by George Bruce
Dalhousie and his colleagues on his Council still seem to have wanted to avoid war at this time. Yet although they reprimanded Lambert for disobedience they did not have him removed to where he could do less harm. Lambert carried on blockading the Burmese coast. Meanwhile, on 7 February the king sent a letter to Dalhousie through Colonel Bogle, commissioner of Tenasserim, asking pointedly whether Lambert had been appointed to dispose of the issue of the ships’ captains, or ‘begin by an attack, which should have the effect of bringing on hostilities between the two countries’.[60] It was a chance for Dalhousie to repudiate Lambert’s action, but he disregarded it.
On 2 February the governor of Rangoon wrote to Colonel Bogle saying that he awaited the arrival of an officer with whom the return of the king’s ship could be arranged and to whom the payment of the £900 could be made. It disregarded Lambert’s presence entirely and far from expressing regret for the alleged insult to the British flag, declared that the English officers had simply thrown all the blame on the other side so as to shield themselves.
The letter, Dalhousie declared, evaded making the required concessions. It was apparently at this time that he finally decided upon war. ‘This letter leaves to the Government of India in my deliberate judgment… no alternative but to exact reparation by force of arms.’[61] And on 13 February he repeated this in a letter to Lambert, for whom it must have been a triumphant occasion. Dalhousie added that a considerable force would sail from Bengal and Madras soon after 23 March.
Dalhousie knew well enough, however, how weak was the logical basis for war — simply the governor of Rangoon’s very reasonable letter. He therefore sent the king an ultimatum, whose terms would be impossible for him to accept. After a preamble stating that it was still within the king’s power to avert the disasters of war by full compliance, it demanded: (1) That the king himself, through his ministers, should apologise to him for the insult shown to the deputation of officers at the governor’s residence on 6 January; (2) The king must pay at once an indemnity of ten lakhs (£100,000) for the British Government’s expenses of preparation for war, for the loss of property which British subjects may have suffered in the burning of Rangoon by the acts of the governor, and in satisfaction of the claims of the two captains; (3) The king must accept and treat with due respect a British Representative at Rangoon; (4) Rangoon and Martaban must be ceded until the indemnity is paid.
The ultimatum was due to expire on 1 April 1852. Having no doubt that the king would find it impossible to comply Dalhousie went ahead with plans for the military expedition, appointing Lieutenant-General Henry Godwin, aged 69, who had served as a colonel in the First Burmese War, to command it. He instructed him to stay military operations only if the king agreed to the demands, or appeared ready to do so as soon as possible.
But King Pagan was by now convinced that the British had decided on war and that even if he did accede to the ultimatum’s demands, worse demands would certainly follow. He knew without a shadow of doubt that his armies would be routed by the British, but believed it was better to fight and be conquered than suffer endless humiliation. Prince Mindon, his deeply religious brother, urged acceptance of the terms, to avoid bloodshed, but the king refused to answer the ultimatum[62] and prepared for the war that would follow. ‘Either the golden umbrella or the grave’, became the cry once more.
Godwin’s force was timed to reach Rangoon around the beginning of April, or about six weeks before the rains came. The hope, he noted in his journal, was that ‘a powerful blow struck now may reduce the Burmese to reason’ and so avoid a more extended war later in the year when the rains would be over.
The logic behind this was to a great extent based on the increased striking power of the British and what was assumed to be decreased Burmese military power. For about the last ten years the well-tried Brown Bess flintlock had been superseded in the British Army by the percussion-cap musket, which fired the charge by a flash through a hollow nipple. This cut out the time-wasting process of priming the pan with powder which was so often made useless by rain or damp, and also reduced the number of misfires in a thousand shots from 411 with the Brown Bess to as little as 4.5 with the percussion-cap. Accuracy had improved, as well as speed and reliability, with an average increase of 270 to 385 hits in 1,000 shots on a target. Artillery was more efficient and destructive, especially in the navy, whose guns could now shoot the heaviest shot and shell accurately between two and a half and three miles.
By 6 April 1852 both the Bengal and the Madras Infantry Brigades were gathered at the mouth of Rangoon river in transports escorted by a fleet of men-of-war commanded by Admiral Austen (Jane’s brother). All of them were steam-driven, with auxiliary sail, and armed with 8-inch guns, 32-pounders and numerous smaller guns. The Bengal Brigade consisted of HM’s 18th (later Royal Irish Regt) and 80th (later 2nd Btn South Staffordshires) and the 40th Bengal Native Infantry; the Madras Brigade, of HM’s 31st, (later King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry) and the 5th, 9th and 35th Madras Native Infantry, supported by two companies of Bengal Artillery, three of Madras Artillery and two companies of Madras Sappers and Miners, about 6,000 in all.
In accordance with his instructions, Godwin set about occupying Martaban first, just north of Moulmein, capital of the British occupied province of Tenasserim. He sailed there on 3 April and arriving before the strongly fortified town two days later, requested the warships to bombard it. It was a pattern for the rest of the war. In a short time the heavy shot and shell had shattered the defences. When the troops landed they found almost no resistance; those of the defenders who were not dead or wounded had run away into the jungle. By 8 April the force had returned to Rangoon with almost no casualties.
Here, on the glassy brown water, the heat hovered between 93 and 103 degrees Fahrenheit, knocking out officers and men one after the other with heatstroke. Cholera had started its deadly round and Godwin made haste. Five warships steamed up river on 11 April, Easter Sunday, and bombarded the stockades on each bank. ‘The fire from the vessels, Queen’s and Company’s, was kept up with terrific effect against Dalla, on our left, and the Rangoon defences on our right,’ noted Lieutenant Laurie, Madras Artillery, who was there.
At first, the enemy returned the fire with considerable dexterity and precision; but shortly after the Fox had come up and poured in her broadside, and the Serpent had moved on to destroy, by about eleven o’clock the firing on our right had almost ceased. However, the war-steamers kept on, thundering forth against the works on both sides of the river, utterly destroying the stockades on the shore at Rangoon, and cannonading Dalla with decided effect. The large stockade, south-west of the Shwedagon, was set on fire by a well-directed shell, which caused the explosion of a powder magazine; and then, all the work soon became filled with black smoke and vivid flame — up, up, right to the bright skies ascending, till the scene became one of extreme beauty and awful grandeur… The stockade at Dalla having been silenced, a party of seamen and marines in four boats effected a landing and took the place by storm.
And so, Easter Sunday’s operations were complete. ‘The navy,’ Laurie remarked, ‘had acted as a pioneer of true civilisation.’ All was ready for the landing the next day, but it was not to be such a walkover as in 1824. The Burmese had built a new Rangoon about a mile inland behind the ruins of the former town. Approximately rectangular, it included the Shwedagon in the north-eastern corner and was entirely protected by a deep ditch, an abatis and a mud wall sixteen feet high and eight feet wide. Some 20,000 men manned the walls, in which were known to be placed about twenty guns, but it was well within the range of the fleet’s heavy artillery.
Early on 12 April, the troops landed under a sustained fire from the warships, and amid the dumps of ammunition, beef rations, jars of arrack and scaling ladders all in a confused heap, formed two columns. Godwin moved off with the first column, intending to follow a roundabout route and attack from the east. With him in the advance were four Bengal artillery guns under Major Reid,
covered by four companies of the 51st Light Infantry.
Godwin had not gone far, when they were fired on by enemy guns in the White House stockade, about a mile inland, to the east of the town defences. At the same time Burmese infantry attacked his left flank from a nearby jungle. They were driven off, and Major Reid fired at the stockade with his four guns at about 800 yards range. Soon, he turned to Godwin and said calmly: ‘I am sorry to say, sir, that unless Major Oakes comes up we shall not be able to go on. I have but two rounds a gun left.’[63]
Burmese shot whistled close by and two gunners were killed. The situation was dangerous and unpleasant, but not critical, because four companies of the 51st could hold off any attack by enemy skirmishers.
At that moment Major Oakes led in two creaking and rattling 24-pound howitzers, drawn slowly by teams of panting seamen. Standing in the intensely hot sun, scarlet in the face in his thick blue uniform, he ordered his gunners to open up with spherical-case shot (shells) on the White House. Thirty minutes later he had fired his last round. He then collapsed unconscious with heatstroke and died soon after.
Godwin had meantime ordered the four companies of the 51st and the Madras Sappers to advance on the stockade and take it by storm, but the Burmese held them back by another flank attack. Having repulsed it, the storming party marched calmly forward and under heavy fire placed their ladders, forced an entry and took the place by storm, though with considerable loss. Meanwhile, though it was not yet mid-day, the terrific heat had killed another officer, Major Griffiths, knocked out three more and laid low numerous men.
It was foolhardy to continue; Godwin gave orders to set fire to the occupied stockade, rest in the shade for the rest of the day and camp where they were for the night on the open plain.
‘The night of 12 April will long be remembered by many of the force,’ noted Laurie.
Towards the new town, and the great Shwedagon, fire continued to spread through the darkness — observing which formed amusement for the weary who could not sleep. It proceeded from the steamers and men-of-war pouring their destructive fire into the town. Huge hollow shot… were continually projected, doing fearful execution. Sometimes, the effect from our camp, was terribly sublime.
Still not satisfied that the bombardment had flattened the defences enough to make an attack feasible without heavy losses, Godwin again rested his troops in the intense heat next day while the sailors laboured to drag up four eight-inch howitzers. In the dappled shade of the clumps of green bamboo, or the shadow of great trees, the troops stripped off their heavy red serge tunics and discussed yesterday’s operations, cleaned their percussion muskets, polished and sharpened their bayonets, while the gunners cut and fixed fuses in the shells, so that all was ready for an all-out attack next day.
Reconnaissance parties had meanwhile reported that the Pagoda’s eastern face where the defences were least strong offered the easiest entry. The route to it lay between alternate open plain, clumps of trees and thick shadowy jungle and here, when the troops moved forward at six o’clock on 14 April, Burmese skirmishers fired volleys at the clustered red targets. The gunners fired a dozen rounds of grape-shot through the foliage and knocked them down, but when the troops emerged from the jungle they came within range of enemy jingals, which, firing from a small pagoda, killed several men until, at about ten o’clock, the howitzers came up and silenced them.
At 11.30 a.m. the storming party, four companies of the 80th, two of the 18th and two of the 40th Bengal Native Infantry, formed up on a small plain sheltered by a jungle-covered hill, ready for the attack. Shot from enemy guns whistled overhead, but soon the Burmese improved their elevation and men began to fall, the first being Dr Smith, Assistant-Surgeon. Burmese infantry had by now closed in near enough to hit the waiting masses of troops with accurate fire, but Godwin stubbornly waited for the heavy howitzers to finish their work until, says Laurie, Captain Latter, one of his aides, impatiently urged on him that they should attack forthwith, because, he said, for every ten men now being killed or wounded they might well lose only one with a storming party. Godwin, however, still preferred to wait and the troops went on bobbing their heads as the enemy shot whistled by.
Eventually, Latter asked if he might lead the storming party himself at once: ‘With the greatest pleasure, my dear friend,’ Godwin said coolly, to the surprise of all. The hill on which the great Pagoda stands was divided into three terraces, with four flights of steps, upon each of which enemy guns were mounted, and these were the storming party’s target.
In column, led by Latter, the troops crossed the open valley leading to the ascent to the Pagoda, silent and steady under the heavy fire, till they reached the rising ground, when they ran forward and rushed with a great shout up the long flights of steps through the smoke from musketry and cannon. Having gained the upper terrace they spread out and soon drove all the enemy before them with the bayonet. The Burmese fled in all directions and, seeing the position taken so easily, the troops gave a loud cheer. More than 90 heavy guns, about 80 smaller ones and much ammunition were captured. In the three days’ fighting, from 12 to 14 April, the British lost 132 wounded and 17 killed, all ranks. Most of the Burmese defenders had deserted during the night.
The whole of Rangoon was in British hands. Two or three weeks of inactivity now followed, during which, in the intense heat, cholera again flared. Finally, having been reinforced with the 67th Bengal Native Infantry, Godwin embarked some 800 men in three warships and a naval brigade in a fourth, sailed down the Rangoon river and thence up the Negrais to attack Bassein on 19 May, which fell on the same day with a mere twenty-three casualties, all ranks.
So far so good, but the rainy season had begun, and despite these successes the Burmese had shown no inclination to ask for terms. The troops whiled away the intervening time as best they could, hunting for treasure in the temples and huge images. Laurie saw one soldier hacking away at a huge gilded image with a pick-axe on the Shwedagon’s upper terrace. ‘He is looking into the creature’s heart and head for treasure — gold or small silver figures, or rubies… This sacred spot is really one vast idol-shrine,’ he noted.
At the end of May, hearing that the Peguese had risen in strength against their Burmese rulers, Godwin decided to send an expedition fifty-five miles north to take Pegu town. On 3 June, two companies of infantry, with sappers and miners, and a small party of marines and sailors, set forth under Major Cotton and Commander Tarleton. They stormed Pegu two days later, when the Burmese fled without firing more than a few shots. For political reasons it was garrisoned by indigenous troops, the Talaings, but after a few weeks the Burmese reappeared and drove them out, so the whole undertaking was a waste of time.
The war, which Dalhousie hoped would end quickly, had now gone on for three months and although the Burmese had been defeated at Martaban, Rangoon, Bassein and Pegu they showed no sign of accepting British terms. ‘There is no symptom of submission,’ Dalhousie[64] complained to a friend on 27 June.
I now give up all hope of it, except perhaps at a distant time, when our expenses will have risen to such a sum that the reimbursement we must demand will either be refused or can be met only by cession of territory — odious to them and undesired by us. Daily I am more mortified and disheartened by the political necessity I see before me…
Dalhousie therefore decided that his best course was to annex the entire province of Pegu, from Moulmein, in the south-east, to north of Prome, including of course, Rangoon and the entire Delta, so that henceforward Burma would have no outlet to the sea. And in London, Lord Aberdeen’s Whig Government, which included Palmerston, readily accepted this.
Early in July, Commander Tarleton steamed up the Irrawaddy with a squadron of five warships, for some reason without any troops, to reconnoitre Prome’s defences, and anchoring nearby on 9 July found no Burmese garrison holding it, but not having any troops himself, he could do nothing more than wreck the defences by gunfire and retire.
Dalhousie visited Rang
oon on 27 July in the steam frigate Feroze, to study the situation at first hand. He decided that to carry out his plan of annexation reinforcements were needed to bring the total force up to two divisions totalling 20,000 men.[65] They arrived at Rangoon in September.
Colonel Reignolds’s Brigade then sailed up river and dropped anchor before Prome on 9 October. The Burmese opened up with guns and muskets, but one or two heavy broadsides silenced them. Prome next day was found to have been deserted by the enemy, who had retired to a position ten miles to the east, so Godwin occupied the town and sent the flotilla back for another brigade of troops, returning to Rangoon himself some days later. Dalhousie began to criticise Godwin’s leisurely way of fighting the campaign. He even thought of sacking him, but concluded, in a letter to a friend: ‘He is a gallant old soldier and I am reluctant to do him a harm.’
Pegu had to be retaken, and Godwin himself led the force of about 1,000 men which landed in thick mist below the town on 21 November. It fell the next day, after an exhausting jungle march round to the town’s eastern face and a short sharp fight in the jungle, but thereafter the Burmese carried out jungle guerilla operations, counter-attacking Pegu, cutting off British supplies, attacking their outposts, which prolonged operations there until mid-December.
