# Volunteering in India/Chapter 9

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CHAPTER IX.
Our bivouac presented an animated, and rather a singular scene, by the appearance upon the stage of the troops destined to act a prominent part in the approaching struggles.
Groups of England’s “hearts of oak,” seated on the backs of horses harnessed to naval guns, here represented Jack Tar literally as the proverbial “Horse Marine.” Knots of those splendid amphibious bull-dogs, the Royal Marine Light Infantry, stood among us and related their recent experiences. There was a fine body of Sikhs — fierce, resolute-looking fellows, with an air of military dash about them. And not the least remarkable among this martial and motley assembly, with all its variety of mien and attitude, race and colour, was a very strong (numerically) regiment of Gurkhas.
Although we are now to co-operate with a distinguished Field Force — which for the sake of brevity will in future be termed Brigade — with its proceedings this narrative will interfere as little as possible. It may, however, be noted here that its total number of all arms was some three thousand men, and of these only ourselves (two hundred and fifty) were cavalry.
​In the memorable afternoon of March 2nd, 1858, the Brigade, under the command of Brigadier Rowcroft, set forward to capture the fort of Belwa by coup de main; and when we were once fairly on the line of march, the distance to that stronghold seemed as short as the hour in which it was accomplished.
Preparatory to the assault, the disposition of the force was made in a few minutes; and where the ground displayed any advantages for artillery, it was at once occupied. The infantry were drawn up in line, with their flanks covered by the cavalry; while at some distance in front of the village a strong body of Marines and Sikhs, partially protected by a tope from the fire of the rebel batteries, guarded the main road, and at the same time distracted the attention of the besieged.
The enemy during the day had not been idle; for since our reconnaissance in the morning, and anticipating an attack in consequence, he had strengthened himself by calling in to his aid other rebel troops from Oudh. Besides, as indications to the ranges of his guns, he had attached huge bundles of brambles to long bamboos and stuck them into the ground here, there, and everywhere, in front of the cannonading distance of his bastions.
By this time the fortifications were thronged with defenders, who began to pour forth a heavy though an ineffectual fire on our line; and this thundering cannonade was the signal for our guns and shell-rockets to open. Still, though shell and round-shot in rapid ​succession continned to plough into the walls and curtains of the fort, no breach or any aperture could be discerned in it. But listen to the bugles ringing out the advance, and now see Jack Tar responding to their call by galloping up his guns to a murderous range; and then the bombardment commenced in right good earnest.
Meanwhile the Marines and Sikhs, pushing on in skirmishing order, trod down all opposition, gained the outskirts of the village, broke through the resistance offered there, and with a final rush drove out the insurgents at the point of the bayonet. Belwa was won, but not its fort. Though the bombardment continued with unabating fury, no serious impression could be made on the stronghold; and long after dusk, in the hellish glare that now and again burst out from the explosions of the infernal missiles hurled at and from the fort, the rebels were visible lining the ramparts in crowds. Secure within strong defences, and outnumbering the Brigade by at least five to one, they could well afford to display a daring tenacity worthy of the old days, when they so courageously fought on behalf of the East India Company.
Darkness frustrated further efforts; and it was as well that it did so, for it had been amply proved that the strength of the Brigade was altogether insufficient to effect its object. If an attempt had been made to capture the place by storm, a tremendous sacrifice of human life must have occurred; and if the attempt had ended in failure, the consequences would inevitably ​have been most disastrous to this and the adjoining district of Azimghur. As it was we lost something of the prestige which at first surrounded us, by the ineffectual blow struck at the fort of Belwa.
The attack on the fort having terminated unsuccessfully, the conquered village was evacuated, and the Brigade retired in good order, and by moonlight fell back to the same bivouac, whence it had started in the afternoon with a view to capture the rebel stronghold.
Perceiving the favourable turn affairs had taken in his behalf, and emboldened by temporary success, the enemy did not remain inactive; for not many hours after we had bivouacked, detachments of his infantry were reported to be crossing the Ghagrā, and hurrying to Belwa.
There was, therefore, a sort of “council of war,” in which good counsels prevailed, inasmuch as they decided our return to Amorah; and by resorting to this retrograde movement, it was suggested that the enemy would probably be encouraged to encounter the Brigade in the field, with the result no doubt of a terrible thrashing overtaking him; besides, it was hoped that in the open country the victory would be not only sure, but decisive, so decisive as to reassure the unfortunate peasantry, who had to a man fled the country.
As Amorah was destined to become the scene of more than one sanguinary action, and fated to obtain considerable celebrity, I will just remark in passing that it is a village very superior to those generally found in that part of the country; and the high ​road that passed through it may be termed the key-route to the southern districts. In its front were boundless plains dotted with hamlets and fields. On its right a vast stretch of open country commanded the approaches in that direction; while on its left the land was as flat as a pancake, and continued so until at length it disappeared, as it were, to the eye in the distance, as far as the horizon. Such, in brief outline, was the nature of the surrounding country wherein the tents of the Brigade were pitched, and where we awaited the onset of the rebel hordes.
As regards the precautions that were deemed necessary for the protection of the camp, I need only mention that nothing seemed omitted for safeguarding it. Outposts were stationed, pickets outlying and inlying planted, patrolling squads formed; in a word, everything was done to render its critical position safe.
Nothing however occurred until early morn on March 5th, when, as the troops were busy looking to their arms and ammunition, for the eternal bellowing of the enemy’s guns had put them considerably upon their mettle, tidings were brought that the rebels were advancing in great force. So that, after all, our retreat from Belwa resulted, as anticipated, in enticing the miscreants to venture an encounter with us in the field; and as they now approached, the Brigade moved out in readiness to welcome them, and formed up for action thus: the guns, well horsed and manned by the bold sons of Neptune (naval warriors of H.M.S. ​Pearl), took ground in the centre; the infantry, forming strong columns, extended in line on each side of the guns; while the whole of the cavalry, divided into two squadrons, guarded both flanks of the Brigade.
On came the enemy, like swarms of locusts, the serried lines of gleaming bayonets bristling above an extensive belt of brushwood indicating the masses coming up in long succession, and forming behind the vegetation masking their advance. At this juncture any offensive demonstration was impracticable, for they had not yet emerged from under cover; but the suspense was soon cut short by a shell from the naval guns bursting in their midst, and stirring them up for action.
Their advance, by the notes of bugles, was covered by a sweeping fire from heavy artillery posted on the main road, and a withering discharge of musketry from the surrounding fields, in which the Sepoys swarmed by thousands. And what a strange spectacle it was, to be sure, to see these veteran troops now engaged in a deadly struggle against those with whom, in former days, they had fought side by side in many desperate wars!
In vain the gallant Jack Tars poured torrents of grape into their thronged ranks, before which they went down like ninepins; in spite of the Marines showering volley after volley into their advancing columns, and the Sikhs and Gūrkhas, shoulder to shoulder, bravely holding their ground, the rebels step ​by step pressed on. Flushed with temporary success at Belwa, and backed by an imniense numerical superiority in men and guns, they had recklessly imagined victory as easily gained in the open field, as with characteristic vanity they claimed one — in a fortress — from which we had prudently retired.
While every man of the Brigade was desperately engaged in beating down the overwhelming obstinacy experienced in front, and the fury of the action had extended to our flanks, alarm was raised that the rebels were outflanking us, and making for the camp. Then in that critical moment a desperate movement was resorted to, which happily resulted, it may be said, in turning the doubtful fortunes of the day.
The cavalry was ordered to pass forward, and charge a surging column of mutineers pushing on to support the centre of their line. Accordingly, the instant the word “charge” was given, the Yeomanry gave the spur to their horses, and encountered a deadly hand-to-hand struggle, which they terminated by annihilating the head of the column. So far, so good. But the immediate effect of this charge was electrical on the main body; for, hearing with surprise the din of the desperate mêlée, they hesitated in their advance, recoiled, then rallied, and in dense, disorderly masses pressed in towards their centre, while the “broken column,” disorganised by the charge, likewise collapsed with confusion in the same direction. An opportunity thus occurred for attacking them to advantage, which was not permitted to escape. The ​Brigadier seized on the momeut, and charging with the whole force in line burst through everything that opposed him. Meanwhile the exterminating fire of the sailors paved the way for the infantry, as with levelled bayonets they rushed on to the guns. There the conflict raged fiercely, the cold steel doing its murderous work unrelentingly, as evidenced by the jags in our sabre-blades retaining pieces of bone, and blood-besmeared hair.
In thus dealing out this stern retribution, it must not be imagined that in revenge we were thirsting for blood. On the contrary, we were weary of shedding it, God knows. But the reader will bear in mind, that it was “war to the knife,” and that if we had shown any mercy to these ferocious scoundrels, they would assuredly have shot us down the next moment. It was a matter of life or death, to kill or be killed; and if we had stayed our hand, we should undoubtedly have courted our own destruction.
At length, unable to sustain the combined assault of a force fighting like enraged tigers, the rebels yielded reluctantly, contesting each position as they abandoned it.
The action closed in the afternoon, and on the Brigade’s return to the camp, a salute from the captured guns (nine with ammunition, tumbrels complete) proclaimed to the surrounding country the triumphant victory, which saved the district a second disastrous invasion. But, although victory after victory continued to follow our arms in succession, the ​above-mentioned salute was our first, and last one during the campaign, for not a grain of powder could be spared subsequently.
And here I subjoin a short extract from Brigadier Rowcroft’s despatch No. 168, and dated March 6th, 1858 (as published in the Government Gazettes), relating to the service rendered by the Corps in the above briefly described action.
“I saw there was no time to be lost, and that a rapid and decisive blow must be struck,” writes the Brigadier in his official despatch. “I rode on to the cavalry, and ordered it to advance rapidly inclining to the right, and to charge the enemy’s sowars and infantry, hoping it would shake their centre. The result of this movement was soon apparent. I saw the left of the enemy hesitate, and the sowars in rapid retreat. Down came the Yeomanry at a charging pace, well and steadily together, on the moving masses of infantry, cutting down and killing great numbers, over a hundred reported. The whole left of the enemy soon gave way. I galloped up to the Yeomanry cavalry, and thanked them for their good, gallant movement and charge; and ordered them to move towards the left to threaten the enemy's centre. When ordering the Yeomanry to advance, I detached a party of troopers to the rear of the naval guns to cover and protect them; and this party, by their gallant and excellent service, aided in capturing some of the guns.”
This extract speaks for itself, and I need not add a single word of comment.
A remorseless action of some eight hours’ duration, deserves more recognition in descriptive detail, than a brief notice of it in the form of a mere epitome, such as that above recorded. But as I was only a volunteer ​trooper, and not a war correspondent — who always sees more of the fighting than those engaged in it — I have written merely the facts and incidents that came under my own observation. Besides, during those long mortal hours of slaughter, the battle-field at intervals was so shrouded and wrapped up in its own smoke, that a detailed description of it was obviously impossible to note.
Before closing this chapter, however, I am tempted to remark — in no spirit of boasting, but as a mere record of fact — that after the above-recorded tough tussle (when we were deservedly thanked by the Brigadier on the field) the rebels were flattering enough to dub the Corps by the impolite name of Shitāne Pultun, which may be freely rendered in plain English as regiment of devils. And as this unique information was conveyed to us by our faithful spy Mohun, to whom I have already alluded in these pages, it was implicitly believed; and that “satanic appellation,” needless to say, stuck to the Corps until the end of the campaign.