CHAPTER XXVI

THE SHIPKA BATTLES

Fighting in the Shipka - Extraordinary bravery of the Turk - Bedjib Pasha - Disgraceful indifference of Turkish Generals - My reports reach home and Suleiman grows nasty - An irresponsible ruffian - I leave Turkey, and say goodbye to the reader.

AS the Turkish attacks on the Shipka Pass must always remain celebrated in the annals of war, a brief description of some of them may not be without interest. For five consecutive days - of which the following is an epitome - the Nizams - the Turkish regulars were recklessly hurled against a position practically impregnable. But to understand that position it is necessary to give a short description of its topography.

Imagine the rocky crest of a mountain pass over which winds a good road, and - for the Russian position - the apex of the crest a strongly fortified situation, carrying heavy Krupp guns which can be trained down the pass, and itself defended by five other positions lower down placed on spurs - which radiating from the central position - touch the plain on the Tundja side, and are separated from each other by valleys from five hundred to four thousand feet deep, some thickly wooded, others rocky and almost inaccessible. But each of these spurs, though commanded by the central position is itself a fortress with guns of

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THE SHIPKA BATTLES

heavy and light calibre, and further protected by rifle-pits. It will thus be seen that every one of these works must be carried simultaneously with the central one, or they remain untenable from the gunfire of each other and of the top. To the right of the Russians was a high peak, which completely dominated the Pass, and here the Turks, with incredible labour and great loss of life, had established some guns. But unfortunately their range was not great enough to reach all the enemy's batteries, or the battles that followed would never have been fought, whereas the heavier Russian guns easily reached this peak battery. To maintain this position was most arduous work for the Turks, for everything, including water, had to be carried up from below, the sides of the hills being so steep that not only had the guns and wagons to be moored to stakes driven into the interstices of the rocks, but that frequently an avalanche of stones would come hurtling down from above, not infrequently killing men who - climbing up with loads on their backs - were unable to get rapidly enough out of their track. I saw several men thus struck, when, leaving my horse at the foot of this deadly hill, I climbed up, often on hands and knees, to see what was going on on the top. And a curious spectacle it was. The crest of this hill resembled the back of a book standing on its two edges, forming a precipice on both sides. The Russian shells were knocking off the sharp ridge in large masses, sending the débris rolling down the Turkish side. And in face of this the Turks were getting guns into position. Marvellous work it was - intrepidity and cool indifference to death. For one after the other, as each man climbed to the crest, he was shot down or blown to atoms. Yet on they went, their method being to carry up stones, fill the crevices of the rocks, and make loop-holes for the muzzles of the guns, which were dragged

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TURKISH BRAVERY

up with ropes from below and placed on platforms made with rocks and stakes. Of course it was soon seen that these guns could do nothing to destroy the Russian positions, but they were valuable in protecting the assaulting columns of the Turks from counter-attacks on the Russian side, so that practically, until the Turks got close up to the lowest of the Russian positions, the flank was protected by their own guns on the peak.

Of the courage of the Ottoman troops it is impossible to speak too highly : properly led, they would conquer the world. But, unfortunately for them, they rarely are, and the Shipka was no exception. Not that their Generals lacked courage, for I think the bravest man I ever saw, either in war or peace, was Redjib Pasha, a quite young man who commanded at the Peak. Lying in safety myself behind the breastwork of the battery, I often saw the Pasha stand up above the sky-line completely exposed, with shell, and splinters of rock flying over his head. I could not detect the slightest change of feature in him or see him flinch, and any one who knows what it is to face a well-directed shell-fire will appreciate this. For the bravest unconsciously wince, and men - by no means cowards - instinctively crouch down. Redjib Pasha spoke French fairly well and I remember shouting out to him that he ought to keep under cover, but he answered, "Même un soldat Turque a besoin d'un bon example." From another hill I witnessed the first assault. A large force of Turks in a compact mass, clouds of Circassian and Bashi-bazouks hanging on their rear but keeping out of range, advanced up the road which, as I said, is broad and good. Arrived at a bend of the road, the force divided, one part penetrating a ravine where they encountered a large force of Russians - which the Turks routed - and then rejoined the main column. It was

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THE SHIPKA BATTLES

impossible to withhold admiration from the gallant way in which the Turks, though decimated by fire from above, advanced against the positions. But, alas ! it was wasted valour, for when within some three hundred yards of their objective I saw a sudden halt and the whole column fall back, having lost, I believe, some twelve hundred men. But the Turks succeeded in holding their own lower down, and during the night threw up earthworks and remained there.

But this was not an isolated case of want of leading or of failure for want of reinforcements. There is not a shadow of doubt that if Suleiman had chosen he could have captured the entire Russian position that first day. But it did not suit his book to do so. As to the rest of his Generals, they all took their cue from him, for, whilst the blood of their soldiers was being spilt in aimless profusion on the hills, I frequently came across a batch of these dunder-headed Orientals lying ensconced behind an earth-work, or protected by some old Roman tumulus - of which there were many in the neighbourhood - smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee, looking at each other in that silent, phlegmatic stare, so peculiarly exasperating to a man of action, but so eminently characteristic of Orientals. I remember a typical instance of how battles were lost, when one day, having ridden down at a gallop with an orderly from the front to request that reinforcements might be sent up immediately, we came across just such a bevy, of whom two or three were most distinctly drunk. With great difficulty the General in command of that Division was finally got to grasp what was going on and what was wanted, when, fumbling in some unfathomable pocket in his trousers, which were tight to bursting, he produced a small piece of Indian ink, wrapped up in a rag, and after scrawling some unintelligible hieroglyphics on a piece of whitey-brown paper, in which food had been

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HOW BATTLES ARE LOST

wrapped, he proceeded to affix his seal to this precious document : first wetting his finger, then dabbing it on the Indian ink, then pressing it on this seal which he fished out of some other pocket and picked at with a pin to get the dust out of the engraving. He then shouted loudly - for Ali or Osman or some other orderly - who spent half an hour trying to find his horse and another half-hour in an endeavour to grasp what was wanted of him, namely, that he should try to find the Commander-in-Chief to ask permission to send the reinforcement. But as no living soul was ever informed where Suleiman Pasha was going or what he was at, it took the orderly four hours to find him, when precisely the same writing process began again, so that it was close on six hours before the reinforcement began even to move up the hill. By this time, however, the Turks had been driven out of the position which they had taken with astonishing heroism and had been holding against immense odds.

" What does it matter ! " said a Turkish Colonel to me when I spoke of this deadly dilatoriness. " Has not His Imperial Majesty thousands of Nizams, and do you think they will do their work less well to-morrow because they will have to step over the dead bodies of comrades ? "

Day after day I witnessed these desperate assaults made with the wildest cheering and enthusiasm and all for nothing, except to leave a thousand or so of them amongst the dead, their souls with Allah in Paradise, and the less fortunate wounded to crawl back as fast as they could - under cover of night - to such treatment as they might expect at the hands of a Turkish surgeon - to spin out their lives, sheared of an arm or leg, their pension pocketed by the Seraskier and his friends.

For a short time, on the third morning of these

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THE SHIPKA BATTLES

assaults, it seemed that the Turks would really carry the Russian positions. Columns had been pushed up in the dark and a general assault began with the first streak of dawn. Nothing could exceed the valour of these men as they pressed on - their comrades falling by twenties and thirties on all sides of them. Still on they went, men swinging themselves up by the branches of trees and scrambling over difficult rocks - in face of a galling fire - and as I watched with my glass I could see that the foremost amongst these indomitable heroes were within a few yards of some of the enemy's earthworks. I saw a large body of Russian troops evacuate these places and fly precipitately up the hill, as if fearing to face the bayonets of men who seemed so indifferent to death. Loud above the incessant rattle of musketry and the scream of the shrapnel I could hear the wild shout of " Allah ! Allah ! " - and my heart seemed to stand still as if I were about to witness the decisive moment of an epoch-making victory. I cannot describe the exultation I felt : for, whatever one may think of the cause, it is the incidents of warfare which arouse one's enthusiasm or enlist one's sympathy. Victory was practically in their grasp - the history of the war hung in the balance, when lo ! for some never explained reason, the Turks began to fall back, even though many of them were actually inside the Russian works and I could see them helping others over the fascines and gabions.

I never learnt the cause of this disastrous failure - whether treachery or simply from want of leaders - but be it what it may the entire mass of Turkish soldiers began to retire and in a short time - so near was I, though in a position of complete safety - I saw a Russian officer frantically waving his arms and cheering his men back into their own rifle-pits.

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FRIENDS IN DEATH

As night came on I rode down the hill and met the Ottoman troops. It was impossible not to feel the deepest sympathy for them. Fortunately, few knew how near had been their victory, or I think that even their stoical obedience would have given way - to wreak vengeance on the indolent - or traitorous - imbeciles who commanded them.

The day following this there was an entire cessation of hostilities, and I went over the ground where the fighting had been most severe. From the extraordinary way in which the trees and bushes had been cut to pieces by bullets and broken shell the wonder was any one ever came out alive of what must have been an awful fire. The surface of the ground was broken by hundreds of small mounds where the dead were buried, and so insufficiently had this been performed that here and there a hand or knee protruded above the earth-heaps, adding a ghastly aspect to the gloomy woods. Many dead, both Moslem and Christian - friends in death - lay side by side still unburied, their bodies already stripped by the Circassians - who were now to be seen everywhere - whilst occasionally, out of idle curiosity, some new-comer would lift the cloth - which the pious Mahommedan invariably threw over the faces of friend and foe alike - to discover their nationality. Groups of Turks - tired of digging - were sitting about smoking cigarettes, chatting and laughing with absolute unconcern, whilst others were collecting piles of rifles - over a thousand of Russian arms alone. I saw lying about numbers of Russian regimental caps and accoutrements, numbered 53, 54, 55, and 56, evidence to me that the Russians were steadily and systematically falsifying the return of their losses, invariably returning their dead as Bulgarian irregulars, in every case of a Russian defeat, in order to detract from the merit of their enemy, the Turks, in having gained a victory

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THE SHIPKA

over Russian regulars. But in every case of a Russian success, by some unknown process of metempsychosis, all alike became Russian regulars - precisely as we saw in Manchuria, where the Japanese, according to the latest official Russian reports of that war, never once encountered real Russian troops - but only hordes of ill-trained, half-savage Siberians. Ungenerous lying ! and followed soon after by claiming as victories, battles which were simply routs. On the other hand, through-out the Russo-Turkish war I did not come across one single instance where the Turks had condescended to this paltry, ignoble form of falsehood. The Turk is rarely a liar.

* * * * *

But my time with the army of Suleiman was running short, for - as my letters to the Times of that date clearly show - I could not disguise my disgust or avoid hinting my suspicion of this incomparable scoundrel, Suleiman Pasha, who justly expiated his crimes by the bow-string not long after, when his treason was brought to light. My comments were telegraphed out to the Sublime Porte, and of course finally reached Suleiman's ears, when I received a request - tantamount to an order - to leave his army. I deliberated for some few days as to whether I would obey or whether I would refer the matter to our Ambassador. But I soon saw - indeed, it was practically borne in on me by an order from Suleiman - that I was not to be allowed to circulate in the army ; and that it would be idle, if not dangerous, to remain. For Suleiman, who had not stuck at assassinating a Sultan or taking the life of his bosom friend and protégé, the Hungarian, whom I have before mentioned, would not have felt any compunction in arranging that so dangerous a foe as he considered me should

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1 BID GOODBYE TO SULEIMAN

disappear off his path. Nothing would have been easier than to have had me knocked on the head by a Bashi-bazouk, who - even if he had been found out, which was extremely unlikely, as I constantly rode about alone in the wild parts of the hills - would have pleaded that he had taken me for a Russian spy. So I decided to leave, but before doing so I wrote a letter to Suleiman - which was very indiscreet, as I still was in the midst of his army and had many, many miles between me and any place out of his reach, such as Adrianople - in which I told him that I had been sent out by a newspaper, which could not be bought, to tell the truth of what I saw, however much it might displease a Marshal of Turkey or suit the political necessities of Party in England.

Moreover, my back being up, I determined not to let him think I was in the least concerned what he thought or what he might do ; so, when ready to start - he having refused me an escort and left me to look after myself when travelling through the vast army of camp-followers and cut-throats which surrounded us - I rode up to his tent and told his A.D.C. I had come to say goodbye. But the Pasha practically declined to see me, by giving no answer to the A.D.C., and the last I saw of him was sitting cross-legged on the carpet of his tent, his filthy hands mechanically fingering a string of amber beads, his beard matted and dirty, his coat unbuttoned, and no shoes on his feet. But, lying by his side, was a superb gold and jewelled sword lately sent him by that Sultan who, it was said, shivered whenever the name of the murderer of his uncle, Abdul Aziz, was mentioned.

* * * * *

I reached Constantinople without any adventure and here I found that there was an official order for me to

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VIENNA

quit the Sultan's territory, and, telegraphing home to Printing House Square, got instructions to go to Vienna. Arriving there, I found the paper wished me to go to Plevna, but I debated in my mind whether it would be strictly loyal to many friends whom I had left behind - notably to the Second in Command of Suleiman's army, who had always supplied me with all the information he had about the resources of Turkey and concerring the affairs of the country. I saw at once that if anything did leak out, although myself perfectly innocent of giving information, my friends in Turkey would think I had been culpably indiscreet and that my enemies - and none sooner than Suleiman - would accuse me of treason. But what I think mainly decided me in declining to cross over to the Russian side was the importunity of the Russian Embassy and its emissaries, who literally besieged my hotel and bombarded me with questions of the very nature I could not disclose, and I saw that to be subjected to this for months and months, in daily and hourly contact with an army staff which would laugh at honourable scruples, would become intolerable, and that unless I sided with Russia entirely I should possibly be looked on by this staff as a Turkish spy. I need not refer .to the rouble, for, of course, any one with the most elementary knowledge of things Russian will understand that this also came prominently into play. For the value of the Times opinion was always worth many thousands.

So I finally decided that, though so greatly against my own interest, I would return to England, which I did forthwith, and thus brought to a termination one of the most interesting portions of my life.

In closing these pages, however, I would wish to say that my life of activity by no means came to an end on my return home, for Fate brought me in contact with

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GOODBYE

many of the makers of history and led my footsteps into many distant lands.

It is possible I may relate the incidents of my later life in another work, and with that hope I take leave of my readers.

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