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Adventures of a Highland Soldier

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Adventures of a Highland Soldier
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Author(s): Charles R. Martin
Date Published: 2011/09
Page Count: 112
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-660-2
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-659-6

The Gordons in Afghanistan and South Africa

Charles Martin’s riveting recollections of his time as a soldier in the ranks of the 92nd, the Gordon Highlanders in the latter part of the nineteenth century during the reign of Victoria, the Queen Empress, is an excellent example of the military first-hand account and will please any student of the period. Martin’s service covered the years from the middle of the 1860s to the middle of the 1880s. This meant he accompanied his regiment to the Indian sub-continent and with them played a full, active and perilous part in the Second Afghan War. Martin’s was an Afghan War at the sharp end and he provides us with an essential account of infantrymen fighting on the ground in this particularly inhospitable environment. The exploits of the highlanders at Kandahar are, of course, well known and Martin covers this period in detail. After the war the Gordons took passage to South Africa where the survivors of so many hard fought battles with the Afghans were faced with the outbreak of the First Boer War and were fated to take part in the disaster that was the Battle at Majuba Hill. On this exposed ground many a brave highlander fell to the ruthless efficiency and superb marksmanship of the Boers. Martin missed being on the hill by the merest coincidence. The sergeant who took his place was killed among his comrades. Martin graphically records the tragedy of Majuba and examines the cause of the appalling outcome using the first hand accounts of two men who fought there—this is a doubly interesting part of this book since these accounts have rarely appeared in print else where.
Leonaur editions are newly typeset and are not facsimiles; each title is available in softcover and hardback with dustjacket.

Here the fighting line is joined by the supports, and after taking a breath and firing a few shots, we advanced by half companies and sections by rushes. This we continued until within a hundred yards of them, but in the onslaught the “Gordons” lost heavily, and so did the gallant “Seventy-Twa.”<br>
Still we pressed forward with the greatest determination. The sound of the pibroch cheering us to the heart’s core. The noise was so great, that the voice of any commander could not be heard; then along the supernumerary rank came the order, “As soon as the bald head of Major White is seen all will advance to the charge!” Major White in a few minutes was at the head of his gallant regiment, pulling off his helmet to show his bald head. At the signal we were off and at them, like tigers. in a few seconds we were in among them, and oh! what slaughter is now going on. Looking around me I see the wee Gourkhas, cutting right and left with their deadly knives; here again I feel myself parrying a blow, or making a lunge at some one—I do not know who. I am like the rest so full of excitement.<br>
This dashing charge of the Highlanders made the rest of the battle easy, for we had swept away the pride of Ayob Khan’s army. But it was in doing this that we suffered so severely. Among the “Gordons,” Colour-Sergeant Fraser, fell, as also did Private Strachan, together with many others. In this dash the 72nd lost their colonel and Captain Frome, together with Sergeant Cameron, whom General Roberts mentioned as being a fine specimen of a Highland soldier. Sergeant Cameron, who was better known as “Curly Cameron,” was a native of Deeside, and was a dear and affectionate friend of the writer.<br>
After turning the tide of the day, we waited a few minutes to get a drink of water. Private MacLachlan, of my own company, when in the act of taking a drink of water, was attacked in the most daring manner by an Afghan who was lying down among the dead. He made straight for Mac’s head; Mac parried off the sword with his left arm, and struck the Afghan right in the teeth with his left. Corporal MacPhail, I think it was, despatched the Afghan with the bayonet. MacLachlan was, of course, badly cut on the forearm and top of his head. Many sights like this were seen during the battle, and the most lamentable of the whole was that of Captain Stratton, commanding the signalling corps under General Roberts. The battle was all over, and Captain Stratton, along with a lance-corporal of the 72nd, were going up Picket Hill to silence the forty pounders, when a wounded Afghan shot our gallant captain through the back, who fell dead at the corporal’s feet. You may be sure the corporal put an end to this coward.<br>
After partaking of a drink of water, we once more advanced to the attack. So on we went in the usual way, forcing everything before us by rushes, and in these encounters some fine acts of bravery were performed; particularly was this the case when we reached within 200 yards of the guns, which were pelting shell into us all day.<br>
Major White’s bald head still held good for the signal to charge. We are now about 100 yards from the guns. Major White rushes in front of the lines, off goes the helmet, and the glossy bald skin of our brave leader glitters in the sunshine. With one terrible bound the Highlanders are in among the gunners before they have time to reload, their infantry and cavalry having bolted at the first sound of the Highland war pipe. The gunners are cut down without mercy. A cheer goes up, and a shout, “The guns, the guns are ours!” Still we keep rushing on, leaving a few men to guard the guns we took. Away to our left are our own cavalry getting ready to make the dash on the now broken army of the once great Ayob Khan. Just as we turn the corner of the valley giving the Afghans chase, the whole of their camp appears in view and a wild rush was now made to rescue our countryman, Hector McLean.<br>
At this time, be it remembered, we thought we had him safe, and it was in our wild search that the great tent of Ayob Khan fell into the hands of the 92nd Highlanders. The writer was among the first to find Lieutenant MacLean’s body lying at the main entrance of Ayob’s tent. When we found him he was quite warm, he was lying on his back, with a pleasant smile on his face. He was in his shirt sleeves with a book, with a green cover beside him; he had twelve bullets through his body. This is all I remember of the poor but brave Hector McLean, for his body was soon carried away by the band to headquarters hospital.
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