Jack Windrush Collection - Books 9-12

Chapter 3-2

Jack nodded. India. The 113th was going back to India and the possibility of active service against the Russians in Afghanistan. Despite his age and experience, Jack felt the old mixture of excitement and apprehension. Born in India, he had campaigned in Burma, through the Indian Mutiny and on the Frontier in the Bunerwal Expedition. Jack knew and understood the Indian sub-continent better than anywhere else.

“The junior officers can now leave,” Hook said and waited for the room to clear. In a few moments only Elliot, Jack, Major Burridge, and Captain Singer remained in the Officer"s Mess.

“Can nobody in this room offer me a drink?” Hook asked. “Or do I have to report that there is no hospitality in the 113th?”

With drinks in the officers" hands, the atmosphere was more relaxed when Hook began the second part of his briefing. “Some of you may already know what I am about to tell you,” he said. “But bear with me. I am a general, so you have no choice but to listen.”

For a moment, Jack saw a flash of humour behind Hook"s stern façade.

“You may have heard of the Russian General Skobelev,” Hook said. “His soldiers call him the White General because he always wears a white uniform and rides a white horse. He distinguished himself in the Central Asian campaigns and more recently against the Ottoman Turks. Skobelev is undoubtedly one of the world"s most accomplished generals, and still young enough to do great things for Russia.”

Coming from Hook, that was high praise.

“When Russia conquered Khokand, they renamed the area Fergana and appointed Skobelev as governor.” Hook sipped at his whisky. “Now, General Skobelev is an ambitious man, a thruster, as they say, and he created a plan to invade India. It"s not much different from the old Russian plans, a three-pronged invasion, from Russian bases at Samarkand, Krasnovodsk and Kashgar, plus the usual idea of unrest and uprisings within India itself.”

Jack nodded. The nightmare of the Mutiny was never far from his mind.

“Have we done anything about it, sir?” Major Burridge asked. Five years younger than Jack, he had risen from ensign without having seen any significant action.

Hook sipped at his whisky as he surveyed Burridge. “We have,” he said. “You"ll have heard of John Jacob.” That was a statement rather than a question. Hook was taking it for granted that a senior officer in a British regiment knew the important personalities in India, the undoubted diamond in the Imperial crown.

“Yes, sir,” Burridge said hesitantly.

“You"d be a damned poor officer if you didn"t,” Hook said testily. “John Jacob was a Somerset man, he came through Addiscombe, John Company"s equivalent of Sandhurst and has worked in India all his adult life. He commanded the Sind Irregular Horse, rose to Political Commissioner for Upper Sind, pacified the unruly tribes and made the former raiders haven of Khangur into the peaceful Jacobabad.” Hook kept his gaze fixed on Burridge as he spoke. “Of course, you already know all this.”

Jack leaned back in his chair and tasted his whisky, aware that Hook was appraising his man.

“I do,” Burridge said.

“Then you might know that Jacob suggested we occupy Quetta, on the other side of the Bolan Pass,” Hook said.

“Jacob must want to forestall the Russian advance,” Burridge said. “Skobelev"s plan worries him.”

“Jacob"s been dead for nearly twenty years,” Hook said quietly. “It has taken that long for the British administration to heed his advice, and perhaps they are a little late now.” He finished his whisky and put the glass aside without refilling it.

“As you know, or should know,” Hook glanced at Burridge before addressing the others in the room, “our present prime minister, Disraeli, is inclined to a more forward policy in India. Ever since Afghan War of the forties, we"ve been wary of Afghanistan, content to sit on our North-West Frontier, and keep the Pashtun tribes in relative check. In 1873, Russia agreed that Afghanistan was within our sphere of influence, and that was the extent of our interference.”

“What"s changed, sir?” Windrush asked.

“We have,” Hook said bluntly, “and the Russians have. The Secretary of State for India, Lord Salisbury, appointed Lord Lytton as Governor-General of India, with orders to keep Amir Sher Ali, under control and away from Russian influence.”

Elliot glanced at Jack. “We"ve heard whispers about this, sir,” he said. “You said the 113th is bound for India. Are we going to be involved?”

“All in good time, Colonel Elliot,” Hook said. “Lytton is a highly talented man, and a firm believer in Disraeli"s forward policy, and perhaps a little more. What I say here, gentlemen, will not leave this room.”

There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock that hung on the wall.

“All right. Lytton attempted to send diplomatic missions to Sher Ali, but the Amir refused them. He seemed to be playing a neutral game, and no wonder, with us on one side and an expansive Russia on the other.”

“The Afghans are a very clever people,” Burridge said. “And as devious as a covert of foxes.”

Hook did not respond to Burridge"s words. “Then, last year, Russia and Turkey began their war. We have sent the Royal Navy to the Dardanelles and regiments to Malta, and there are more destined to the Mediterranean.”

“And quite right, too, sir,” Burridge said.

“May I continue?” Hook asked politely. “Thank you. The Russians recently marched fifteen thousand men across Central Asia towards Afghanistan and sabres were rattling from London to Calcutta and St Petersburg to the Oxus.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, watching the tobacco smoke coil above him. He remembered the bravery of the Russian regiments at Inkerman and the power of their artillery at the Redan.

“Now, it seems the crisis has passed,” Hook said. “There is talk of a peace congress in Berlin, with the Prussians offering themselves as brokers.”

“Good,” Jack said, lighting a cheroot. “I don"t care who acts as peacemaker, as long as it succeeds. A Russian army in India would be a nightmare. Was it a genuine threat, sir?”

“What do you think, Windrush? You know these people.”

Jack took a draw of his cheroot before he replied. “I don"t think so, sir. I think it was to draw our attention away from the Dardanelles or warn the Afghans to be careful. Fifteen thousand Russians might be a formidable force, but unless they had a prior arrangement, the Pashtun would cut them to shreds in the passes if they ever got that far. Fifteen thousand is too many for a raid and too few for an invasion.”

Hook smiled. “We agree with that, Windrush. Bluff and counter bluff. Yet I don"t think we"re out of the fire yet. That is one reason we"re posting the 113th to India.”

The words hung in the air for a while.

When Jack closed his eyes, the nightmare resumed, the flames and chaos, the screaming and blood as the sepoys mutinied to spread s*******r across northern and central India. The dreams had been worse recently, Jack thought, reaching for the whisky decanter.

“Are you all right, Windrush?” Hook asked.

“Old memories, sir,” Jack said. I hope it"s only memories and not a portent of the future.

I hope it"s only memories and not a portent of the future.