSENT: PUNJABIS FROM THE GREAT WAR TO WORLD WAR II

Rajit K. Mazumder

Introduction

The following is a study of the unique relationship between communities recruited from Punjab and the colonial state in British India between c.1914 and c.1947. The first sections demonstrate the loyalty of enlisted groups, reciprocating decades of favourable treatment by the governments of Punjab and India. The latter sections of the essay chart how Punjabi ‘martial classes’ responded to the withdrawal of these privileges during World War II, and to the dynamic political environment of the time: by transferring their loyalty from the British and their allies to sundry local dispensations. How had the special relationship between the colonial state and recruited Punjabis developed? More than half the ‘native’ component of the Indian Army was recruited in Punjab by 1911. A significant amount of funds went into its villages as pay and pensions of servicemen, positively affecting militarized peasants. The positive impact of military expenditure and access to military funds created a social and economic base on which a particular loyalist ideology emerged in Punjab.1 However, the British government was aware that Punjab was its Achilles’ heel, vital in its ability to rule India. This consideration, together with the improving zeal of provincial officials, gave rise to the paternalistic ‘Punjab School’ of administration. The result was that the colonial state privileged rural Punjab through economic and legal concessions.2 The Punjabis reciprocated by providing increasing revenue and remaining loyal.

1 For the ‘Punjabization’ of the army and the economic impact of military incomes on Punjabis, see Rajit K. Mazumder, The Indian Army and the Making of Punjab (Delhi: 2003), 7–88. Some of the arguments in this essay were first made in this book, and I am grateful for the publisher’s permission to use the material here. 2 Mazumder, Indian Army, 93–138. 462 rajit k. mazumder

‘Outsiders’ and Rural Revolution

Returning emigrants, mainly from North America, disturbed the general political calm that had prevailed in rural Punjab after the agitations of 1905–07.3 Organized by the Stanford Professor Har Dayal, they published the newspaper Ghadar,4 attempted revolution against imperialism in America, and exported it to Punjab to instigate armed revolution and assassination of British officials.5 The first Ghadarite ‘delegation’ arrived in Punjab in the summer of 1913 to tour the major Sikh districts; it was closely watched by the state.6 In May 1914, the Komagata Maru arrived off the coast of Vancouver carrying 376 Punjabis.7 The Canadian authorities refused to allow the passengers to disembark. The Great War broke out during the ship’s return, and it docked in Calcutta in September. The governments of India and Punjab had decided not to allow the passengers free movement. A special contingent of Punjab Police was sent to escort them to Punjab. An altercation led to a shootout in which 18 Sikhs were killed by the police; 202 were jailed and the rest escaped.8 The disgruntled passengers on theKomagata Maru were not revolutionaries, though they had been exposed to their propaganda. The incident proved the need for strict supervision and stern action. On 28 October 1914, the Tasu Maru arrived in Calcutta carrying emigrants from America and the Far East. Everybody was arrested and only 73 were released after ‘investigation’. It was established that the

3 Mazumder, Indian Army, 203–13. 4 The Persian-Urdu word has multiple, flexible meanings: anarchy, rebellion, mutiny, chaos. Its most well known use is in reference to 1857: ‘Ghadar’ has become synonymous with ‘1857’. See Mahmood Farooqui, Besieged: Voices from Delhi, 1857 (Delhi: 2010), 1–10. 5 Mark Juergensmeyer, “Ghadar Sources: Research on Punjabi Revolutionaries in America”, in Parm Bakshsish Singh and Devendra Verma (eds.), Punjab and the Free- dom Struggle (Patiala: 1998), 182. 6 Michael O’Dwyer, India As I Knew It: 1885–1925 (London: 1925), 186–88; M.S. Leigh, The Punjab and the War (Lahore: 1922), 17; Harish K. Puri, Ghadar Movement: Ideology, Organization & Strategy (Amritsar: 1983), 38–40, 67–76, 105–16. 7 Of these, the total number of Sikhs was 355, “nearly all veterans of the British Army’s famous Sikh regiments.” Roy Gardner, “Komagata Maru Affair: When Van- couver Turned Back the Sikhs (in 1914)”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 12 (1978), 142–3. 8 For details see, Gardner, ‘Komagata Maru Affair’, 142–54; Puri, Ghadar, 76–81; D.L. Choudhary, Violence in the Freedom Movement of Punjab (1907–1942) (Delhi: 1986), 43–5. loyalty to dissent 463

Ghadarites on this ship had been allocated specific circles in the Sikh districts for propaganda. Later, of the 73 released, 6 were hanged for participation in the subsequent Ghadar activities.9 With the government involved in the First World War, the revolutionaries had an unprecedented opportunity to influence the Sikh districts. However, they failed. Rural Punjab remained loyal and actively helped the government’s war effort.10 The revolution aimed at gaining influence by armed robberies of government treasuries, by raiding armouries and police stations, and by inciting army units and the Sikh peasantry through revolutionary ideology.11 None of this carried far among rural Sikhs who did not see much in common with the conspirators, and voluntarily assisted the authorities to foil these attempts and arrest the ‘outsiders’. On 27 November 1914, a gang of 15 Ghadarites shot dead a sub- inspector of police and a Sikh zaildar during an unsuccessful raid on the Moga arsenal. They, then ran towards the jungle pursued by the Sikh villagers. Two Ghadarites were killed and the others were arrested. The government gave grants of ‘special pensions’ and colony land to the heirs of the murdered sub-inspector and zaildar, while the villagers were each rewarded with ‘a substantial reduction in land- tax.’ Such prompt generosity by the colonial state in ‘every case where active assistance was forthcoming’ was said to have had the desired effect of ‘stimulating popular co-operation.’12 The revolutionaries met with similar opposition from soldiers. The attempt by some ‘agents’ at ‘tampering’ with the 22nd Cavalry in Punjab came to an ignomini- ous end when they were ‘seized and given up by the Sikh officers and men of the regiment. Similarly, ‘Pingle’ (the main associate of Rash Behari Bose in Punjab) was arrested in the lines of the 12th Cavalry in Meerut.13 Ghadar outbreaks increased in early 1915. An attempt at simultaneous rebellion in various regiments on 19 February was successfully foiled by government spies. A concurrent rising of the Muslim peasantry against Hindu moneylenders in south-west Punjab, unrelated to the Ghadar, showed how seriously the foundations of public security

9 O’Dwyer, India, 194. 10 Puri, Ghadar, 85. 11 Leigh, Punjab, 19. 12 O’Dwyer, India, 198–9. 13 O’Dwyer, India, 203. 464 rajit k. mazumder were being shaken in the Province which was the key to the military situation in India and the chief recruiting-ground for the Indian Army. The Lieutenant-Governor Michael O’Dwyer therefore asked for stronger powers: the Defence of India Act was passed to help contain unrest in Punjab.14 In addition to the twin policy of prompt rewards for co-operation and severe punishments for the arrested Ghadarites, O’Dwyer successfully involved ‘the leading Sikhs of the Province’ on the side of the government. At a meeting with Sikh notables in March 1915, he warned that the government was strong enough to ‘crush’ the rebels but there would be less bloodshed if the Sikhs cooperated. He cautioned that “the movement was bringing the Sikhs as a whole into discredit, and their interests as well as their honour were involved.” The assembled Sikh elders reportedly offered him complete support, and were harsher than the government in recommending that all the 3,200 returned emigrants be immediately interned. Committees of ‘local Sikh magnates’ were set up to enquire into the antecedents and conduct of such emigrants and to inform deputy commissioners of suspect cases. The revolutionaries killed many such ‘loyal Sikhs’, but were tracked down and hanged in almost every case.15 The work of the Sikh Sirdar’s Committee of Amritsar was commended by the commissioner who praised the people of the district for the loyalty which went ‘deep down’ and had been ‘impossible to undermine’ by the Ghadarites. Returned emigrants were “carefully watched and reported on by their fellow-villagers” and all assistance was given to the authorities ‘in securing bad characters’. On one occasion, after the Walla Bridge ‘dacoity’, the perpetrators went from village to village exhorting the people to join them in revolt. Instead, the villagers pursued them from dawn to dusk. Though the miscreants killed some of their pursuers, all were eventually arrested. According to the commissioner, “That was the death to unrest in Amritsar District.”16 The informal and hastily established system worked ‘smoothly and so successfully,’ and the activities of the Ghadarites became so unpopular, that O’Dwyer stated:

14 O’Dwyer, India, 200–1. 15 O’Dwyer, India, 204–6. 16 Speech by Commissioner, Lahore Division at the Recruitment Durbar, Amritsar on 17 April 1918 in Government of Punjab, Home-Military, B, July 1918, nos. 229–31, Punjab State Archives, Chandigarh. loyalty to dissent 465

By June the rural population were so disgusted at the Ghadar outrages and so confident of support and reward from Government, thatof their own motion they took up the hunting down of even the most desperate Ghadar gangs with courage and enthusiasm.17 In early June, revolutionaries from British districts collected in Kapurthala to raid the state magazine. On 11 June, 8 of them ambushed a military picket, killed 2 sentries and escaped with 4 rifles. Once again, “the country-side turned up and gave chase.” Five of them were captured and hanged after trial by a Special Tribunal.18 One of those who escaped eluded the police for months before being arrested.19 The Ghadar activists were closely watched in America too. Not only was intelligence gathered by Canadian and American authorities, but the GOI also deployed its own agents. Lance-Dufadar Sawan Singh of the 25th Cavalry Regiment was despatched to California to gather information on the Ghadarites. He claimed responsibility for the arrest of the man ‘who had been sent by the Germans’ to cause a riot in Singapore. He also asserted to have had “Germans and Hindus connected with the Ghadar sent before the Grand Jury at San Francisco.” The remaining ones were “trying to kill me” but he had substituted another man in his place. Therefore, he wished to return and “die under your command at the front.”20 Indeed, the record enlistment of Sikhs, at a time when the Ghadar raged through the very same districts, shows that state paternalism had once again reaped its rewards. According to O’Dwyer, the annihila- tion of the 14th Sikhs in Gallipoli on 4 June 1915 “in an heroic stand against an overwhelming Turkish force” had “curiously enough” gal- vanized the loyalty “of that martial race.” Feeling that they had “vindicated their reputation for loyalty and bravery” they are said to have enlisted in droves, and “the rush to the colours in the Sikh districts was extraordinary.” From a total population of 2.5 million, less than one per cent of British India, the Sikhs raised over 90,000 combatant

17 O’Dwyer, India, 204–6. Emphasis added. 18 O’Dwyer, India, 206. 19 Leigh, Punjab, 21. 20 Sawan Singh, Sikh, Lance-Dufadar, Instructor, 25th Cavalry, c/o Mr. Ram Singh, 411E 4th Street, Los Angeles, California to the Commanding Officer, 25th Cavalry, c/o India Office, 5th October 1917,Censor of Indian Mails, 1914–18, Part 1, p. 158, no. 17 (Hereafter, CIM), IOR, BL. For details of the San Francisco trial see Puri, Gha- dar, 100–3. 466 rajit k. mazumder recruits, one-eighth of all India.21 The ChiefKhalsa Diwan, “the one significant Sikh political party” of the time, reiterated loyalty to the Crown, and priests of many Sikh shrines denounced the Ghadarites as “renegades or thugs.”22 The Sikh leaders, the Sikh clergy and, most significantly, the Sikh peasantry continued to believe that their interests were better served by the colonial state; they actively rejected the revolution and the revolutionaries. In the words of a Sikh villager: Here in the Punjab dacoities have become very common. The people in their sin do not remember that the Government which protects us is fighting an enemy. They are getting up a mutiny (ghadar), and what trouble is brought upon the Government. We pity their ignorance. The Lord will give them sense. In one week there were 15 dacoities. When will God give peace? The Government has made many arrests, and in the investigation it was discovered that the dacoits were men who had been turned back from America.23 The Ghadar was seen by many Sikhs as infuriating crimes committed by ignorant emigrants at a time when a munificent government was engaged in war. Thus, O’Dwyer seems correct in stating that, “By August, 1915, that is within nine months of the first outbreak, we had crushed the Ghadar rebellion . . . and, above all, the Sikh community had again proved its staunch loyalty.”24 Less partisan sources also note, in similar language, that, “By the summer of 1915 the Ghadar Party in the Punjab was virtually smashed up.”25 Sawan Singh risked his life in a foreign land in a role he was not trained for. His desire to return to his regiment and die fighting for the British emphasizes his absolute loyalty. Most of the Sikh districts remained steadfast, too. The manager of the Golden Temple apolo- gized on behalf of the revolutionaries: We refer with pain and regret to the un-Sikh conduct of a small section of our community who in the early days of the war were entrapped by seditionists abroad and enticed from the paths of loyalty. To deal with this evil was the sacred duty of a true Sikh. . . .26

21 O’Dwyer, India, 207. 22 Khushwant Singh, A History of the Sikhs, vol. 2 (Princeton, 1963), 183. 23 From a Khatri Sikh in India, to a friend in a regiment serving in France, 30 Janu- ary 1915, CIM, 1914–1918, Part 2. 24 O’Dwyer, India, 206. 25 Khushwant Singh and Satindra Singh, Ghadar 1915: India’s First Armed Revolu- tion (New Delhi: 1966), 44. 26 Speech by Arur Singh, Manager of the Golden Temple on 17 April 1918, p. 2 in Government of Punjab, Home-Military, B, July 1918, nos. 229–31. Emphasis added. loyalty to dissent 467

The revolutionaries attempted the destruction of the imperial state at an inopportune time. The INC was not in favour of such activities during the Great War and openly supported the government. Even ‘Extremists’ like B.G. Tilak disapproved of those wishing to exploit the situation.27 In addition, the movement suffered from organizational weaknesses and was obviously not in touch with the sentiments of Sikh villagers.28 As a recent history of the movement noted: There was a wide gap between the outlook of the politically-conscious Ghadarites, who organized the abortive revolt, and the general masses. The latter still had a lingering faith in the British sense of justice and fair play, and in their economic and political might. The revolt was therefore neither a popular uprising nor a mutiny of the disaffected soldiery. It was the revolt of the brave influenced by the life of independent peoples abroad.29 The Ghadar failed primarily because the special relationship between a paternal colonial state and its privileged, recruited peasantry was strong enough to withstand an assault by ‘outsiders’. This manifest itself in villagers chasing and capturing rebels, and particularly in the extraordinary Sikh recruitment during World War I.30 The interests of the community were seen to be common with those of the government. No political movement could succeed until this perception altered. It is significant that the lieutenant-governor could later acknowledge that: Fortunately, all through this difficult period the great mass of the rural population, including the Sikhs, remained staunch and loyal, and continued to give, often at great risk, the most active assistance to the authorities in rounding up and bringing to justice revolutionary gangs.31 This is why most of rural Punjab, including these Sikh districts, remained quiet even during the upheavals of the Punjab disturbances of 1919.

27 Singh, History of the Sikhs, 183. 28 See Puri, Ghadar, 126–45. 29 Singh and Singh, Ghadar, 55–6. Emphasis added. 30 Sikhs are reported to have made up from a minimum of 12% of the entire British Indian Army to more than 20% of the total in the period 1919–1925. See, Mazumder, Indian Army, 17–9. That they constituted only 2% of the population of British India underlines why they were amongst the most intensively recruited communities in the world. 31 O’Dwyer, India, 198. 468 rajit k. mazumder

Rural Loyalty and the 1919 ‘Disorders’

The political climate in Punjab had become unusually volatile by 1919. Lieutenant-Governor O’Dwyer’s tactless comment that India could never be fit for self-government had incensed Punjab politicians: even Fazl-i-Husain complained of the government’s excessive curtail- ing of political rights.32 There was much bitterness about the coercive methods used to procure loans and recruits from Punjab.33 The mass demobilization made Punjabis think that their sacrifices had not been adequately rewarded.34 Further, ‘the urban intelligentsia’ resented the fact that benefits had gone “almost exclusively to the rural classes.”35 Political repression had also aroused much dislike, particularly among the urban classes,36 and ‘revolutionary movements’ lingered among Hindus and Muslims.37 The disastrous monsoon of 1918 led to food scarcity that pushed prices up38 and the hardship was compounded by the influenza epidemic which killed thousands of Punjabis.39 The GOI announced the Rowlatt Bills40 in the midst of this environment, trig- gering an all-India agitation. O’Dwyer’s unduly repressive administration and open contempt for the educated classes only exacerbated the situation in Punjab.41 There was universal uproar against the Rowlatt Bills; M.K. Gandhi launched his satyagraha.42 The agitation in Punjab was gravest in Amritsar, Lahore and Gujranwala cities and the urban areas of Lyallpur and Gujrat districts.43 The success of the hartals and the renewed

32 S.C. Mittal, Freedom Movement in Punjab (1909–1925) (Delhi: 1977), 111–3. 33 B.G. Horniman, Amritsar and Our Duty to India (London: 1920), 23–7; Pearay Mohan, An Imaginary Rebellion And How It Was Suppressed (Lahore: 1920), 37–41, 43–5. 34 Horniman, Amritsar, 17–22; Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 42–3. 35 O’Dwyer, India, 265. 36 Horniman, Amritsar, 28–34; Mittal, Freedom Movement, 112; Chaudhary, Free- dom Movement, 59–61. 37 O’Dwyer, India, 264. 38 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 46–7; Chaudhary, Freedom Movement, 61. 39 O’Dwyer, India, 226. 40 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 15–34; Report of the Commissioners appointed by the Punjab Sub-Committee of the Indian National Congress, 24–36 (hereafter RCPSINC); Mittal, Freedom Movement, 113–4. 41 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 48–56; RCPSINC, 6–23. 42 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 15. 43 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 66–117; RCPSINC, pp. 45–153; Report of the Disor- ders Inquiry Committee, 1919–20 (hereafter RDIC), 27–88, IOR, BL. loyalty to dissent 469

Hindu-Muslim solidarity in the agitation resulted in stringent measures by O’Dwyer’s administration. Unable to control the situation, O’Dwyer next ordered General Reginald Dyer to proceed to Amritsar with troops, guns and an aeroplane. Dyer’s insensitive military methods culminated in the Jallianwala Bagh massacre on 13 April 1919.44 Official estimates put the death toll at 397 with over 1,200 casualties. The tragedy was followed by the proclamation of Martial Law in Amritsar on 15 April, subsequently extended to Lahore, Gujranwala, Gujrat and Lyallpur.45 O’Dwyer responded to rioting in Gujranwala by ordering aerial bombing and machine gun firing, killing 12 bystanders and injuring scores.46 Eventually, state brutality and martial law were able to suppress the unrest completely in Punjab. Inevitably in such an explosive environment, some soldiers were involved in anti-government incidents. Four sepoys were convicted of the assault on the Tarn Taran treasury, troops in some areas were reported to be against firing on crowds, and the stores warehouse of the 34th Sikhs was burnt down in Ambala. A mob at Wagha was said to have been led by a havildar of the 1/54th Sikhs who had an “exemplary conduct sheet for 14 years’ service” and the report found it “difficult to account for his behaviour.”47 The government was per- plexed because the regiments and recruited districts had been calm throughout the disturbances. This is indicated by the active support by these sections (shown below) and the fact that the total number of soldiers and pensioners “convicted in cases arising out of the disturbances” was only 18.48 Moreover, when the Third Afghan War began in April 1919, Indian regiments and Punjabis in general stood behind the government. O’Dwyer could confidently report that, “Instead of being welcomed by mutinous troops and a rebellious population, as they had been led to expect, they found a well-equipped army of two

44 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 57–74; RCPSINC, 43–57; Mittal, Freedom Move- ment, 118–22, 125–9. 45 RDIC, 104. 46 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 83–7; RCPSINC, 104–11; O’Dwyer, India, 287. 47 Appendix A, Summary of reports concerning feeling among troops and of incidents indicating unrest among them, 24–5 in ‘Secret’ Memorandum by Chief Secretary, Punjab to the DIC in Government of Punjab, Home (Political), B, February 1920, no. 373 (hereafter, Appendix A in Secret Memo to DIC; and, Secret Memo to DIC, respectively). 48 Secret Memo to DIC, p. 21; O’Dwyer, India, 209. 470 rajit k. mazumder hundred thousand men barring their way, supported by the loyal millions of the rural Punjab. . . .”49 The disturbances were primarily urban50 and highly restricted in their spread.51 Only 5 of the province’s 29 districts were affected.52 Moreover, Martial Law was imposed only in these 5 districts; its withdrawal from rural areas began as early as 28th May. Amritsar city was relieved of Martial Law on 9 June and Lahore was the last to return to normalcy 2 days later.53 Punjab had not witnessed a mass uprising. The disturbances were, at best, a spontaneous and overwhelmingly urban agitation that O’Dwyer’s administration viciously subdued in 8 days after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre.54 It is remarkable that so soon after the Ghadar, and with the extraor- dinarily strained circumstances of 1919, the ‘disorders’ did not snowball into a general anti-British movement across the province. Rural areas, even in Amritsar, Lahore and Gujranwala districts, remained relatively placid. Amritsar was the home of the heavily recruited Manjha Sikhs, and its deputy commissioner conceded that had “the villagers of the Manjha turned loose, they would have [had] a situation unparalleled since the Mutiny.”55 The repression in urban areas and other means adopted by the Punjab government limited the extent of agitation to ‘minorities’ even in the affected districts.56 Attempts were made to influence the army during the 1919 distur bances.57 The press had been making ‘persistent efforts’ for some time to ‘create discontent’ over pay and commissions to Indians. More generally, the politicians attempted to rouse the agricultural classes “from whom the army is almost exclusively recruited” with ‘advanced political views’.58 Seditious letters had been intercepted by the authorities calling mass demobilization ‘a tyranny’, complaining of preferential treatment to British and Gurkha troops, asking Sikh

49 O’Dwyer, India, 272–3. Emphasis added. 50 S.D. Pradhan, “Anatomy of the Early Phase of Punjab Disturbances 1919”, in Singh and Verma (eds.), Punjab and the Freedom Struggle, 204. 51 RDIC, 112–3. 52 RCPSINC, 45–153; RDIC, 27–88; Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 66–117. 53 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 154. 54 Mohan, Imaginary Rebellion, 105; RDIC, xxix, 87, 89. 55 Quoted in Ian Colvin, The Life of General Dyer (London: 1929), 171–2. Emphasis added. 56 Chaudhary, Freedom Movement, 70. 57 O’Dwyer, India, 272. 58 Secret Memo to DIC, p. 20. loyalty to dissent 471 troops to mutiny; army officers admitted that there were grievances over demobilization. 59 Among the ‘precautionary measures’ that O’Dwyer undertook was to order the army to march through affected areas. According to him: The troops were welcomed by the loyal rural population including thousands of ex-soldiers, and were able, as they went along, to get information of local feeling, [and] to contradict authoritatively the lying rumours used to influence the ignorant. . . . Moreover, he asserted that these columns were the ‘main factor’ that ensured that ‘Ghadar Sikhs’ remained quiet.60 On 14 April, the day after he opened fire at Jallianwala Bagh, General Dyer marched all over Amritsar district. He was said to be accompanied by the mahant ‘of great influence’ of the revered Guru Sat Sultani gurdwara and “surrounded himself with Sikh officers, old friends of his own.”61 Retired Sikh military officers reportedly came out to meet him. In the words of a British officer who was present: With the help of the Indian officers whom they knew, and seeing their high priest with the column, the villagers soon began to realise that they were being used or were meant to be used as tools in the hands of the enemies of the Crown.62 On 16 April, O’Dwyer sent the following telegram to the GOI: That there was nothing to show that the demobilized men (over one hundred thousand had been demobilized in the previous few months) or the Ghadar Sikhs were prominent in the rebellion, though some few might have joined.63 The lieutenant-governor’s faith in the loyalty of the province was founded upon the active cooperation by soldiers and rural Punjab in containing the agitation. Associations of retired military officers had been formed in the districts and zails of Ludhiana, Rohtak, Hissar, Amritsar and Kangra. In districts like Montgomery and Muzaffargarh, the lack of agitation made ‘active counter-propaganda’ unnecessary. In Lyallpur, the District Board worked so well that a ‘veteran’s association’

59 Appendix A in Secret Memo to DIC, 27–30. 60 O’Dwyer, India, 294–5. 61 Quoted in Colvin, Dyer, p. 201. 62 Quoted in Colvin, Dyer, 201; Mazumder, Indian Army, 223–30. 63 O’Dwyer, India, 294–5. 472 rajit k. mazumder was thought redundant. The deputy-commissioners of Gujrat and Sialkot noted that the soldiers were scared of public calumny to form associations openly, but that retired Punjabi non-commissioned officers had carried on unobtrusive propaganda which had worked more efficiently than any official organization could have. Other deputy commissioners initiated counter-propaganda through their local Soldiers’ Boards64 at the zail level and were satisfied with the response.65 In a remarkable case, Resaldar-Major Prem Singh warned the government that rumours spreading in the countryside could not be countered through the press or by local officials. He recommended a regular lecture system by persons carefully selected to tour the country. Prem Singh’s scheme was approved, and he was appointed a ‘lecturer’ under the Publicity Committee for “propaganda work in the villages of certain districts of the Punjab.” The government agreed to pay him Rs. 5 per day, a substantial sum in 1919. He was also permitted an orderly on an allowance to influence his audiences with enhanced personal status and pomp.66 Serving soldiers also volunteered assistance to the government. On the night of 10 April, 6 Indian cavalry officers “reported themselves for duty at the Amritsar Fort with 14 of their dufadars and men who were in Amritsar on horse-back duty, and volunteered to do sentry work during the night on the Fort.” These included 5 Muslim officers and a Sikh, from various regiments.67 Retired officers in the affected Sikh districts took initiatives on their own, too. Subedar Ganda Singh of the 28th Punjab regiment, a pen- sioner in Tarn Taran, proposed to the officer commanding Amritsar that all responsible men in villages should personally take steps to per-

64 Tan Tai Yong, “Maintaining the Military Districts: Civil-Military Integration and District Soldiers’ Boards in the Punjab, 1919–1939”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 28 (1994), 834–72. 65 From replies of respective Deputy Commissioners to a Punjab Government memorandum on use of soldiers in counter-propaganda associations in Government of Punjab, Home-Military, B, February 1922, nos. 13–45. 66 See correspondence in Government of Punjab, Home-Military, B, April 1920, nos. 7–13. 67 Commissioner, Lahore Division to Chief Secretary, Punjab, 18 November 1919 in Government of Punjab, Home-Military, B, August 1918, nos. 318–27 (Though the file is dated 1918 it contained correspondence from 1919. Hereafter, Commissioner Lahore to Punjab Chief Secretary, August 1918, nos. 318–27). loyalty to dissent 473 sonally counter anti-government propaganda, and that the scheme be sent to the Punjab government.68 In his own village, Ganda Singh had organized a meeting of all “retired Military Sirdars, respectable gentlemen, and Lambardars” from the neighbouring villages and collected the villagers to discuss “the unfounded rumours and proved them unreliable.” The village panchayats agreed to take responsibility through their headmen to “lecture on the merits of the British Raj” in their respective villages. The rules framed at the meeting included: no anti-government talk; no strikes; villagers to visit Amritsar city only on ‘urgent business’ and only after informing the lambardar; the arrest of any ‘new comer’ to the village ‘suspected as agitator’ with a penalty for failing to arrest such a person; informing the headman if guests arrived and the former to then make ‘necessary enquiries’ about them; patrolling at night by lambardars and chowkidars “to avoid the spreading of rumours by any agitator or Badmash”; and the handing over to the police of any ‘suspects’. These ‘rules’ were signed by 116 men. Ganda Singh even claimed to have dispelled the rumours “spread by the Badmashes” and conveyed ‘all truth about the Rowlatt Act’.69 Indeed, this extraordinary case shows the extent to which support for government existed in the villages of Amritsar district, the site of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. While the Punjab government was dis- mayed that the ‘leading citizens’ of Amritsar city could not foresee and control agitation, it acknowledged that, “In the district the attitude of local notables was satisfactory as is shown by the fact that the district remained quiet. . . .”70 In its turn, the government reacted swiftly, and predictably, in Ganda Singh’s favour. This is a specific case of a pensioned Indian Officer, on his own initiative, taking steps to prevent disturbances and an immediate award of grant of land would do a great deal, not only towards the raising the “izzat”

68 Officer Commanding, Amritsar to Deputy Commissioner, Amritsar in Commis- sioner Lahore to Punjab Chief Secretary, August 1918, nos. 318–27. 69 Translation of Ganda Singh’s scheme attached with Officer Commanding, Amrit- sar to Deputy Commissioner, Amritsar in Commissioner Lahore to Punjab Chief Secy, August 1918, nos. 318–27. 70 Cut and pasted printed notes in Translation of Ganda Singh’s scheme attached with Officer Commanding, Amritsar to Deputy Commissioner, Amritsar in Commis- sioner Lahore to Punjab Chief Secretary, August 1918, nos. 318–327, Punjab State Archives, Chandigarh. Emphasis added. 474 rajit k. mazumder

of retired Indian Officers, but also towards making them realize that the Government of India is not unmindful of their loyalty and help during the recent crisis.71 The Punjab government was instructed by the secretary of state for India to reward all those “specially mentioned in the Disorders Enquiry Committee Report or the recently published despatches” and “all others, whether officials or non-officials, to whom the Local Government consider that an acknowledgement of their services is due.” The rewards included titles, pecuniary awards, ceremonial robes, etc.72 The Sikh leaders had organized a meeting at the Golden Temple the day after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. It was feared that General Dyer could open fire again. Dyer was himself concerned that “the whole Sikh community would be up in arms as one man” if the Golden Temple were hit by bullets. He wrote to Arur Singh, the manager of the shrine, that such a meeting “would be contrary to all the Sikh usages” and warned that “the troops will all be used to protect your Golden Temple from any kind of indignity or harm.” Dyer met Arur Singh and other Sikh notables and prevailed upon them to cancel the meeting.73 Dyer’s language was identical to what O’Dwyer had used with the Sikh leaders during the Ghadar: ‘un-Sikh’ activities would be prevented by the government. In this instance, too, the community aided the government. Sikh cooperation and support for the British extended from ordinary veterans like Prem Singh and Ganda Singh up to notables like Arur Singh. Indeed, if anything proves the Sikh’s faith in the British government, it is their invitation to Dyer to be baptized as a Sikh in the Golden Temple, after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre.74 When the Third Afghan War broke out a few days later, Sikh leaders reportedly offered Dyer 10,000 men “to fight for the British Raj, if only he would consent to command them.” The military authorities refused the offer.75

71 GOC Lahore Divisional Area to CGS, Army Headquarters, Simla, 23 May 1919, Punjab State Archives, Chandigarh. 72 L. French to Commissioner, Ambala Division, 16 June 1920 in Confidential File no. SA/29, Commissioner’s Office, Ambala Division, Haryana State Archives, Panchkula. 73 Quoted in Colvin, Dyer, 199–200. 74 Mohinder Singh, The Akali Movement (Delhi: 1978), 145; Colvin, Dyer, 202. 75 Colvin, Dyer, 202. loyalty to dissent 475

Nationalist and other accounts of the 1919 disturbances neither ask nor answer why the situation did not escalate into general rebellion in spite of the volatile combination of factors. The most important reason for general calm amongst military men and in rural Punjab was the perception that loyalty would be more advantageous than opposing a ‘benevolent’ state. Thus, the Sikhs remained loyal and provided critical support at times when the paternal government was particularly vulnerable.76 This faithful support of the British by the recruited peasantry of Punjab, reflected in the political dominance of the Punjab Unionist Party, continued until 1946.

Government Allies Restrict National Political Parties

A unique feature of Punjab politics until World War II was the cir- cumscribed spread and limited authority of the two major ‘national’ parties. The All-India Muslim League may have been expected to have a stronger organization and influence in the ‘Muslim-majority’ province than the INC, but its power and prestige was even more restricted than the latter’s. The first important political organization established in Punjab was S.N. Banerjee’s India Association in Lahore in 1877. The INC launched its Punjab branch in 1886. Prominent Punjabi Muslims, including Fazl- i-Husain and Muhammad Shafi, associated with the early Congress. Later, Fazli established a Muslim League in 1906. Shafi started the Muslim Association in 1907 to align Punjabi Muslims with the All India Muslim League. Fazli’s party merged with Shafi’s in November 1907, and the new organization became the Punjab Muslim League. It made rapid progress in the cities of Punjab, but struggled in the districts. However, the conservative Shafi resigned from the League in 1916 in protest against the Lucknow Pact between the INC and the Muslim League. Thereafter, Fazl-i-Husain dominated Punjab politics.77 Provincial politics took a new turn because of the elections to the first Legislative Council in 1920. Fazl-i-Husain’s special concern for the rural people resulted in the establishment of the Rural Party in

76 Komma, “The Sikh Situation in the Punjab” (1923), reprinted in Panjab Past & Present, vol. 12 (1978), 429. 77 Amarjit Singh, Punjab Divided: Politics of the Muslim League and Partition, 1935–1947 (New Delhi: 2001), 26–30. 476 rajit k. mazumder

1921. Renamed and launched as the Punjab Unionist Party in 1923, it ruled Punjab until 1947.78 Moreover, the Muslim League was dependent on Unionist support at the all-India level. M.A. Jinnah’s attempt to dominate Muslim politics was publicly challenged. So confident were the Unionist leaders Fazl-i-Husain and Sikandar Hayat Khan that they warned the future founder of Pakistan to “keep his finger out of the Punjab pie!”79 It was only after the Sikandar-Jinnah Pact in 1937 that there was possibility of future rapprochement.80 Indeed, Satya M. Rai asserts that Unionists understood the pact to mean that Muslim League members “would be constrained to join the Unionist Party,” not the reverse, which was Jinnah’s objective.81 The urban constitution of the INC could not attract the Hindu, Muslim or Sikh peasantry, and initially did not aim at doing so. It was also unsuccessful in gaining the confidence of urban Muslims.82 The INC’s failure to build a rural base resulted from its inability to develop a rural strategy. The constitution of the Unionist party, incorporat- ing dominant rural elements, also restricted INC’s influence.83 During election campaigns, the INC candidates “never specifically mentioned anything about the agrarian question.” Jawaharlal Nehru called it a bourgeois movement, not a labour or a proletarian one.84 Congressmen pressed the party to address industry and education, precisely the subjects urban Punjabis were interested in and already pursuing.85 The Punjab Alienation of Land Act of 1901 was a major blow to any prospect of uniting rural and urban interests. The Act helped foster divergent, antagonistic rural and urban interests. From this perspec-

78 Quotation from Singh, Punjab Divided, 30; Kripal C. Yadav, Elections in the Pun- jab: 1920–1947 (Tokyo: 1981), 132. 79 Quoted in Ayesha Jalal, The Sole Spokesman: Jinnah, the Muslim League and the Demand for Pakistan (1985, reprint, Cambridge: 1994), 21–2. 80 Ian Talbot, Punjab and the Raj: 1849–1947 (Delhi: 1988), 123–6; Khizr Hayat Tiwana’s, “The 1937 Election and the Sikandar-Jinnah Pact”, ed. by Craig Baxter, ‘The Sikandar-Jinnah Pact”, reprinted in Panjab Past & Present, vol. 10 (1976), 356–85. 81 Satya M. Rai, Legislative Politics and the Freedom Movement in the Punjab: 1897– 1947 (New Delhi: 1984), 241. 82 S.D. Gajrani, “Congress in the Rural Punjab”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 17 (1983), 91–2. 83 Prem Chowdhary, “Social Support Base and Electoral Politics: The Congress in Southeast Punjab”, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 25 (1991), 811–31. 84 Gajrani, “Congress”, 98. 85 N.G. Barrier, “Mass Politics and the Punjab Congress in the Pre-Gandhian Era”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 9 (1975), 353–4. loyalty to dissent 477 tive, it was an impressive accomplishment of the Punjab government.86 It also vindicates the suggestion that British officials preferred rural to urban Punjab.87 A government report in 1949 stated: “At present there is no real personal contact or personal sympathy between the urban reader of newspapers and the illiterate worker in the village.”88 Furthermore, District Soldiers’ Boards and tehsil level soldiers’ organizations acted as a link between the villages and British officials. The Indian Soldiers’ Board, consisting of retired soldiers, had been set up after World War I to ensure military families suffered minimally. The District Boards included civil district officials and the military commander of the area. This organization enabled them to be used as a government department. These boards played an important role in checking the spread of disaffection during the 1919 disturbances.89 During the Civil Disobedience movement in the 1930s, “Members of the District Soldiers’ Board continue[d] to form a useful medium in counteracting anti-Government propaganda among the military classes.”90 Politics in rural Punjab had not been organized by any party until Fazl-i-Husain founded the Rural Party in 1921, restructured as the Punjab Unionist Party in 1923 following an alliance with Chhotu Ram.91 The formation of the Unionist Party was one of the most influential political developments in Punjab; it resulted from the way electoral reforms worked.92 Its greater portion was made up Muslims who “combined with certain agriculturist Hindus and some of the Sikhs”; all were “pledged to support rural interests.”93 Chhotu Ram, leader of the Hindu Jats, gave active assistance to Fazl-i-Husain in forming the party. Chhotu Ram had been a member of the INC but

86 See Memorandum Submitted by the Government of Punjab to the Indian Statutory Commission, 1930 (It is better known as the ‘Simon Commission’. Hereafter, MSG- PISC), 2–3, IOR, BL. Mazumder, Indian Army, 99–107; Ian Talbot, Khizr Tiwana: The Punjab Unionist Party and the Partition of India (Karachi: 2002), 5–6. 87 P.H.M. van den Dungen, The Punjab Tradition: Influence and Authority in Nine- teenth Century India (London: 1972), 299. 88 Report of the Alienation of Land Inquiry Committee, West Punjab, 1949, p. 32, IOR, BL. 89 Mazumder, Indian Army, 130–3; Tan Tai Yong, The Garrison State: The Military, Government and Society in Colonial Punjab, 1849–1947 (New Delhi: 2005), 141–63. 90 Indian Soldiers Board Report, 1931, p. 2, IOR, BL. 91 Singh, Punjab Divided, 30; Yadav, Elections, 132. 92 Mazumder, Indian Army, 116–30. 93 MSGPISC, 58; Talbot, Punjab, 80–184; David Gilmartin, Empire and Islam: Pun- jab and the Making of Pakistan (Berkeley: 1988), 108–45. 478 rajit k. mazumder resigned because of the clash between his landholder status and radical Congress policies towards Non-Cooperation and land revenue.94 The Unionists generally supported each other, even though they cut across all the religious divisions in the province.95 According to the government, “The majority of the members of this party were men of the yeoman type, on the whole conservative in their general outlook, shrewd in practical matters and consistent in their efforts to promote the interests of the small yeoman and land-owners’ class.”96 Unionist dominance of provincial elections best underscores their supremacy. This suggests that the rural Punjab electorate supported the policies and the politics of Unionist leaders. The remarkable success of this loyalist party was also a triumph of the policies of the ‘Punjab School’: state paternalism in general, and the Land Alienation Act in particular, had successfully divided rural and urban politics. Representing the rural constituency, the Unionists easily managed to circumscribe the INC and the Muslim League.97 The following para- graphs summarise election results in Punjab between 1923 and 1937. In the 1923 elections, the Unionists won 33 of the 71 elected seats, the Swaraj Party,98 12, and the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee, 9. The remaining 17 went to independents.99 K.C. Yadav’s calculation, that between 70 to 75% of the rural population were “non- sympathetic to the Congress cause” during the Non-Cooperation Movement is borne out by the result of the 1926 elections: the party won only 2 (of the 71) seats. Moreover, Gandhi’s withdrawal of the movement after the Chauri Chaura incident, without consult- ing Muslim or Sikh leaders in Punjab, was a ‘blunder’ as Sikhs felt ‘betrayed’ by the Congress leadership. The ChiefKhalsa Diwan and the Hindu Mahasabha were relative failures within their communities;

94 Prem Chowdhry, “Social Base of Chaudhri Sir Chhotu Ram’s Politics”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 10 (1976), 157–9, 163–4. Chhotu Ram’s own, self-justifying version is in “A Speech by Sir Chhotu Ram, 1st March 1942”, reprinted in Panjab Past & Present, vol. 8 (1974), 223–4. 95 “A Speech by Sir Chhotu Ram, 1st March 1942”, 221, 224. 96 MSGPISC, 59. 97 K.C. Yadav, “The Partition of India: A Study of Muslim Politics in Punjab, 1849–1947”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 17 (1983), 124–7; Talbot, Punjab, 103–4; S. Qalb-i-Abid, Muslim Politics in the Punjab: 1921–1947 (Lahore: 1992), 30–59, 71–96. 98 Rai, Legislative Politics, 128. 99 Yadav, Elections, 133–4. loyalty to dissent 479 the INC had limited influence even with urban middle classes.100 Consequently, in the 1926 elections, the Unionists retained their majority with 31 seats. The HinduMahasabha won 12, the Central Sikh League 11, Khilafatists 3, the INC only 2, and independents took 12 seats.101 However, 50 out of the 71 elected members belonged to ‘agricultural tribes’. The Swaraj Party had ‘practically disappeared’ and its place was taken by the Hindu Mahasabha “which was in much closer touch with Government,” though representing mainly urban interests. By this time the Akali crisis had come to an amicable end and the Sikhs were thought to be better disposed towards the government.102 In the 1930 elections the Unionists’ strength in the Punjab Legislative Council increased to 37 seats, the National Progressive Party103 won 20, and the remaining 14 went to ‘others’.104 The Council and its members lived up to government expectations: The party has been strong enough to secure thatthe interests of the rural community should be kept prominently before the notice of the Council and of the Executive Government and its pressure has undoubtedly influenced the policy of Government in its attitude towards these interests. To a very considerable extent also Government has been dependent on the support of this party for such success as has been attained during Council working, for the combination of the votes of the party with those of the official bloc could always secure a predominance in the Council.105 A prime cause of Unionist success at the expense of the INC was its ability to poach the latter’s ideology into a successful zamindar propaganda and carry the rural voter on the basis of its obvious agricultural background. Thus, in the post-Depression years Unionists were able to usurp the INC agenda, even radical demands, call themselves the ‘real Congress’, and simultaneously malign the INC as an urban, bania organization.106 The elected government also passed legislation

100 Yadav, Elections, 117–8, 121, 133–4. 101 Yadav, Elections, 133–4. 102 MSGPISC, 59–62. 103 Rai, Legislative Politics, 223. 104 Yadav, Elections, 133–4. 105 MSGPISC, 61. Emphasis added. 106 Prem Chowdhry, “The Zamindar Ideology of the Unionist Party: Ideology and Propaganda Tactics of the Unionists in South-East Punjab”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 16 (1982), 317–36. 480 rajit k. mazumder

favouring rural interests: the Punjab Regulation of Accounts Act, 1930, the Indebtedness Act, 1934, the Debtor’s Protection Act, 1936 and two amendments to the Punjab Alienation of Land Act between 1931 and 1936.107 These policies resulted in spectacular Unionist success in the 1937 elections. They won 98 of the 175 seats; the INC was a distant second with 18 seats.108 The Independents were the third largest group winning 16 seats. TheKhalsa National Party109 and the Akali Dal won 13 and 12 of the Sikh seats, respectively, while the Hindu Mahasabha was the only other party to get into double figures with 12 seats. Significantly, the Muslim League won only 2 seats. One of them defected to the Unionists.110 Ian Talbot describes the Unionist domination of Muslim politics in Punjab as “gobbling up the Muslim League!”111 Despite their outright majority, the Unionists shrewdly included a Hindu and a Sikh in their cabinet. Thus, Sikandar Hayat Khan kept the late Fazl-i-Husain’s election pledge of allocating cabinet berths to coalition partners. This alliance gave them an overwhelming majority of 120 seats in the assembly of 175.112 The distribution of these seats equally emphatically underlines Unionist domination, and supports the thesis of the rural-urban divide. The INC won 7 of the 8 ‘general—urban’ seats, 5 ‘general– rural’, 2 ‘Muslim–rural’, and 4 seats from ‘Sikh–rural’ constituencies. The Unionists swept the Muslim rural category, winning 72 of the 75 reserved seats; 12 of their candidates won unopposed. That, the Unionists cut across all communities is reflected in their candidates’ winning 12 seats from ‘general–rural’ (Hindu) constituencies, as well as 2 of the 4 ‘Indian Christians’ seats. The rural-urban divide is reflected

107 Mridula Mukherjee, “Rural Indebtedness in Colonial Punjab”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 23 (1989), 177, footnote 73; Prem Chowdhry, “Rural Relations Prevailing in the Punjab at the Time of Enactment of the so called ‘Golden Laws’ of Agrarian Legislation of the Late Thirties”,Panjab Past & Present, vol. 10 (1976), 462, 477–9. 108 Lionel Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics, 1936–1939: The Start of Provincial Autonomy– Governor’s Fortnightly Reports and other Key Documents (Delhi: 2004), 77; Sumit Sarkar, Modern India: 1885–1947 (1983, reprint, New Delhi: 2004), 349. 109 Yash Pal Bajaj, “Sikhs and the First General Elections (1936–37) to the Punjab Legislative Assembly: An Analysis”, Panjab Past & Present, vol. 21 (1987), 104. 110 Yadav, Elections, 132–4; Sarkar, Modern India, 349. 111 Talbot, Punjab, 100–41, quotation on p. 123; Rai, Legislative Politics, 218–33; Singh, Punjab Divided, 57–89. 112 Rai, Legislative Politics, 225–37. loyalty to dissent 481 both in the few INC rural seats, and in the Unionist tally of only 2 (of 9) Muslim urban seats.113 The Unionist success in 1937 was the outcome of decades of state paternalism114 and the reciprocal support of the dominant elements of Punjab society. They were represented in and by the Unionist Party115 and its success reflected the triumph of government policy. The 1937 elections marked the zenith of the successful collaboration between the colonial state and its ‘martial’, ‘agriculturalist allies.116 Only monu- mental upheavals, brought about by World War II, would shake this carefully erected edifice of mutual support and advantage.

Soldiers’ Dissent

The Second World War accelerated political activity in British India. The aggressive recruitment by Indian political parties, each anticipating the end of British rule, inevitably led to efforts to influence military men. The Sikh soldiers in Hong Kong, Shanghai and Singapore were reportedly targeted by “communist activity connected with India, possibly with Japanese encouragement.”117 A Sikh rebellion in Hong Kong against use of steel helmets,118 resulted in 83 of them being ‘convicted of mutiny.’119 The ‘civil police and civilians’ were also ‘implicated’ and it was alleged that “agents in Shanghai, America and Japan have been at work.”120 The British reaction is instructive: an ‘Indian Policeman’ was sent ‘to help investigate the case’;121 officers of the Indian Army were to serve with Indian troops;122 local regulations were to be amended to enable “arrest, detention, and interrogation of suspects without access

113 Yadav, Elections, 84–97. 114 Talbot, Punjab, 100–14. 115 Chowdhry, “Rural Relations”, 461–80; Chowdhry, “Social Base”, 166–9. 116 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1936–1939, 47–56. 117 Secret Telegram, dated 17 January 1941, from the GOC Hong Kong (GOC, HK) to the War Office, London, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. 118 Secret Telegram, dated 22 December 1940, from GOC, HK to the C-in-CI. 119 Secret Telegram, dated 12 March 1941, from GOC, HK to WO, London. 120 Secret Telegram, dated 11 February 1941, from GOC, HK to C-in-CI. 121 Typed note, dated 27 December 1940 (from GOC, HK?) with correspondence in L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. It was not addressed to anybody, and the signature was illegible. 122 Secret Telegram, dated 20 January 1941, from C-in-CI to WO, London. 482 rajit k. mazumder to courts or tribunal”;123 the concession of voluntary use of helmets124 and the strict instruction that helmets ‘will not repeat not be issued to Sikhs’ in the Middle East;125 the use of ‘suitable Sikh representatives’ who would succeed in ‘convincing both soldier and civilian Sikhs in Hong Kong of Sikh revulsion against acts [of ] indiscipline’;126 and “positive propaganda as a complementary measure to the suppression of communism.”127 These are nearly identical to O’Dwyer’s politic combination of severe punishment and conciliatory actions over 20 years ago during the Ghadr. The colonial government continued to be constrained by recruited Punjabis, particularly when the latter were ‘disaffected’ by politics in their home districts. It was a matter of the utmost strategic significance. These events compelled the Indian Army to investigate the impact of politics on Sikh soldiers, and resulted in the secret Survey of the Sikh situation as affecting the Army.128 TheSurvey was based on the reports of “certain specially selected officers” who had been sent “both round the units which enlisted Sikhs and on tours through the main Sikh recruiting areas.” It opened with an unambiguous endorsement of the community: “The vast majority of the serving Sikhs in the army are believed to be perfectly loyal.” But, there was cause for concern, particularly in “small, non-combatant units like M.T. companies and Ordnance workshops,” and in “units where supervision was poor.” Blame was consistently attributed to ‘the communist agitator.’ TheSurvey claimed that the Communal Award of 1932 had altered politics, pushing the Akalis, ‘who had always been anti-British’, to ally with the INC. It was an unlikely partnership because their “only points . . . in common” was thought to be “dislike of the British, and in the Punjab at any rate, dislike of the Muslims.” However, the authorities remained confident that the Sikhs would realize “that in the event of a Congress triumph

123 Secret Telegram, dated 17 January 1941, from GOC, HK to WO, London. Emphasis added. 124 Extract from General Orders, dated 11 November 1940, by General Archibald Wavell, C-in-C, Middle East, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. 125 Secret Telegram, dated 24 December 1940, from C-in-CI to GOC, HK. 126 Secret Telegram, dated 10 January 1941, from C-in-CI to GOC, HK. 127 ‘Most Secret’ Enclosure, dated 7 October 1940, from the private secy. to the viceroy to the private secy. to the secretary of state, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. 128 The undated report was to “appear in the next issue of the Monthly Intelligence Summary” according to Secret Memorandum no. 39854/M.I.7., dated 17 August 1940, from Lieutenant-Colonel O.L. Roberts, for the CGS, India, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. It can, therefore, be dated to the end of August 1940. loyalty to dissent 483 they would stand to lose all that has made them what they are; that the ‘non-violent’ Congress has no sympathy whatever for the claims of the martial classes. . . .”129 The Survey next touched upon an issue that was to have critical impact in determining Punjab’s future: At present, due to political developments, the relations between the Sikh and Muslim communities in the Punjab are rapidly deteriorating and the past few years have witnessed the growth of serious hostility. This has been increased by talk of ‘Pakistan’ and the fear that unless the Sikhs, who have no friends anywhere, are not careful, they may find their only home in the world under the complete domination of an overwhelmingly strong Muslim power. The visiting officers found that this fear was widespread and genuine. It has been to some extent at the bottom of the growth of lawlessness in some districts. This has encouraged the sur- reptitious collection of arms, both by Sikhs and Muslims. It is correct to say that both communities are arming as fast as they can. The agitator has naturally made the most of the opportunities thus provided and does his utmost to worsen the atmosphere by spreading most virulent propaganda calculated to increase the fears of the ignorant Sikh peasantry until they become ripe for revolt in the countryside or mutiny in the army. This propaganda is directed mainly to exploiting grievances with a view to creating a spirit of discontent with the ultimate object of causing revolt against Government.130 In other words, Sikh-Muslim animosity, arising out of the Pakistan demand, had enabled the ‘agitator’ to sow rebellious ‘discontent’ against the British government. The demand for Pakistan, in turn, had not only evolved from the politics of the Muslim communities in British India, but also from the political concessions made by the GOI in the wake of the War.131 Unfortunately for the British, the extraordinary circumstances of the time adversely affected the salutary influence of District Soldiers Boards. These boards had been critical in facilitating dialogue between the government and local communities. In the past they had helped quick resolution between the state and agitating groups, for instance in 1919. One of the reasons for their ‘ineffective’ working at the present time was the shortage of available funds caused by wartime severity. Another, more enduring, cause was “the normally bad relationship

129 Survey of the Sikh Situation, 1–3, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. 130 Survey of the Sikh Situation, 3. 131 Jalal, Sole Spokesman, 50–60. 484 rajit k. mazumder between military officers and subordinate civil officials.” This was considered very dangerous as the government apprehended that “the evil communal atmosphere in some of the Punjab districts may begin to show itself among serving soldiers.” TheSurvey therefore concluded: “All is not well in the Sikh community and this atmosphere of general unrest, uncertainty and divided leadership has had its inevitable effect on Sikhs serving in the Army.”132 The Survey had specific ‘military’ and ‘civil’ recommendations to bring about ‘a more wholesome atmosphere’ in Punjab. These measures are a good indicator of the constraints and compulsions the colonial state faced when local politics began affecting recruited communities. The military recommendations included: enhancing ‘security intelligence’ so that ‘tainted men’ could be ‘detected and eliminated’ from the regiments; the re-verification of all Sikh reservists in Punjab because they had ‘become contaminated in civil life’; assisting the Punjab government through the Soldiers Boards, and spreading ‘pro-government propaganda’; only ‘class Sikh regiments’ to be deployed overseas, and “recruitment of Sikhs for small ancillary units . . . be suspended.”133 The gravity of the situation can be gauged from the following proposal: Until the army authorities are satisfied that adequate progress has been made in the restoration of the Sikh situation generally it is out of the question to increase our liability in regard to a class whose attitude is uncertain, by raising more units which will include a Jat Sikh element. Existing units containing Jat Sikhs will of course be maintained.134 It is difficult to separate these military recommendations from the ‘civil’ ones to be “inaugurated by the Punjab Government.” The latter included: action to curtail activities of agitators in villages and trains; “to improve and increase pro-Government propaganda and foster the growth of a healthy public opinion particularly . . . towards the prosecution of the war”; “Steps to ensure closer contact between Government officials and Sikh leaders”; ‘tightening up’ the verification of recruits and reservists; and ‘strengthening of District Soldiers Boards’.135 This was not the only case of Sikh insubordination. In December 1939, Sikhs in the Royal Indian Army Service Corps serving in Egypt

132 Survey of the Sikh situation, 3–5. 133 Survey of the Sikh Situation, 5–6. 134 Survey of the Sikh Situation, 6, emphasis added. 135 Survey of the Sikh Situation, 6–7. loyalty to dissent 485 refused to load/unload material protesting they were not ‘coolies’.136 In another instance, in July 1940, 106 Sikhs of the CIH refused to embark for Europe at Bombay; they had allegedly been ‘infected’ by a communist cell.137 These incidents, too, led to a flurry of investigations. The correspondence was similar to that in the case of the ‘Hong Kong Sikhs’, as were the recommended actions and future precautions.138 The colonial state was distressed by these incidents; it reacted quickly, and with conciliatory overtures, to re-establish control in the units and confidence in Punjab. The Sikhs were no ordinary community. They were one of the most celebrated ‘martial classes’ in India, acknowledged as the ‘flower’ of the Indian Army by the British themselves. Even Fazl-i-Husain had acknowledged, during the earlier Akali crisis, that: . . . the Sikhs may be small in number, but they are the only community in India who have won against the British Government and established the position of domination which commands the respect as well as the fears of others and makes Government give in. . . . In case of conflict the Government give in and they are always careful indeed that there may be no conflict.139 Fazl-i-Husain’s comments highlight what British officials and educated Punjabis recognized: recruited communities would be appeased. The alternative was rebellion in the armed forces.140 No colonial government could risk alienating the army, the institution enabling imperial rule. Punjab and recruited Punjabis were the backbone of the British Indian Army. The days of the British in India were numbered once this special relationship deteriorated. And World War II was its principal catalyst.

136 Letter, dated 13 February 1940, from the GOC British Troops in Egypt to CICI, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. Details are in the ‘Strictly Secret. Report by J.P. Morton, Indian Police, on Deputation to the Forces in Egypt’ enclosed with the GOC’s letter. 137 Copy of a note prepared in the Intelligence Bureau of the Government of India, dated the 5th September 1940, L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL. 138 The collection War Staff file L/WS/1/303, IOR, BL, classifiedDisaffection as of Sikh Troops, contained more than 140 pages covering events in Hong Kong, Egypt and Bombay. 139 Fazl-i-Husain, “Punjab Politics” (1936), reprinted in Panjab Past & Present, vol. 5 (1971), 146–7. Emphasis added. Mazumder, Indian Army, 213–30. 140 The Army in India Committee Report, vol. 1-A, Minority Report, 11. 486 rajit k. mazumder

Twilight of the British-Indian Empire: 1939–1947

Government paternalism and the reciprocal loyalty of rural recruited Punjabis dominated Punjab politics. It peaked with Sikandar Hayat Khan becoming the first premier of Punjab in 1937. Sikandar came from the landed and powerful Khattar family which had a sizeable representation in the Indian Army. After his death in 1942, he was succeeded by Khizr Hayat Khan Tiwana whose background, if not his abilities, was identical. Both were scions of substantial landholding clans, had retired as officers of the Indian Army, and were leaders of the Punjab Unionist Party.141 Punjab politics were unique in the annals of British India. The symbiotic relationship between the dominant recruited communities and the colonial state was thriving in 1938. The newly appointed Governor, H.D. Craik, returning to Punjab after a 4 year absence, reported that “Provincial Autonomy has brought about very little actual change” to government in Punjab.142 World War II led to a new phase in British India. In Punjab, the Unionist government pledged full support for the war effort143 and Sikandar warned that anybody hindering recruitment would be arrested under Defence of India Rules.144 TheAkali Dal, the most influential Sikh organization, objected to this unilateral support for the British as well as Sikandar’s claim to speak for all ‘martial classes.’ But, Sundar Singh Majithia, the Sikh revenue minister in the Unionist government, ignored Akali censure. It proved to be a mistake: the Akalis thereafter aligned with and supported the anti-war Congress Party.145 The Unionist Party faced unprecedented pressures after the War commenced.146 The arrival of Bertrand Glancy as Governor in April 1941 exacerbated their situation. Glancy, reputed to be one of the most intelligent and able administrators in India, had never served in Punjab, and was unaffected by the ‘Punjab tradition’ of his predecessors. He approached politics with a broad, inclusive attitude, not with

141 Rai, Legislative Politics, 218–46; Talbot, Khizr Tiwana, 93–129. 142 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics, 1936–1939, 203–5. 143 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1936–1939, 375–6. 144 Rai, Legislative Politics, 259. 145 Rai, Legislative Politics, 258–65. 146 Rai, Legislative Politics, 248–55. loyalty to dissent 487 the intention of sustaining a privileged rural base. Perhaps for the first time, a Punjab governor was as interested in the welfare of towns as that of the villages. His even-handedness in dealing with the Sikhs, and criticism of the way in which recent pro-landholder legislation had been passed resulted in a cooling of relations with Sikandar.147 The Second World War had a devastating effect on economic life in India.148 The consequent pressures forced measures that alienated the Punjab government from its rural allies. Colonial benefaction to rural regions flagged because of financial restrictions. To make matters worse, commercial classes had to be accommodated at the expense of landowners to facilitate the war effort. The rural regions became volatile because consumer goods as well as food supplies became scarce.149 Stringent economic controls and heavy handed recruitment diminished popularity in rural areas.150 The Unionists had to bear the brunt of rural dissatisfaction because they formed the incumbent government. Their ill fortune was compounded by the untimely loss of two stalwarts: Sikandar died in 1942, Chhotu Ram in 1945. The British decision to leave India,151 Khizr’s break with Jinnah in 1944, and the success of the communal propaganda of the Muslim League divided the Unionists.152 The 1946 elections was the defining moment in Punjab politics. The 73 seats won by the Muslim League were the highest by any party. The INC was second with 51, while the Akalis improved their position to 21. The Independents collected 11 seats. The reversal in the Unionist

147 Lionel Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics, 1940–1943: Strains of War—Governors’ Fortnightly Reports and other Key Documents (Delhi: 2005), Editor’s Introduction, 11–13. 148 B.R. Tomlinson, The Economy of Modern India, 1860–1970 (Cambridge: 1996), 160–8. Tirthankar Roy, The Economic History of India: 1857–1947 (New Delhi, 2nd imprint 2003), 164–5, 257. 149 Lionel Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics, 1 January 1944–3 March 1947: Last Years of the Ministries—Governors’ Fortnightly Reports and other Key Documents (Delhi: 2006), 53–181. 150 Rai, Legislative Politics, 274–7, 287–91; Jalal, Sole Spokesman, 138–43; Talbot, Punjab, 142–74. 151 Ian Talbot and Gurharpal Singh, The Partition of India (Cambridge: 2009), 7. 152 Jalal, Sole Spokesman, 82–98; Ian Talbot, “Growth of the Muslim League in the Punjab”, in Mushirul Hasan (ed.), India’s Partition: Process, Strategy and Mobilization, (Delhi: 1993), 233–57; David Gilmartin, “A Magnificent Gift: Muslim Nationalism and the Election Process in Colonial Punjab”, Comparative Studies in Society and His- tory, vol. 40 (1998), 415–36. 488 rajit k. mazumder position was as momentous as the Muslim League’s victory. The party that had dominated Punjab politics for a quarter century could manage a meagre 19 seats in 1946. Nonetheless, despite the League majority, the Unionists formed the government via an unlikely alliance with the INC and the Akalis, all bitter rivals previously.153 The dismal Unionist tally did not imply that the Muslim League had cornered either their politics or their constituencies. As late as August 1941, ‘over 60’ Unionists stood by Sikandar against Jinnah, having “handed in their resignations from Muslim League [sic]. . . .”154 The primary cause of the League’s stunning success just 5 years later was the defection of more than 60 Unionists. The desertion resulted from the instability created by Sikandar’s death in 1942, and the defectors’ assessment that the Muslim League was the party of the future. Sikandar died unexpectedly of a heart attack at the age of 50; it was a serious and severe blow to the Unionists and the British.155 Thereafter, the Muslim League became more confident and aggressive in Punjab. According to the viceroy, “under the stress of the League’s growing influence in the Punjab, the Muslim members of the Ministry and their hangers-on have been tempted to show themselves more Muslim than the League itself.” He complained that, consequently, “the government is tending to become Muslim rather than ‘Punjabi’.”156 Subsequent events vindicate Viceroy Lord Linlithgow. Jinnah pressed Khizr in August 1943 to rename the Punjab government the ‘Muslim League Coalition Ministry.’157 Khizr’s refusal culminated in his expulsion from the Muslim League in 1944. It created an ‘anoma- lous position’ for the Unionists: “its leader was no longer a member of the League while the rest of the Muslim Ministers and the rank and file still owe formal allegiance to this organization.”158 Once expelled, the Punjab premier came in for devastating personal attack: Khizar has been subjected of late by Jinnah’s confederates to a constant stream of personal abuse and every variety of unfair attack; he has been openly pilloried in the League Press as an infidel, a traitor to Islam, a

153 Yadav, Elections, 133–4. 154 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1940–1943, 271. 155 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1940–1943, 337. 156 Quoted in Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1940–1943, 414. 157 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1940–1943, 389. 158 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 83. loyalty to dissent 489

cowardly recreant, a puppet in the hands of Hindus and a servile supporter of the British Raj.159 Identical rhetoric was successfully used against the Unionists, too.160 Sikandar’s eldest son, Shaukat, had been appointed a minister by Khizr, but demonstrated a boisterous independent streak that irked both the governor and the premier.161 Shaukat’s inexperience and belligerence finally led to his dismissal in April 1944.162 Jinnah, “constantly on the watch for a chance to disrupt the Unionist Ministry,” exploited the situation.163 For a while he was thwarted by Chhotu Ram, who had, “Throughout Jinnah’s campaign . . . been a most valuable and uncompromising supporter of the Unionist cause.”164 Khizr’s hold over the party weakened with Chhotu Ram’s death in January 1945. Twenty Unionists defected to the Muslim League.165 The GOI’s organization of the Simla Conference of 1945, particularly the undue prominence it gave to the Muslim League, aggravated the Unionist position. Punjab’s Governor Glancy had not been in favour of the conference, and wrote to Viceroy A. Wavell that “the invitation to the Muslim League on the lines proposed would . . . produce a devastating effect in the Punjab. It could not fail to give the impression that the Muslim League is the only section of Muslims to which Government attach importance.”166 The failure of the Simla Conference and the subsequent politics in Punjab worsened the situation for the British. Glancy reported that: Since Jinnah succeeded by his intransigence in wrecking the Simla Conference, his stock has been standing very high with his followers and with a large section of the Muslim population. He has been hailed as the champion of Islam. He has openly given out that the elections will show an overwhelming verdict in favour of Pakistan. I must confess that I am gravely perturbed over the situation, because there is very serious danger of the elections being fought, so far as the Muslims are concerned, on an entirely false issue. Crude Pakistan may be quite illogical, undefinable and ruinous to India and in particular to Muslims, but this does not

159 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 87–8. 160 Gilmartin, “A Magnificent Gift”, 415–36. 161 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics, 1940–1943, 378. 162 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 71–5. 163 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1940–1943, 382. 164 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 88. 165 Jalal, Sole Spokesman, 138–51; Rai, Legislative Politics, pp. 304–17. 166 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 105. 490 rajit k. mazumder

detract from its potency as a political slogan. The uninformed Muslim will be told that the question he is called on to answer at the polls is— Are you a true believer or an infidel and a traitor? Against this slogan the Unionists have no spectacular battle-cry; they can point no doubt to their consistent support of the War Effort, to the various reforms they have introduced . . . and to their extensive post-War programme for the benefit of the Province. But all this may carry little weight against the false and fanatical scream that Islam is in danger. . . .167 The prescient governor was also concerned that, “Maulvis and Pirs and students travel all over the Province and each preach that those who fail to vote for the League candidates will cease to be Muslims; their marriages will no longer be valid and they will be entirely excommunicated.”168 When electioneering began for the 1946 elections, 40 Unionists, sensing the imminence of Pakistan, switched over to the League.169 Khizr was thus left with only 25 Muslim Unionists from 1937.170 Recent research has shown how acutely correct the governor’s analysis was.171 Indeed, it could be argued that the Muslim League seats in rural Punjab in 1946 had essentially been retained by erstwhile Unionists!

Conclusion

Politics in rural Punjab had been dominated and embodied by the Unionist Party until 1946. The party’s highest echelons included leaders of Punjab’s dominant communities. These men represented recruited communities and recruiting districts, and many were retired soldiers. It was understood that loyalty to the colonial state, through military service and quiet obedience, would be reciprocated through special privileges and indulgent policies. Consequently, no other political organization in Punjab, including the Muslim League and the INC, had influence outside its limited urban presence. The situation altered late in the 1940s when global events had profound local ramifications.

167 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 141–2. Emphasis added. 168 Carter (ed.), Punjab Politics: 1 January 1944–3 March 1947, 171. 169 Singh, Punjab Divided, 149–154. Jalal, Sole Spokesman, 138–51; Rai, Legislative Politics, 304–17. 170 Khizr Tiwana, “1937 Elections”, Editor’s (Craig Baxter) postscript, 383–4. 171 Talbot, “Growth of the Muslim League”, 233–57; Gilmartin, “A Magnificent Gift”, 415–36; Singh, Punjab Divided, 148–71. loyalty to dissent 491

In Punjab, demands during the Second World War compelled British officials and the Unionist government to inevitably, if reluctantly, withdraw decades of privilege to militarized communities. Thereafter, the special relationship between recruited Punjabis and the colonial state deteriorated. It hastened the end of Britain’s Indian Empire.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“BREAKING THE CHAINS WITH WHICH WE WERE BOUND”: THE INTERROGATION CHAMBER, THE INDIAN NATIONAL ARMY AND THE NEGATION OF MILITARY IDENTITIES, 1941–1947

Gajendra Singh

During the Second World War the second largest rebellion of personnel in British Imperial military history occurred with the formation of the INA1 from among the 50,000 jawans captured during the Japanese offensive through Malaya.2 The history of the INA is well known: from its pronouncement and the gleeful throwing of caps and turbans in the air at the fall of Singapore on 17 February 1942;3 to its role in the thwarted Japanese invasion of India in March 1944; to the death of Subhas Chandra Bose in August 1945. It has been recounted in the memoirs of Japanese officers,4 influential INA personnel,5 and the sanitized narratives of British intelligence officers.6 The histories they have written will not be reproduced here. What will be discussed

1 Strictly speaking the term INA ought to only be used for the first phase of its existence between 1941 and 1942, since it was reformed and renamed the Azad Hind Fauj after Subhas Chandra Bose arrived in Singapore in 1943. For the purposes of this article, however, I have used the terms INA or Azad Hind Fauj interchangeably. 2 It is unclear quite how many joined the INA. The final tally reached by (Brit- ish) military intelligence was 23,266. That does not include the number of men who may have joined the INA and left again without British knowledge, or those that evaded capture altogether. Indian National Army, 28 January 1947; Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 3, War Staff Papers, Asia and Africa Collection, L/WS/1/1578, IOR, BL. 3 General Mohan Singh, Soldiers’ Contribution to Indian Independence (Delhi: 1974), 108–9. 4 For instance, Fujiwara Iwaichi, F. Kikan: Japanese Army Intelligence Operations in Southeast Asia during World War II; tr. by Akashi Yoji, (Hong Kong: 1983). 5 Gurbaksh Singh Dhillon, From My Bones: Memoirs of Colonel Gurbaksh Singh Dhillon of the Indian National Army (Delhi: 1999); Shahnawaz Khan, My Memories of INA & Its Netaji (Delhi: 1946); Peter Ward Fay, The Forgotten Army: India’s Armed Struggle for Independence, 1942–1945 (Ann Arbor: 1993); Mohan Singh, Soldiers’ Con- tribution to Indian Independence. 6 Hugh Toye, Subhash Chandra Bose: The Springing Tiger (Bombay: 1959). 494 gajendra singh is the memorialization of the INA in the testimony of the jawans involved both during and immediately after the Second World War. In the summer of 1945, a small group of captured INA personnel found themselves imprisoned in the depths of the Red Fort in Delhi. Each man was taken away, one after another, by a bespectacled ‘Mr. Bannerjee’,7 interrogated over their defections from the British- Indian Army, and accused of ‘Waging War Against the King’ in the tropical forests of Burma and Malaya. The interrogations did not go well. Major-General Arcot Doraisamy Loganathan, the highest ranking member of the group, refused to accept that he and his men had committed a crime, and began to use the space of the interrogation room to interrogate the interrogators: He has originated at CSDIC(I) the new term “BIFF” [British Influenced Indian Forces], which he has used objectionably on more than one occasion as an opprobrious designation of Indian officers working here. He has at the same time attempted to cross-examine such officers on their motives in remaining loyal and has given them subversive advice. On these occasions he has demonstrated an attitude to Indian members of the (British) Indian Army even more hostile than his attitude to the British.8 Loganathan and his fellow officers were not alone in their expressions of hostility. Of the 23,266 military personnel of the INA who were captured and then grilled by British Military Intelligence up to 28 January 1947, only 3,880 men were deemed to be unconditionally loyal to the Crown.9 But, this was not because the majority of soldiers had suddenly become ‘Nationalistically minded’, as British Officers sifting through their interrogations assumed.10 In the interrogation room, the jawans occupied a space in which they could reason, conceive and speak of

7 ‘Mr Banerjee’ was how Gurbaksh Singh Dhillon’s interrogator introduced himself when he was interned alongside Loganathan in the Red Fort. Dhillon, From My Bones, 403. 8 Interrogation of Lieutenant-Colonel/Major-General Arcot Doraisamy Loga- nadan [sic.]; CSDIC (India), No.2 Section Information Reports [hereafter CSDIC(I) Reports]; INA Papers, NAI, New Delhi, 379/INA; Parts 17–22. Italics mine. 9 Indian National Army, 28 January 1947; Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 3. 10 Claude Auchinleck, C-in-CI, Typewritten minute marked ‘Strictly Personal and Secret’ from General Auchinleck, concerning the effect on the Indian Army as a whole of the first trial of members of the Indian National Army, 12 February 1946; Major-General Thomas Wynford Rees Papers, Asia and Africa Collection, MSS EUR/ F274/95, BL. indian national army 495 the INA and of the Indian Army. And in that space, more often than not, they simultaneously negated the conventions of the interrogation room and rejected the whole concept that a soldier ought to show fealty towards his officers—whether they led an army formed for the freedom of India or for the defence of the British Empire. The other side of this rejection of military deference was the creation and relaying of histories of the INA in which ordinary jawans were at the forefront. Individual soldiers, recounting the reasons and methods by which they had defected to the Azad Hind Fauj, spoke of vast conspiratorial networks or of them having been the personal envoys of nationalist leaders under the noses of their officers. Others explained what life was like within the ranks of the INA by referring to the plays that the jawans wrote and performed about their experiences. And yet more jawans spoke of the mutinies and protests they had engaged to force the nascent rebel army into changing its policies when it was perceived to be failing its soldiers. In each type of testimony there was an elision between truth and fiction, but what remained constant was the paramount place the ordinary soldier had in these narratives. This article will start with an account of how and why the machinery for the interrogation of INA personnel was created. The first accounts of an anti-British led Indian Army having been formed among Indian POWs paralyzed detailed analyses of why the defections had occurred, and led to premature conclusions that the army could recover and rehabilitate its soldiers if proper programmes were established. It will then discuss how the jawans subverted the whole process of the interrogation by refusing to respect the ordinary relationship between interrogator/interrogated or officer/soldier, and investigate thejawan - led histories that they created. In particular, the men of 3 units of the Imperial Indian Army and its Nationalist counterpart will be discussed: the 1/15th Punjabis, the ‘Drama Party’ and the Hong Kong and Singapore Royal Artillery. Each of the men of the battalions, regiments and units had different experiences in and of the INA. Their testimony further benefits from having been more complete and from having been summarized in a less disjointed and fragmentary manner than those of their peers. 496 gajendra singh

Segregating ‘White’ from ‘Black’: The Need to Interrogate

Publishers in Britain have rarely presided over works devoted wholly to the subject of the INA.11 When the men of the INA or ‘JIFFS’ [‘Japanese Indian Forces’] are mentioned, they haunt the periphery and are referred to in hushed whispers as in Paul Scott’s The Day of the Scorpion: He paused, opened his eyes, glanced at her. ‘You know about the Jiffs?’ ‘Jiffs?’ ‘They’re what we call Indian soldiers who were once prisoners of the Japanese in Burma and Malaya, chaps who turned coat and formed themselves into army formations to help the enemy. There were a lot of them in that attempt the Japanese made to invade India through Imphal. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of them. Were they really a lot?’ ‘I’m afraid so. And officers like Teddie took it to heart. They couldn’t believe Indian soldiers who’d eaten the king’s salt and been proud to serve in the army generation after generation could be suborned like that, buy their way out of prison camp by turning coat, come armed hand in hand with the Japs to fight their own countrymen, fight the very officers who had trained them, cared for them and earned their respect. Well, you know. The regimental mystique. It goes deep. Teddie was always afraid of finding there were old Muzzy Guides among them. And of course that’s what he did find. If Teddie had been the crying kind, I think he’d have cried. That would have been better, if he’d accepted the fact. . . .’12 The failure to mention the INA after the Second World War is in part a reflection of reticence within the Indian Army to discuss the matter during the conflict. And the figure of Teddie unintentionally—or perhaps not given that Scott served in the Intelligence Corps in India in the early 1940s—correlated with the belief in the higher echelons of the Indian Army that the INA soldier could be recovered for the Raj. It is how this article of faith came to be the official policy of the Indian Army, and how it resulted in the creation of interrogation centres, that will be discussed below.

11 There are numerous works available with the INA as its subject in Britain, but none have actually been published in the country. The sole exception is C.A. Bayly and Tim Harper, Forgotten Armies: The Fall of British Asia, 1941–45 (London: 2004), but the sections relating to the INA compare poorly to the discussions of nationalist movements in South-East Asia and Burma. 12 Paul Scott, The Day of the Scorpion, (1968, reprint, London: 1975), 373–4. indian national army 497

The existence of the INA was publicly pronounced at Farrer Park in Singapore on 17 February 1942, but it took several months for British forces in India to admit its existence to the War Office in London. There seemed to be a particular reluctance to openly discuss the matter to avoid embarrassing the British Empire in the eyes of its American allies.13 In a report finally written by the DMI on 12 November 1942, proposals were made for the future treatment of men who had joined the INA. But, the language was riddled with late colonialist angst. Those Indian personnel who were adjudged to have ‘flirted’ with the INA without showing any commitment to the cause were to be treated as ‘White’ and were to be allowed to return to their regimental centres or sent on military leave after the war.14 Those who were subjected to ‘some propaganda’ and “have been affected thereby, but are not considered to be fundamentally disloyal” were ‘Greys’ and they were to be quickly whisked off to ‘reconditioning camps’ upon recapture.15 And then there were the ‘Blacks’ (and occasionally the ‘Blackest of the Blacks’) who were as far removed from the ‘Whites’ as they could be for their ‘loyalty is definitely in question’ and they “are regarded as dangerous from a security point of view.”16 Yet, although various categories were delineated by DMI, their report ended with the admission that it was impossible to tell who, if anyone, still felt “loyalty to the Sirkar” with any degree of certainty:17 Indian military personnel are recruited from beaten armies, who have seen white troops on many occasions at their worst, being swept away by an Asiatic army. Upon these men incessant propaganda is played, not only by the Japanese but by their own countrymen. A study of Japanese

13 MI2 Report, to the WO, London, c.30 September 1943; Indian POW held by Japanese, Sept.–Dec. 1942; Public and Judicial Papers, Asia and Africa Collection, File 2213/40, L/PJ/12/641, BL. 14 GS Branch (MI Directorate), The Problem of the Indian National Army and of Indian Military Personnel Rejoining from Japanese-Occupied Territory, 12 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1, War Staff Papers, Asia and Africa Collection, L/WS/1/1576, BL. 15 GS Branch (MI Directorate), The Problem of the INA and of Indian Military Personnel Rejoining from Japanese-Occupied Territory, 12 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 16 GS Branch (MI Directorate), The Problem of the INA and of Indian Military Personnel Rejoining from Japanese-Occupied Territory, 12 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 17 GS Branch (MI Directorate), The Problem of the INA and of Indian Military Personnel Rejoining from Japanese-Occupied Territory, 12 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 498 gajendra singh

broadcasts shows the most innocuous of the type of ‘news’ regarding the war and India which is being incessantly dinned into their ears. In Major Dhillon’s [an escapee from Singapore who provided detailed information] opinion, since the arrest of Gandhi [following the ‘Quit India’ resolution], such propaganda has raised the percentage of the INA who are genuinely anti-British from 10% to 50%. We cannot afford to disregard the possibility that there is genuine belief that adherence to the INA is a service to the motherland.18 The concerns of the DMI were echoed even more starkly by CSDIC(I). The organization was initially established after the start of hostilities in Europe to interrogate detainees, defectors and prisoners of war suspected of harbouring detailed information about Nazi Germany. Its Indian branch was deemed to be of little importance initially and it rarely compiled reports in the first weeks and months after its inception. That changed in November 1942, when officers who had escaped from Japanese custody volunteered information about the INA, and when the Quit India movement created fears that INA agents were already working within India.19 In the appendices that followed this initial report the INA metamorphosed from an exploding shell to a monster and then to a disease that the British could not counter: No one knew anything about the INA before the fall of Singapore. It came like a bomb-shell after the capitulation. [. . .] [But] The idea of a National Army has a great attraction for the rank-and-file. If one thinks ‘From where do our recruits come?’ it will be found that they are [of ] the same material and come from the same places where the Congress made frantic efforts to win over ‘the rural population of India.’ These seemingly inarticulate millions have in fact been made politically conscious to an appreciable degree by Congress propaganda. The modern recruit of the Indian Army is very different to his predecessor of 1914–1918. Hence this lurking danger, this already prepared foundation for [the] INA, is always there. A little real or imaginary grouse, a little subversive propaganda, and a reverse to the Allies have their hidden possibilities [sic.]. This monster will not dare show its face till the last minute when prevention or cure may be impossible.20

18 GS Branch (MI Directorate), The Problem of the INA and of Indian Military Personnel Rejoining from Japanese-Occupied Territory, 12 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 19 T.R. Sareen (ed.), Indian National Army: A Documentary Study, vol. 1, 1941– 1942 (New Delhi: 2004), 265–8. 20 Appendix A to CSDIC (I) No. 2 Section Report, no. 19, 6 November 1942, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1, italics added. indian national army 499

Thus, the early conclusion reached by British Intelligence in India was that the jawans who had joined the INA were all ‘black’ and were merely reflecting the dark thoughts that simmered in the hearts of all Indians. The pervading melancholia seen in reports into the INA was dispelled in the months preceding Archibald Wavell’s ascension to Viceroy from C-in-CI in June 1943. On 18 March 1943, Wavell’s office circulated a memorandum into the origins of the INA that contradicted the early assessments of intelligence officers. The INA soldiers were no longer to be treated as dangerous radicals but as bewildered and confused soldiers who had been bullied into rebellion: [The INA was created by the] Changes in the classes from which men and particularly Indian commissioned officers are drawn, [the] shortage of experienced British Officers with knowledge of the country and [who are] able to command personal respect and affection, combined with consistent ‘nationalist’ propaganda which is sapping the foundation on which the morale and loyalty of the old Indian Army was based. At the same time the concept of ‘loyalty to India’ which in theory should be developed by ‘nationalistic’ propaganda is unable to replace the other loyalties referred to above in the case of newly introduced elements or the older elements (i.e. the martial classes). The latter are so bewildered and confused by political developments which they do not understand but which they instinctively feel will react [sic.] to their disadvantage in the long run, that these older loyalties are rapidly losing their potency.21 Wavell’s assessment of the INA was repeated a month later in a com- muniqué that was sent directly to the DMI: The Indian Army, as today constituted, contains two main elements— one represented by the older VCOs and men of the ‘martial races’, hitherto credited with a conservative attitude on political matters, and the other, newly enlisted classes and ICOs with ‘forward’ political views. The latter probably now predominate at least in potential influence and at the same time, are, in theory, the most fruitful ground for enemy propaganda. Yet the bulk of the active INA personnel are representatives of the classes (Sikhs and Punjabi Muslims in particular) which formed the backbone of the prewar Indian Army. These are facts, which it would be wise to bear in mind [. . .].22

21 GHQ, India, to GS Branch, New Delhi, Subversive Activities Directed Against the Military, 18 March 1943, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 22 Subversive Activities Directed Against the Indian Army, 29 April 1943, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 500 gajendra singh

The favoured solution of Wavell, therefore, echoed that of ‘Teddie’ in Scott’s novel—the stoic British officer winning back control of the errant ‘martial races’ by looking them in the eye and shaming them once more into taking up the King’s shilling. The only difference between Wavell and Teddie was that the former had the authority to create and change military policy. On 3 May 1943, Wavell announced that there would be active attempts to counter the propaganda and message of the INA: [. . .] it was ruled [previously] that the dissemination of information about the INA and kindred activities should be confined [to British Officers] [. . .]. It has now been decided that we should put the situation plainly to all Indian ranks and prepare them to meet a method of attack which they are at present largely unconscious.23 It took a year for this policy to be fleshed out further, by which time Wavell was firmly ensconced as Viceroy. Even with all his added responsibilities he took a decisive role in what was finally proposed. Every commanding officer of every unit of the Indian Army was instructed to create ‘Josh Groups.’ Each of these were to parallel the activities of ‘JIFFS’ columns by ‘immunizing’ soldiers before the latter was able to suborn them: Josh is the strongest and most effective counter-propaganda method yet involved to combat the Japanese ‘I’ [Intelligence] offensive against the morale of Indian troops. ‘Jif ’ means Japanese inspired fifth column . . . ‘Josh’ means ‘pep’, and it is the morale counter-offensive weapon against these dangerous activities.24 The precise means by which this was to be done was explained further. Any antipathy the jawans may have towards British would pale in comparison to the hatred that would be fanned for the Japanese: Josh Groups are intended to: (a) build in every Indian soldier the knowledge and firm faith that the Japanese and everyone who represents the Japanese are his own personal enemies; (b) introduce stories of our victories against the Japanese and so turn the conversation around to the topic of why the Japanese are India’s enemies and why and how they

23 GHQ, India, to GS Branch, New Delhi, 3 May 1943, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 24 GHQ (INDIA), New Delhi, to:—All Commanding Officers of Indian Army Units, May 1944, Instructions on Josh work and Josh group organization within units, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. indian national army 501

will be defeated; (c) introduce stories of the bravery of Indian soldiers in action and his comradeship-in-arms with his Allies; (d) utilize enter- tainment, radios, dramas, information rooms, picture layouts etc., to bring home to the sepoy, through every medium that strikes his imagination, the existence of his chief enemy—the Japanese; (e) inoculate the Indian soldier with a sound factual basis of true knowledge so that false rumours and brazen lies spread by Japanese, Jifs and Japanese agents can be easily shown as such.25 In addition to the creation of these instruments of inoculation within each military unit, was the expansion of CSDIC(I) and it attempts to diagnose and treat those men who had already caught the contagion. All captured INA personnel, regardless of their rank, were to be interrogated by the organization. The expectation was that they would be assessed somewhere between ‘White’ and ‘Black’, reconditioned, and then returned to their old military units. But, as will be shown in the remainder of this work, jawans in general refused to accept any of the medication that was on offer.

Being in the Employ of Hamare Neta: The Defection of “X” Battalion

On 27 February 1943, 23 Sikh jawans of 8 Platoon, A Company, 1st Battalion of the 15th Punjab Regiment (hereafter 1/15th) were sent on a fighting patrol near Buthidaung in western Burma. Their task was to search a village ‘suspected of harbouring enemy troops’26 but instead the men of the platoon used the opportunity to defect to the INA. As a result the 1/15th Punjabis became the first military unit to be the sole subject of British intelligence reports relating to the INA. The men of the battalion were cited as an example of how low Indian soldiers had fallen. They were described as radical religious zealots and dangerous communist conspirators all in the space of two reports in March 1943. And they were such pariahs that even the name of the unit could not be mentioned but was effaced by a large ‘X’. It was not the incident of the desertion itself that caused specific attention to be drawn to the jawans of 1/15th Punjab. Similar

25 GHQ (INDIA), New Delhi, to:—All Commanding Officers of Indian Army Units, May 1944, Instructions on Josh work and Josh group organization within units, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 26 Interrogation of Sepoy Fakir Singh, 8 Platoon, A Coy, 1/15th Punjabis, 24th April 1944; Arakan INA; INA Papers, 379/INA, NAI. 502 gajendra singh

stories had already been circulated of Indian soldiers crossing over to F Kikan and the Indian Independence League throughout the Japanese advance into Malaya and Burma in 1941 and 1942.27 It was the fact that the men who defected were of the older ‘martial races’ and that they did so without any ‘newly enlisted classes’ or ICOs being present that caused reports to be drafted about the matter in March 1943. In the first report there was an attempt to explain the defection of the Sikh soldiers as being due to their shared faith and in light of mutinies that had occurred among Sikh soldiers who had been ordered to wear steel helmets instead of their pugris: The Sikh Company first came to security notice [. . .] when a reservist, backed by three others, tried to make the wearing of steel helmets a religious question (September 1940). One of these reservists had already been noted corresponding with a Sikh NCO who had been imprisoned for playing a leading part in mass desertions of Sikhs from another unit on the eve of its departure overseas.28 When on 11 March 1943, 14 Hindu Jat jawans of B Company, 1/15th Punjabis also defected to the INA, this initial analysis was quickly revised. The blame was instead laid at the door of Communist agents provocateurs without much reason and less thought: Following a police report by a man on leave that secret meetings were held in the unit by subversive elements, security investigations resulted in seven subjects being removed. While the investigations were in progress the Sikhs (reservists) deserted under suspicious circumstances. There is little doubt that this trouble was linked with the Kirti Communist plot, which formed the background to the 3/1st Punjab desertions, the RIASC [Royal Indian Army Supply Corp] mutiny in Egypt, and the CIH [38 Central India Horse] mutiny.29 What marks these first reports into the defection of 8th Platoon, therefore, was this desperate desire to find some cause forjawan s’ disloyalty that was external to their own body or consciousness. It was as part of this attempt to find an external cause for the desertion and defection of men of the 1/15th Punjabis, that Jawan Fakir

27 Fujiwara, F Kikan, see especially chapters 6 and 11. 28 Extracts from Security History of “X” Battalion, March 1943, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. 29 Extracts from Security History of “X” Battalion, March 1943, Indian National Army and Free Burma Army, vol. 1. indian national army 503

Singh was interrogated in depth in April 1944. The soldier gave an account in which the men of A Company were duped into crossing over to the Japanese. According to Fakir Singh, after the platoon had come under fire during their patrol, Havildar Surat Singh, the platoon commander, conferred in secret with Havildar-Major Massa Singh, Naik Jagat Singh, Naik Kabul Singh, Havildar Mela Singh and the jawans Gurdial and Dalip Singh. When the men dispersed, the NCOs then returned to their sections and it was explained that the platoon was to advance in the following order:—Naik Kabul Singh’s Section, Naik Jagat Singh’s Section and Havildar Mela Singh’s Section. In this order the platoon advanced, led by the havildar-major and the platoon commander for about one mile, when suddenly B312 [Fakir Singh] found that they had walked into the Japanese and that Havildar Surat Singh was carrying a white flag. The platoon then laid down its arms and was marched off.30 Fakir then recounted that 16 soldiers out with Surat Singh’s clique were not pleased at being led over to the Japanese. The next day Havildar-Major Massa Singh and Havildars Surat Singh and Mela Singh were taken away and the men of the platoon began to argue about the desertion, those who were unwillingly captured blaming the NCOs already mentioned in the list above and also Lance-Naik Hazara Singh, and jawans Dalip Singh and Gurdial Singh.31 Fakir Singh’s testimony confirmed part of what his interrogators had theorized. In his narrative, the jawans were tricked into rebellion by their NCOs, and rued their fate after the event. And, although Fakir Singh was only treated as a ‘Grey’—largely because he claimed falsely that he later deserted from the INA—his account was treated, for the time being, as fact. It was treated as largely truthful until the interrogation of Havildar Surat Singh the Commander of 8th Platoon 2 years later. When Surat was detained and interrogated in January 1946 it is clear that his interrogators hoped he would confess to having duped his men into defecting to the Japanese and the INA. Surat however, refused to cooperate beyond relaying some basic details of his military service—that he had passed his matriculation exam, he had enlisted in 1/15th Punjab on 10 August 1932, and that he had become the Commander of 8th Platoon’s

30 Interrogation of Sepoy Fakir Singh. 31 Interrogation of Sepoy Fakir Singh. 504 gajendra singh

A Company in July 1942.32 Some time later, Surat was confronted with the captured diary of an Indian civilian working for the INA, that made mention of him communicating and conferring with INA contact parties before his platoon crossed over. But, the only reply from Surat was that his captors had obviously fabricated the document: 27 February 1943. Gobindara returned this morning. It is said that my letters have proven successful and that 23 men have come over who will be brought to us tomorrow morning. 28 February 1943 After the morning tea, [I] saw the Indian soldiers who had come over on reading my letters. They were 23 Sikhs of A Coy of 1/15 Punjab Regt. They brought with them Bren guns, tommy guns, and many other weapons. Their commander’s name is Surat Singh. They told us everything. Surat Singh is an honest and sincere man. The Japanese had a suspicion that these men had been sent as spies by the British, but after having [heard] their statements I assured the Japanese that these men were not sent by the British and that they had come over on reading my letters.33 In the end, Surat’s silence so infuriated his interrogators that the only judgment made of him was that he was ‘an inveterate and bare-faced liar.’34 But, there was no truth to be discovered about what occurred in 1/15th Punjab. Even the most comprehensive of accounts from captured personnel contained elements of willful fancy that their interrogators could not accept. Company Quarter-Master Havildar Hardyal Singh, for instance, mentioned that men in the battalion began to talk about the INA after several INA personnel in civilian dress were captured in December 1942 and January 1943.35 Hardyal also recounted that on 20 February 1943 every Platoon Commander of A Company were summoned before the company commander and told of 2 leaflets “which were recovered by No. 7 Pl. in the front area on a bamboo

32 Interrogation of Havildar Surat Singh, 1/15th Punjabis, 18 January 1946; Reports on Defections to the INA, CSDIC(I) Reports. 33 Extracts from ‘V’ Section CSDIC Report No. F/298 dated 14 Dec. 45 on civilian Jagat Singh Dhillon and Dost Mohammad. who worked under HATTORI and TADAKURO in Arakan in 1943 as Chief Indian agent for the Akyab branch of Hikari Kikan. 34 Interrogation of Havildar Surat Singh. 35 Extract from supplementary statement by Havildar Hardyal Singh, 1/15th Pun- jabis; Arakan INA. indian national army 505 pole in a paddy field.”36 The company commander proceeded to read the contents of the leaflets aloud over the phone in front of Signalmen Balwant Singh, Kabul Singh and Girja Singh and: [. . .] in a few hours the contents of the leaflets were known to just about all the men of ‘A’ Coy and general discussion[s] started on the following points mentioned in the leaflets: – [The] INA had been formed in East Asia. – Capt. Mohan Singh was its Commander. – That [the] INA was formed for the Independence of India and that all Indians should join it.37 Yet, as far as Hardyal was concerned the above incident alone did not explain the actions of 8th Platoon. He instead wove a tale in which he and others had been anointed as envoys of Subhas Chandra Bose in September 1939: At Alipore [Calcutta], B1205 [Hardial Singh] read in the newspapers of the powerful leadership of S.C. Bose, President of the Indian National Congress, and in a gurdwara which he often used to visit, B1205 found an opportunity of coming into contact with men of Congress sympa- thies. Sep. Gajjan Singh, ‘A’ Coy 1/15 Punjab, who belonged to the same village as B1205, was already in contact with a Congress agitator called Mulla Singh, a Sikh durwan [sic.] in the house of the Maharaja of Nepal. Through Mulla Singh B1205 received an interview with S.C. Bose in the house of a friend of Mulla Singh somewhere between Alipore Road and Ballyganj Railway Station. B1205 was thanked by Bose for offering his services and was advised to wait until a fully organized programme for India’s independence was announced.38 Upon realizing that others too had met Bose, Hardyal claimed that all of the men began to talk of fighting for the independence of India before the INA had even been created: [We] were all interested in discussions about overthrowing the British Government. Serial 1 [Sepoy Shiv Singh] suggested starting a revolt within Fort William; Serial 5 [Lance-Naik Mela Singh] suggested that they should desert and form into small armed bands and loot the rich, while Serial 7 [Havildar Major Nand Lal] rebuked them for this wild and dangerous talk. B1205 [Hardyal] suggested postponing all action in

36 Extract from supplementary statement by Havildar Hardyal Singh, Arakan INA. 37 Extract from supplementary statement by Havildar Hardyal Singh, Arakan INA. 38 2 Section Report, Previous Congress Connections of Havildar Hardial Singh, CQMH, A Coy., 1/15 Punjab, Reports on Defections to the INA. 506 gajendra singh

connection with these revolt[s] until Congress put its programme into operation.39 Thus, Hardyal Singh created a narrative of the interrogation chamber in which the men of the 1/15th Punjab had always been anti-British and had always looking for opportunity to defect. It is unlikely that he or others in his unit ever met Bose, but his repeated assertion that he had, coupled with the silences and false testimonies of his peers, ensured that the ‘X’ remained firmly in place whenever the 1/15th Punjabis were discussed.

Hiding in the Saris of the Rani of Jhansi: Life in the Ina

There was a change in the content of the interrogations after the surrender of Japan, the death of Subhas Chandra Bose and the dissolution of the Azad Hind Fauj in August 1945. The end of the Second World War enabled CSDIC(I) to gain access to handbooks and directives intended for INA officers that only partially answered the question of how INA soldiers were treated. 40 To fill in those gaps, intelligence officers began to ask the jawans what life was like after they had enlisted in the INA. The answers that were received were of ‘Art Sections’ drawing risqué cartoons, of comedy troupes arranging burlesque shows and of ‘Drama Parties’ performing and writing their own plays. It was the latter group of erstwhile playwrights and actors that came to receive the most inquiry, because one of its leading members, Dharam Chand Bhandari, was found to have been captured by British forces in the early months of 1946. As will be shown, however, he was not the most cooperative of prisoners. Bhandari was interrogated on 26 February 1946 and seemed at first to be unafraid of fully disclosing the details of his INA service. He stated that he was originally employed as a civilian ‘checker’ in the RIASC, supervising the reports of military clerks, before being ‘militarized’ and commissioned as a Jemadar on 10 September 1940.41 He

39 2 Section Report, Previous Congress Connections of Havildar Hardial Singh, Reports on Defections to the INA. 40 Discourse of Cultural and National Subjects for the Indian National Army, (Syo- nan: 1943). 41 Interrogation of Subedar Dharam Chand Bhandari, Unit 203 Supply Pers. Sec- tion, RIASC; Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. indian national army 507 confessed that he joined the INA in Singapore in May 1942 and was soon asked to organize ‘an entertaining publicity and propaganda programme’; which he interpreted as a writ to write and stage plays and dramas at Neesoon Camp (north of Singapore) for Indian POWs:42 B1371 [Bhandari] started writing and staging patriotic dramas and through this and his speeches, he boasts of having inspired a great enthusiasm in the PW’s and every one becoming imbued with ‘National Spirit.’ Following the example of B1371, others began to write dramas which were staged in various PW camps.43 Bhandari also commented that the plays became so popular and effective at winning new recruits for the INA that at least 43 amateur playwrights and actors were organized into a separate unit under his command.44 Unfortunately for him his command of the ‘Drama Party’ ended in December 1943 when Bose wandered into one of his performances, “found the plays vulgar and did not greatly like them,” and immediately ordered the unit to “cease operations.”45 When Bhandari was asked about the precise details of his plays he suddenly fell into an awkward silence. After much prompting, he admitted the names of some of the plays that he had written, such as Ekhi Rasta (The Only Way),Milap (Unity) and Balidan (Sacrifice).46 But, he would say nothing of the content of these plays, which “actors” had performed them, or how they had been staged. Bhandari’s interrogators learnt from other sources some of the secular and radical nationalist themes conveyed through the performances; such as showing “how Indians were treated with torture and brutality under the British yoke through the Indian Police” in Ekhi Rasta,47 encouraging “unity between Hindus and Muslims” in Milap,48 and documenting how the anti-British struggle would spread when the INA reached

42 Interrogation of Bhandari, Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. 43 Interrogation of Bhandari, Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. 44 Interrogation of Bhandari, Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. 45 Interrogation of Bhandari, Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. 46 Interrogation of Bhandari, Reports on Defections to the INA; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 43–47. 47 Appendix A, Interrogation of Subedar Dharam Chand Bhandari. 48 Appendix A, Interrogation of Bhandari. 508 gajendra singh

Indian soil in Balidan.49 Even when confronted with these accounts Bhandari refused to say anything further. The only thing he did do was push a worn and tattered booklet across the table towards his interrogators with the words Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts stamped across the front. According to its preface, the play was written by one P.N. Oak and was produced to commemorate the first anniversary of the founding of the Rani of Jhansi Regiment (the Women’s Regiment) of the INA in July 1943—“a feat unique and unparalleled in world history.”50 There were few women protagonists in the play, however, and even fewer appearances by Rani Lakshmibai51 herself. Instead the drama focused upon Indian soldiers and cantonment workers who mutinied and took up arms against their officers in Meerut in 1857. Act One, Scene One portrayed a weaver being arrested by jawans, after their sahibs (here referring to officers) took objection to him selling Indian rather than British made cloth: Weaver: Shameless scoundrel! You came as petty hawkers and now you pose yourself to be a Government? What kind of Government? Which Government? An impertinent vagabond called Clive came here a hundred years ago to work on a job of two hundred rupees a month, and he treacherously ruined Sirajuddaula. Warren Hastings forged a document himself and hanged Nandkumar a wealthy citizen of Bengal for it. He starved the Begums of Oudh in a locked room and extorted all their wealth from them. Wellesley cheated many Rajas and now Dalhousie has begun annexing kingdom after kingdom. Is this what you call your Government? Speak out . . . speak out!52 It was in order to ‘speak out’ that the soldiers witnessing the weaver’s arrest began to circulate chapattis to symbolically incite rebellion and to link his unjust treatment to the way in which they were being treated by their officers:Jawan “ : Anyway these chapattis have come in time, for in the name of ‘Discipline’ that white fellow made us march for miles with hungry stomachs.”53

49 Appendix A, Interrogation of Bhandari. 50 P.N. Oak, Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts; Magazines and Pamphlets; 291/ INA, INA Papers, NAI. 51 Rani Lakshmibai, the Rani of Jhansi, was the queen of the princely state of Jhansi, and involved in the Uprisings of 1857. She died (reputedly) battling the 8th Hussars at Gwalior on 18 June, 1858. 52 Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts. 53 Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts. indian national army 509

Later scenes in the Rani of Zanshi tried to demonstrate how unde- serving British officers were of thejawan s’ loyalty. In Act One, Scene Two, for instance, a major-general stumbles into a malapropism after demanding to know from his dhobi why his clothes were not being carried in pride of place upon the back of his donkey: Major-General: Captain sab ki gadha, Major sab ki gadha, ham ki nahi gadha? [Captain Sahib has an ass, Major Sahib has an ass, so why am I alone being deprived of that honour?] . . . Kalsay ham bhi gadha!’ [From tomorrow I must also be an ass!] Dhobi: Accha sarkar, ap jarur gadha. Phir kalsay kion? Ajhi say ap gadha. [Right, Sir, you are definitely an ass. But why wait until tomorrow? Today you are already an ass.]54 There is also an instance of crass mistreatment of Indian soldiers by their superiors that leads to mutiny in Act 2 and a pledge by soldiers to fight for the Rani of Jhansi in Act 3: Instructor: Shut up! Now I will tell you something about ‘Discipline’. In this British Army of ours we have got to observe ‘Disicpline’ in every little thing. From tomorrow morning onwards all persons will ‘Fall in’ to go to W.C. which will be known as the ‘W.C. Parade’: Later on you will all ‘Fall in’ to go to the bathroom, then for physical training; then for parade and meals. For all these you will have to keep time, with the men in front. The Jawans: But in the W.C. and in the dining-room how can we keep time with the men in front? Instructor: It is a Government order and regulation! [The Jawans Mutiny] The Men: We are not ready to obey the orders of these white tyrants! Say ‘Bharat Mata Ki Jai’ !55 But why, if the play was so unashamedly anti-British, did Bhandari hand over a copy to his interrogators? The reason was possibly to do with the author of the play: P.N. Oak. Purushottam Nagesh Oak enlisted in the INA, served in propaganda sections but was never captured by the British after the end of hostilities. According to his own account56 he skillfully evaded capture as he journeyed from Singapore

54 Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts. 55 Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts. 56 Or rather that of a crude website that was commissioned by him before his death in 2007. The website relates to one his last publications: “Taj Mahal: A Hindu Temple Vandalised.” http://home.freeuk.net/tajmahal/index.htm 510 gajendra singh to Calcutta between 1945 and 1946. It is possible that Bhandari knew this and that there was consequently little risk in divulging material written by Oak. It may also have been the case that Bhandari was more willing for Oak to face prosecution, in the event that he was found, than others in the ‘Drama Party.’ P.N. Oak became (in)famous in certain circles for writing hindutva histories after India attained independence, and equally notorious for the dubious claims made within them that Christianity was really ‘Krishna-ity’ and that the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort in Agra were actually ‘Hindu buildings’.57 If Oak’s beliefs were similar at an earlier stage of his life it was likely to have conflicted with the secular mores of the INA. Yet, Bhandari’s motives cannot wholly have been to implicate a man who had evaded custody or someone who he personally disliked. After all it was presumably Bhandari’s decision to have the Rani of Zanshi published as a booklet, to have it translated into English, and to privilege it by secreting it away on his person when other INA files and publications were being destroyed or seized by British forces. Moreover, Bhandari held on to his copy of the play for the weeks and months in which he was interned in Singapore, shuttled back to India, released and then recaptured when his interrogators realized how important he had been. And he only parted with it when confronted with summaries of plays that his interrogators had gleaned from other detainees. It was, I would argue, the dually transgressive and tractable quality of the Rani of Zanshi that led Bhandari to having it among his few possessions when interrogated and to pushing it across the table when prompted to do so. The play could be read as an unvarnished version of why the jawans had joined the INA—because of their officers’ ineptitude and the mistreatment of other Indians—and what the simple message of the INA was for its soldiers: “We are not ready to obey the orders of these white tyrants! Say ‘Bharat Mata Ki Jai’!”58 By the same token it was removed from the historical immediacy of Ekhi Rasta, Milap or Balidan, and could be passed off as a historical drama with the uncontroversial message that the sepoys of 1857 were given to intrigue and rebellion. TheRani of Zanshi could, therefore, defiantly

57 “Taj Mahal: A Hindu Temple Vandalised.” http://home.freeuk.net/tajmahal/index .htm 58 P.N. Oak, Rani of Zanshi. indian national army 511 communicate what Bhandari thought and wished to say even as he sat pliantly in the interrogation room.

Resisting the Ina: Hong Kong and Punjabi Muslim Detainees

There was one last theme to the interrogations conducted by CSDIC(I): the detailed questioning of the jawans who came into contact with the INA, but never joined it. Particular attention was given to the jawans who were captured at Malaya or Singapore, and other outposts like the 3,300 men stationed at Hong Kong during its surrender on 25 December 1941. It was these soldiers, often classed as ‘Whites’, that were viewed as the most promising material for reintegration into the British-Indian Army. And, yet even among these jawans very few, if any, were ever returned to their old regiments or expressed a desire to do so. Their reasons for not joining the INA or for actively resisting the Azad Hind Fauj were more complicated than their interrogators assumed. In Hong Kong, men were divided into several groups: among communal lines, by those who advocated and were willing to listen to a pseudo-Congress message and those that felt alienated by it, and by those who were willing to bear arms and those who no longer wished to do so. At the fall of Hong Kong on 25 December 1941, jawans from 5 Indian units were captured, the largest proportion of whom were Punjabi Muslims from the Hong Kong and Singapore Royal Artillery (HKSRA), the 2/14th Punjab, and the 5/7th Rajputs.59 Four jawans60 from Hong Kong were involved in ratifying the creation of the (first) INA as delegates to the Bangkok Conference between 15 and 23 June 1942. When they returned at least 500 Sikh and Hindu POWs volunteered for the INA and various organizations were established “to carry out [INA] propaganda and look after the welfare of volunteers” including the Indian Welfare Committee, the Congress Committee and the Azad School.61 But, there was a notable lack of enthusiasm by Punjabi Muslim detainees for the INA and the nationalist organizations

59 A General Report on Indian POWs in Hong Kong with Particular Reference to HKSRA, 10 June 1946; CSDIC (I) Reports; Parts 8–12. 60 Interrogation of Subedar Major Mohamed Ali, 30/8 Coast Regt., HKSRA, 14 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 61–70. 61 General Report on Indian POWs in Hong Kong. 512 gajendra singh associated with it. When for instance Indian Independence Day was celebrated on 9 August 1942 at the King’s Theatre, Hong Kong, all the POWs were invited to attend and all Sikhs and Hindu POWs in Mautau Chung Camp accepted the offer.62 Yet, only 4 Punjabi Muslims joined them. And, even when at the end of the event a procession toured around the city, only a handful more Muslim soldiers were persuaded to march along.63 Immediately after the surrender of Hong Kong, the Japanese believed that Punjabi Muslims were more likely to join the INA than jawans from other communities. About 561 Muslim POWs were separated from other detainees in the first week of January 1942, housed in the Gun Club Hill Barracks in King’s Park, Kowloon, and offered better rations than their collaegues elsewhere. They were joined by another 800 Punjabi Muslim POWs on 14 May 1942 and were encouraged to mix and have ‘free intercourse.’64 Only 100 of that number, however, agreed to bear arms under the Japanese and were sent as guard pickets to Guangzhou in mainland China.65 Moreover, some of those that did volunteer had very specific reasons for doing so. Lance-Naik Mohamed Shaffi, for instance, of the 5th Anti-Aircraft Regiment, HKSRA, volunteered in order to revenge himself upon superiors he accused of sexual assault and rape: HK/141 [Lance-Naik Mohd. Shaffi] alleges that the behaviour of HK/140 [BHM Jahan Dad] with the men, especially those who hailed from districts east of Gujrat, was very bad. HK/141 accuses HK/140 of forcibly committing sodomy with him. Havildar Sher Baz also committed the same act with him on the instigation of HK/140. HK/141 requested HK/142 [Naik Gheba Khan] and Naik. Jamal Khan not to indulge in such unnatural and inhumane acts. While HK/141 was talking to these NCOs, HK/140 with Havildar Sher Baz, appeared in the barrack [room]

62 Interrogation of Subedar Major Mohamed Ali. 63 Lance-Naik (Clerk) Raghubir Singh, 36th Coast Battery, 8th Coast Regt., HKSRA, 25 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 71–80. 64 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed, 4th Medium Battery, 1st Hong Kong Regiment, HKSRA; Havildar Sagar Khan, 25th Medium Battery, 1st Hong Kong Regiment, HKSRA; Havildar Rehmat Khan, 18th Battery, 5th AA Regiment, HKSRA; and Havildar Ahmed Din, 36th Battery, Coast Regiment, HKSRA, 7th May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; parts 55–60. 65 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed, 4th Medium Battery, 1st Hong Kong Regiment, HKSRA; Havildar Sagar Khan, 25th Medium Battery, 1st Hong Kong Regiment, HKSRA; Havildar Rehmat Khan, 18th Battery, 5th AA Regiment, HKSRA; and Havildar Ahmed Din, 36th Battery, Coast Regiment, HKSRA, 7th May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 55–60. indian national army 513

and HK/140 threatened these NCOs and told them not to have anything to do with HK/141. Both HK/142 and Naik Jamal Din confirm this and say that they declined to say anything to HK/140 about this matter.66 Shafi, once he had joined the INA, confessed that he used his position to have: [. . .] many NCOs punished by the Japanese, he forced them to salute him and his relations with the Japanese were very intimate. He is also held responsible for the imprisonment of HK/140 and indirectly responsible for the death of Jemadar Ghulam Nabi.67 The other jawans in the group of 100 may have felt a keener attachment to the INA than Shafi. The vast majority of Punjabi Muslim prisoners certainly did not and, from what can be deduced from the interrogation reports, only 4 others joined.68 Those non volunteers who remained at Gun Club Hill began to actively resist joining the INA. At the barracks Subedar Hakim Khan of 2/14th Punjab assumed command and became “a favourite with the Japanese and the Indian quisling.”69 Hakim Khan sought to remove the VCOs and NCOs who were seen as being pro-British from the barracks, to drill the soldiers as if they were still on active duty, and separate the men in accordance with their views on the Indian nationalist movement.70 Each stage of Hakim Khan’s programme, however, met with protest. According to Sultan Ahmed when the Japanese attempted to remove the subedars and jemadars of his detachment, the men, “[. . .] protested, and the remainder of the POWs joined the VCOs and asked to be taken as well. After threatening them with death, the Japanese went away.”71 Gunner Nazar Mohamed and Havildar Khuda Baksh recounted what occurred when the men were asked to bear arms:72

66 Interrogation of Lance-Naik Mohamed Shaffi, 17th AA Battery, 5th AA Regi- ment, HKSRA, 13th May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 61–70. 67 Interrogation of Mohamed Shaffi, 13th May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 61–70. 68 Interrogation of Subedar-Major Mohamed Ali. 69 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed et al. 70 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed et al. 71 Interrogation of Subedar Sultan Ahmed, (Battery and Regiment not listed), HKSRA, 10 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports; Parts 61–70. 72 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed et al. 514 gajendra singh

The Japanese asked the POW of HKSRA whether they were able to handle rifles. They all feigned ignorance. The Japanese said they would teach them rifle drill with staves, but the POW protested. The Japanese Officer asked for one man to step forward and explain to him why the PW would not parade with rifles. All the POW stepped forward but they were told again that only one man should step forward. Havildar Mohammad Akbar who was standing at the side of B1398 [Havildar Khuda But] in the front rank right flank, attempted to step forward, but was stopped by B1398. The Japanese officer who was standing on the left flank saw the move and asked who the individual was who had stepped forward, but no one informed him.73 And, when the “men began talking derogatively of Subadar Hakim Khan,” and the Japanese tried to separate the original group of 561 POWs from the 800 that arrived later. Then, further trouble ensued: When the party of ‘500’ was ordered to march, those who were being left behind (i.e. party of ‘800’ and 60 men of the 561 party) rushed the gate with the hope of joining the others. This compelled the Japanese forces who were outside the Camp to open overhead fire. During the incident Subadar Hakim Khan had apparently hidden in his room. The Japanese finally managed to quell the disturbance. The water supply was cut off, and no rations issued that day. There was no sign of Subadar Hakim Khan.74 The events at Gun Club Hill would have been classified as a mutiny had the men still been on active service. After this incident, the barracks were closed, and little attempt in future was made to recruit Punjabi Muslims into the INA, and the soldiers themselves were organized into prisoner fatigues and sent to work in Guangdong Province in China. The reasons why Punjabi Muslims in Hong Kong were reluctant to join the INA had little to do with any lingering attachment the soldiers had to the Indian Army. The CSDIC(I) did not even make that claim.75 Instead, it reached the conclusion that it was the soldiers’ attachment to “their own VCOs and NCOs” that enabled ‘the Punjabi Muslims’ to “gird their loins and resist the attentions of the INA.”76 It is true

73 Interrogation of Havildar Khuda But, (battery and regiment not listed), HKSRA, 10 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 61–70. 74 Interrogation of Havildar Khuda But, 10 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 61–70. 75 A General Report on HKSRA, Singapore, 3 June 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 8–12. 76 A General Report on Indian POWs in Hong Kong. indian national army 515 that the soldiers at Gun Club Hill refused to be parted from their Indian superiors. That explanation, however, cannot account for the reluctance of Punjabi Muslim soldiers to follow Subedar Hakim Khan into the INA. Hakim Khan a Muslim, was a VCO in 2/14th Punjab, styled himself a Colonel and informed the men on several occasions that he had been hand picked by the Japanese as the personal successor to General Mohan Singh when the first INA was dissolved on 21 December 1942.77 Thus, additional motives need to be searched for. The interrogations reveal that the reasons were partly communal, largely a reluctance to accept the form of nationalism that was circulated in Hong Kong and an almost universal reluctance by captured soldiers to bear arms again in any capacity. Hong Kong was the scene of protests by Sikh jawans of the HKSRA and 2/14th Punjab in December 1940 after soldiers were ordered to wear steel helmets78 over or instead of their pugris.79 The willingness of the same soldiers to then join the INA appears to have coloured the Azad Hind Fauj as a non-Muslim institution for Punjabi Muslim jawans. Noor Mohamed disliked the Sikhs that joined the INA because they “did not pay proper respect to their officers and in some cases disobeyed their orders.”80 Mohamed Ali claimed that the Sikhs had been using Japanese words of command even before they had surrendered and that “Muhammedan POWs had no relations or contacts with any of the Sikh POWs, and their mutual relations were rather strained.”81 The unwillingness to countenance non-Congress nationalisms in the propaganda of the INA in Hong Kong helped to further this sense of alienation. No jawans mentioned any particularly sympathy for the Muslim League but they certainly disproved of the hanging of ‘framed pictures of Mahatma Gandhi’ in POW camps82 or having to hear Hindu and Sikh jawans chant pro-Congress slogans.83 Finally, there was the incident at Gun Club Hill in which the POWs

77 Interrogation of Subedar Hakim Khan, 2/14th Punjab, 29 May 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 71–80. 78 General Court Martial, Royal Artillery, Hong Kong, 20 Jan. 1941, WO 71/1057, WO Records, PRO, National Archives, Kew, Surrey, United Kingdom. 79 General Court Martial, Royal Artillery, Hong Kong, 20 January 1941, WO 71/1057, PRO, (British) National Archives, Kew, Richmond, Surrey. 80 Interrogation of Subedar Noor Mohammed, 36 Coast Battery, 8 Coast Regt., HKSRA, 2 April 1946; CSDIC(I) Reports, Parts 48–54. 81 Interrogation of Subedar-Major Mohamed Ali. 82 Interrogation of Subedar-Major Mohamed Ali. 83 Interrogation of Subedar-Major Mohamed Ali. 516 gajendra singh refused to bear arms. In the interrogation reports the soldiers involved described the protest as a ‘refusal’,84 a ‘reluctance’85 and a ‘feigning of ignorance’ that they had ever been ‘proper soldiers before’.86 The infer- ence was that the jawans would never be ‘proper soldiers’ again. That was the conclusion CSDIC(I) ultimately reached. No Punjabi Muslim soldier captured in Hong Kong was invited back into the Indian Army and the HKSRA was unceremoniously disbanded.

Conclusion: Negating Military Identities

There is a perceptible silence of the above mentioned incidents in accounts of the INA. It is not because there is any shortage of narratives from an Indian perspective. As a result of the clamour made during and after the INA trial of Gurbaksh Singh Dhillon, Shahnawaz Khan and Prem Kumar Sahgal in November and December 1945, not only have the accounts of INA officers been published (and embel- lished) but its court proceedings can still be found sitting in certain bookshops.87 But, all of these narratives are from the perspective of officers and none from the overwhelming majority ofjawan s that staffed the institution. More often than not the idea that ordinary soldiers had voices and opinions is not even present in these narratives. In an interview with the late Colonel Pritam Singh, former aide-de- camp to Subhas Chandra Bose, the question of how and why the men of the Kapurthala Light Infantry agreed to join the INA was met with a smile and a laugh: “It was simple. I told the men under my command that I was going to join the INA and that they must join too.”88 Hopefully this essay will have gone some way to filling that lacuna. ‘Other ranks’ of the Indian Army who came in touch with the INA did have their own reasons and methods of joining it, of resisting it, and their own accounts of what life was like in the institution. I did not intend, however, to just give a voice to the voiceless in this work.

84 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed et al. 85 Joint interrogations of Gunner Nazar Mohamed et al. 86 Interrogation of Havildar Khuda But. 87 V.S. Kulkarni and K.S.N. Murty (eds.), First Indian National Army Trial (Pune: 1946). 88 Pritam Singh, interview held at Doiwala, Dehradun district, Uttarakhand, March 2006. indian national army 517

As Jacques Derrida remarked any ‘reversal’ of a ‘metaphysical edifice’ is “at once contained within it and transgresses it” and what is needed is to deconstruct, “[. . .] through a meditation of writing which would merge as it must, with the undoing [solicitation] of onto-theology, faithfully repeating it in its totality and making it insecure in its most assured evidences.”89 What is needed is to shed light on the strings that pulled jawans’ testimony in certain directions: the activity of various censoring authorities and the individual or collective body of the soldier. In the interrogation of INA personnel who and what acted as a censor is easy to explain. It was manifested in CSDIC(I), the interrogation room and the angry voice that penned an accompaniment to each report. The physical presence of the jawans in this testimony is harder to summarize in a single sentence, because it was everywhere. The interrogations of X Battalion are marked not by a refusal to cooperate but by a failure to respect the whole process and the relaying of alternate and fanciful tales. The grilling of Dharm Chand Bhandari resulted in a narrative being woven through a fictional play. And the questioning of Punjabi Muslim detainees in Hong Kong resulted in tales of mutiny, dissent and the inferred message that they were no longer willing to bear arms for the Raj. In each type of testimony the jawan—whether real or imagined—was paramount and the physical presence of the interrogator was of lesser importance and at times completely ignored. It is unsurprising that no INA personnel were invited back into the Indian Army in either its colonial or post-colonial guise. Regiments such as the HKSRA were quietly disbanded in 15 October 1946, and most others divorced from British military planning. Part of the reason may have been the enduring hostility of Jawaharlal Nehru or Louis Mountbatten to the INA, but that does not explain the failure to reintegrate men who only had a tangential connection to the ‘rebel army’. It was ultimately a decision taken by the jawans themselves. Few of those interrogated expressed a desire to serve as soldiers once more, but rather did quite the opposite: they negated or rejected their military identities. As Claude Auchinleck, the last C-in-CI, admitted in 1946, the elements of fantasy that underpinned the colonial

89 Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology; tr. by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (1976, reprint, Baltimore, Maryland: 1997), 65–73. 518 gajendra singh

Indian Army had been dispelled. And its officers had some hard truths to face: It is quite wrong to adopt the attitude that because these men had been in service in a British controlled Indian Army that therefore their loyalty must be the same as British soldiers. As I have tried to explain, they had no real loyalty towards Britain as Briton, not as we understand loyalty.90

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GENERAL INDEX

Abadan, 105 Amara, 68, 97, 113, 114, 123, 204, 205, oil infrastructure at, 63, 105 208 Abgunjik, 205 Amba Alagi, Italian surrender at, 230 Ab-i Gargar, river Ambala, arson in, 469 Adjutant-General, 74, 82, 100, 134, 138, Ambulances, 117, 120, 128 36 convoys, 126 Administration Box, Battle of, 302 field ambulances, 70 Afghan War, third (1919), 8, 336–7, 357, shortages of, 113–14 361 trains, 123 Afghanistan, 6, 80, 108, 215–21 Ambushing, 271 n 81, 272 n 85, 281 tribes in, 12 Amery, Leo, Secretary of State for India Wahabi community in, 404 and Burma, 312, 314–15, 323, 326, Afghan Army, 215–22 330 combat strength, 216, 218–19 Ammunition, 111, 123, 276 Ahmedabad, civil disturbance in, 366 shortages of, 118 Ahwaz, 205 Amphibious operations, 274 n 95, 282 Ain Naffa, fighting at, 182 Amritsar, 215, 339, 470, 472 Air forces, 110, 113, 120, 126 civil disturbance in, 340–42, 469 Air policing, 375–6 Committee of, 464 Air power, 15, 240, 251–2, 258 martial law in, 469–70 and civil security, 375, 378–9, 381–2 massacre at, 12–15, 215, 335, 339, Air reconnaissance, 113, 120, 206–7, 213 342–51, 357–9, 362–71, 388, 470, Air re-supply, 264, 266, 269, 275, 302 472 Air superiority, 264 Anglesey, Lord, 33, 37, 58 Air support, 161, 253 Anglo-Maratha Wars, 206 Aircraft, 142, 191 Anglo-Persian Oil Company, 63, 205 Halberstadt, 126 Anglo-Russian Convention (1907), 79, and military operations, 161 n 48 107 Akali crisis, 479, 485–8 Anson, Second-Lieutenant, 55, 59 Akali Dal, Sikh organization, 486, 480 Anthropology: Akali movement, 358, 426, 427 colonial, 421, 425 Akalis, 482, 486–8 military, 422, 434–43 Alam Halfa, battle at, 242 Anthropometric data, and recruitment, Albert, 46, 49 460 Albu Muhammad, tribe, 205 Anti-Western activism, 369 Alcohol, religious objection to, 440 Arab revolt, Palestine (1936–9), 13, 146 Aleppo, 87, 145–6, 158–9, 161, 171, Arabistan, 202 212–14 Arabs: Ali Gharbi, 203–4, 206 Anafijah, 205 Ali Musaliar, 354 Hashemite, 156 Alienation of Land Act of (1901), 476–8, Arakan, 248, 270, 324 480 Arakan Campaigns: Aligarh, Collector of, 453 First, 252–3, 264 n 50, 267, 294–5, Allenby, Edmund, Sir, 145–6, 152–4, 277, 428 157–8, 162, 166, 168–70, 173–4, 189, Second, 302 213, 221 Arme blanche, 62, 156, 192, 195, 215 Allenby, H.H., General, 212–14 controversy over, 34 Allied Supreme War Council, 170 Armoured cars, 51, 128, 142, 161, 211 528 general index

Rolls Royce, 40, 50 Bakhtiaris, tribe, 205 at Somme battle, 57 Baksh, Khuda, Havildar, 513 Armoured vehicles, 194–5 Baku, 130 Army Council, 345 Balata Gorge, 187 Army Home Commands, 289 Baldwin, G.M., Brigadier-General, 217, Army-in-India Committee, 79, 82, 92 220 Army Land Forces South East Asia Balidan (Sacrifice), 507–8, 510 (ALFSEA), 277 Baluchistan, 218–20 Arras, battle at (1917), 167, 201 peacekeeping in, 24 Arsal Kot, Faqir of Ipi’s base at, 377 security in, 362 Arson, 362 training in, 245 Artillery, 6, 36, 50, 66, 98–9, 109, 125–7, Banerjee, S.N., 475, 494 143, 152–3, 155, 193, 198, 220, 228, Bangkok Conference (1942), 511 235–6, 241–2, 282, 297 Bannu, Army, Indian at, 215 artillery, infantry cooperation, 98–100 Bapaume, 221 and jungle warfare, 251, 253 Barbed-wire defences, 184 training centres, 287 Bareback Division, 297 Artillery barrages, 158, 180, 184 Barges, 115, 124 hurricane, 46 Barrett, Arthur, Sir, Lieutenant-General, wire cutting, 46 112, 404 Assam, 260–61, 270 Bashas, 297 Assami, 195 Basra, 63, 67–8, 70–71, 73, 100–101, Assassination, 369, 462 123–4, 202–3, 407 Auchinleck, Claude, Sir, General, 224, Bateman, Donald, Major-General, 247, 226–7, 232, 235, 238–41, 248–9, 293, 309 267–8, 295, 299, 305, 308, 320, 326, Battle drills, 241, 242 328, 386–7, 430, 452, 459, 517 BATTLEAXE, military operation (1941), Auftragstaktik (mission oriented 232, 246 command system), 7 Battye, Ivan, Major, 215–16 August offer, 315, 322 Bavis, tribe, 205 Austin, H.H., Brigadier-General, 100, Bayonet fighting, 41, 154 101 Bayonets, 159, 179, 200 Australia, 8 Bazentin Ridge, battle of (1916), 45 troops from 233 Bazentin-le-Grand, 46, 52, 201 Australian Light Horse, 214 Bazentin-le-Petit, 46, 53 Awadh, nawab of, 18 Beach, W.H., Major, 89, 91 Aylmer, Fenton John, Beadle, Lieutenant, 60 Lieutenant-General, 100–101, 117, Bécourt Château woods, 2nd Indian 119, 134, 204, 207, 409 Cavalry Division at, 42 Azad Hind Fauj, 23, 493 n 1, 495, 511, Beda Fomm, fighting at, 230 515 Beersheba, 193, 213–14 dissolution of, 506 British Expeditionary Force, 7, 35, 38, Azad School, 511 146–7, 172 Azafeh, 205 Beit Aieesa, 96 Aziziya, 116 Bengal, 323 famine in, 322, 328 Babu communities, xvii, 449–50 uprising in, 267 Badakshan, Afghan army at, 219 Benghazi, 232 Baghdad, 64, 71, 85–7, 202, 204, 212m Beresford-Pierce, Noel de la P., General, 405 247 allied offensives at, 64–5 Bethune, 37 Maude’s capture of, 415 Bey, Khalil, Turkish commander, 85, 86 railway, 63 Beyts, Geoffrey, autobiography of, 288 Baig, Mirza Ahmed, 62 Bhagavad Gita, poem, 369 general index 529

Bhagtanwala Station, 365 Counter-insurgency (COIN) Bhandari, Dharam Chand, 506–11, 517 campaigns, 13 Bhittani, 377 Cyprus, 13 Bihar, 301 Egypt, 13 uprising in, 267 internal security, 14 Billon Farm, Carnoy: Mesopotamia, 69 3rd Division Advanced HQ at, 54 officers, 17, 174 military action at (1916), 47, 50, 51, Palestine, 13 57 Salonica, 174 Bir Hacheim, fighting at, 236–7 Somme, 42 Birmingham, saddlery manufacture at, tactics, 9, 195, 237 196 training, 154, 233 Bishenpur, 272 training pamphlets, 306 Bistan, 205 British Influenced Indian Forces (BIFF), Bitlis, 86 494 Blacksmiths, 196 Brooke, Alan, Sir, Field-Marshal, 328 Blake, Christopher, 369 Buchanan, George, Sir, Director-General Boer War (1899–1902), 198 of Port Administration and Bolsheviks, 130, 368 River-Conservancy, 70–2, 75 Bolshevism, 130 BURCORPS, 260 Bombay, 20 Burma, 3, 5, 8–11, 19, 24, 29, 190, civil disturbance in, 353, 366, 370 224–5, 245, 248, 250–54, 285–6, Hartals in, 365 290–1, 294, 297–8, 300–302, 307, 314, Bose, Rash Behari, 463 320–30, 383, 385, 387, 452, 494, 511 Bose, Subhas Chandra, INA leader, 386, Chindits in, 326–7 493 n 1, 505, 516 Indian Army in, 255–83 Boxes, defensive, 236–7, 239, 254, Japanese conquest, 324 280–1, 273, 275, 302 Long Range Projection in, 326 Braithwaite, P.W., Commandant, Quetta rice exports, 323 Staff College, 77, 78 Burma Road, 324 Bray-sur-Somme, 47, 50–51, 58 Burnett-Stuart, John, Sir, Major-General, Bridges: 354–5 Fort Garry, 41, 42 Burton, R.G., Major, 199 mobile, 41–2, 48, 50 Bushire, 205 RCHA, 41 Bustan, 210 Brigade box system, 241 Butcher and bolt, 199 Brigade group system, 236–7 Buthidaung, 511 Briggs, Harold, Major-General, 248, Byrne, J.G., Lieutenant, 70 306–7 Britain, 8, 12–13, 24, 64, 110–11, 120, Cairo, 212 132, 156, 168, 189, 312–15, 318–9, Calcutta, 462 330 n 17, 331, 338, 364, 367, 382, 387, civil disturbance in, 366, 370 395, 403, 420, 445 n 21, 496, 518 Caliph, 64 Empire of, 19, 64, 445–60 Callwell, Charles, Small Wars, 77, 374–5 foreign policy, 8 Camberley, Staff College, 76–7, 97, 283, Minister of Defence, 311 287 Prime Minister of, 311–331 Cambrai, battle of (1917), 62 British Army, 1 n 1, 6, 10–11, 13, 35–6, Cameron Report, 263 81, 97, 102, 107, 131–2, 154, 194, 198, Canada, 18 225–6, 237, 282, 292, 296, 302–3, 306, authorities in, 462, 465 308, 317, 319, 325, 368, 401, 509 Canadian Army, 36, 41 casualties, 172 Candler, Edmund, British war cavalry, 206 correspondent, 65, 406, 408 combat strength, 110 Capital, military operation, 276–8 530 general index

Capper, Thomas, Commandant, Quetta Chemical warfare, training school, 287 Staff College, 77–8, 88–9, 97 Chetwode, Philip, Lieutenant-General, Carbines, 195 171, 185, 187–8 Carmel Range, 161, 212 Chin Hills, 270 Carnoy, 47–8 Chindits, 326–7 Albert-Peronne Road at, 50 Chindwin River, 276–7, 326 Cartwright, Major, 179 Indian Army at, 277 Caspian Sea, 130 Chingphu, 272 Caste, 16, 22, 147, 421, 425, 430, 433, Chinthe, lionlike guardian of Burmese 436 temples, 326 Casualties: Chipilly, 47 evacuation of, 70 Cholera, 399 medical treatment of, 397 Maude’s death from, 129 Mesopotamia campaign, 138 Chowkidars, 473 Catfish Box, Burma, 271–2 Christianity, 510 Caucasus, German military operation Churchill, Winston, 11, 311–331, 367, in, 130 455, 459 Cauldron battles, 237–8 and Burma Campaign, 326–9 Cavalry: xix, xx, xxii, 6, 8, 109, 113, Middle East policy of, 318, 319 116–7, 125, 127–9, 135, 137, 140, 142, and Singapore, 320, 324, 327 151–2, 155–6, 161–2, 187, 191–222, Story of the Malakand Field Force, 313 269, 463, 465 The Second World War, 330 Arab, 205–7 war memoirs, 329 British doctrine on, 195 Criminal Investigation Department charges, 218 (CID), 176, 454 in EEF, 145–7, 150–1, 157–60, Chief of the Imperial General Staff 169–70, 173–4 (CIGS), 106, 120, 123, 125, 127, 139, effect on enemy, 56 142, 145, 153, 167, 169.170, 171, 209, hybrid, 195 233, 235, 249, 345 in IEFD, 105, 136 Civil disorder, 335–358, 381–8 mobility, 57–8 Civil liberties, 363 mutiny, 177 Civilian supremacy, principle of, 15 in Polish-Soviet War (1919–20), 216 Civil-military cooperation, 371 as scapegoat arm, 155 Class, and Indian Army, 429–43 Signal Squadron, 201 Class-company organisation, 428 Somme, 33–62 Classes, non-martial, 454–5 tactical effectiveness, 57–8 Coimbatur, 301 training, 287–8, 292–3 COIN campaigns, see Turkish, 168 Counter-insurgency campaigns vulnerability of, 59 Coleridge, John, Sir, General, 375 Cayley, Captain, 258 Colonial system, British, 457–8 Censorship, 387 Combat ethos, 180, 182 Central Flying School, 110 Combined arms, 39–40, 210, 216–7, 234, Central Legislative Assembly, 448–9 241–2 Central Recruiting Board, 139 Combined operations, 222, 231, 282, 301 Central Sikh League, 479 Command, 7, 9, 68, 96–103 Chief of the General Staff, 71, 73, 76, 79, command, control, communications & 83, 100, 101, 108, 135, 242, 251 intelligence, (C3I), 65–7 Chaklala, Royal Indian Army Service and Indian Army, 63–103 Corps School at, 293 inspirational, 67 Chargers, hire of, 197 and logistics, 67–84 Chaudhuri, Nirad C., 369 operational and tactical, 84–92 Chauri Chaura, 370, 478 Commander-in-Chief, 80, 194, 224, Chelmsford, Lord, 122, 133, 138 226–7, 232, 234–5, 249, 320 general index 531

Commander-in-Chief India, 11, 16, 73, Critical Study of the Campaign in 80, 84, 106, 110, 120–21, 142, 167, Mesopotamia up to April 1917, 93, 95, 169, 171, 173, 194, 208–9, 224, 248, 101–2 295, 326, 328, 353, 358, 384, 386, 430, CRUSADER, military operation (1941), 450, 452, 499 xvii, 232, 235, 240, 249–50 Commanders, artillery, 99 Combined Services Detailed Commandos, 276 n 106 Interrogation Centre (India), 498, Commando platoons, 262–3 501, 506, 511, 514, 517 Commissioner for Indian hospitals, Ctesiphon, Battle of (1915), 64, 68, 75, 397 84, 85–93, 111, 115–17, 204, 409 Communal Award (1932), 482 Curfews, 342 Communalism, 429 Curtis, Alfred, Major-General, 297 Communication, lines of, 68, 72–3, 75, Curzon, Lord, Chair of the Shipping 116, 122 Control Committee, 38 breakdown in, 52–4 Cyprus, 13 Communists, 431, 485, 502 Cyrenaica, 231–2 Kirti, 502 COMPASS, military operation (1940), Daily Telegraph, Churchill’s dispatches xvii, 229 to, 313 Congress Committee, 511 Dair-az-Zor, 86 Congress Party, 318, 486 Dakka, battle of, 217 Congreve, General, 47, 52, 53 Dakka Plain, geography of, 217 Conscription, 18, 150 Dallas, A.E., Lieutenant-Colonel, 69 Conservancy, 70, 75 Damascus, 212 Conservatism, military, 192 Army, Indian at, 159 Control, decentralized, 296 Damdil, civil disturbance in, 376 Cookery, training school of, 287 Davies, F.G., Brigadier, 217 Coolie Corps, 112, 124 Davison, K.S., Major-General, 68–9, 72, Coppen, George, company commander, 75, 76 441 Dayal, Har, Professor, 462 Corbett, Jim, Lt Col, 298; Man-Eaters of De Guing and, Freddie, Brigadier, 242 Kumaon, 298 De la P. Beresford-Peirse, Noel, Corbett, Tom, Lieutenant-General, 226, Major-General, 225 237, 246 Debtor’s Protection Act (1936), 480 Cordons, 372–3 Decolonization, 24 Corps of Guides, 215 Defection, 501 Cossack tactics, 199 Defence: Coubrough, C.R.L., Second-Lieutenant, all-round, 266, 269, 271, 276 256–7, 259 n 30 in depth, 265 Counter-insurgency (COIN) campaigns, linear, 236, 265–6 12–13, 325 static, 265, 280 Cowan, David, Major-General, 261–2, Defence of India Act: 268, 276, 288, 303 (1915), 339, 464 Meiktila defence strategy of, 279–80 (1939), 361 Cowans, John, Sir, 83 Dehra Dun, Indian Military Academy Cowper, M., Major-General, 69, 74–6 at, 263, 287–8, 290, 316 Cows, as sacred animal, 440 Deir-el-Shein, 223, 241 Cox, Percy, Sir, Chief Political Officer, Delamain, W.S., Brigadier-General, 63, 90 202, 405, 414 Craik, H.D., Governor, 486 Delhi, 64, 80 Crawling order, 348, 349, 363, 367–8 anti-government feeling in, 336 Cripps, Stafford, politician, 321–2, civil disturbance in, 341 389–90 Red Fort in, 494 Cripps Mission, 266, 323, 329 Satyagraha campaign in, 340 532 general index

Delville Wood, 46, 56 Dyer, Reginald (Rex), Brigadier-General, German army at, 55 13, 14, 218, 256, 342–7, 357, 359, Demobilization, 19 363–9, 372, 469, 471, 474 Deolali, Cadet Wing at, 293 Dysentery, 398, 411 Deportation, 365 Deputy-Adjutant and Quartermaster East Africa, 18, 35, 79 General, 74 Churchill in, 312 Deputy Director of Staff Duties, 303 East India Company, 423, 426 Dera Ismail Khan, 380 Eastern Command, 89, 295 Derajat, 219, 376 Eastern Group Supply Council, 317 civil disturbance in, 376 Edmonds, James, Sir, Official History of Indian Army at, 215 World War I, 43, 45, 57 Desert warfare, 227–8, 245, 248, 251–2 Egypt, 13, 35 Desertion, 17, 153, 157, 177, 403–6, 408, anti-British riots in, 368 410, 412–3, 417, 432, 503 Egyptian Expeditionary Force in, Despatch riders, 47 145–54 Dhillon, Gurbaksh Singh, 494 n 7, 516 Muslim population in, 64 Dhond, 245 political violence in, 360 Diet, dietary taboos, 411, 413–15 Egyptian Expeditionary Force: Dimapur, 277 Artillery of, 157 Director of Armoured Fighting Vehicles, cavalry in, 145, 151 248 disease in, 161 Director of Infantry (India), 265 divisions of, 165 Directorate of Military Intelligence, Indianization of, 145–154, 165–90 497–9 infantry divisions, 145 Director of Military Training, 233, 235, Intelligence Branch, 176 246, 286, 294–5, 303, 307, 309 Palestine, 165–90 Discipline, 430–33 training, 155 Disease, 157, 412 Ekhi Rasta (The Only Way), 507, 510 see also Cholera, Dysentery, Influenza, El Alamein, 223, 230, 239–41, 243 Malaria, Scurvy El Burj-Ghurabeh Ridge, fighting on Disorders Inquiry Committee, 338 (1918), 183–186 report of, 474 El Mughar, British Army at (1917), Dissent, military, 481–5 160 District Soldiers Board, 453, 483–4, Elephants, 216 477 Engineer companies, 140 Divide et impera, policy of, 22, 424, Engineers, training centres, 287 450 Enlistment, 460, 465–6 Dixon, Norman, 65 Entente Supreme War Council, 146 Dogras, 270, 426, 440–41 Equitation, training school, 287 Dorman-Smith, Eric, Brigadier, 227, Eritrea, 223 238, 303 Es Sinn, military action at, 120 Douglas, C.W., 82 Esdraelon, Plain of, 213 Doveton, A.C., Colonel, 349, 350 Esher Committee, 287 Drama Party, 495 Espiegle, H.M.S., [ship], 97 Driving courses, 275 Esprit de corps, 401, 424, 428 Duff, Beauchamp, Sir, Etawah, District Soldiers Board at, 453 Commander-in-Chief India, 72–4, Ethnicity, 22 80–81, 83, 110, 112, 121 Lawrence’s concept, 423, 427, 429 Dujaila Redoubt, battle of (1916), 94–6, Euphrates line, 128 101 Euphrates, river, 68, 86, 115, 202, 209, Dunn, Major, 259 408 Dunsterville, Major-General, 130, 136 transport on, 112 Duties in Aid of the Civil Power (1937), Euphrates Valley, 212 372–3 Euphrates Valley Canal, 210 general index 533

Europeans: Gadsdon, Peter, company commander, attacks on, 354, 356 440 murder of, 341, 349, 354, 362, 365, Galbraith, J.S., 72–3 367 Galilee, Sea of Galilee, 212 Evans, Geoffrey, Major-General, 247 Gallipoli, 6, 7, 79, 158, 178 Evans Knob, fighting at, 273 Gandhi, Mohamas Karamchand, 12, Execution, 463–5 311, 322, 340, 352, 365, 367, 370, 453, Expenditure, military, economic 469, 478 consequences of, 20 civil disobedience campaigns, 335–6, Extended Capital, military operation, 352, 354 276–8 see also Quit India Campaign Gardez, 216 Factionalism, 17 Gardi, 217 and command, 7 Gargar, 205 Faluja, 128, 209, 210 Garhwalis, martial race theory, 22 Famine, 386 Gauche Wood, German offensive at in Bengal, 322–3 (1917), 62 Fao port of, 202 Gaza, 181, 193 Fao, landings at (1914), 111 3rd Battle of (1917), 178, 213 Faqir of Ipi, 362, 375–7, 379, 380 Gazala: Farah, Afghan army at, 219 battles at (1942), 236–8, 241 Feisal, Emir, 156 lessons from, 238–242 Festubert, Allied offensives at (1915), General Head Quarter, 7, 41, 85–6, 90, 38 100, 113, 115, 134, 205, 207, 219–20, Field Artillery Training Centre, 287 226, 232, 241, 245–52, 263–4, 266, Field Service Pocket Book, 306 294, 298, 303, 305, 309 Field Service Regulations, 74, 226, 229, General Staff, 66, 72, 77–80, 83, 88, 101, 233, 291 147, 176, 179, 181, 183, 224 Field Service Regulations Part II, 75, George V, king, 187 78 Germany, 108, 314, 318–9, 465, 498 Fire and movement, 154 government of, 17 Fire control, 299 German Army, 7, 18, 37, 41–2, 44, 46, Fire discipline, 264–6 48, 52–6, 58–64, 71, 79, 86, 140–41, Fire versus shock debate, 194 146–7, 153, 158, 162, 165, 168, 172–3, Firepower, 109, 110, 193, 222, 241–2 189, 220–24, 231–2, 234, 240–42, box system of, 254 249–50 First World War, 33–62, 63–103, Asia Corps, 160 105–43, 165–89, 190–93, 200–220 at Bazentin-le-Petit, 53 Flers, German trenches at, 56 Palestine, 158 Flogging, 349–50, 352, 368, 382 panzers, 223 Food crisis, Indian, (1943), 322 Somme, 55 Food riots, 360 Ghadar: Food shortages, 120, 468 definition of, 462 n 4 Force projection, 313 movement, 334, 364, 455 Ford model T, armoured, 161 newspaper, 462 Fowler, Major-General, 217 rebellion, 462–467, 470, 482 Franco-Belgian border, 37 revolutionaries, 17, 18, 20 Franco-Prussian War, 76 Ghadarites, 109, 431, 463–7 Fraser, T., Brigadier-General, 99 Ghazni, Afghan army at, 218 French, John, Sir, 38, 194–5 Ghubasiyah, 207 Frontier Intelligence Corps, 87 Ghurabeh Ridge, fighting on (1918), Frontier Militia, 107 182–6 Frontier Warfare Committee, 308 Gibb, Major, 291 Frontiers, policing of, 286 Giffard, George, Sir, Lieutenant-General, Fuka, 238 277 n 115, 295 534 general index

Ginchy-Pozières ridge, German Second Haifa, Indian Army at, 159–60, 162 Line position at, 46 Staff School at, 305 Glancy, Bernard, Governor, 486–7, 489 Haig, Douglas, General, Commander Government of India Acts: British Expeditionary Force, 38–9, (1919), 338–9 45–6, 79, 83, 108, 194–5 (1935), 311–12, 314–5, 370 Memorandum on Army Training Golden Temple, Punjab, 466, 474 (1911), 83 Gora-log, 148 Haig, H.G., Governor of the United Gordon, L.A.C., Brigadier-General, 101 Provinces, 453 Gorringe, George, Major-General, 101, Haldane, Major-General, 47 112 Hamilton, A., Commander, Royal Gothic Line, 293 Indian Marine, 71, 75 Gough, Hubert, Inspector General of Hamilton-Gordon, A., Training of Cavalry Divisions, 39–40, Brigadier-General, Director Military 97 Operations, 78 Governing principles, Gwynne’s, 371 Hammer and anvil tactics, 278 Gradige, Colonel, 299 Hanaya, Lieutenant-General, 282 Granthi, 430–31 Handbooks, 436, 438–9 Greer, F.A., Brigadier-General, 187 Hanna, 94 Gregory, C.L., Brigadier-General, 50, 54, battle at (1916), 69, 98 57, 201 Turkish army at, 94 Grenade launchers, 155 Harding, John, Major General, 233 Gribbon, W.H., Major, 89–91 Hardinge, Charles, Lord, Viceroy, 65, Grimshaw, Roly, Captain, 35, 192–3, 200 72, 79, 108–9 General Staff, 72, 75–6, 80–1, 89, 91, Hartals (strikes), 340, 365, 469 100, 226, 245 Hartley, Alan, Sir, General, 307 Gujranwala, 470 Hartley, Second-Lieutenant, 55, 59 civil disturbance in, 469 Headlam, J., Brigadier-General, Director martial law in, 469 of Staff Studies and Military Training, Gujrat 78 civil disturbance in, 469 Hearts and minds, 389 deputy-commissioner of, 472 Heath, Lewis, Major-General, 230 martial law in, 469 Heilly, 15th Corps Headquarters at, 47 Gun Club Hill, barracks at, Kowloon, Helmets, Sikh objection to, 481–2, 512, 512–15 515 Guns: Herat, Afghan army at, 219 6 pounders, 239 Herbert, John, Sir, Governor, 323 18 pounders, 125 Hickman, Captain, Brigade Major, 180, 25-pounders, 297 181 anti-tank, 228, 231, 234 High Wood, 44–5, 51–4, 56, 59–60, 201 see also Artillery, Howitzers, Hindenburg Line, Indian cavalry at, 62 Hotchkiss guns, Machine guns Hindu Sabha School, 366 Gurba, Afghan army at, 216 Hindus, xvii, xviii, xix, 109, 311, 313, Gurdon, Edward, Major-General, 294, 315, 330 n 17, 354, 356, 366, 370, 295 383–5, 387, 414, 425, 430, 440, 450 Gurdwaras, xviii, xix, 358 n 13, 454, 456, 463, 465, 468, 469, Gurjranwala, civil disturbance in, 341 476–80, 489, 502, 507, 511–12, 515 Gurkhali, language, 438 Hindu-Muslim solidarity, 469 Gurkhas, 293, 313, 326, 395 atrocities against, 354 and martial race theory, 22 Hindustani, 435, 438 Gurus, Sikh, 425 History, military, 2, 3 Gwal, 218 Hong Kong, 18, 286, 431 Gwynn, Charles, Commandant of the Muslims captured at, 511–16 Staff College, 369, 371;Imperial Sikh rebellion in, 482 Policing, 371 Horne, Lieutenant-General, 53, 54 general index 535

Horseflesh, consumption of, 410, 411, 197, 199–200, 205, 216, 323, 327, 412, 413, 414, 415 336–40, 351, 353, 355, 357, 364–5, Horsemanship, 198 375, 379, 393, 449, 465, 468, 471, Horses: 483 Arab, 209 home rule, xx, 339, 352, 361 Australian, 209 inflation in, 448 in Burma, 270 navy of, 456 husbandry, 195, 219 partition of, 15, 308, 315, 328, 431, killed in action, 59 445 supply of, 209 peacekeeping in, 24 Walers, 209 provinces of, 314 wounded, 50, 59 racist attitudes towards, 330 Hospital ships, 115, 119, 121, 124 rebellion in, 14 Hospitals, military, 116, 119, 121, 397 Secretary of State, 314, 338, 369–70 Hotchkiss guns, 40, 41, 44, 160, 211 Viceroy of, 106, 108, 122, 138, 194, House of Commons, 390 295, 314, 323, 328–9, 345, 381, 384, and Amritsar massacre, 367 386, 489, 499 House of Lords: India Association in Lahore, 475 and Amritsar massacre, 367 India Command, 244–250, 246–8, 264, House to house fighting, 299–300 266–8, 301 Howell, Philip, Lieutenant, 87 Indian Army: Howitzers, 125 administration, 75–9 Hudson, Havelock, Sir, General, 336–8, Afghanistan, 6, 215–21 341, 349 armament, 155–6 Huj, British Army at (1917), 160 Army Head Quarter (AHQ), 80, 81, Humfrey, Lieutenant-Colonel, 207 88–9, 110, 116, 118, 125, 133–4, Hunter Committee, 336–8, 343–5, 347, 138, 142, 303, 305 350, 352, 363, 365 artillery, 6, 36, 50, 66, 98–9, 109, Majority Report of, 345, 365–7 125–7, 143, 152–3, 155, 193, 198, Minority Report of, 366–7 220, 228, 235–6, 241–2, 282, 297 Hunting, 294 Burma, 3, 5, 8–11, 19, 24, 29, 190, Hurricane bombardment, 46 224–5, 245, 248, 250–54, 285–6, Husain, Fazl-I, 468, 475–7, 480, 485 290–1, 294, 297–8, 300–302, 307, 314, 320–30, 383, 385, 387, 452, Identity, military, 493–518 494, 511 Imperialism, 312 caste, 16, 22, 148–9, 397, 413–4, 423, Imphal, 275, 279, 302 430–40 Japanese army at, 270–3 casualties, 38, 148, 238 Imphal-Tamu-Sittaung road, 276 n 108 civil disorder, 14, 24, 335–390 Imprisonment, 349 civil security, 359–71 Indebtedness Act (1934), 480 class, 424, 429–34 Independents, 487 combat effectiveness, 251 Punjabi, 480 combat strength, 37, 107, 201, 215, India: 336–7, 429–30, 447 and Churchill, 311–331 combat worthiness, 6 colonial state in, 461–91 command in, 7, 9, 63–103 communal violence in, 354 conventional warfare, 4–11 devolution, 338 decolonisation, 24 dominion status, 314–5, 322 definition of, 1 n 1 economy of, 317 Director of Infantry, 328 elections in, 370 Director of Military Operations, 78 food crisis in, 322, 328–9 Director of Staff Studies and Military geostrategic importance, 312 Training, 78 Government of, 7, 12, 14–5, 19–21. discipline, 15, 16, 18, 22, 75, 82, 155, 64, 93, 80, 81, 90, 106, 171, 176, 157, 159, 177, 181, 211, 26, 262, 536 general index

264, 266, 292, 297, 299, 349, 382, regimental structure, 196–7, 200 394, 405, 421, 424, 429–433, 440, reinforcement, 38, 69–70 482, 508 religion, 16, 430 East Africa, 1, 3, 6–7, 18, 35, 79, 109, scale of, 1, 23 130, 132, 136, 170, 230, 283, 295, sepoys, xix, 1 n 1, 4, 16–19, 23, 115–7, 361, 398–9 152, 157, 159, 166, 174–80, 182, Egypt, 1, 13, 35, 145–54, 165–90 185–6, 187, 190, 208, 330, 335, ethnicity, 36–7, 419–443 393–5, 397–8, 401–6, 409–14, 417, expansion, 286, 317, 319–20, 429, 452 430, 439, 469, 501, 505, 510, 520 General Staff, 66, 72, 77–80, 83, 88, Silladari regiments, 196 101, 147, 176, 179, 181, 183, 224 Singapore, 17, 18 history of, 2 social history of, 16 Imperial Service Brigade, 161 society, 419–443 Indianization, xviii, 133, 145–190, Somme, 33–62 285, 288, 316, 319, 448–50, 459 Staff tours, 78 Intelligence Branch, 88 structural flaws, 195–9 internal security, 11–15, 266–7 tactics, 9, 234, 266 Jawans, xviii, 1 n 1, 8, 19, 24, 163, training, 2, 9–11, 40–41, 76–7, 149, 181, 493–5, 499–503 198, 209, 233–5, 245–9, 252, 256, Les Hindous, 37 260, 262, 265, 267, 274 nn 95, 96, logistics, 67–84, 70–72, 105–43, 214, 275, 276 n 107, 285–309, 317, 328 219, 228, 397, 407, 415 Viceroy’s Council, 80 loyalty, 15–16, 18, 20 Western Front, 165–6 machine gun companies, 39, 40, 169, World War I, 33–62, 63–103, 105–43, 219 165–89, 190–93, 200–220 martial law, 348–52 World War II, 1, 223–54, 255–83, Mesopotamia, 1, 5, 7, 16, 35, 63–102, 445–60 105, 202, 203, 220, 393–418 see also artillery, disease, guns, Military Aid to the Civil Power, 12, cavalry, infantry, officers 359–90 Indian Army Ordnance Corps, 289 mismanagement, 64 Indian Army Reserve of Officers, 132, morale, 9, 16–18, 70, 96, 165–6, 399 175–6, 211, 248, 258, 299, 319, 323, Indian Army Selection Board, 289 383, 385–6, 393–418, 499–500 Indian Civil Service (ICS), 316, 347–8, Muslims, 153, 175, 177 448 nationalism, 335 Indian Councils Act (1909), 370 North Africa, 223–54 Indian Disorders Committee, 372 North West Frontier, 5, 12, 24, 34, Indian Expeditionary Force East Africa 80–81, 87, 88, 106, 109, 132, 138, (IEFB), 7 156, 166, 219–20, 230, 286, 293, Indian Expeditionary Force France 313, 359–62, 374–5, 379 (IEFA), 5, 35 organisation of, 109–11 Indian Expeditionary Force Palestine, 1, 3, 6, 13, 17, 126, 120, 129, Mesopotamia (IEFD), 6, 85, 87, 89, 142, 145–51, 159, 165–89, 220 100, 102, 117, 141–208, 393, 397, 404, peasants in, 18 415, 416 prejudice against, 261 cavalry strength, 212 professionalism, 21 combat strength, 107, 113, 123–4 rations, 157–8 command in, 63–103 recruitment, 18–9, 22, 24, 37, 149–51, manpower, 136–43 175, 395, 445, 447–9, 459, 467 Mesopotamia, 63–103, 111, 203 reform, 6, 10, 80, 82, 101, 106, 125, Indian Independence Day, 512 133, 147, 162, 196, 238, 240, Indian Military Academy, Dehra Dun, 255–69, 283, 291, 339, 416, 447, 287–9 450, 459, 490 Journal of, 290 general index 537

Indian National Congress (INC), 12, 20, Irwin, Noel, Lieutenant-General, 295, 322, 346, 353, 361–3, 366, 381, 384, 325 386, 456 Iskara, fighting at (1918), 186 civil disobedience campaigns of, Islam, 17, 18, 354, 371, 488–9, 404 370 holy sites of, 403, 405, 407 Committee of Enquiry (Amritsar pan-Islamism, 64 Incident), 363 Ismalia, 176 and Jallianwala Bagh, 344–5 Ismay, Hastings, Sir, General, 329 non-cooperation Campaign of, 364 Italian Army, xvii, 168, 223, 229–32, Punjab branch of, 475 249, 325 and the Raj, 314 Izzat, concept of, 396–7, 404 Indian Soldiers’ Board, 20, 477 Indian Welfare Committee, 511 Jalandhar Brigade, 363 Indianization, xviii, 133, 145–54, Jallianwala Bagh massacre, 12–15, 215, 165–190, 316, 318, 449–50 335, 339, 359, 342–51, 357–9, 362–71, Indianization Committee, 288 388, 470, 472 India-Pakistan War, First (1947–48), James, Lieutenant-Colonel, 345 24 Jamrud, 217 Indo-Burmese frontier, 251, 254 Japan, 320, 327, 287, 481, 506 Infantry, xix, xx, 3, 9, 14, 37–44, 46, 49, military policy of, 23 51, 53–6, 58, 63, 86, 93, 95–6, 98–101, Military High Command of, 276, 278 105, 107, 109, 116–8, 125, 127–9, see also Indian National Army 132, 135–7, 142–3, 145–48, 150–51, Japanese Imperial Army, 9, 10, 169, 154–9, 162, 167–75, 177, 179–81, 251–2, 255–9, 261, 264–6, 271–3, 183–5, 190–92, 194, 200–204, 207, 276–8, 280–83, 296, 302, 324, 389 210–11, 215–25, 228–41, 243, 247, Burma, 9–10, 255–83 251, 253, 269–71, 273–6, 279–82, HA-GO offensive (1944), 269–70 287–8, 290–96, 298–302, 306–8, 319, Imphal offensive, 270 322, 328, 375, 379, 388, 409, 414, 423, Malaya, 493 428–9, 441–2 U-GO offensive (1944), 269–274 Infantry Committee, 267 n 63, 268 n 67, Japanese Indian Fighting Forces (JIFFs), 295–6 23, 496, 500 Infiltration, 281, 305, 448 Jat caste, 425–6 Influenza, 157, 161, 469 Jats, 37, 455, 477, 502 Ingall, Francis, autobiography of, 288 Jaundice, 411 Inoculations, 399–400 Jawans, xviii, 1 n 1, 8, 19, 24, 163, Inskip, Roland, Major-General, 294 493–5, 499–503 Inspector-General of Communications, Hindu Jat, 502 71, 75–6 INA, 493–5, 511 Inspector General of Training of Cavalry Jebel-Hamrin line, 126 Divisions, 39 Jeeps, 269, 275 Inspector of Training Centres, 294 Jemadars, 150, 152, 174, 197, 506, 513 Intelligence, military, 9, 85–92 Jerusalem, 145, 176, 178, 183 Internal security, 286, 301 Turkish forces in, 168 Internment, 464 Jervis, Second-Lieutenant, 258 Interrogation, 493–518 JIFFs, see Japanese Indian Fighting Iraq, 393 Forces political violence in, 360 Jihad, 64, 109, 153, 387, 403–4 Ireland: Jinnah, Muhammed Ali, 314, 476, famine in (1845–47), 323–4 488–9 political violence in, 360 Jock Columns, 231 Irrawaddy River, 276–9 Johnson, Frank, Colonel, 349–50 Irving, Mr, Deputy Commissioner, Joint Note 12, 170 365–6 Jordan, 212–13 538 general index

Jordan, river, 146 Khudai Khidmatgar (Redshirts), 362 valley of, 161, 213 Khurd Khaibar Hills, 217 Josh Groups, 500 military action at, 218 Josh measures, 385, 386 Khyber Pass, 216 Judaea, 212 Kidnapping, 375 Judaean Hills, 213 Kigell, 79 fighting in, 178, 181 Kikan, F., 502 Jungle warfare, 251–3, 261–2, 265, 270, Kimura, Hyotaro, Lieutenant-General, 276, 279 n 127, 301 276–9 Comilla School of, 299 King’s Commission, 151, 162 Sevoke School of, 269 Kirkman, Sidney, Brigadier, 242 Shimoga School of, 300 Kirkuk, capture of, 130 training in, 260 n36, 264, 274 n 96, Kitchener, Horatio Herbert, Lord, 295–6, 300 Commander-in-Chief-India, 80–2, 101, 105, 107, 132 Kabul River, 217 Kitchlew, Dr., (communist agitator), Kahi, Afghan army at, 219 365–6 Kalai-i-Ghilzai, Afghan army at, 219 Kite balloon section, 129 Kalewa, 278 Knowledge, and power, 437–8 Indian Army at, 176 Kohima, battle for, 302 Karbala, holy site, 403 Komagata Maru [ship], 18, 462 Karun River, 113, 202 Komagata Maru Affair, 18, 462 Kashmir, peacekeeping in, 24 Konarmiya (Soviet Cavalry Army), 216 Kasur: Koran, 175 civil disturbance in, 341 Korean War, 442 Doveton’s punishments in, 349–50 Korla, Major, 271 n 82 Kawabe, M., Lieutenant-General, Korla, Srikant, Captain, 258–9 Japanese Burma Kurram Valley, 218, 380 Kelly, Denis, 329–30 Kut al-Amara, 64, 67–8, 97–8, 105, 111, Kemball, G.V. Major-General, 71, 94, 115–6, 134–5, 138, 141, 147, 202–4, 101, 204, 207 207, 405, 409 Keren, Battle of (1941), 230, 293 relief operations, 92–102 Khaibar, 217 recapture of, 415 KHAICOL, armoured column, 376 siege of, 17, 111, 217, 406–15, 417 Khaisora Valley, 375, 377 surrender at, 393, 395, 415 Khalifat movement, see Khilafat Kuzeik, 257 Movement Kyuakpadaung-Meiktila road, 280 Khalsa, brotherhood of the pure, 425 Khalsa Diwan, political party, 466, 478 Laffin, John, 65 Khalsa National Party, 480 Lahore, 215, 470 Khan, Abdul Gaffar, 362 civil disturbance in, 311, 340, 469 Khan, Hakim, Subedar, 513–4 martial law in, 469–70 Khan, Shahnawaz, 516 Lajj, fighting at (1915), 204 Khan, Sikandar Hayat, Punjab premier, Lake, Percy, Lieutenant-General, 89, 476, 480, 486 100, 117, 120, 122, 135, 138, 142 Khassadars, 376 Lakshmibai, Rani, 508 Khattar family, 486 Lambardars, 473 Khilafat Movement, 352, 371 Lances, 156, 193–6, 214–5 and non-cooperation, 352–6 Landi Kotal, 217–8 Khilafatists, 479 Languages, 438–9 Khirbet el Deir, fighting at, 182 operationalization of, 435 Khirbet Keys, 182 Lashio, 276 Khizr, 488–90 Lashkars, 215, 217, 219–20 Khost, 217 Law, rule of, 373 general index 539

Lawargai, Afghan army at, 220 Lyn MacDonald, 60 Lawrence, Henry, soldier and Somme, 60 administrator, 419, 420, 423, 424, 434 Lyttleton, Neville, Sir, 101 Lawrence, T.E., 89, 90, 326 Lawrence, Walter, Sir, commissioner for MacAndrew, Major-General, GOC 2nd Indian hospitals, 397, 401, 402 Indian Division, 47, 50, 51, 54 Le Marchand, Colonel, 293 Macedonia, 175, 189 Leachman, G.E., 91 MacFetridge, Charles, 300 Leadership, 9, 252, 415–6 Machine gun companies, 127, 129, 139 Leave policy, 433 Machine gunnery, 154 Ledo, Assam Province, 324 Machine guns, 6, 52, 54, 59, 61–2, 111, Leese, Oliver, Sir, Lieutenant-General, 117, 121, 128, 155, 160, 185, 1192, 277 n 115 199, 211, 214, 216, 280, 197 Legislative Council, 475 and cavalry, 44 Lethbridge, Brigadier, 277 Hotchkiss, 40, 41, 44, 160, 211 Letpankagaw, 280 Lewis gun, 40, 155–6, 161, 179–81, Lewis guns, 40, 155–6, 161, 179–81, 219 219 light, 154, 156 Lighters, 112, 124 limitations of, 160 Lindemann, F.E., Professor, 323 Maxim, 192, 199 Lindsay, Lieutenant-Colonel, 270 Vickers, 39, 49, 199 Linlithgow, Marquess of, Viceroy of MacMunn, G.F., Major-General, 71 India, 314–5, 323, 238, 381–2, 488 Martial Races of India, 451 Lloyd George, David, Prime Minister, Maday, 276 145–6, 167, 170, 312 Madhij, 210 Lloyd, Wilfrid, Major-General, 252, Magdhaba, 193 253 Mahasabha, Hindu, 478–9, 480 Loganathan, Arcot Doraisamy, Mahelas (sailing ships), 68, 115 Major-General, 494 Mahlaing, 279 Logistics, 143, 228, 397, 407, 415 Majithia, Sundar Singh, 486 and command, 67–84 Malabar Rebellion (1921), 354–6, 358 and fighting efficiency, 70–2 Malaria, 114, 161, 267 and Indian Expeditionary Force Malaya: Mesopotamia, 105–43 Indian Army in, 9, 224, 251, 261, Long range penetration, military 263–5, 286, 294, 307, 320–1, 325, technique of, 325–7 385, 452 Longcloth, military operation, 326 Japanese invasion of, 250, 493 Longley, John, Major-General, 178, Malaya Report, 263 188–9 Malnutrition, 411 Longueval, 46, 53, 56 Mametz Wood, 46 capture of (1916), 51–2 Mamund Valley, cavalry action at German army at, 55 (1897), 215 Loos, military action at (1915), 37–9 Mandalay, 276, 278, 282 Looting, 354, 366 Manpower Committee, 167 Lorries, 117, 127 Manual of Military Law, 337 Loyalty, 4, 15–18, 20, 23, 149, 151, 163, Manual of Operations on the North West 176, 335, 358, 384, 388, 412, 419, 423, Frontier of India (1938), 378 455, 461, 465, 467 Mappilla Rebellion, see: Malabar in Punjab region, 468–75 Rebellion Lucknow, 453 Mappillas, Muslim sect, 354–5, 357, 371 siege of, 420 March discipline, 155 Lucknow Pact, 475 Mareth Line, 4th Indian Division at, 244 Lunt, Major-General, 260 Marksmanship, 154, 296 Lyallpur, civil disturbance in, 469 Marsden, P., Sub-Divisional Officer, 349 540 general index

Marseilles, 200 Indian Expeditionary Force Marsh, Frank, Major, 86 Mesopotamia in, 63–103 Marshall, William, Lieutenant-General, Mesopotamia Campaign, 111, 63–103, 120, 171, 172 105–143, 393–417 Martial law, 337, 341, 348–52, 366, Mesopotamia Commission, 68–9, 72, 74, 372–3, 385–6, 469–70 80, 84–5, 90, 92, 101–2 Martial race theory, 22–3, 137, 149, 395, Report of the Mesopotamia 421, 424–5, 434, 436, 438–9, 441–2, Commission, (1917), 64, 65 445–6, 451–2, 455, 458, 460 Messervy, Frank, Lieutenant-General, Martial races, 17, 22, 37, 131, 313, 330, 248, 254, 277 n 112, 295 358, 421–2, 428–9, 435, 445–60, 465, Messes, 430 502 Meulte, Somme, 50 Martin, Clifford, company commander, Mezalibin, 280 440–41 Mhow Brigade, 36 Martin, Noel, Brigadier, 239 Michriyah, fighting at (1915), 203 Marylebone Station, Great Central Hotel Middle East Command, 226, 232, 234, at, 289, 290 241, 243, 245 Masters, John, Gurkha Officer: Middle East Command Training autobiography of, 288 Memoranda, 233 The Road Past Mandalay, 283 Milap (Unity), 507, 510 Mathura, 287 Military Aid to the Civil Power Maude, Stanley, Lieutenant-General, 83, (MACP), 359–61, 371–80 98, 122–4, 126–8, 142, 209, 213, 221, Military Intelligence Directorate, 249 415, 416 Military Police, 107 death of, 121 Military Training Directorate, 303, Maulvis, xix, 490 308–9 Maunsell, E.B., Colonel, 198 Military Training Pamphlets (MTPs), Mautau Chung Prisoner of War Camp, 227, 266, 293, 305–6 512 MTP no. 7, 307 Maxim gun, 192, 199 MTP no. 9, The Jungle Book, 263, 267, Mayde, 99 296, 298, 301–2, 304 Mazar-i-Shariff, Afghan army at, 219 MTP no. 11, Notes on Training for Meaulte, 42, 46, 49 Duties in Aid of Civil Power, 304 Mecca, pilgrimage to, 177 MTP no. 13, Navigation by Stars, 305 Mechanical Transport Company, 117 MTP no. 14, Leading Infantry Section, Medical resources, Mesopotamia 305 campaign, 70, 113–8, 121 Milking, 251, 286 Mediterranean Sea, 236, 240 Mindawagan Lake, IJA at, 281 Meggido, 212 Minefields, 236, 242–3 Megiddo, battle of (1918), 166, 186–7, Mines, anti-tank, 228 190 Minimum force, concept of, 12–14, 351, Meiktila, 254, 278, 281, 452 360, 371–3, 388 Airstrip at, 280 Minshull-Ford, Brigadier-General, 54 Meinertzhagen, R., 91 Mirrlees, William, Major-General, 247 Melliss, Charles, Sir, brigade Mirza Ali Khan, see Faqir of Ipi commander, 414 Moab, Mountains of, 213 Mendali, 211 Mobility, 222, 227 Mersa Matruh, Indian Army at, 223, 238 Mohamed, Nazar, Gunner, 513 Mersah Matruh, 10th Indian Infantry Mohmand border, cavalry action at Division at, 238 (1897), 215 Mesopotamia, 6–8 16, 17, 27, 35–6, 38, Molesworth, General, 386 63–103, 105–143, 146–7, 152, 155–6, Monchy le Peux, fighting at (1917), 201 170–3, 177, 194–5, 202–12, 215, Money, Major-General, 76, 101 217–21, 393–417 Monglong Mountains, 276 general index 541

Monro, Charles, General, 81, 122, 133, Muslims, xvi, xvii, xix, 15, 17, 18, 109, 141, 167, 169, 171, 173–4, 345 153, 175–8, 315, 323, 352, 354, 356, Monsoon, 1918 370–1, 384, 386–7, 393, 403–4, 407, Montagu, Edwin, Secretary of State for 412–13, 425, 430, 440, 454, 456, 459, India, 338 463, 468–9, 472, 475–8, 480–83, Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms, 339, 489–90 352, 364 atrocities committed by, 354 Montagu-Chelsmford Report, 450 n 12 Deccani, 27 Montauban, 46, 50, 51, 54, 58 Hindustani, 17 Montgomery, Archibald, Major-General, indianization, 175 11 Mappillas, 354 Montgomery, Bernard, Lieutenant- and martial race theory, 22 General, 8th Army, 242–244 Muslim-Hindu solidarity, 469 Monthly Training Reports, 265 Punjabi, 17, 20, 22, 256, 258, 270, 271 Moplah Rebellion, see: Malabar n 84, 426, 475, 499, 511 Rebellion Shia, 403 Moplahs, see Mappillas Sunni, 64, 403 Morale, 4, 9, 16–18, 70, 96, 145, 155, Musmus Pass, 2nd Lancers at, 161 157, 159, 166, 175–6, 182, 211, 242, Muspratt, H.M., 218 248, 258, 299, 319, 323, 357, 383, Mutaguchi, Renya, General, 270, 302 385–6, 393–418, 438, 499 Mutiny, 17, 153, 177, 389, 408, 429, 432, Moran, Lord, 330 502 Morlancourt, Somme, 50, 51 CIH mutiny, 432 2nd Indian Cavalry Division at, 57, 58 Indian Mutiny (1857), 16, 107, 336, Morley, John, Secretary of State for 360, 395–6, 420 India, 369, 370 Singapore Mutiny (1915), 17–18 Morning Post, 345 Mutiny Complex, 336 Morris, E.M., Brigadier-General, 185–6, Muzzaffarpur, terrorist bombing in, 369 188 Mortars, 117, 257, 280 Nablus, 183, 187 Stokes mortar, 128, 140, 155 Grand Mosque at, 177 Mosques, 177 Naqvi, A.T., Collector of Aligarh, 453 Mosul, 86, 171 Nasiriya, 73, 123 capture of 111, 130 fighting at (1915), 203 Motor cyclists, in military National Progressive Party, 479 communication, 47 Nationalism, 15, 21, 108, 359, 369, 371, Moulmein, 257 447–9 Mountain warfare, 215, 230 Sikh proto-nationalism, 455 training, 301 Nationalists, 340, 349, 352 Mountain Warfare Committee, 293 NATO, 4 Mountain Warfare School, India, 293 Nazism, 453 Mountbatten, Louis, Lord, Supreme NCOs, see Officers, Non-Commissioned Allied Commander in South-East Neby Saleh, 174 Asia, 267, 295, 327, 390, 517 Neesoon Prisoner of War Camp, 507 Mules, 269 Nehru, Jawaharlal, 322, 453, 476, 517 Mullahs, xix, 379–80 Nepal: Murder, 354, 356, 362, 369, 375 recruitment from, 138 Murphy, C.C.R., 90 soldiers from, 395 Murtaza, Afghan army at, 219 Neuve-Chapelle, battle of (1915), 37–8, Mushaid Ridge, 210 43, 201 Muslim Association, 475 New Delhi, Deputy Chief of General Muslim League, 15, 17–8, 314, 315, 318, Staff at, 236 384, 387, 475–6, 480, 487–90, 515 New Zealand, 8 All-India Muslim League, 475 troops from 233 542 general index

Nicholson, W.N., staff officer, memoirs Emergency Commissioned Officers of, 77 (ECOs), 245, 261, 292–3, 422, 432, Night attacks, 243, 308 434 Nixon, John E., Sir, Lieutenant-General, Indian Commissioned Officers 65, 71–5, 83–6, 89, 91, 100, 103, 112, (ICOs), 10, 434, 499, 502 114–17, 119, 134, 138, 141, 142 King’s Commissioned Officers Nizam of Hyderabad, Muslim leader, (KCOs), 131, 295, 398–400, 416, 403 449 No-man’s land, 181–2 Non-Commissioned Officers, 88, 107, Non Co-operation Campaign (INC), 183, 252, 296, 305, 321, 399, 408, 364 413, 428, 431–3, 440, 503, 512–14 North Africa, Indian Army in, 223–54 regimental, 394 North African Campaigns, legacies of, shortages of, 131–36, 399, 409 250–54 training of, 10, 256, 287–293 North West Frontier, 15, 66, 80–81, 88, Viceroy’s Commissioned Officers 136, 361, 375, 379, 388–9, 403–4, (VCOs), xx, 5, 17, 131, 152, 197–8, 458 398, 401, 413, 416, 428, 430–33, food riots, 360 440–41, 499 General Officer Commanding at, 219, Officership, 424 220 Oil supplies, Persian, 114 Indian army at, 5, 12, 24, 34, 87, 106, Oknebok, 280 109, 132, 156, 230, 286, 293, 313, Omars, 250 359–60, 374, 379 Organisation, military, 423–34 peacekeeping in, 24, 361–2 Orientalism, 420 recruitment from, 137, 138 Orissa, uprising in, 267 soldiers from, 37, 137–8, 395, 449 Ottoman Empire, 63, 156 Norwegian Campaign, 293 Ottoman-German Army, Yilderim Notes from Theatres of War, training (Thunderbolt) Army, 127 pamphlets, 249, 306 Ottomans, 17, 105, 113, 116–8, 393, 403, No. 4 Cyrenaica, 250 406 Nurettin, Colonel, 64 Sultan of, 403 Nur-ud-Din, see Nurettin, Colonel Nyaungu, 278 Pa-an, fighting at, 257–60 Paddlers, 124 O’Connor, Richard, Sir, Pagan, 276 Lieutenant-General, 227 PAIFORCE (Persia-Iraq Force), 249 O’Dowda, Brigadier-General, 98 Pakistan, 314, 483, 489, 490 O’Dwyer, Michael, Sir, Governor, 345, army of, 15, 24 351, 355–6, 364, 366, 464–6, 468–72, Palestine, 6, 13 474, 482 Arab revolt in, (1936–9), 13 O’Moore Creagh, Garrett, Sir, General, British military policy, 170, 171 84, 108, 110 geography of, 212 Oak, Purushottam Nagesh, Playwright, political violence in, 360 508–10 Partition of Indian sub-continent, Officer Cadet Training Unit (OCTU), (1947), 15, 322, 447, 457 289 violence during, 457, 458 pre-OCTU, Wrotham, Kent, 289–90 Pathan region, tribes in, 12 Officer Corps, 10, 20–21, 285–309 Pathans, 17, 215, 258, 270, 403–5, 407 Officer Training Schools: Afridi, 412 Mhow, 289, 291 and martial race theory, 22 Bangalore, 289, 292 Patrolling, 257, 260, 262, 265, 268–9, Belgaum, 289, 291–2 271–3, 275–6, 280–1, 297, 299, 303, Officers, 155, 160, 174, 197, 254 305 casualties, 133, 140 Paul Scott, The Raj Quartet, 321 general index 543

Peasants, 18, 150 n 18 Punjab, 14, 18–20, 37, 137–8, 141, 150 Bengalese, 323 n 18, 162, 245, 314, 323, 468, 475 Irish, 323 anti-government feeling in, 336 Hindu, 476 civil disturbance in, 14, 338–48, 362, Muslim, 463, 476 364–5 Punjab, 459 constituencies in, 480, 481 Sikh, 466, 476 demonstrations in, 162 Peel Commission, 450 economy of, 20 Persia, 108, 130 elections, in, 478, 480–81, 487 Persian Gulf, 63, 202, 286 food shortages in, 468 Peshawar, 215, 217 government of, 462, 474 Pettigrew, H.R.C., Colonel, 292, 300 grain production in, 323 Philistia, plain of, 212 martial law in, 337, 470 Physical training, 287 peasants in, 459 Piewar Kotal, 215 police in, 462 Pig sticking, 198 politics in, 475–85 Pillboxes, 155 Premier of, 486 Pindale Road, 280 recruitment from, 150, 137–8, 141, Pingle, associate of Rash Behari Bose, 453 463 rural-urban divide, 480, 481 Pink List, 289 Satyagraha campaign in, 340 Platoons security in, 455 command of, 152 Punjab Boundary Force, 15 tactical unit, 155 Punjab Regulation of Accounts Act Pneumonia, 411 (1930), 480 Point 2926, Burma, 272–3 Punjab School, of administration, 461 Point 6052, Burma, 270 Punjab Unionist Party, 476, 481, 486, Polish-Soviet War (1919–20), 216 490 Polo, 198 Punjabis, 461–91, 495 Ponies, Marathas, 206 Punjabization, 448 n 8 Pope, Lieutenant, 55 Pyinbin, 279 Pork, religious objection to, 440 Port Sudan, 230 Quadrant, Anglo-American summit, Port Tewfik, 230 Quebec, 326–7, 330 Potter, Brigadier General, 52 Quarter Master General, 69, 74 Poverty, 460 Quattara Depression, 240 Power, 423–34 Quebec, Anglo-American summit at, imperial, 419–21, 435 326–7, 330 Pownall, Henry, Sir, Lieutenant-General, Querrieu, 4th Army HQ at, 47 Triumph and Tragedy, 329–30 Quetta, staff college at, 76–7, 97, 132, Pozières, 42 218, 233, 245–7, 287 Prince of Wales, Indian visit (1921), 353 Quicksand, 160 Prisoners of war, 512–15 Quit India Campaign, 12, 266, 359, mistreatment of, 387 361–2, 381–85, 387, 498 Prisoner of war camps, 23, 514–15 Qurna, 112–114, 123 Promotion, 448 n 9 Propaganda, 176–7, 410, 453, 455, Racial supremacy, concept of, 21 462–3, 472, 511 Racism, 330 Provincial Recruiting Boards, 139 Royal Air Force, 15, 240, 375 Pugris, 502 Desert Air Force, 240 Punishment, 349–50, 354, 371, 373, 375, Egypt, 161 377, 382, 430, 482 fighter-bomber attacks, 240 crawling punishment, 348–9, 363, Rafa, Palestine, 193 367–8 Rai, Lala Lajpat, anti-Western activist, 369 544 general index

Railways, 76 Religion, 436 Baghdad-Samarra, 127 and discipline, 430, 431 Basra-Nasiriya line, 123 Religious sites, 177 civil attacks on, 341, 365–6 Report on the Administration of the Mesopotamia, 68 Madras Presidency for the for the Year military transport, 171 1920–21, 354 Qurna-Amara line, 123 Resaldars, 152, 197 Sheikh Saad-Sinn line, 123 Resaldar-Major, xx, 152, 472 Raj, xix, 12, 16, 19, 20, 22, 24, 107, Reservists, 400, 405 311–12, 314–6, 318, 321–2, 328, Review of Frontier Defence (1944), 380 330–31, 335, 357, 384, 419 Revolution, rural, 462–91 Raj, Hans, agent, 344 Rifle grenades, 154 Rajputs, 37, 245, 395 Riflemen, 192 Ram, Chhotu, 477, 487, 489 Rifles, 111, 179, 192–5, 215 Ramadi, 128 Canadian Ross, 149 fighting at (1917), 209, 210, 211 Lee-Enfield, 111, 149 Ranchi, 301 Martini-Henrys, 111 17th Indian Division at, 274 Rigo Bridge, 365 Randle, John, Second-Lieutenant / Rimmington, Major-General, 36 Brigadier, 256, 257, 258, 275 n 101 Rioters, 373, 384 Rangoon, 254, 256, 278, 282, 324 Rioting, 15, 361, 364–5, 368, 370–71, Indian Army at, 255 384 Rani of Zanshi: A Play in Three Acts, Ritchie, Neil, Lieutenant-General, 508, 509, 510 238 Rape, 356 Roadblocks, 281, 299 Ras Aish, fighting at (1918), 186 ROBCOL, improvised defence Rations, 17, 125, 157–8, 415, 459, 460 formation, 239 Shortages of, 396, 397, 405, 411–13 Roberts, Lieutenant-Colonel, Rawlinson, Henry, Lord, commander 1/101st Grenadiers, 184, Commander-in-Chief India, 11, 45–6, 188 51, 53, 353, 374, 450 Roberts, Lord, Commander-in-Chief, Rebellion, xvii, 11, 14, 275, 282, 341, British Army, 194 345, 346, 354–6, 358, 360, 364–6, 372, Robertson, William, Sir, General, 80, 420, 428, 456, 458, 463, 471, 475, 481, 106, 120, 145, 153, 167–8, 189 485, 493, 499, 503, 508, 510 Rogers, G.H., 218 suppression of, 375 Rolls Royce, armoured car, 161 Reconnaissance, 206, 207, 213, 220 Roman Imperial Army, 423–4 aerial, 91, 92 Rommel, Erwin, Lieutenant-General, Recruitment, 131, 136–7, 139–40, 231, 237 149–51, 401, 420, 426 Roorkee, Thomason Engineering College recruitment handbooks, 422, 441 at, 288 Second World War, 452–60 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 321, 327 Red Fort, Agra, 510 Route marches, 154, 155 Red Fort, Delhi, 494 Rowlatt Bills (1919), 339–40, 363, 365, Red Hill Pimple, see Pt. 2926, Burma 369, 473 Red Sea, 286 Rowlatt, Justice, Mr, 339 Rees, Peter, Major-General, 248, 295 Rural Party, 475, 477 Regimental Training Centres, 295 Russia, 80 Regiments: General Staff of, 86 identity, 396 peace movement in, 168 mono-class, 17 revolution in, 126–7 multi-class, 17 Russian Army, 18–19, 197 Reinforcement camps, 299 cavalry, 194 Reinforcements, 401–2, 405 Russo-Japanese War (1904–5), 194 general index 545

Sabot Copse, 54 Sharon, plain of, 212 Sabotage, 361 Shatt-al-Arab riverway, 105 Sabre units, 214 Shaukat, son of Sikandar, 489 Sabres, 197, 214, 216 Sheikh Saad, 208 Saddlery, 196 Ottomans at, 119 Sahgal, Prem Kumar, 516 Shelford, E.J.H., Second Lieutenant, Salman Pak, holy site, 403, 405 341 Salonica, 178 Shell craters, 192 Salt Habbaniyeh Lake, 210 Shells, explosive, 192 Salween River, 256–7 Sherwood, Marcia, 341, 348, 365 7/10th Baluch Regiment at, 257–8 Shia Muslims, 403 Samakh, military action at, 160 holy sites of, 393 Sandes. E.W.C., British officer, 412 Shikar, 294 Sandhurst, Royal Military College at, Shipping Control Committee, Chair of, 132, 133, 287–9 38 Sangars, xix, 180, 376, 450 Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Sannaiyat, Turkish army at, 94, 99 Committee, 478 Sasaram, civil disturbance at, 382 Sock action, 157, 193, 195 Sat Sultani, Guru, 471 shock action lobby, 194 Satyagraha, Gandhi’s campaign, 340, Shock and awe, 193–4 349, 381, 469 Shock troops, 262 Satyapal, Dr., 365 Shwebo Plain, Japanese Army at, 277 Sausage Valley, 2nd Indian Cavalry Sialkot, deputy-commissioner of, 472 Division at, 42 Sidi Barrani, fighting at, 229, 230 Savory, Reginald, Major-General, 247, Sikandar, 487, 488 263, 268, 288, 294, 308, 328 Sikandar-Jinnah Pact (1937), 476 School of Artillery (India), 293 Sikh Gurdwara and Shrines Act, 358 School of Cavalry and Equitation, 193 Sikh League, 479 Schwerpunkt, 158 Sikh State, 425 Scott, Paul, 496; The Day of the Sikhism, 425–6 Scorpion, 496, 500 Sikhs, xvii, xviii, 15, 18, 20, 22, 37, 109, Scurvy, 397–8, 411 174, 179, 182, 184–5, 278 n 118, 313, Second World War, 223–54, 255–83, 358, 364, 387, 395, 400, 407, 413, 419, 445–60 424–6, 430, 436, 440, 452, 456, 462, Sectarianism, 370 464–7, 472, 477, 479–83, 499, 502, Sedition, 108, 349 n 49 515 Sedition Committee, 339 Gurus of, 425 Sepoys, xix, 1 n 1, 4, 16–19, 23, 115–7, Jat, 455, 484 152, 157, 159, 166, 174–80, 182, and martial race theory, 22 185–6, 187, 190, 208, 330, 335, 393–5, and Muslims, 15 397–8, 401–6, 409–14, 417, 430, 439, Punjabi, 455 469, 501, 505, 510, 520 stereotype of, 22 dietary cult of, 17 Silk Letter Plot, 335 Muslim, 18 Silladari system, xvii, xx, 151, 191, sahib-sepoy relationship, 16 195–6, 221 Sepoy Revolt, (1857), 149 Simla, 80 Seton-Hutchison, G., Lieutenant- General Head Quarter at, 220 Colonel, 61 General Officer Commanding at, 219 Sevoke, jungle warfare school at, 269 Simla Conference, 489 Shaffi, Mohamed, Lance-Naik, 512, 513 Simon Commission, 450–51 Shaiba, 202 Sinai Desert, 212 Shaikh Saad, 205, 206, 207 Sind, peacekeeping in, 24 fighting at (1915), 206 Singapore, 9, 17, 18, 286, 465, 481, Shakespear, W.H.I., 91 497–8, 507, 509–11 546 general index

Churchill’s policy on, 320, 324, 327 South East Asia Command (SEAC), xv, fall of (1942), 8, 23, 452, 493 267, 270, 327–30 Singapore Mutiny, 17–18, 177 Southern Command, 247 Singh, Arur, manager of the Golden Soviet Union, 387 Temple, 474 Sowars, xx, 1 n 1, 4, 16, 151, 160–1, Singh, Balwant, Signalman, 505 196–200, 208 Singh, Dalip, 503 Spackman, W.H., medical officer, 413 Singh, Fakir, 502–3 Special Powers Ordinance for the Singh, Ganda, 472–4 Military Operational Area (1943), Singh, Girja, Signalman, 505 385 Singh, Gobind, Sikh Guru, 425–6 Special Service Officers, 151 Singh, Gurdial, 503 Stalin, 318 Singh, Harbakhsh, Lieutenant-General, Starvation, 121 memoirs of, 288 Steamers, 112, 115–16, 124, 206 Singh, Hardyal, Havildar, 504–6 military transport, 68–9, 71–2 Singh, Hazara, Lance-Naik, 503 Stones, E.L.G., Captain, 291–2 Singh, Jagat, Naik, 503 Stopford, Lieutenant-General, 277 n 113 Singh, Kabul, Naik, 503 Storm troops, 158, 159 Singh, Kabul, Signalman, 505 Strategy, 3, 8, 74–7, 106, 318, 320, 324, Singh, Massa, Havildar-Major, 503 327, 450, 458 Singh, Mela, Havildar, 503 Singapore, 8 Singh, Prem, Resaldar-Major, 472, 474 training in, 77 Singh, Pritam, Colonel, 516 Strikes, 340, 382 Singh, Ranjit, 425 Subedar-Majors, xx, 152 Singh, Sawan, Lance-Dufadar, 465 Subedars, xx, 152, 174, 400, 423, 441, Singh, Surat, platoon commander, 503, 472 504 Suez, 176, 200 Singh, Todar, Legislative Assembly Suez Canal, 213 representative, 453 security of, 147 Sinn al Zibban, 209–10 Suicide, 413, 417 Sittaung: Support Services, Inland Water 19th Indian Division at, 277 Transport, 120, 135 268th Indian Brigade in, 276 Support Services, Railways and Skeen Commission (1925–6), 449 Mechanical Transport, 120, 135 Skipping punishment, 349–50 Supreme Allied Commander in South- Slim, William, Lieutenant-General, 11, East Asia, 295 267, 276, 278, 295, 308, 324–5, Survey of the Sikh Situation as Affecting 328–30, 438, 442 the Army, 482–4 Operation Capital, 276–7 Suwaikiyah Marsh, 94 Small arms, training school, 287 Swaraj (Home Rule), xx, 339, 352, 361 Smeeton, Miles, 246 Swaraj Party, 478–9 Smuts, Jan, General and statesman, 146, Swat Valley, cavalry action at (1895), 170–2 215 Smuts, Jan, statesman, 146 Swimming lessons, 297 Sniping, 154 Swords, 156, 193, 195 Snow and Mountain Warfare, 293 Syria, 156 Some Notes on Patrolling, 268 Some Thoughts on Jungle Warfare, 268 Tachanki (machine gun platform), 216 Somme, battle of (1916), 150, 154, 167, Tactical Exercises Without Troops 201, 221 (TEWTs), 373 German army at, 54–6, 58–9 Tactics, 6, 8–9, 24, 74, 99, 106, 152, Indian cavalry at, 33–62 154–6, 160, 179, 181, 203, 205, 216, South Africa, troops from 233 227, 231, 234–5, 237–8, 240–2, general index 547

250–51, 253–4, 261, 263, 265, 269, Tokyo, Japanese High Command in, 276 278, 281, 291, 299, 303, 374 TONFORCE, 271 n 82 Cossack, 199 Tori Khel Wazir, see Faqir of Ipi infantry, 154 Tori Khels, 376–7 jungle, 254, 256, 260 n 36, 263 n 44, Townshend, Charles. V.F., Major- 264, 265–7, 275, 282, 299, 301 General, 64–5, 68, 84, 92–3, 97, 100, timetable, 95 113–4, 118, 203–5, 393–4, 405–6, transport, 128 410–12, 414 Tagore, Rabindranath, Indian poet, Training, 10–11, 39, 40–42, 44, 66, 367 81–89, 101, 110, 125, 130–2, 149, Taj Mahal, 510 153–55, 176, 180–81, 183–5, 190–91, Tanga, battle of (1914), 7, 148 194, 196, 198, 200, 211, 224, 226–33, Tanks, 6, 191, 193, 227–8, 231, 234, 236, 241–56, 259, 261–63, 294–9, 303–6, 238–9, 278, 280–82 458 Crusader, 239 amphibious operations, 274 n 95 German, 231 basic training, 295 Grant, 239, 272 n 90 jungle warfare, 274 n 95, 279 n 127, Lee, 272 n 90 295–6, 298–9, 301, 307 Matilda, 235 mountain warfare, 308 Valentine, 235 officer, 131 Tank-infantry co-operation, 275 operational, 293–301 Tarn Taran treasury, assault on, 469 Tuker’s contribution to, 301–8 Tasu Maru [shipArmy, Indian, 462 weapons, 297 Taungtha, 279 Training battalions, 296, 297 Taungtha-Mahlaing Road, 282 Training circulars Taylor A.J.P., 60, 61 Training Circular No. 50, 302, 303 Taylor, Captain, 291 Training divisions, 299, 301 Tear gas, 15 Training instructions, 306 Teddie, fictional character inThe Day of Training Instruction No. 2, 262 the Scorpion, 500 Training Instruction No. 3, 307 Telephones, in military communica- Training Instruction No. 6, The tions, 54 Infantry Night Attack, 307 Temples, desecration of, 354 Training Instruction No. 28, Mountain Tennant, Lieutenant-Colonel, 56 Warfare, 308 Terraine, John, 43–4 Training manuals, 291, 304, 306 To win a war, 43 Frontier Warfare India, 291 White Heat, 43 Frontier Warfare—Army and RAF, Terrorism, 11, 109, 261 378 in Bengal, 369 Infantry Section Leading, 291 imperial, 338 Manual of Operations on the North Thabutkon, airstrip at, 279 West Frontier of India, 378 Thomason Engineering College, 288 Training memoranda (AITMs), 263–6, Tiddim, 271 268, 298, 305 Tiddim Road, 273 Training memorandum no. 3, 306 Tigris River, 68, 94, 114, 202–3, 206–7, Training pamphlets, 304, 309 405, 407, 412 Current Reports from Overseas, transport on, 68–9, 112 training pamphlet, 249, 306 Tikrit, 128 Training publications, 249, 250 Tilak, B.G., 369, 467 Training and Employment of a Kesari, 369 Platoon (1918), 180 Tirurangadi, civil disturbance at, 354 Training and Employment of Divisions Tobruk, 231–2 (1918), 180 fall of (1942), 237–8 Trans-Jordan, 156, 213 548 general index

Transport, military, 68, 77–8, 110, 112, Vansittart, Eden, recruiting officer, 460 118, 128 n 38 motorised, 123, 124, 129, 130, 142, Verma, S.D., Lieutenant-General, 288 275 Vernon, H.S., Lieutenant-Colonel, 400 railway, 67, 76, 112, 115, 123–4, 127 Veterinary Corps, training centres of, river, 68–71, 73, 112, 114–16, 124, 287 129–30, 141, 397 Viceroy of India, 106, 108, 122, 138, Trench crossing, 41–2 194, 328–9, 345, 381, 384, 386, 489, Trench warfare, 117 499 training for, 41 Vilayet (Ottoman province), Baghdad, Trenches, 54–6, 221, 257, 258, 260, xx, 73, 105, 111, 126 409–10 Violence, civil, 359 Tripoli, 231 Von der Goltz, German General, 86–7 Trones Wood, 46 Trucks, 275 Wadi Akarit, Battle of (1943), 308 Tug boats, 114–15, 124 4th Indian Division at, 244 Tuker, Francis, General, 244, 246, Wagha, civil disturbance in, 469 285–309 Wahabis, 404 Tuker, training regime, 302, 303 Walker, Walter, Captain, 300 Tunisia, 4th Indian Division at, 244 War Cabinet, 126, 172, 324, 328 Turbans, 426, 431 War cries, 258 Turkey: War Information Circulars, 249, 306 British foreign policy, 64 War Information Circular No. 26A, First World War, 63 249 sultan of, 64 War Office, 8, 86–7, 90, 120–22, 124, Turkish Army, 68, 90, 113, 157–8, 176, 139, 169, 172–3, 175, 244, 249, 293, 393 296, 497 at Aleppo, 146 manuals of, 309 Anatolian peasant infantry, 158 Warfare: Egypt, 160 desert, 227–8, 245, 248, 251–2 imams, 175 frontier, 308, 374–380 Megiddo, 166 guerrilla, 374–5 Mesopotamia, 79–94, 204, 203–11 jungle, 248,251–7, 260–70, 273–6, Musmus Pass, 161 282–3, 294–302, 307, 452 Palestine, 159, 168, 182–7, 213–4 modern, 191, 193 storm troops, 159 mountain warfare, 293, 308 Typhus, 157 static, 67 Watch and Ward, 286, 379 U-GO, Japanese military operation, Water: 269–74, 302 military campaigns, 68 Union of the Martial Races of India, shortages of, 119 453–4 Water discipline, 155 Unionists, 478–81, 487–91 Watts, Major-General, 52–3 Urdu, 432, 440–42, 462 n 4 Wavell, A., Field-Marshal, 193, 229, South Asian military patois of, 435 264–5, 295, 323–29, 386–7, 390, 489, United States of America, 8, 318 499–500 army of, 442 Waziris, Tori Khel, 376 authorities in, 465 Waziristan: China policy, 324 civil disturbance in, 376–80 Utmanzai, Afghan army at, 219 Indian Army in, 357 Waziristan Campaigns: Van Creveld, Martin, 84 (1919–20), 215 Vancouver, Punjabis in, 462 (1936–7), 374–5 Vans, Ford, 123, 128 Weapons training, 287 general index 549

Webb Gillman, Major General, War Wright, M.V., Lieutenant-Colonel, 271 Office liaison officer, 69, 70 n 82 Wellington, staff college at, 132 Western Desert Force, 226, 229–32, Yadav, K.C., 478 247 Yilderim (Thunderbolt) Army, Western front, 6, 79 Ottoman-German, 127 German offensive (1918), 172 Yilderim offensive, 128–9 Wheler, C.S., 196 Younghusband, G.F., Major-General, 94, Willcocks, James, 394 204, 207 Wilson, Arnold T., British political Ypres: officer, 409 1st battle of, 200, 201 Wilson, Henry, Sir, General, 146 n 4, 3rd battle of, 167 153, 167, 345 German offensive at (1915), 41 Wingate, Orde, 325–7, 330 Yule, 218 Wire placement, 276 Wounds, self-inflicted, 165–6, 408, 413 Zhob, 220 MILITARY UNIT INDEX

Australian Army 38th Infantry Brigade, 70 1st Leinster, 184–5 Divisions 2/19th London, 169–70 52nd Lowland Division, 172 Australian Cavalry Division, 156–7, 160 2/10th Middlesex, 169 6th Prince of Wales Cavalry, 196 Other military units Royal Engineers, 50, 89 Australian Light Horse, 193 Royal Field Artillery, 203 Royal Horse Artillery, A Battery, 36 Royal Horse Artillery, N Battery, 36, 51 British Army Royal Horse Artillery, Q Battery, 36 Royal Horse Artillery, U Battery, 36 Armies Royal Horse Artillery, V Battery, 36 3rd Army, 172 Royal Horse Artillery, Y Battery, 36 5th Army, 172 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers, 178, 182, 186 8th Army, 231–44 1st Royal Irish Regiment, 180 10th Army, 233–4 Royal Scots Regiment, 290 14th Army, 254, 274, 276, 295, 301, Royal West Kent Regiment, 290 328–9, 452 72nd Sappers and Miners, 183 53rd Welsh Division, 169 Divisions 1/4th Wiltshires, 169 74th Yeomanry Division, 169 7th Armoured Division, 318 2nd British Division, 277 13th British Division, 69, 98, 125, 135, Canadian Army 139 9th Division (13th Corps), 46, 56 Other military units 10th Irish Division, 169, 178 Canadian Cavalry Brigade, 36, 38, 41, 50 21st Division, 46 Fort Garry Horse, 36, 42, 49, 50, 58 Royal Canadian Dragoons, 36 Other military units Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, 36 Bedfordshire Regiment, 382 2nd Black Watch, 95 German Army 5th Connaught Rangers, 179 2/4th Dorset, 169 Armies 1st (Kings) Dragoon Guards, 36 6th Dragoons (Inniskilling), 36 Panzerarmee Afrika, 242, 243 7th Dragoon Guards, 36, 49, 50, 52–7, 59, 201 Divisions 74th Fusiliers, 178 Ariete Division, 237 2/101st Grenadiers, 180, 184, 188 21st Panzer Division, 237 1st Highland Light Infantry, 95 Hong Kong and Singapore Royal Other military units Artillery, 495, 511–15 4th Hussars, 204 Africa Corps, 10, 230, 231, 232, 237, 240 8th Hussars, 36 Asia Corps, 160 13th Hussars, 36 16th Bavarian Regiment, 56 military unit index 551

Indian Army 19th Indian Division, 248, 277–8, 295, 301 Armies 20th Indian Division, 277, 282 23rd Indian Division, 247, 261, 263, 268, Egyptian Expeditionary Force, 145–154, 294 165–90 26th Indian Division, 255, 274 n 95 Expeditionary Force East Africa (IEFB), 33rd Indian Division, 60 7, 35 39th Indian Division, 296 Expeditionary Force France (IEFA), 5, 75th Indian Division, 168 35 3rd Lahore Division, 147, 148, 172 Expeditionary Force Egypt (IEFC), 35 7th Meerut Division, 147, 148, 168 Expeditionary Force Mesopotamia Rawalpindi Division, 337 (IEFD), 6, 35, 63–103, 107, 111, 113, 117, 123–4, 136–43, 203, 208, 212, Other military units 393, 397, 404 Ambala Cavalry Brigade, 36, 50, 56 Divisions 3rd Ambala Cavalry Brigade, 200 254th Armoured Brigade, 275, 277 1st Armoured Division, 235 nn 112, 113 7th Armoured Division, 227–9, 236, 246 255th Armoured Brigade, 279 1st Indian Cavalry Division, 35–6 10th Baluch Regiment, 10, 259 2nd Indian Cavalry Division, 35–6, 7/10th Baluch Regiment, 255–9, 270–73, 38–40, 42, 46, 50, 51, 57 440 3rd Indian Cavalry Division, 201 11th Bengal Lancers, 215 4th Indian Cavalry Division, 158, 161, 30th Brigade, 179, 180, 187 213 3rd Carabineers, 272 n 90 5th Indian Cavalry Division, 151, 158, 1st Cavalry Brigade, 217, 219 161, 201, 213 4th Indian Cavalry, 204, 220 6th Indian Cavalry, 174 6th Cavalry Brigade, 36, 201, 203, 2nd Indian Division, 49 212–13 3rd Indian Division, 46, 53–4, 69, 71, 7th Cavalry Brigade, 212 75, 101, 102, 119, 134, 136, 139–40, 10th Cavalry Brigade, 213, 217 204, 406, 408, 409 11th Cavalry Brigade, 128, 135, 212–13 4th Indian Division, 15, 223, 225–7, 12th Cavalry Brigade, 207, 213, 463 229–30, 232, 234–8, 243–6, 247, 253, 13th Cavalry Brigade, 213 293, 307–8, 319–20 14th Cavalry Brigade, 213 5th Indian Division, 234, 236, 238, 248, 16th Indian Cavalry, 204 253, 275, 281–2, 301, 302, 320 17th Indian Cavalry, 209, 215 6th Indian Division, 116–17, 121, 134, 21st Indian Cavalry, 220 203, 393, 399, 404–6, 409 22nd Indian Cavalry, 463 7th Indian Division, 46, 52–4, 69, 71, 75, 27th Indian Cavalry, 219 99, 101, 119, 134, 136, 139, 140, 172, 33rd Indian Cavalry, 204 206, 247, 277 n 112, 279, 295, 302, 38th Central India Horse, 213, 502 406, 408–9 4th Corps, 254, 270, 278 8th Indian Division, 223, 293 13th Corps, 46–7, 52–3, 151 10th Indian Division, 179, 181, 183, 15th Corps, 46–7, 52–4, 60, 270 185–9, 223, 239, 203, 433 20th Corps, 176, 185–7 12th Indian Division, 116, 135, 203, 33rd Corps, 277–8 409–10 20th Deccan Horse, 36–7, 49, 54–6, 14th Indian Division, 135, 139, 253, 267, 58–9, 61–2, 201, 213 296, 299 2/42nd Deolis, 186 15th Indian Division, 128–9, 135, 212 5/17th Dogras, 259 17th Indian Division, 10, 128, 135, 140, 38th Dogras, 174 245, 255–6, 262–3, 268–9, 274, 275, 28th East African Brigade, 278 n 118 279, 282 552 military unit index

13th Frontier Force Rifles, 295 29th Lancers, 36, 174, 201, 213 13/14th Frontier Force Rifles, 441 30th Lancers, 36, 201, 217 101st Grenadiers, 173 5th Light Infantry, 17, 18 1/101st Grenadiers, 175, 177, 181, 11th Light Tank Company, 375 184–5 4th Lucknow Cavalry Brigade, 200 2/5th Royal Gurkha Regiment, 268 3rd Madras Regiment, 274 n 96 2nd Ghurkha Regiment, 201 110th Mahrattas, 409 1/6th Gurkha Regiment, 376 117th Mahrattas, 409 2/7th Gurkha Regiment, 409 Meerut Cavalry Brigade, 36, 38, 41 3/8th Gurkha Regiment, 272 n 85 7th Meerut Cavalry Brigade, 200 43rd Gurkha Lorried Brigade, 293 5th Mhow Cavalry Brigade, 200 1/1st Gurkha Rifles, 95 12th Mounted Brigade, 220 2nd Gurkha Rifles, 302 Mysore Lancers, 151, 160, 213 6th Gurkha Rifles, 438 34th Poona Horse, 35–7, 49, 54, 192, 1/7th Gurkha Rifles, 257 200, 213 9th Hodson’s Horse, 213 1st Punjabi Regiment, 294 36th Horse, 36, 201 3/1st Punjab Regiment, 502 38th Horse, 36, 201 5/2nd Punjab Regiment, 265 Hyderabad Lancers, 151 2/14th Punjab Regiment, 431, 511 1st Hyderabad Imperial Service Lancers, 4/14th Punjab Regiment, 440 213 1/15th Punjab Regiment, 495, 503–4, 15th Imperial Service Cavalry Brigade, 506 213 24th Punjab Regiment, 412 44th Indian Cavalry Regiment, 174 27th Punjab Regiment, 399, 400, 402 5th Indian Infantry Brigade, 225, 253, 46th Punjab Regiment, 181 293 66th Punjab Regiment, 409 7th Indian Infantry Brigade, 250 74th Punjab Regiment, 186, 188 8th Indian Infantry Brigade, 243 56th Punjabi Rifles, 174 9th Indian Infantry Brigade, 238 5/7th Rajput Regiment, 511 11th Indian Infantry Brigade, 238 15/7th Rajput Regiment, 245 16th Infantry Brigade, 105, 262 Royal Indian Army Service Corps, 297, 18th Indian Infantry Brigade, 223, 241 484–5, 487, 502 29th Indian Infantry Brigade, 183–6, Royal Indian Artillery, 293 234, 236, 238 Secunderabad Brigade, 36, 41–2, 48–51, 46th Indian Brigade, 256, 260 53–4, 56–9 48th Indian Brigade, 262, 273, 275, 279 9th Secunderabad Cavalry Brigade, 200, 55th Infantry Brigade, 299 201 63rd Indian Brigade, 262, 273, 275, 279 Sialkot Brigade, 36, 200 77th Indian Infantry Brigade, 326 15th Sikh Regiment, 218 99th Indian Brigade, 274, 279 35th Sikh Regiment, 218 3rd Indian Motor Brigade, 223, 237, 247 51st Sikh Regiment, 174 2/151st Indian Infantry, 174 53rd Sikh Regiment, 174 3/151st Indian Infantry, 174 54th Sikh Regiment, 174 268th Indian Brigade, 276, 277 n 113 1/54th Sikh Regiment, 179, 182, 184–5 36th Jacob’s Horse, 213, 214 Sikh 20th AA Battery, 431 Jodhpur Lancers, 151, 161–2, 201, 213 Sikh Light Infantry, 452, 455 1st Kashmir Infantry, 180, 182 Tigris Corps, 69, 93–4, 99, 100–103, 3rd Lahore Infantry Brigade, 200 117–119, 122, 135, 204 2nd Lancers, 36, 161, 174, 201, 213 7th Lancers, 203–4, 206 Italian Army 15th Lancers, 287, 407, 408 18th Lancers, 36, 159–60, 201, 213 Armies 19th Lancers, 36, 201, 213 20th Lancers, 287 10th Army, 229, 230 military unit index 553

Japanese Imperial Army Turkish Army

Armies Divisions 15th Army, 270, 278 n 119, 302 11th Division, 183 33rd Army, 278 n 119 45th Division, 92 Indian National Army (INA), 23, 385, 46th Division, 85 389, 456, 493–518 51st Division, 85, 92 52nd Division, 85 Divisions 35th Infantry Division, 64 38th Infantry Division, 64 33rd Division, 257, 273, 282 55th Division, 270 Other military units 18th Corps, 85 33rd Regiment, 183