Empire of the Sikhs (35 page)

But it was the Sikh artillery, nearly doubled in strength since Ranjit Singh's death, that inflicted most damage, its units carefully taking up fortified positions and waiting for the enemy to attack. Its precision and rapidity of fire were a great surprise to the British, who had consistently underrated the Sikh artillery. One English eyewitness recorded its superior rate of fire at Ferozeshahr: ‘the Sikhs fired their guns in the ratio of thrice to our twice, which multiplies most fearfully the battering power of artillery, and raises the calibre of a six- into a nine-pounder'.
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Another factor in the greater destructive power of the Sikh guns was that many of them were made of heavier metal than their British counterparts, a Sikh four-pounder, for instance, being the weight of a British
six-pounder and able to use double charges of powder, grape and shot. After the battle it was found that the Sikhs had guns of many different calibres, firing up to 24-pound shot. Hardinge reported in his dispatches that the Sikh artillery was better equipped and manned than the British, possessing ‘much superior calibre to the British 9-pounder batteries'.
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Realistic as always, the British took deeply serious note of the opening battle of the First Anglo-Sikh War in their inner councils, because it was soon clear to them that a high price indeed had been paid for what was drummed a victory but was ‘not very far removed from failure'. Over a fifth of the British force had either died on the battlefield or been wounded, despite the fact that the largest body of armed men the British had ever assembled in India now faced the Sikh army on the Sutlej. Inevitably the situation, in a region of critical importance, led to urgent correspondence between the prime minister, Governor-General Hardinge and the commander-in-chief, Sir Hugh Gough, on the handling of political, military and diplomatic affairs in India. One outcome of these high-level exchanges was very strained relations between the governor-general and the commander-in-chief.

Clearly the next battle could not be far off. Tej Singh, who had a unique opportunity to attack British troops after their cavalry had precipitously retreated, did not do so. Instead, his largely unused force slowly began to follow Lal Singh's battle-weary units as they headed back towards the Sutlej. It is interesting to see how the British looked on this amazing withdrawal of largely ‘untouched' Sikh forces: ‘The Sikh leader had only to continue to fire from his heavy guns to win an easy victory, for even the British found the trial almost unendurable. Perhaps Tej Singh did know this, for his … failure to press home his obvious advantages on the 22nd point[s] to his reported reluctance to see the Khalsa beat the British.'
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Continuing to employ his weapon of treachery, on Christmas
Day 1845 Hardinge offered rewards and future pensions to all those who deserted from the Sikh ranks.
‘Hindostanee Proclamation
– Whereas the English Government is anxious to reward … bravery and fidelity … any non-commissioned officer or soldier of the Lahore Government who shall present himself before His Excellency the Governor General, shall be immediately rewarded with the accustomed liberality, and shall have the benefit of invalid pension … In fact, every opportunity of favour and cherishment shall at all times be kept in sight by the Government.'
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This raised double-standards to a new high. The British would have shot their own troops out of hand had they succumbed to such offers.

On New Year's Eve the governor-general issued another proclamation from Ferozepur stating that he had been forced to take steps to punish the Lahore government for their ‘unprovoked aggression' and to prevent them from further acts of treason in the future he ‘called upon all natives of Hindustan who had taken service under the Lahore Government to quit their service at once, and place themselves under the orders of the Governor-General of India. They were ordered to repair to the British side of the Sutlej and to report themselves to the British authorities. If they failed to comply with this order, they were to be considered as having forfeited all claim to British protection, and to be treated as traitors to their country and enemies of the British Government.'
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Few British historians mention the British governor-general's incitement to desertion. While English accounts of events of this period are replete with some real but mostly concocted tales of oriental treachery and barbarities, there is a distinct glossing over of certain facts in order to hide unpalatable truths. For example, in
The Sikhs and the Sikh Wars: The Rise, Conquest, and Annexation of the Punjab State
by Arthur D. Innes and Sir Charles Gough, published in 1891, it is stated that ‘the Sikh War is a standing example of one which was forced upon us, willy-nilly, in spite of long continued efforts to avoid collision in the face of serious
menace from the Sikhs themselves'. The truth is pretty well the exact opposite. Punjab and the whole North-West Frontier of India being high on their agenda of annexations, to buy time the British entered into treaties, identified traitors, settled the price to be paid for their treachery and tried to bribe or buy anyone they possibly could to achieve their ends. This was the game the East India Company played to establish its hold, and when it became an imperial game with much higher stakes the methods used and the means employed became murkier still. But the air of
noblesse oblige
was maintained with aplomb.

With the opportunity to win the First Sikh War squandered away by the two Brahmin leaders masquerading as Sikhs at Ferozeshahr, the two sides again clashed between the villages of Aliwal and Budri on 28 January 1846. With about 12,000 troops sent by each side into the battle, it was bloody in the extreme. The Sikhs lost almost 3,000 men compared to the British casualties which were around 600. Accounts suggest that Sikh losses were a result of the ferocity with which they fought: ‘they knelt to receive the dashing charge of the British Lancers and their Indian comrades; but as these approached, they instinctively rose and delivered their fire. Beneath the charge that followed, they did not yield, nor was it till they had three times been ridden over, that they gave way. After the battle it was found that the ground was more thickly strewn with the bodies of the victorious horsemen than of the beaten infantry.'
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But the Sikhs lost in the end partly because of the river right behind them, which left them no room for manoeuvre; partly because they were totally outflanked and when they jumped into the river to swim across it was under a ‘tempest of shot and shell from the British guns'.

The pinnacle of perfidy was reached at Sabraon during the fourth and last battle of the First Anglo-Sikh War. The parties to the secret deals were Britain's governor-general and the avaricious Gulab Singh of Jammu, who had now become prime minister at
the Lahore Durbar. Sabraon, the last Sikh redoubt on the Sutlej, was of critical importance to the two sides: to the Sikhs because its loss would lay the road to Lahore open to the enemy; to the British because without it they could not establish their writ north of the Sutlej. The British stakes were higher since without a decisive victory at Sabraon the myth of British military superiority would be exposed. The battles they had won over the last few days had neither been convincing victories nor an endorsement of Britain's military might. The painstakingly created self-image of the formidable British had been rudely shaken, which had not gone unobserved by a large number of Indians; the carefully built image of themselves would no longer be unquestionably accepted. With the help of Gulab Singh they made sure that the outcome of the Battle of Sabraon would be in their favour.

Gulab Singh had outwitted the equally perfidious Lal Singh by inveigling himself into the good books of Maharaja Dalip Singh's mother, Rani Jindan Kaur. From this position of power he was in close touch with the governor-general on how best to turn the looming battle to their mutual advantage. Confidential records of the government of India, which include the army chief Sir Hugh Gough's dispatches as also Henry Hardinge's papers, ‘refer with staggering frankness to … the open and avowed treachery of Gulab Singh'.
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But this was just the beginning of the many treasonable acts that would follow. ‘[Hardinge] knew that time was pressing, that the speedy dictation of a treaty under the walls of Lahore was essential to the British. A remedy had to be found that would accomplish this and, at the same time, suit the ends of Gulab Singh, Tej Singh and Lal Singh. It required a policy of discretion allied to shameless treason.'
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Treason this time would be more than shameless. It would have a different face and would be orchestrated by a different conductor. Lal Singh and Tej Singh were once again given military commands, but this time they
would subvert the Sikh army under the direction of Gulab Singh.

The subversion started from the very outset. The thirteen days between the engagements at Aliwal and Sabraon, which should have been used for intensive exercises, manoeuvres and preparations of battlefield positions, were wasted through deliberate inaction. The British were given time to reassemble their forces, which had been in serious disarray since the beginning of the war. On the fateful day of 10 February 1846 when battle was finally joined at Sabraon, the British entered the field with a substantial force – including its Aliwal forces which had been considerably augmented. The battle was fought with daring, with utter disregard for life, and blood was shed as only those men can who have a passionate commitment to their cause. A British military historian, writing of the epochal scene on the battlefield, describes it thus: ‘The Sikhs, seeing their right had been broken into, commenced a rush from all parts of their position to retake it in a strong counter-attack delivered with determination. In vain Stacey's brigade tried to withstand the mass of enemy; Wilkinson's brigade was forced back, and even the addition of Ashburnham's reserve failed to restore the earlier successes. Gradually the three brigades were driven back, disputing every inch of ground but unable to maintain themselves, until the Sikhs finally drove them from the batteries and recaptured the guns.'
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It should come as no surprise that Tej Singh, commander-inchief of the Sikh army, fled the scene of battle not long after the fighting began. At the same time, with complete disregard for the Durbar and for his men, Lal Singh with his cavalry headed for Lahore! Despite the valour with which they now fought as always, and the previous victories they had scored against the British, the Sikhs this time were fighting against hopeless odds because of the series of secret understandings that had been reached between Hardinge and Gulab Singh. The latter ‘had been in direct communication with the British authorities, assuring them of his loyalty
and supplying them information. He was prepared to act as a British agent for the subversion of the State, and the dispersal of the Sikh armies, in return for a British recognition of his independent sovereignty in the hills; and he persistently demanded a reward for his treachery. Henry Lawrence had given him a written assurance on behalf of the British Government, that his interests would be taken into consideration after the termination of hostilities.'
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Since the aim of both the British and Gulab Singh was to ensure the decisive defeat of the Sikh army, the Khalsa's forces were fighting on many fronts, including their own formations, their top leaders being determined to ensure the defeat of the men they had been appointed to lead. Such were the odds that faced the Sikh army at Sabraon. Inevitably the road to Lahore was opened for the British by yet another wanton act of treachery. But before coming to that it is important to note the intensity with which the two sides fought for victory at Sabraon, as was testified by the roar of heavy ordnance, howitzers, mortars, batteries of field artillery, rockets and rifle fire which filled the air around the opposed entrenchments. It was difficult to tell which side was winning and which was desperately trying to hold on. But what was never in doubt, judging by the sound of the cannonades and the din of war as men defied death, was that this war was being fought to the finish.

Lal Singh having already left the field for Lahore, it was now the turn of Tej Singh to show his hand. As he fled over the bridge of boats, ostensibly to reach the Sikh forces on the other side of the Sutlej, his game-plan became clear: ‘by accident or design' his men sank a boat in the middle of the bridge after he had gone ahead.

The river had risen nearly seven feet in flood during the night, so that the fords were impassable, and the damaged bridge made retreat difficult for the now broken Sikhs. Steadily advancing, though still violently opposed, the
British troops … [pushed] before them the still fighting defenders towards the impassable river, or [forced] them into the struggling mass upon the frail, rocking bridge. Suddenly the bridge, overcrowded with guns, horses, soldiers and arms, collapsed into the rapidly running river. The water was alive with a mass of struggling men. The guns, quickly brought up, poured into them a heavy and destructive fire of grape and shrapnel. Few escaped and none surrendered: by half-past ten there was not a live Sikh remaining on the left bank of the Sutlej.
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A number of accounts by officers such as Major-General Sir Harry Smith, Sir James Kempt and others who participated in the various engagements at Sabraon testify to the resoluteness of the Sikh forces. In a letter to his sister, Mrs Sargent, Sir Harry Smith wrote on 25 February 1846: ‘by dint of the hardest fighting I ever saw (except Badajoz, New Orleans and Waterloo) I carried the [Sikh] entrenchments. By Jupiter! the enemy were within a hairsbreadth of driving me back … and such hand-to-hand conflict ensued, for twenty-five minutes I could barely hold my own.'
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In another account by J.D. Cunningham, ‘although assailed on either side by squadrons of horse and battalions of foot, no Sikh offered to submit, and no disciple of Gobind asked for quarter. They everywhere showed a front to the victors … while many rushed singly forth to meet assured death by contending with a multitude. The victors looked with stolid wonderment upon the indomitable courage of the vanquished.'
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Among the high-ranking British officers killed were Sir Robert Dick, veteran of the Waterloo and Peninsular Wars, Brigadier Taylor and Brigadier Maclaran.