sailorkitty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sailorkitty) wrote2020-04-06 12:11 am
sailorkitty) wrote2020-04-06 12:11 am
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Saragarhi - 21 Sikhs VS 10,000 Afghans
This story had been told by many others more experienced than I; But I am going to give it a try, still. Again, most of it is scribbled together from wiki pages and articles and should not be taken as gospel.
A lot can be said about Colonial India. Yes: it has given us many exciting tales of British Bravery and exotic milieus, along with comfortable riding trousers and Paisley waistcoats. It also gave us many unhappy Indians, racist/national oppression galore, the grossest curry known to man, and the unforgivably tragic breaking up of a very sweet and probably romantic friendship in a J. M. Forster novel.
Personally, I’m a fan of non-colonial India, as they still use comfortable riding trousers, produce clothing that is nice to wear and looks good even in the heat of summer, allow Dr. Aziz and Mr. Fielding from a Passage to India to finally be friends, and their curry is far superior to the pale Buckingham palace imitation. They also make musical films with insane editing. The world would be a less happy place without those.
But we are not here to talk about a vast group of ’Indians’ with the only thing in common being that they share borders. We are here to talk about the Sikhs. Sikhism is a monotheistic religion whose followers do not cut their hair, choosing instead to wrap them in turbans. There are three duties that a Sikh must carry out: Keeping their deity in mind at all times, Working to earn an honest living, and caring for others. A male Sikh has ’Singh’ (lion) for a last name, the female is named ’Kaur’(Princess), because Sikhism is not meant to discriminate based on family name, opting instead to bestow equally cool names on everyone. Nor does it discriminate between sexes in regards to work. Female Sikhs have both served as religious officials and led their men (and women) to battle. Their community centre, ’Gurdwara’ is open to all religions and includes a communal soup kitchen where vegetarian food is served for free by volunteers. Everyone eats on the floor, regardless of class or religion.
Starting from the mid-19th century, The Colonial British army recruited heavily from Sikh areas. This did not mean that the Sikhs had any power; Only ethnically British people were allowed to become officers. Soldiers were disposable, more so when they were of non-British birth. The highest rank an Indian could have was Havildar, which is equivalent to a sergeant in the British army. This led to absurdities such as the Sikh divisions being led by names like ’Tom Arnold’ or ’Charles Havisham’, with not a single ’Singh’ in command.
And so, there are no British men in this tale - Not that there were any present at the time. The closest Brit was in a fortification a day or two away from the setting of our story, a small relay post located on a bluff, known as the Saragarhi post. It existed as a point of communication between a series of hillside fortifications, being more akin to a manned telephone pole than a fortification in itself. It’s purpose was to facilitate Heliograph (A form of light-based morse code) communication between two forts located at more vital positions. This was done by Sepoy(Pvt) Gurmukh Singh, serving under Havildar Ishar Singh. With them were 19 enlisted men.
On the 12 of September, 1897, a large dust cloud was visible on the horizon from Saragarhi. This was greatly worrying but not all that unexpected; seeing that the British invasion (Sorry, ’Expansion’ /s) was being protested by Afghan tribesman, who would from time to time make their displeasure known by charging headfirst at the invading forces. What was completely unexpected was the sheer number of oncoming forces. Fourteen standards were visible from afar, setting the number at ca 10,000-12,000 men. A large number of Afghan tribes had united to floor a full-frontal invasion and chase the Brits out for good.
Sepoy Gurmukh Singh signalled this observation to Fort Lockhart, who responded (predictably) that sending immediate help was not possible. They did not have enough men to resist such an attack, neither would they make it there in time.
This left the Havildar to decide.
If they stayed to fight, he and his twenty men faced certain death. If they ran away to Fort Lockhart, they would live. Fort Gulistan, next in line, would probably fall like a house of cards due to being underprepared and without artillery, leaving the road free for the Afghans to invade. The likelihood of Afghans discriminating between British officers and Indian soldiers seemed low.
But if the unit stayed to fight, they might be able to slow the Afghans down. That would almost certainly buy time for reinforcements to arrive at fort Gulistan, greatly improving the odds of successful defence.
Realising that the decision was not his to make, he rallied his troop and explained the situation. If they were going to have even the slightest chance at either making a successful escape or slowing the Afghans down, all men had to stand as one.
All twenty men voted to stay.
Strategy was discussed, the men attended their posts. Sepoy Gurmukh Singh went right back to his heliograph station. It is largely his nerves of steel that we have to thank for the following reports; they were sent straight to Lockhart as the battle raged. All in a day’s work.
At 9:00, The Afghans reached the fort. They were shot at and killed in greater numbers than expected, owing to the marksmanship of the Sikhs, who were all calming loading and reloading their rifles, despite rifles and cannons being fired at them. The Afghans tribes tried climbing the walls with ladders, only to have them kicked down as soon as they were up. Gurmuhk Singh kept relaying information to the British regarding the enemy: estimated number, what arms they were carrying, and how the battle was holding up. All while operating a rifle of his own.
The battle raged on. One Sepoy fell, another was seriously wounded. The fallen comrade’s body was retrieved, the growing amount of wounded soldiers continued to fire shot after shot. The Afghans stopped shooting fire; they called out with promises of riches and power, if only the soldiers would surrender and join them. This was unthinkable to the Sikhs; it would not be honest work. It would not help their friends serving in British forts, and it would certainly be done without their god in mind.
So the battle raged on. It took five hours for the Afghans to breach the outer defences, allowing them to set fire to the fort and subsequently storm the courtyard, causing what Gurmukh referred to as ’Fierce hand-to-hand combat’. The Havildar ordered his remaining men fall back, barricade the inner fort, and continue to fire until they could do so no more, for this is where he would leave them. He drew his dagger and charged into the fray, hoping to buy his men enough time to carry out the order.
They did so, holding the position until only Gurmukh remained. As he noticed that the defences had failed, he turned to the heliograph, in adherence to the principle of ’Honest work’, asking if he may be permitted to leave his post and take up a rifle in self-defence.
Permission was granted.
After killing twenty Afghan soldiers, the invading hoard realised that the only way they were going to get the last one was to set fire to the post, and so they did. It is told that Gurmukh’s last words was a repeated, ringing cry of ”Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!”, the Sikh battle cry: One will be blessed eternally, who says that God is the ultimate truth. (Given that Sikhs believe that one whose last thoughts are of their god will be united into divine glory, there is very little reason for them to believe that these men went anywhere else.)
The Afghans did eventually reach Gulistan, though not until well into the evening. At that point, the delay had allowed Gulistan’s men to ready their defences and fight until artillery reinforcements arrived mid-battle, driving the Afghans away.
The next morning, a relief column arrived to see what had or could be done. They found a burnt-down ruin, absolutely littered with strewn bullets and dead bodies The estimated number of fatal casualties lay between 180-800, with many, many more wounded. We do know for certain that all riflemen were completely out of ammunition; they had started with 400 rounds each.
Reports of the battle was brought to British parliament. Some say that it earned a standing ovation, others that five minutes of silence were held in memoriam. Every single soldier of the unit was posthumously awarded the Indian Order of Merit, class III, the highest possible military rank that the British allowed Indians to have. Their families each received 500 rupees and 50 acres of land. Two Gurdwaras were built in honour of the fallen, and still stand today.
Personally, I’m a fan of non-colonial India, as they still use comfortable riding trousers, produce clothing that is nice to wear and looks good even in the heat of summer, allow Dr. Aziz and Mr. Fielding from a Passage to India to finally be friends, and their curry is far superior to the pale Buckingham palace imitation. They also make musical films with insane editing. The world would be a less happy place without those.
But we are not here to talk about a vast group of ’Indians’ with the only thing in common being that they share borders. We are here to talk about the Sikhs. Sikhism is a monotheistic religion whose followers do not cut their hair, choosing instead to wrap them in turbans. There are three duties that a Sikh must carry out: Keeping their deity in mind at all times, Working to earn an honest living, and caring for others. A male Sikh has ’Singh’ (lion) for a last name, the female is named ’Kaur’(Princess), because Sikhism is not meant to discriminate based on family name, opting instead to bestow equally cool names on everyone. Nor does it discriminate between sexes in regards to work. Female Sikhs have both served as religious officials and led their men (and women) to battle. Their community centre, ’Gurdwara’ is open to all religions and includes a communal soup kitchen where vegetarian food is served for free by volunteers. Everyone eats on the floor, regardless of class or religion.
Starting from the mid-19th century, The Colonial British army recruited heavily from Sikh areas. This did not mean that the Sikhs had any power; Only ethnically British people were allowed to become officers. Soldiers were disposable, more so when they were of non-British birth. The highest rank an Indian could have was Havildar, which is equivalent to a sergeant in the British army. This led to absurdities such as the Sikh divisions being led by names like ’Tom Arnold’ or ’Charles Havisham’, with not a single ’Singh’ in command.
And so, there are no British men in this tale - Not that there were any present at the time. The closest Brit was in a fortification a day or two away from the setting of our story, a small relay post located on a bluff, known as the Saragarhi post. It existed as a point of communication between a series of hillside fortifications, being more akin to a manned telephone pole than a fortification in itself. It’s purpose was to facilitate Heliograph (A form of light-based morse code) communication between two forts located at more vital positions. This was done by Sepoy(Pvt) Gurmukh Singh, serving under Havildar Ishar Singh. With them were 19 enlisted men.
On the 12 of September, 1897, a large dust cloud was visible on the horizon from Saragarhi. This was greatly worrying but not all that unexpected; seeing that the British invasion (Sorry, ’Expansion’ /s) was being protested by Afghan tribesman, who would from time to time make their displeasure known by charging headfirst at the invading forces. What was completely unexpected was the sheer number of oncoming forces. Fourteen standards were visible from afar, setting the number at ca 10,000-12,000 men. A large number of Afghan tribes had united to floor a full-frontal invasion and chase the Brits out for good.
Sepoy Gurmukh Singh signalled this observation to Fort Lockhart, who responded (predictably) that sending immediate help was not possible. They did not have enough men to resist such an attack, neither would they make it there in time.
This left the Havildar to decide.
If they stayed to fight, he and his twenty men faced certain death. If they ran away to Fort Lockhart, they would live. Fort Gulistan, next in line, would probably fall like a house of cards due to being underprepared and without artillery, leaving the road free for the Afghans to invade. The likelihood of Afghans discriminating between British officers and Indian soldiers seemed low.
But if the unit stayed to fight, they might be able to slow the Afghans down. That would almost certainly buy time for reinforcements to arrive at fort Gulistan, greatly improving the odds of successful defence.
Realising that the decision was not his to make, he rallied his troop and explained the situation. If they were going to have even the slightest chance at either making a successful escape or slowing the Afghans down, all men had to stand as one.
All twenty men voted to stay.
Strategy was discussed, the men attended their posts. Sepoy Gurmukh Singh went right back to his heliograph station. It is largely his nerves of steel that we have to thank for the following reports; they were sent straight to Lockhart as the battle raged. All in a day’s work.
At 9:00, The Afghans reached the fort. They were shot at and killed in greater numbers than expected, owing to the marksmanship of the Sikhs, who were all calming loading and reloading their rifles, despite rifles and cannons being fired at them. The Afghans tribes tried climbing the walls with ladders, only to have them kicked down as soon as they were up. Gurmuhk Singh kept relaying information to the British regarding the enemy: estimated number, what arms they were carrying, and how the battle was holding up. All while operating a rifle of his own.
The battle raged on. One Sepoy fell, another was seriously wounded. The fallen comrade’s body was retrieved, the growing amount of wounded soldiers continued to fire shot after shot. The Afghans stopped shooting fire; they called out with promises of riches and power, if only the soldiers would surrender and join them. This was unthinkable to the Sikhs; it would not be honest work. It would not help their friends serving in British forts, and it would certainly be done without their god in mind.
So the battle raged on. It took five hours for the Afghans to breach the outer defences, allowing them to set fire to the fort and subsequently storm the courtyard, causing what Gurmukh referred to as ’Fierce hand-to-hand combat’. The Havildar ordered his remaining men fall back, barricade the inner fort, and continue to fire until they could do so no more, for this is where he would leave them. He drew his dagger and charged into the fray, hoping to buy his men enough time to carry out the order.
They did so, holding the position until only Gurmukh remained. As he noticed that the defences had failed, he turned to the heliograph, in adherence to the principle of ’Honest work’, asking if he may be permitted to leave his post and take up a rifle in self-defence.
Permission was granted.
After killing twenty Afghan soldiers, the invading hoard realised that the only way they were going to get the last one was to set fire to the post, and so they did. It is told that Gurmukh’s last words was a repeated, ringing cry of ”Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!”, the Sikh battle cry: One will be blessed eternally, who says that God is the ultimate truth. (Given that Sikhs believe that one whose last thoughts are of their god will be united into divine glory, there is very little reason for them to believe that these men went anywhere else.)
The Afghans did eventually reach Gulistan, though not until well into the evening. At that point, the delay had allowed Gulistan’s men to ready their defences and fight until artillery reinforcements arrived mid-battle, driving the Afghans away.
The next morning, a relief column arrived to see what had or could be done. They found a burnt-down ruin, absolutely littered with strewn bullets and dead bodies The estimated number of fatal casualties lay between 180-800, with many, many more wounded. We do know for certain that all riflemen were completely out of ammunition; they had started with 400 rounds each.
Reports of the battle was brought to British parliament. Some say that it earned a standing ovation, others that five minutes of silence were held in memoriam. Every single soldier of the unit was posthumously awarded the Indian Order of Merit, class III, the highest possible military rank that the British allowed Indians to have. Their families each received 500 rupees and 50 acres of land. Two Gurdwaras were built in honour of the fallen, and still stand today.