The Ravi Lancers

by John Masters

  He understood: a slight west wind had sprung up, which would enable the British to use gas. In this fog the gas would not be detected until too late. All this was to the Indians’ advantage, for no one could see well through those masks.

  A battery of mortars appeared in the strengthening light, dug into shallow pits. Masked infantrymen lay asleep all round, fully dressed. The Rajputs swept forward as whistles blew and the Germans leaped for their weapons. A mortar man died over the barrel of his mortar, rifle shots exploded and here and there Krishna saw a Rajput fall. A German towered up, rifle in hand. Krishna stepped aside, swung his sword, and the man’s arm fell off at the elbow. Hanuman jumped in with his bayonet in his left hand; an officer aiming a Mauser fired one burst into the ground as he died. The Rajputs glided on into the fog. Five minutes later Krishna dimly made out a column of men looming up ahead and to the right. By now the light was strong but the fog persisted. The column was German infantry moving east over broken ground. The British artillery fire was getting heavier and closer. Krishna signalled his men to sink to the ground. The Germans were going towards the rear. It might be a normal relief movement, or it might be that the British were indeed attacking somewhere to the north and the Germans were adjusting their tenuous line. The column passed, perhaps five hundred men. Rifle fire from behind, a little later, made Krishna think that the column might have run into one of the other Ravi squadrons ... but they were in a hurry and would only have fired at any Lancers who got in their way.

  He signalled his men to advance once more. The breeze blew more strongly into his face and the fog began to thin. The sun was trying to rise. Behind him Warren Bateman was being supported by two sowars as he stumbled forward.

  They came upon German infantry, lining the edge of a shattered wood, facing the other way. The Lancers fell on them, momentarily as irresistible as Arjun’s legions of the sky. Sabres and bayonets slashed and thrust. The fighting became hand to hand. Krishna saw Lieutenant Puran Lall’s sabre sweep almost completely through a German officer’s body at the waist. Then a German soldier thrust his bayonet into the young officer’s heart. Puran Lall fell, turning, a smile on his face, the first Krishna had seen there since his brother was killed.

  ‘On! ‘ Krishna cried. ‘On! ‘

  For a moment the fighting was intense around him. One of his bodyguards fell to a rifle shot, and the trumpeter to an officer’s Mauser. Hanuman’s bayonet dripped in his hand, staining his white garment. Krishna slashed down one last man and then he was through, out of the wood on an open field, unmarked by shell fire, the wet grass firm underfoot. ‘Close up,’ he called. ‘Keep formation.’ The tendrils of fog closed in behind, and the machine gun fire sent after them ceased.

  Ten minutes later a shot from in front cracked close over his head. He saw a man in khaki uniform kneeling behind a low wall, making ready to fire again. The man had slant eyes and was wearing a wide-brimmed hat. It was a Gurkha, a look of amazement clearly visible on his round face. ‘Friend, dost, dost! ‘ Krishna called, his hands raised. Slowly the Gurkha stood up.

  Brigadier-General Rainbow Rogers, seated at a rough table in a battered railway station building at Contamines, said, ‘Sit down, Krishna, sit down. Feel better now?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Krishna said. ‘Twenty hours’ sleep is enough for anyone.’

  The general shuffled an army signal form in front of him. ‘It appears that you brought out 240 all ranks. Do you know how many you started from Fosse-Garde with?’

  ‘Two hundred and eighty.’

  ‘Great heavens, you had heavy casualties in the battle, then. But afterwards you only lost about forty, fighting your way out through a German division. A remarkable feat of arms, and one that reflects the greatest credit on you ... and your officers and men, of course. And wearing fancy dress! An extraordinary idea, I must say, but it seems to have caught the Germans off guard ... though I am not sure that you wouldn’t be liable to be shot as spies if the Germans had caught you. Being out of uniform, you see. You won’t do that again, will you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Good. I think I can promise you a DSO within a few days. Get yourself some uniform as soon as you can.’

  ‘Yes, sir ... We left about forty more wounded, who couldn’t walk, in the Aid Post,’ Krishna said, ‘with Captain Ramaswami and our Brahmin.’

  ‘Poor fellows. Well, the war is over for them, eh? The front disintegrated just after I last spoke to Colonel Bateman. The Germans broke through on the right and all communications were cut. No one knew where anyone was. Our dispatch riders found themselves in the middle of German columns, and we captured a German colonel who thought he was five miles on his side of the front. Terrible state of affairs! No form, just a mess, changing every moment. I didn’t know where any of my brigade was ... except you.’

  ‘We would never have got out if the situation hadn’t been so fluid,’ Krishna said.

  ‘Quite. Well, it’s stabilized now, thank God. The forward troops are digging the new trench lines now. We’ve lost some ground here, gained some there...’ He put his monocle carefully in his eye and looked at Krishna. ‘How was Colonel Bateman at Fosse-Garde? A little--overwrought, eh? That wound must have been very painful, and of course he had been working himself unmercifully for weeks before the battle.’

  ‘He was tired, sir, but in full possession of his faculties.’

  ‘H’m. Wouldn’t you say that his wound had temporarily rendered him unfit for command?’ The general’s eye gleamed meaningfully behind the glass.

  Krishna hesitated. It was such an easy way out, and the general obviously wanted him to take it. But there must be no more lying. ‘No, sir,’ he said firmly.

  The general said petulantly, ‘Oh, very well. You know that he has made extremely serious charges against you?’

  ‘I know he was going to, sir.’

  ‘Mutiny. Disobeying the lawful order of your superior officer. Cowardice in the face of the enemy. Disgraceful conduct.’ He tapped the table top. ‘Here’s his deposition, signed and witnessed, and supported by another one from Rissaldar-Major Baldev Singh. This means a court martial, Krishna. A very serious scandal involving your grandfather’s state, and the Indian Army as a whole.’

  ‘I know, sir, but I think it will lead to good in the end.’

  The general said, ‘Be reasonable, Krishna. No one wants a scandal. General Glover told me to do all that I could to hush this whole thing up. You did very well getting your regiment out of Fosse-Garde in obedience to my orders.’

  ‘Your orders, sir?’ said Krishna, startled.

  ‘Yes. When the Germans broke through on the right I sent an order for you to retreat to this area, Contamines, as fast as possible.’

  ‘We never got it.’

  ‘But you were carrying out my intention when you, h’m, took command, don’t you see?’

  Krishna said, ‘I imagine the court martial will have to decide on that, sir.’

  The general snapped, ‘Oh, very well. But it can’t be held until Colonel Bateman is fit again. He’s being evacuated to England tonight. I’m sending the rissaldar-major on leave, too, as I think it would be better if he were out of your regiment until the court martial. Meantime, consider yourself under open arrest.’ He let the monocle drop on its cord.

  ‘Yes, sir ... Sir, I think it will be best for all concerned if our regiment is returned to India and mustered out of Imperial service.’

  The general said, ‘Do you want me to forward that request officially? ... Because, between you and me, there is a strong chance that the Indian infantry divisions will be pulled out of France as soon as shipping is available, and sent to Mesopotamia.’

  Krishna said, ‘I think my grandfather would ask that we be returned to Ravi.’

  The general said, ‘I quite agree. The 44th Lancers must be over their anthrax long since and General Glover would like to have them back. No offence, you know, but in Mespot they’d be mounted, real cavalrymen again. As for your
regiment, you’ve lost so heavily that the general is returning the 8th Brahmins to my brigade, and taking you back as divisional troops ... but he told me he won’t use you except in real emergencies.’

  Krishna said, ‘Then I may take it that we will be sent back to Ravi at the first opportunity?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘I shall notify my grandfather accordingly, sir.’

  That was it, he thought. The general was standing up. By now there were four rows of ribbons on his left breast. He would do anything for more of them ... risk his life ... or see that the Ravi Lancers were sent home to Bharat-desh. Krishna said, ‘I have heard from many sources of your heroism at Fosse-Garde, sir. As we are now leaving your brigade, I ask you to honour us by accepting membership in the Royal Order of the Sun of Ravi.’

  The general’s long face reddened with pleasure. ‘Why, that’s very good of you, my boy. The Royal Order of the Sun of Ravi, eh? What is the, er, ribbon like? And I suppose there’s a cross to go with it?’

  ‘Not a cross, sir,’ Krishna said, ‘we are Hindus. A gold and enamel sunburst, to be worn as a collar, with a yellow and white ribbon. My grandfather will send you your collar as soon as possible, but meantime...’ He unfastened the tinsel brooch from the left breast of his silk tunic and said, ‘Here, sir ... On behalf of His Highness Sir Sugriva Valadeva Yudisthir Bhishma Pandu Abhi-manyu Satrughna Krishna Vishnu, Surya-ka-Chora, Knight Commander of the Order of the Star of India, I bestow upon you the Royal Order of the Sun of Ravi.’

  He pinned the brooch on the general’s tunic. The general saluted, his back rigid, the monocle glinting in his eye.

  Major Bholanath lay sprawled on a broken bed in what had been the mayor’s house of Contamines. His white moustaches were curled up, and protected by a handkerchief tied round his head. He was wearing khaki riding breeches, army socks and a flannel shirt, and he was smoking a hookah of hashish. His orderly squatted at his feet blowing on the charcoal in the bowl of the hookah. Krishna, wearing no Sam Browne belt but otherwise fully dressed in an ill-fitting uniform, sat on a bench beside him. The sound of music, Indian music, drifted through the village from the town square, where the regimental band, their instruments brought up from the base, were playing for a dance while the massed sowars, all in uniform, watched a dozen dancers, ceremonially dressed and garlanded, shuffle and gyrate over the cobbles.

  ‘You’re the commanding officer now,’ Krishna said.

  ‘Very well, prince,’ the old man mumbled, the words coming out slowly and luxuriously. ‘Tell me what you wish. It shall be done.’

  ‘And we’ll be sent back to Ravi soon.’

  ‘Good ... though I shall be sorry not to fight these Germans some more ... they are good warriors … ‘

  ‘I hope we have had our last casualties. There have been enough. Six hundred and twenty killed and wounded since we came to France--for what?’

  ’Who have gone ahead “along the mighty steps”?’ old Bholanath mumbled. ‘Colonel Hanbury was the first. He should have been tending his garden long since.’

  ‘He was younger than you, uncle ... Himat, I wish he had not had time to think again, at the last...’

  ‘Sher Singh ... Bateman-sahib gave him his desserts, saving me the trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was he who killed the half-caste, Flaherty, meaning to murder the colonel. My rissaldar found out ... Then there was Mahadeo Singh--well, he died as he would have wished, though in a place far from his home.’

  ‘The Heavenly Twins ... one knowing the glory and one the bitterness.’

  ‘The black doctor. He was a good man.’

  ‘He and the pandit-ji aren’t dead, only prisoners.’

  ‘What difference? ... So many good rissaldars and jemadars. Aiih, we shall have much teaching to do when we get back to Basohli.’

  ‘Mind that you see that the regiment is properly purified after crossing the Black Water, uncle.’

  ‘Have no fear ... but you will be back with us by then.’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. It will depend on the court martial.’

  ‘There will be no court martial. The British will find some way of preventing it ... You forgot one more good man destroyed by this war.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Bateman-sahib. But he did not go down before doing what he set out to. He has changed us, all of us.’

  ‘He is not defeated yet,’ Krishna said sadly. ‘There is yet more that he can do, and will.’

  November 1915

  The thin November sunlight gleamed along the bare arms of the oak trees in the woods, and hoar frost lingered in the shadowed grass under the cottage walls. The furrowed land swept up through misty distance to the brow of the Plain, elms standing in silhouette, stark guardians of the crest. Faint from the valley Warren heard the sound of a hunting horn. At his side, Diana said, ‘They’re drawing the Bohun copses.’

  Warren said, ‘I didn’t know there was any hunting this year.’

  ‘It’s difficult,’ Diana said, ‘with the hunt servants gone to the army and taxes so heavy, but so many officers on leave said that a day’s hunting was all they longed for, when they were in France, that the Master has arranged one day a week ... Warrie, I’m pregnant.’

  They walked on in silence along the canal bank, the spaniel Fudge trotting beside. It was Saturday and she had only arrived late yesterday evening to spend the weekend at Shrewford Pennel. Before that, once or twice while he was in hospital, she had come to see him, but had not mentioned--this. Warren knew he ought to say something but no words would form.

  ‘Krishna will be able to come as soon as the court martial is over, won’t he?’ she said.

  Warren said, ‘If he wants to...’

  ‘Oh, Warrie,’ she said, ‘you think he doesn’t want to ... marry me?’ She sounded miserable, and frightened.

  He said, ‘I thought he did, at first ... and I was against it. I told him so. I thought it should not be allowed ... because the marriage would not succeed. You would not be happy. There is too much difference in your ways of thought ... your backgrounds ... what you think important... your religions, if you like.’

  He walked on, sucking on his pipe. Fudge was not as affectionate as he used to be, Warren thought. Did he know, or guess, what had happened to Shikari? Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake, of trusting even a pet dog, again.

  Diana said, ‘But you’ve changed your mind? You think we should get married?’

  ‘If you are pregnant, yes,’ he said dryly, ‘though you may have to get a divorce or separation later ... But I’m not sure now that Krishna wants to marry you. Because you are English ... European. He is turning away from everything Western. At first he blamed me personally for all the bad things of this war, the unpleasant things that can’t be avoided--then he found the sin to be in all Europe, in all our way of life. You are part of it.’

  It was Diana’s turn to keep silent. They walked a mile along the canal bank and turned. The cry of the horn came sharper on the damp breeze, blended now with the falling whistle of an express rushing down the vale.

  Diana said, ‘What sentence do you think they’ll give him?’ Warren said, ‘The prosecution will ask for the death sentence’--he heard her intake of breath--’but as he is, what he is, I’m sure it will never be carried out. Or, perhaps, imposed ... My God, Diana, I wish I could let the whole thing go, pretend it never happened, so that he could marry you and you both go off to Ravi and live happily ever afterwards. But I can’t.’

  ‘I know you can’t, Warrie,’ she said, laying her hand on his arm. ‘You must do your duty.’

  She understood, he thought. Did Krishna? Did any of them know the meaning of duty?

  Diana said hesitantly, ‘Of course, I don’t really know him very well.’

  ‘No,’ Warren said. ‘Nothing like as well as I do. It’s a pity, but I don’t see how you, or any woman, can know the man she thinks she wants to marry. You don’t live
with them before you’re married, though that fellow Goldwasser suggests in his book that there should be some arrangement of the sort ... legally, with everyone’s approval, for six months on end, he proposes.’

  Diana said, ‘I wish Krishna and I could have done that. I was--I am--so lonely. Thirty-one years old. Paris was so exciting ... But I love him, I love him,’ she finished defiantly, as though to reassure herself.

  After a time she said, ‘I feel that I am being torn apart. Krishna, whom I love, is going one way, and you, whom I worship, are going the other way. I think I understand why each of you is doing what you are doing. But I have to make a choice, don’t I... What am I to do, Warrie?’

  He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know.

  They walked on. From outside the silence between them might have been taken for their old companionable quiet, a lack of need to exchange words, that there had always been; but it was not. Warren walked enclosed within a circle of his own thoughts, which Diana only touched where her unhappiness touched a similar chord in him. What had happened to her? What would become of her? These thoughts made him shiver, but not for her sake; for his own, because the formulation of the idea forced him to ask the same questions of himself.

  When they turned into the drive they saw their mother standing outside the little greenhouse, a pink slip in her hand. The rissaldar-major stood in front of her, holding her elbows. Warren broke into a run. His mother’s face was pale, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes, but staying there, held. He took the telegram form from her hand as she sank her head on the rissaldar-major’s shoulder. Warren read the telegram, hearing the RM’s muttered Hindi words of comfort. The War Office regretted to inform them that Guardsman Ralph Harris had been killed in action.