WITH THEIR BACKS TO THE WAIL.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 16, 26 February 1915, Page 2 (Supplement)

WITH THEIR BACKS TO THE WAIL.

A STORY OF THE GALLANT LITTLE GURKHAS.

The morning of the sth of November, 18-11, broke ominously on the isolated fort of Charikar, hemmed in on all 6'.des by towering mountains and surrounded by unnumbered thousands of Afghan rebels. A mere huddle of bar-rack-buildings, lacking even the protection of an out-eir gate, the so-called fortress had no barriers to oppose to tho fanatical hordes preparing to rush on it—none save a "handful'' of stalwart Gurkhas, each to prove himself a hero, a few six-pounders with but a'.xty rounds of shot for each; and an eighteen-pounder which, like a dragon, kept sentinel at the lopen gateway. And tho guardians of this outpost of England were a couple of young English officers. Captain Codrington and Lieutenant Haugnton, with Eldred Pottinger, political agent, in supreme command.

Long before dawn came, the throbbing of a thousand Afghan drums from the air with an ominous sound, like the purrings of a monster t-'ger altouit to spring on its prey—growing loudeir and nearer with every instant that passed; and the beleaguered garrison knew that when that sinister sound ceased the fierce hordes would swarm and rush on them from every point of the compass. When at last the eun tipped tho mountain peaks with flame, ' as the torrents of spring rush headlong into tho valleys, so did the surging, shouting mass of fanaticism dash headlong upon the contemptible handful of infidels, who would all be cut to pieces before, another dawn arose behind tho Pughman Hills." But the lion-hearted Pottinger was not the man to shrink from the most fearful odds. ith a gallant band of Gurkhas and his expounders he sallied out to meet and (•tern the on-sweeping tide that was to engulf him. Then for an hour, in the words of a chronicler, " hell itself seemed to be let loose." Amid the smoke and thunder of the guns, the clash of steel and the murderous shouts of "Yah Allah-illah!" and "Jai-Jai," the

little Gurkhas fought with the ferocity I of tigers, flinging hack the Afghan swarms again and again, and mowing them down with the sweep of their deadly curved swords. WORK FOR THE IvUKRIS. Wave on wave the Afghans crashed on the impregnable little hand of heroes; wave after wave they were hurled back, leaving long lines of dead behind them. It was thirty to one; but the one stood firm against every shock that threatened to sweep it to destruction. But their heroism demanded a heavy pi-ice. Pottinger, who had fought like, a- man possosed, always in the thickest of the battle, was struck down by a bullet in th© thigh; Codrington. the hero and idol of the garrison, was shouting. "Stand close, men—stand clo-e! No surrender!'' whe his voice broke off suddenly, and with a choking gasp he staggered backward. a bullet through his chest; and on Haughton. a young Goliath with the heart of a lion, fell the command at the supreme hour of crisis. And never did man bear a more charmed life; for although the bullets rained around him in thousands, not one touched him. Hour after hour this young Hercules wa> even-where whc;re danger most- threatened, cheering and leading his brave Gurkhas in sortie after sortie, rolling back the hordes at every rush until, with the convng of dusk, the Afghans drew away sullenly, baffled and beaten, not one of them all having set. foot within the fort. For Haughton, however, there was no rest. Through the long night hours lie keptIns sleepless watch at the main gateway; and from that night onward, for more than a week, he neither sat down to a meal nor took off his clothes.

hen at hint a new dawn came the enemy, who had spent the night in singing, shouting, and false attacks, poured forth again in their thousands to a fresh assault; and through the whole day the battle waged fiercely. At every attack they were checked or swept back, with heavy 10-s. until dusk once more saw them withdrawing, a« impotent as ever. But this ceaseless fighting had exacted a heavy toll from the defenders. More than two hundred had already fallen; the survivors were worn out by thirtv-six hours of fasting and fatigue; and flaughton himself, who had fought like ten men. was only saved from death bv a thick silk scarf which lie wore round Lis throat, whoso fold= intercepted an Afghan bullet. Codrington. his beloved friend, had died at mid-day. to his unspeakably grief; and nlief from Kabul seemed as hopeless as ever. A HOPELESS OUTLOOK.

I The morning of the 7th of November ushered 111 t\- tin same terrible Tiiutt orinp: of A Mian drums. found Uaughton. still at. his poet at thp main gateway. where he liacl already spent three sleepless nights-—going tin round of liis defences at intervals, to w that, ■ill was well, and to combat the cold that chilled 11is marrow in defiance of inuflfl. r. loggings and sheepskin co.V. ; lis <mlv regular meal during each twenty-four hours consisting of a cup of tea and a couple of sodden biseuih. And throughout- each night the encmv'twar crit s. the Treating of their druir.r;. ami their fiigticd attacks had never ceased.

"It seemed." he afterward,, said, "as if the whole male population of the country had assembled against us. I am sure T am within hounds when T say that on the nth and subsequent days we were he-ieged bv no fewer than twenty thousrvncl armed men. An overruling Providence, however, made their numbers of no avail. The very exrcfi of their numbers, indeed, gave us nerve; we abo ft It assured that relief would bp sent from Kabul' when our situation became known." The fourth, mourning of investment found the garrison .surrounded W a dense rintr of Afghans who. recognising aft"r their were le-sens the hopelessness of rushing the fort, now l>egau to bombard it vith a tempest of bullets

which swept ceaselessly into the enclo - sure, happily, however, doing littledamage to its defenders. And when this method of attack proved equally futile they began to 6end messengers demand.ng surrender, to all of whom Haughton .returned an emphatic refusal.

" Look here, my friend,'' ho said to a Nijirao oliief who c.am e to demand that he should surrender unconditionally, "if you come here again it will lie at your peril. Though I am no Burra .Sahib,' a s you are pleased to call me. it i.s I who command these troops; and, as God is aliove us, I will string you up for all your friends to see. Englishmen do not surrender. It i.s enough." Hut although the young hero talked thus valiantly he knew that his position was hopeless. After five days' desperate fighting, Iris force reduced to half, the survivors scare,sly able to stand from exhaustion, and the enemy encircling him in tens of thousands, ho knew that he was face to face with .1 terrible disaster. .Moreover, the supply of water wa.s almost exhausted; and to th: other horrors that of intolerable thirst was added. From the bastion unxious eycr, had searched the horizon every moment of daylight for a glimpse of a relieving force which never eamo. Once, indeed a. moving cloud of dust had l>e;n seen on the Kabul road. With beating heart Haughton had ■watched it come nearer; to his inexpressible joy lu> saw, as he fancied, the white headdresses of mounted men —then, the next moment the blood ebl>ed back to his heart in a spasm of despair; the fantastic mirage on sun a,nd dust had transfigured a herd of cattle into that which he hungered to see. SFIORT OF AMMUNITION. Matters had now come to a terrible pass. Ammunition was exhausted, and the guns had to be served with nails, scraps of iron and fragments of lend sewed up in canvas l»ags. As for water, the only supply now came from the pits and hollows outside th© wall, in which the adventurous, the risk of their liv:s. soaked rags and wrung them out to the last drop. " The misery was great,'' John Haughton wrote. "Food was only obtainable at irregular intervals. Our voices were hoarse, our lips cracked, our faces begrimed with smoke and dust, our eyes bloodshot; my own food was chiefly- mulberries, or fried flour) brought in by the Sepoys." But hunger, thirst and wpariness, even the heart-piercing ones of the wounded for water that none could give, were powerk ss to shak e the courage of Haughton and his Gurkha heroes. Haughton's spvrits, indeed, were never higher than in the supreme hour of crisis when the enemy had blown down the .south-east bastion, and he expected every moment to be the last. When a stalwart, Afghan came to nirvke a final demand for surrender, hj? led him gaily through the Wracks on a tour of inspection. "You tyOe,' l he said, "that we are few and weak. It is easy enough to force a,ll entrance, especially at that corner"—pointing to the damaged 'bastion. "When you want to se? us a gam, come up that way like a man. and we shall be ready to give you a greeting. To come through the gate, you know, is against the rules of the game, besides being a waste of time for us all."

Deplorable a-s was the condition of the garrison, it became rapidly wo«"So. By the night of the 11th the only water left was a smajl bowlful sufficient to mak'3 a cup of tea Tor the officers, the only Surd they had tasted for three days. Worse still, there were whispers of treachery among the gunners, tho enly Mohammedans in the barracks, some of whom deserted to the enemy. And of a body of men sent out- at dead of night to bring water from the canal, strongly guarded by Afghans, only half had returned to the fort, bringir.g scarcely any water with them. Of tho original 1 force only 300 utterly wornout men remained; with 140 women and children without ammunition ;uid water, and closely beset by overwhel n • ing number s whose bombardment never ceased. A TERRIBLE JOURXES. "'here remained only, as Hnujrhtoi clearly saw. srrender to a fait'ile*.? and merciless enemy, or an attemp. to reach Kabul; and the latter was t:■ e alternative chosen. But before the necessary arrangements could be made a crowning calamity befell the gallant little garrison. Haughton, while attempting to arrest a runaway gunner, ivac attacked by one of his fellows, while stooping over his prostrate captive. One sweep of the traitor's sword feli on his neck, partially stunning him ; another bit deep into his shoulder; a 'third fractured his forearm, and a fourth almost severed his right hand. Staggering to his feet. Haughton stumbled back to the barricade, where he fell fainting into the arms of two sturdy little Gurkhas, while his wouldbe assassin, ivith every other Mohammedan, made their escape puirsued bv a rain of bullets.

But, terribly wounded, almost dying though lit* was. an ominous outburst of firing aroused liirn to heroic life again. " Help me into a chair," lie cried, "and carry me to the gate. If I cannot (inht. I can command"; and with tin? blood ejponciiio: from an artery in his wrist, hv calmly directed his troops while, with unflinching gallantry, they repelled another furious onslaught on the fort.

To Pot linger, still suffering agonies from his wound, now fell the task of organising the retreat—a perilous journey of fifty miles, through country swarming with the en. my and with a convoy of 111) women and children. Tho barraok-squaiv was a i-ieething mass of confusion, worse confounded by tho darkness which shrouded all. But at length chaos was'''educed to order ; two processions were fonmd. and at dead of night they filed stealthily out, through opposite gateways, and joined forces 011 the parade-ground, to eoni-ni.-nco their long journey to Kabul. At the last moment l«tor e having the garrison the doctor had cut off Haughton's almost severed hand at tho wrist; h© "as lifted to the saddle; and, a Kurkha supporting him on each side, a cushion held under his chin to keep his h=ad up. th ( > big-hearted boy started on the tei'i'ilile journey which. after indescribable sullering and perils, was to bring him and his heroic Gurkhas to safetv.

Well might ('forge Lawrence say to PoUinger. w!;en the pitiful r> innaut of tlie (liarikar garrison was :it last bate within the Kabul gate. "Jt's a chapter of miracles nil thrnugh. Humanly speaking, you and Tlaughton have no business to be here!" Pottinger smiled he ansv. cred simply. "It is the Lord's do:ng and marvellous in our eyes. Haughton's leadership and courage are ljevond all praise. But for him not, one of us would be here." —"Sheffield Wcrklv Telegraph."