NOVPUBAfghanistan’s winter was very cold, yet the piercing chill did not halt the march of war. It was hard to tell whether the British were too incompetent or the Russians too formidable.
In the last month of 1889, the Russian Army captured Mazar-i-Sharif, Kunduz, and Qah-e-Qaran one after another, and a fifth of the Afghan Region’s territory changed hands.
Even the Wakhan Corridor and Herat, where the British Army had concentrated heavy forces, were on the brink of collapse, at risk of being overrun at any moment.
Opening the window, a cold wind howled through. Gazing at the swirling snowflakes, General Patrick shuddered.
The ghastly weather of minus ten degrees was just too unfriendly for the British Army; Britannia had never seen such cold days.
To say nothing of going out to battle, even while staying in a heated command post, General Patrick felt the wintry wind cut to the bone.
The bureaucrats back home misjudged the situation; the winter clothing they prepared was based on domestic temperatures and was utterly useless.
Luckily, the bureaucrats of the logistics department carried on their fine tradition and prepared winter clothing based on previous personnel numbers.
The dead and missing soldiers naturally did not need them, and the officers and men on assignment could wear two layers of winter clothing.
Even so, with winter’s arrival, the British Army was experiencing a sharp increase in non-combat casualties. In some areas, non-combat casualties even exceeded those wounded or killed in action against the Russian Army.
The front line setbacks were less about the prowess of the Russian Army than the grueling Afghan winter.
Especially for some soldiers from the tropical regions of India, Afghanistan’s winter was a living hell.
Hands, feet, ears, face... there wasn’t a single exposed part of the body that wasn’t affected.
By contrast, the Russian Army was faring much better. Though they had non-combat casualties as well, they were few and far between.
Apart from certain areas, Afghanistan’s winter was a warm winter compared to the Russian Empire.
The outcome was predictable—Russian soldiers thrived here, while the British Army’s days dragged on interminably.
The thunder of cannon continued, and the battle for Herat began anew. General Patrick, who personally took command of the front lines, was now in a panic.
He finally understood why the Russians had dared to initiate war before the onset of winter.
"When can we expect reinforcements from home?"
Hoping for reinforcements from India was futile. The war had gone on for three months, and the Governor of India had already dispatched one hundred and fifty thousand troops to his aid.
The number seemed substantial, but unfortunately, their combat effectiveness was deeply moving. Defending by fortifications was barely adequate, but joining an open field battle was tantamount to sending men to their deaths.
Furthermore, with the onset of winter, a significant number of the Indian soldiers accustomed to living in tropical regions suffered from frostbite, with nearly one-tenth losing their combat capability.
By comparison, the native British soldiers from Britain fared much better, both in combat effectiveness and frost resistance.
The British Isles did experience winter, and although not as cold as this, they still endured days of sub-zero temperatures.
Under these circumstances, the general adaptability of British soldiers was much superior to that of Indian soldiers who had never seen a snowflake.
The middle-aged officer behind him answered, "Barring any accidents, the first batch of reinforcements from home will arrive in one and a half months."
It took only four and a half months from the outbreak of combat to the arrival of reinforcements, which was an improvement for the Great Britain Empire.
According to past practice, it was considered a mark of bureaucratic diligence to dispatch reinforcements within six months.
Of course, their efficiency this time was born of desperation. The enemy was the formidable Russians, targeting India, making it hard for the British Government not to panic.
Despite the efficiency not being low, General Patrick was still dissatisfied. The situation on the front lines was urgent, and the longer the delay, the harder the future battles would be.
"Send another message to hurry them along, and also inform them to prepare cold-weather gear; Afghanistan’s winter is not easy to endure."
Although such statements might already be a bit late, General Patrick chose to issue the reminder.
Being the Expeditionary Force Commander was not easy; the casualties of the Indian Colonial Army were of no consequence, but if the main British force suffered heavy losses, General Patrick would be in big trouble.
There was no hope of immediate aid from home. Although they reported the situation encountered by the expeditionary force, it would take time for those lords back home to make decisions, then organize production and transportation. By then, winter would probably be nearly over.
Asking the reinforcements to prepare for the cold was essentially telling the officers and men to figure it out for themselves.
The British Army had to pass through many areas along the way and, in theory, they might be able to procure some cold-weather supplies.
After all, their lives were their own, and whether they wanted to spend money to increase their chances of survival on the battlefield—they could choose for themselves.
…
Braving the cold wind, a convoy slowly left Jerman city. Judging from the direction the convoy was headed, it was reasonably certain it was bound for the Afghan Region.
"Pull yourselves together; we’re about to enter the Afghan Region. It’s not safe over there, and one slip could mean meeting God ahead of schedule."
The middle-aged officer’s resounding voice traveled throughout the convoy, and everyone’s expression turned grave.
The Afghan Region was unstable— Russian troops blockaded from the outside, guerrillas rampaging within, and even seemingly honest and upright farmers might rise up and attack the convoy at any moment.
In less than a year, the British supply convoys were attacked 476 times, with 46 of them suffering heavy losses, and in five cases, the entire contingent was wiped out.
In total, 1371 escorting soldiers and 3476 civilian husbands were killed, and the lost supplies were beyond calculation.
High risk also meant high rewards; although escorting supplies was dangerous, the gains were considerable.
In general, some material loss during transportation was acceptable. This was where everyone made their money, and as long as losses didn’t exceed the set limit, the higher-ups would not investigate.
If they encountered an attack by guerrillas, they could report the damages and make a good sum.
As long as they didn’t go too far, the authorities would turn a blind eye. Of course, they had to give their due share of it.
If it weren’t for the rampant guerrillas in the Afghan Region, transporting supplies was actually a cushy job.
There was plenty of room for profit-making and little danger. If the front lines were victorious, the convoy played no small role; if the war was lost, it had nothing to do with them. Typically, it was the preferred assignment for officers seeking to embellish their record.
Unfortunately, the Afghan Region was the exception. Just from the casualty rate, the transport teams’ losses were no smaller than those on the front lines.
Those with connections within the expeditionary force were in charge of transporting supplies within India, while those tasked with transport duties in the Afghan Region were the ones with insufficient clout.
A young officer responded, "Don’t worry, Major. We have walked this route over a dozen times and encountered only one attack by disorganized civilians; the truly dangerous section lies ahead."
This was a fact; the deeper one ventured into Afghan territory, the more dangerous it became, a consensus among the British Army. Most attacks occurred in inland areas, especially the mountainous and forested regions being the most perilous.
After a long period of attacks and counterattacks, the British Army had developed a set of strategies for dealing with guerrilla forces.
For example, in the event of an surprise attack, they would retaliate against the local populace, forcing them to take a stand against the guerrillas.
To establish their dominance, the British Army had frequently resorted to slaughtering villages and towns. While fueling the hatred of the locals, they also instilled fear.
Human nature is the most complex; not all Afghans were willing to face death unflinchingly, just as there were those who, for their own benefit, betrayed the guerrillas and sided with the British Army.
The more densely populated an area, the less conducive it was for guerrillas to hide. It was also more difficult for them to escape after an attack, which is why most assaults were moved to the outskirts of towns.
"Shut up, Will! Your so-called experience is worthless. To live long on the battlefield, the most important thing is to be cautious..."
The middle-aged officer hadn’t finished speaking when a bullet whistled through the air and struck his right arm.
Immediately, a barrage of confused gunfire erupted, and everyone knew that the guerrillas had arrived. Amid the chaos, the civilian workers responsible for escorting the supplies were in disarray, and some of the horse-drawn carts had already bolted.
The escorting soldiers quickly grabbed their weapons to fight back, and the wounded middle-aged officer endured the pain to continue commanding the battle.
Seemingly realizing that the convoy was not an easy target, the guerrillas abandoned their plans for a continued assault after about a quarter of an hour and left behind several corpses as they made their escape.
Similar attacks were a nearly daily occurrence in the Afghan Region. The guerrillas went out for ambushes as though it were routine business.
They didn’t care about the disparity in strength between the two sides, attacking the British Army whenever they encountered them. Immediately after attacking, they would retreat without delay.
Seeing the guerrillas withdraw, the wounded middle-aged officer heaved a sigh of relief and hurriedly shouted to his subordinates, "Stop the pursuit, quickly count the casualties and continue marching."
Their mission was to transport supplies, not to chase down guerrillas. Obliterating the guerrillas would be an incidental military achievement, but should they lose the supplies in an attempt to exterminate the guerrillas, they would be facing a military tribunal.
There were plenty of cautionary tales in this regard. Some had fallen for diversionary tactics, chasing out after the guerrillas only to have their transport convoys ambushed; others pursued the guerrillas into the mountains, only to be pushed right back, meeting with dire outcomes...
There weren’t many people in the transport convoy, just over eight hundred civilian workers aside from a battalion of guards, so counting the casualties was swift.
Moments later, Will’s young officer approached and reported, "Major, we have suffered heavy losses.
A total of 184 casualties. Of those, 27 guards injured and 11 dead, 127 civilian workers injured and 19 dead, and 7 carts of supplies lost..."
The middle-aged officer waved his hand—possibly touching his wound, his face suddenly turned pale—and instructed enduring the pain, "Send the order to continue marching.
We must reach the next outpost before dark; otherwise, it will be dangerous come nightfall."
This was the experience summarized by Colonel Jack; any convoy targeted by guerrillas would not be attacked just once.
Oftentimes, even if the guerrillas knew an attack could not succeed, they would still initiate it. They were like sticky candy that, once attached, couldn’t be shaken off.
Colonel Jack dared not linger even when faced with an attack by a lone guerrilla, let alone an assault by a group of dozens.
Seeing Colonel Jack’s right arm injured, Will, concerned, asked, "Major, why don’t you treat your wound first? If you delay, it could easily become infected."
Gunshot wounds were also fatal wounds back then. Even if the bullet only hit an arm, if not treated in time, the wound could become inflamed, and the person could similarly lose their life.
Many soldiers who underwent amputation didn’t necessarily lose their limbs to shrapnel. It could have been just a bullet scrape. Because the body couldn’t fight off infection, the wound became inflamed, and amputation became necessary.
Colonel Jack shook his head, "Treat what? We don’t have military doctors here, and besides, we don’t have time to delay.
Don’t worry, I’ve already bandaged it. It’s winter now; it’s not so easy to get an infection.
Take the wounded and set off immediately. Leave the fallen officers and soldiers for now, we’ll retrieve their bodies when we come back."
Reality was that cruel, even mid-ranking officers had no guarantee of safety on the battlefield. Explore hidden tales at freewebnovel
The British Army’s medical hospitals were extremely limited, not luxurious enough to be equipped with medical personnel for the transport teams.
Even if there were medical personnel, Colonel Jack wouldn’t dare to receive treatment at this time.
As the commander of this transport convoy, Jack was very clear about what his men were made of.
Despite just having repelled an attack by the guerrillas, whether they could withstand another attack was still an unknown.
It wasn’t that the troops lacked combat strength, but rather that their morale had been worn down.
Already feeling hard done by having to transport supplies in freezing conditions, if they lost their morale as well, the soldiers would desert.
There had been actual cases in the past where, due to the transport teams being attacked by guerrillas multiple times, the soldiers escorting the supplies couldn’t bear the pressure and deserted.
To reduce the risk of being attacked again, Colonel Jack had to hurry on his journey. So much so that there was no time to deal with the bodies of the fallen officers and soldiers.
Anyone with clear insight knew that "coming back to deal with them" was just a stalling term. By the time they had escorted the supplies and returned, the bodies would long be unaccounted for.
But people are selfish. Apart from the issue of the mission, everyone deeply resisted the idea of spending the night in the wilderness. It’s not that they couldn’t endure hardships; it was genuinely dangerous.
As the convoy moved on, the land fell silent once more, with only the scattered corpses on the ground serving as proof that a battle had taken place there.
The night fell, and the British Army’s transport convoy finally arrived at Takar Town, ending their perilous journey for the time being.
In the wilderness, a few young men huddled by a campfire whispering to each other.
A middle-aged man with a beard spoke sharply, "I disagree with your plan. It’s not yet time for a decisive battle with the British. Attacking Takar Town now will only bring us unnecessary losses.
Russia is only our temporary ally. Don’t you naively think that they’re here to genuinely help us drive out the British?"
"He who takes the king’s shilling sings the king’s tune."
With the weapon aid from Russia, the combat power of the Afghan Guerrillas had significantly improved, as evidenced by the success rate of their recent actions.
No matter the improvement, relying on a guerrilla force of only a few hundred to storm a town controlled by the British was still high pressure.
…
