The War in Scinde
(Meeanee, 1843)
“Let there be sixty or a hundred thousand,” said Sir Charles Napier, “I will fight.”
This was when he moved away from the banks of the Indus and found that an overwhelming force of the enemy was massing in his rear, while another large force held Meeanee in his front. In the spirit of his words he pushed forward with 2,600 of all arms, including officers fit for duty in the field, and the result was the important battle of Meeanee.
The positions of the Baluchis were formidable. In the first place they had a natural ravine in their front. Again, they had 5,000 cavalry and more than 30,000 infantry, with fifteen guns. Their wings rested on dense woods which extended on each side of the plain in front for a considerable distance, so as to flank the British lines on both sides when it should advance. But, in no mood to be intimidated by these natural advantages of the enemy, Sir Charles Napier and his little force fell impetuously on him by the front. The fighting which ensued was terrific. Our men gradually forced their way across the level plain, swept as it was by the Baluchi cannon and matchlocks, and finally crossed the ravine and began the ascent of the high, sloping bank beyond.
With matchlocks laid ready in rest along the summit, the Baluchis waited until the assailants were within twenty yards before they discharged a volley. But the active British offered an uncertain mark, and this, combined with the steepness of the declivity, accounted for the inconsiderable result of their fire.
Now the 22nd (the Cheshire Regiment) were on the top of the bank, thinking to bear down all before them, but “they staggered back in amazement at the forest of swords waving in their front. Thick as standing corn, and gorgeous as a field of flowers, stood the Baluchis in their many-coloured garments and turbans; they filled the broad, deep bed of the ravine, they clustered on both banks, and covered the plain beyond. Guarding their heads with their large dark shields, they shook their sharp swords, beaming in the sun, their shouts rolling like a peal of thunder, as with frantic gestures they dashed forward with demoniac strength and ferocity full against the front of the 22nd. But with shouts as loud, and shrieks as wild and fierce as theirs, and hearts as big, and arms as strong, the Irish soldiers met them with the queen of weapons—the musket—and sent their foremost masses rolling back in blood.”
The Baluchis closed their dense masses, and again the shouts, the rolling fire of musketry, and the dreadful rush of their swordsmen were heard and seen along the whole line; and such a fight ensued as has seldom been recorded in the annals of war. These wild warriors continually advanced, sword and shield in hand, striving in all the fierceness of their valour to break into the opposing ranks; no fire of small-arms, no thrust of bayonets, no sweeping discharges of grape from the guns, which were planted in one fearful mass on the right, could drive the gallant soldiers back; they gave their breasts to be shot at, they leaped upon the guns by twenties at a time; their dead went down the slope by hundreds, but the gaps in their masses were continually filled up from the rear; the survivors of the front rank still pressed forward with unabated fury, and the bayonet and the sword clashed in full and frequent conflict.
Our loss in officers was heavy, and our native troops, deprived of leaders though not of gallantry, were several times forced into rearguard action; but at a given moment a charge made on the enemy’s right by our entire but small body of horse, under the command of Colonel Pattle, won the day. The Baluchis had kept their ground for more than three hours, but now they began to retreat in masses, still keeping well together, with their broad shields slung over their backs and their heads half turned towards their pursuers. The victors followed closely, pouring in volley after volley, until tired of slaughtering. “Yet,” says Napier, “those stern, implacable warriors preserved their habitual swinging stride, and would not quicken it to a run, though death was at their heels.”
In this conflict our officers and men, together with our native troops, showed the greatest courage. The chief part of the battle was a hand-to-hand fight. “The noble soldier Pennefather,” as Sir Charles Napier admiringly called him, fell on the top of the bank, to all appearance mortally wounded, and his place was instantly taken by Major Pool. Major Teesdale, followed by his sepoys, rode desperately over the ridge into the midst of the Baluchis, and was instantly killed by shot and sabre. Major Jackson followed the heroic example of Teesdale, and met the same fate. Two brave havildars kept close to them in advance of their regiment, and, like their leaders, they were also killed, but not until they had slain several of the fiercest of the enemy. Lieutenant M’Murdogh, of the General’s staff, rode, like Teesdale and Jackson, into the very heart of the Baluchi mass; his horse was killed under him, yet he rose instantly, and meeting Jehan Mohabad, one of the most warlike of the chiefs, slew him in the midst of his clan. Then, while engaged with several in front, one came behind and struck at him, but a sergeant of the 22nd killed that enemy so instantly that his blow fell harmless.
M’Murdogh turned and did the same service for his preserver, cleaving the head of a Baluchi who was aiming at his back. Captain Jacob and Lieutenant Fitzgerald performed similar exploits. Six European officers and sixty sergeants and privates were killed, and fourteen officers and about 200 men wounded. The loss of the Baluchis was enormous; a careful computation gave it as 6,000—1,000 bodies were heaped in the ravine alone. What greater proof is wanting of the great courage and tenacity of the Baluchi warrior, who is now linking his glorious traditions with ours by deeds worthy of his ancient prowess?