The Retreat from Kabul: January 1842

Conditions in Afghanistan throughout 1840 and for the first half of 1841, although hardly justifying the optimistic forecasts of Sir William Macnaghten, the British Envoy, were at least comparatively peaceful. It is true that the peace only existed where there were British bayonets to enforce it, but there were more successes than failures. Dost Mahommed, after skirmishing with the British at Parwandara in November 1840, surrendered to Macnaghten and was sent to Calcutta in exile. His son, Akbar Khan, remained in the field, but Shah Shujah's star was in the ascendant.

Unfortunately for the British, who had staked everything on Shah Shujah, the Shah had learned nothing from his long years in exile. He offended those Afghan chiefs who might have sided with him by his arrogance and conceit. He irritated the British by his refusal to allow them to occupy the Balar Hissar, by far the best defended place in Kabul, and by his choice of some of the worst rogues in Afghanistan for his ministers. But Sir William Macnaghten, a self-opinionated man who had staked his career on seeing the Afghan affair through to a successful conclusion, was quite myopic where Shah Shujah was concerned. Not only was he incapable of understanding that the Afghans preferred Dost Mahommed to Shah Shujah, but he also fiercely resented any suggestion that his (Macnaghten's) views might be wrong.

This brought him into conflict with Sir Alexander Burnes, his talented but under-employed assistant in Kabul. Burnes had made a name for himself while still a subaltern by his travels to Bokhara, in the course of which he had visited Kabul and met Dost Mahommed, but had been unimpressed by Shah Shujah whom he had met in exile in India. Later Burnes had headed a mission to Kabul with the object of countering supposed Russian designs on Afghanistan, and his acquaintance with Dost Mahommed had ripened into friendship. Burnes had done his best to persuade Lord Auckland, the Governor-General, to support Dost Mahommed, but had been overruled by Macnaghten who favoured the cause of Shah Shujah. Although Burnes had accompanied the 'Army of the Indus' to Kabul as a political officer, performing some good work in Baluchistan on the way, he was almost persona non grata with Macnaghten. He had little to do in Kabul apart from giving Macnaghten advice which was ignored, and amusing himself.

Conditions were deteriorating fast by the late summer of 1841. Burnes could see this, and so did many other political officers, but Macnaghten remained a prisoner of his own preconceived ideas. He had managed to maintain a precarious peace by a combination of force and bribery but the East India Company, alarmed at the cost of the occupation, ordered a cut in expenditure. Lord Auckland instructed Macnaghten to economize, and this resulted in a withdrawal of subsidies to the Ghilzais, the tribe which controlled the passes leading to India. Macnaghten protested, but had to carry out his instructions, and the Ghilzais rose in revolt. This uprising more or less coincided with the news of Macnaghten's appointment to be Governor of Bombay, and it was anticipated that Burnes would succeed him as British Envoy in Kabul.

However, on 2 November 1841, the mob rose in Kabul. They attacked the house of Sir Alexander Burnes and murdered him, his brother, and another British officer. They massacred his sepoy guard. They hated Burnes because they believed (mistakenly) that he was responsible for the invasion of their country, and also on account of his reputed amours with Afghan ladies. Throughout this commotion in the city, which involved the sacking of the treasury, no troops were moved from the cantonment, barely two miles away. Thus encouraged, the rebellion gathered momentum, the tribes came sweeping in from the mountains, and within a matter of days the British had lost control of the situation.

Macnaghten can hardly be blamed for this. He had the most feeble of military advisers. Major-General Sir Willoughby Cotton had returned to India at the end of 1840. He was relieved by Major-General William Elphinstone, a veteran of Waterloo, who had spent much of the intervening period on half-pay. He was well-connected but a martyr to gout. He was also prematurely senile. Even Lord Auckland, who knew him as a personal friend, was surprised when he accepted the Kabul command. Nott, who was commanding at Kandahar, would have been a better choice, but Nott was a bad diplomat who rubbed people up the wrong way. Elphinstone was therefore chosen. His Brigadier was a one-armed Peninsular War veteran called Shelton who arrived in Kabul with his regiment, the 44th Foot. Shelton was efficient but unpopular. His regiment was exhausted after a tiring campaign in the Arakan. Neither he nor the regiment were well suited for the trials that lay ahead.

Elphinstone found it hard to make up his mind. Shelton was not prepared to do so for him. Neither of them was prepared to fight it out with the Afghans. Attempts to concentrate the garrisons from Kandahar and Ghazni in Kabul failed, Macnaghten was murdered, and retreat to India was decided upon. The intense cold of the Afghan winter had reduced the fighting value of the Bengal sepoys to nil. The cantonment in Kabul was virtually indefensible, covering too large an area and lacking in proper fortifications. Supplies were short, the Afghans were in considerable strength, and the army was encumbered by large numbers of dependants and followers. Nevertheless good leadership would have helped to overcome many of the obvious difficulties, but leadership was lacking. Too much faith was placed in the promises of the Afghan chiefs to furnish safe conduct to India. They either had no control over their tribesmen or did not choose to exert any. The British army marched out of Kabul on 6 January 1842, rather less than 5,000 strong, accompanied by approximately 15,000 non-combatants. By 13 January all but one, Dr Brydon, were either killed or captured. It was a staggering disaster from which the old Bengal Native Army never really recovered.

Sita Ram tells the story as he saw it. He found it hard to believe that the omnipotent Sirkar could be so foolish as to place any faith in Afghan promises, but even harder to witness the disintegration of the army in which he served. He was luckier than many of his unfortunate sepoy comrades who died in the snow. He was taken prisoner and sold as a slave in Kabul to an Afghan merchant.

The English raised some Afghan regiments¹ and the Afghans enlisted because they had heard that pay was issued regularly. One of the captains of our (the Shah's) force was made commander of a regiment. The Amir Dost Mahommed was known to have gone towards Bokhara and it was said that he had been made a prisoner there; but after a while we heard that he had escaped and was advancing with an army to fight the English. A force from our army was sent to attack him, and they fought a battle at a town called Saighan,² in which the newly-raised Afghan regiment refused to participate, and even threatened to kill their officers if they compelled the soldiers to fight. In spite of this, however, the English defeated the Amir, and he escaped for a second time. Nearly all his followers dispersed and only a few remained with him. The English were occasionally defeated in some small engagements which took place after this, but Dost Mahommed gained no decided advantage. More of the Sirkar's troops now arrived in Kabul, and to the Afghans' surprise, as well as the English, Dost Mahommed came to Kabul, accompanied by his favourite son, and surrendered. The Sirkar sent him to Hindustan and confined him at Calcutta.

There were great rejoicings at Shah Shujah's court because all his enemies had been removed but who can govern a people when the ruler is hated? The Afghans believed that Dost Mohammed would be killed as a result of Shah Shujah's influence and that the English had taken him to Hindustan to be executed because they were afraid of executing him in Kabul. When those Sirdars who hated Shah Shujah heard this they feared that they too would be seized and exiled, and they therefore worked themselves up into a great state of excitement. These chiefs worked upon the feelings of the hill tribes, convincing them that they would all be made subject to the English. Several small rebellions broke out, but they were soon put down. The Afghans dreaded the deadly volleys of the 'red coats'.

About two years after the English first came to Kabul a rebellion broke out in the city itself. At the beginning only a few discontented Afghans were involved but they surrounded the house of Burnes sahib, the political officer, and set it on fire. As Burnes was escaping through the garden by a small door, he was cut down by his Afghan servant.³ Two or three other English officers were also killed.⁴ Once the report got around that Burnes sahib had been murdered the mob joined in the rioting and fighting took place all over the city. The outburst was so sudden that our officers were taken by surprise. Some of them lived in the city, and others near the king's garden, two miles away.⁵ However the English still held their own, but every day tribes came to join in the rebellion, and treachery showed itself in the Shah's court.

Now came misfortune and calamity upon the English. All their stores were looted or burnt by the enemy and the spirits of the army were much depressed. The cold was so intense that it rendered the sepoy portion of the army next to useless. It was soon rumoured that Akbar Khan, son of Dost Mohammed, had arrived with many troops and that he commanded in person. There was fighting every day, and because there was no good food for the European soldiers, they lost spirit and did not fight as well as they used to do.⁶ There were enemies on all sides. Numerous attempts were made to drive the enemy from their positions. These sometimes were successful but they were always attended by great loss to the English. My regiment was engaged at the battle of Behmeru⁷ in which it was driven back with great loss and behaved in a most cowardly fashion. The sepoys were not accustomed to fighting and they regretted having come to Afghanistan. We were annoyed day and night in the cantonment by cannon fire. The enemy seemed to increase by thousands and their long matchlocks outranged our muskets. Although they would never withstand a regular charge, so long as they could find cover behind walls, houses, etc., their fire was very distressing. We repeatedly drove the Afghans from the hills round Kabul but they re-occupied them in even greater strength as soon as we withdrew. The Afghans wore sheepskin coats, called nimchees or poshteens, and these often turned sword cuts and even musket balls. The general opinion was that some of them were invulnerable, and especially a tribe called Bedouranis. On one occasion I saw a party of their horsemen approach within twenty paces of a ravine where a regiment of ours was concealed. The officers made their men reserve their fire and then the whole regiment sprang up and opened fire. However, not more than three or four horses went away without riders. This dispirited the sepoy army very much and, as the cold increased, we became helpless. Men lost the use of their fingers and toes which fell off after great suffering. The whole English army was in a miserable plight, since the men were worn out by continual fighting, guard duties, and bad food.

Our army was in two places,⁸ as I have said, which much weakened its strength. The enemy had possession of the King's garden, and from it were able to annoy us very much.⁹ Several attempts were made to recapture this garden but without success. The only result was great loss of men which we could ill afford. Orders were sent to Ghazni and Kandahar to hurry forward all the Shah's and the Sirkar's forces, but the messengers were probably murdered. After a while a Gurkha force, which was commanded by a sahib, tried to join us but it was cut to pieces and only two officers managed to escape to Kabul.¹⁰ This misfortune made matters worse and we began to think this would be the fate of all the Sirkar's soldiers in Afghanistan.

At this time a circumstance occurred which I have never seen or heard of before. The Sirdars sent in messages dictating terms to the Sirkar's army. They stated that the English army was in their power and that they could completely destroy it whenever they thought fit. However, they would spare it on condition that it left Afghanistan forthwith. I saw many sahibs shed tears of vexation when this became known and they blamed their generals and leaders for their humiliation. They said their leaders were too old and virtually useless. Fighting ceased for a few days, during which period the enemy sent more agents into our camp. All kinds of rumours were being spread. Some said an immediate retreat would be carried out, or that the entire army would lay down its arms. Others said that the army would still fight. Nothing of good seemed to come from these negotiations, and worse fighting than ever began again.

Then at last the burra sahib,¹¹ 'Macnaten', sent to say he would agree to the terms offered, and the Amir Akbar Khan himself came to a meeting. It was soon known that the Lad sahib¹² and the general had agreed to give up hostages. In two or three days after this the army left the Bala Hissar, and all came into the cantonment. This was done without any opposition being offered. Now was the time when the extraordinary courage of the officers' ladies came forth. They were all against giving up hostages and when, their advice not being heeded, these were given, all those sahibs who had wives were followed by them into captivity. The Sirdars promised provisions and carriage for our army but it never was forthcoming. The force remained some time longer in a wretched condition but it was not molested during this period by the Afghans other than to prevent provisions from entering our camp. The price of food was perfectly absurd and everyone endured great hardship; more particularly the Europeans, for all they could get was dried fruit and parched corn.¹³

One day, when the burra sahib and his ADC were at a meeting with the Sirdars, we received a report that 'Macnaten' sahib had been killed by Akbar Khan's own hand.¹⁴ Soon the shouts of the people were heard like the noise of the wind before a storm, and there was firing into our camp. The news of the Lad sahib's death was correct. Both the senior political officers¹⁵ had now been murdered. The General sahib was going to take vengeance on the city, but the officers represented that their men were too weak to take the offensive. Nevertheless it would have been better to have died fighting than massacred in the retreat which followed. Wisdom seemed to have departed from everyone. The usual energy of the English officers had vanished. They had suffered such severe trials that their spirits had been depressed by misfortune. There were rumours that Shah Shujah had joined the Sirdars against the English; now that things were going so badly, he was afraid of being thought their friend.¹⁶ The retreat of our army, in the middle of the winter and with the snow four feet deep, now began.¹⁷ There was no interference by the Afghans during the first day's march out of Kabul, and the second day passed quietly. But on the third day the camp followers and the baggage crowded up with the marching troops and threw everything into confusion. When the Afghans saw this they began to harass us by day and by night. They fired into us from the hills and we were as helpless as a handcuffed prisoner. Akbar Khan himself was following us. When we complained of this treachery, he swore that it was happening against his will, and that he could not control the Ghilzais. He demanded more officers be given up as hostages. I do not know why this was agreed, apart from the fact that sense had left the brains of everyone, as I have already said. Once the enemy had the officers in their power, our army was deprived of leaders. Every sahib taken away was as bad as two hundred men lost. At last the Afghans said they would only protect the English army on condition that the General was given up. To everyone's amazement, he agreed to go, but with the example of Burnes and 'Macnaten' before him, what could he expect?¹⁸

When the General sahib left all discipline fell away. As a result the Afghans were able to annoy us the more and cut off more men than ever. A number of sepoys and followers went over to the enemy in an effort to save their lives. My regiment had disappeared and I attached myself to the remnants of a European regiment.¹⁹ I thought that by sticking to them I might have some chance of getting away from that detestable country. But alas! alas! Who can withstand fate? We went on fighting and losing men at every step of the road. We were attacked in front, in the rear, and from the tops of hills. In truth it was hell itself. I cannot describe the horrors. At last we came upon a high wall of stones that blocked the road; in trying to force this, our whole party was destroyed.²⁰ The men fought like gods, not men, but numbers prevailed against them.

I was struck down by a jezail ball on the side of my head. After this I knew nothing until I found myself tied crossways upon a horse which was being led rapidly away from the fighting towards Kabul. I now learned that I was being taken there to be sold as a slave. I begged to be shot, or have my throat cut, and abused the Afghans in Pushtu and in my own language. Many a knife shook in its sheath, but my captor could not prevent me speaking, and as the fear of death had no effect on me he threatened to make me a Moslem on the spot if I did not keep quiet.²¹

What dreadful carnage I saw along the road—legs and arms protruding from the snow, Europeans and Hindustanis half buried, horses and camels all dead! It was a sight I shall never forget as long as I live. My captor, seeing that I desired death above anything else, became more merciful. I was taken from the horse and tied in a camel pannier. This, bad as it was, was better than hanging downwards from a pony. The Afghan rubbed my wound with snow which took away the pain; the ball had only ploughed up the skin where it had grazed my skull. In four or five days we reached Kabul where I was clothed in Afghan garments and sold in the market place as a slave. Rich Afghans valued Hindustanis as servants and employed many of them. I was a fine-looking, strong man, and I fetched 240 rupees. One Osman Beg purchased me. At the same time as I was sold, there were several other sepoys, and also a few Europeans for sale. The latter were intended to be used as instructors for the Afghan Army, and since they were supplied with some skins of Shiraz wine, they did not appear to lament their fate as we did.

I saw one sahib among the Europeans; he belonged to the Company Bahadur's army. He spoke to me and said that the Sirkar would send a large army and re-conquer the country; if our lives were spared we should all be rescued. I think he said his name was Wallan.²² I have forgotten now if I name him rightly but his words gave me some comfort. I was not treated unkindly by my new master, but the threat was held over me that if I did not obey, or tried to escape, I should be made a eunuch and sold for a large sum to attend some harem. I would have killed myself during my captivity had I not felt certain that the words of Wallan sahib would come true, and that it would not be long before I would be able to escape. I was put under a Maulvi ²³ Mahommed Sufi, who at first did nothing but revile me, calling me an idolator, but when he saw that I took pains to learn his accursed language, he changed his tune and tried every persuasion to make me become a Mahommedan.²⁴

I did not become a Mahommedan but strove to bear up against my hard fate. At first I was principally employed preparing my master's tobacco, and was thankful that I did not have more degrading work to perform. However, when it became known that I could keep accounts, Osman Beg entrusted me with the keeping of his, and from this circumstance I became of more importance to his family.