The Story of the Guides | Page 4

was laid aside
for the dust-coloured uniform which half a century later, under the now
well-known name of khaki, became the fighting dress of the whole of
the land forces of the Empire.
The spot chosen for raising the new corps was Peshawur, then the
extreme outpost of the British position in India, situated in the land of
men born and bred to the fighting trade, free-lances ready to take
service wherever the rewards and spoils of war were to be secured.
While fully appreciating the benefits of accurate drill, and the minute
attention to technical detail, bequeathed as a legacy by the school of
Wellington, Lumsden upheld the principle that the greatest and best
school for war is war itself. He believed in the elasticity which begets
individual self-confidence, and preferred a body of men taught to act
and fight with personal intelligence to the highly-trained impersonality
which requires a sergeant's order before performing the smallest duty,
and an officer's fostering care to forestall its every need.

Holding such views, it is with no surprise we read that, while his men
were still under the elementary training of drill instructors borrowed
from other regiments, Lumsden led them forth to learn the art of war
under the blunt and rugged conditions of the Indian frontier. To march,
not through peaceful lanes, but with all the care and precautions which
a semi-hostile region necessitated; to encamp, not on the quiet village
green where sentry-go might appear an unmeaning farce, but in close
contact with a vigilant and active race of hard fighters, especially
skilled in the arts of surprises and night-attacks; to be ready, always
ready, with the readiness of those who meet difficulties half way,--such
were the precepts which the hardy recruits of the Guides imbibed
simultaneously with the automatic instruction of the drill-sergeant.
Nor was it long before Lumsden had an opportunity of practically
demonstrating to the young idea his methods of making war. The corps,
barely seven months old, was encamped at Kàlu Khan in the plain of
Yusafzai, when sudden orders came, directing it to make a night-march,
with the object of surprising and capturing the village of Mughdara in
the Panjtar Hills. In support of the small band of Guides was sent a
troop of Sikh cavalry, seasoned warriors, to stiffen the young
endeavour and hearten the infant warrior. Marching all night, half an
hour before daylight the force arrived at the mouth of a narrow defile,
three-fourths of a mile long, leading to the village, and along which
only one horseman could advance at a time. Nothing dismayed, and led
by the intrepid Lumsden, in single file the Guides dashed at full gallop
through the defile, fell with fury on the awakening village, captured and
disarmed it, and brought away, as trophies of war, its chief and three
hundred head of cattle. To add to the modest pride taken in this bright
initial feat of arms, it was achieved single-handed, for the supporting
troop of Sikhs failed to face the dark terrors of the defile and remained
behind. This opening skirmish was the keynote to many an after
success. It helped to foster a spirit of alert preparedness, readiness to
seize the fleeting opportunity, and courage and determination when
once committed to action. These seeds thus planted grew to be some of
the acknowledged attributes of the force as it blossomed into maturity
under its gallant leader.

During the first year of its existence the young corps was engaged in
several more of the same class of enterprise, and in all acquitted itself
with quiet distinction. As, however, the history of one is in most
particulars that of another, it will not be necessary to enter into a
detailed account of each.
The British in the Peshawur Valley, as elsewhere in the Punjab, were in
a somewhat peculiar position. They were not administering, or policing,
the country on behalf of the British Government, but in the name of the
Sikh Durbar. In the Peshawur Valley, in which broad term may be
included the plains of Yusafzai, the Sikh rule was but feebly
maintained amidst a warlike race of an antagonistic faith. In the matter
of the collection of revenue, therefore, the ordinary machinery of
government was not sufficiently strong to effect regular and punctual
payment; and consequently, when any village or district was much in
arrears, it became customary to send a body of troops to collect the
revenue. If the case was merely one of dilatoriness, unaccompanied by
hostile intent, the case was sufficiently met by the payment of the
arrears due, and by bearing the cost of feeding the troops while the
money was being collected. But more often, dealing as they were with
a weak and discredited government, the hardy warriors of the frontier,