Over one and a half million Indian soldiers fought in the First World War, the largest volunteer army from Britain’s imperial dominions. Many soldiers were illiterate and travelled from remote villages in India to fight in the muddy trenches in France and Flanders, and in all the theatres of war.
To write this account of the Indian soldiers on the Western front between 1914 and 1918, the journalist and writer Shrabani Basu accessed the thousands of letters and records to tell the stories of the Hindus, Muslims and Sikh soldiers whose contributions to the war effort have largely been forgotten. In the introduction of the book, Basu writes that the first casualties of the War were not on the Western Front, but on the coast of Chennai (then Madras) where the German ship, SMS Emden, fired 130 shells, killing five soldiers, injuring 13 and causing widespread panic. “So powerful was the effect of the bombing of Madras,” writes Basu, “that the word ‘emden’ entered the Tamil lexicon meaning a ‘person who dares and works with precision.’”
In the excerpt that follows, Basu narrates the story of Maulvi Sadr-ud-Din in 1913, whose displeasure at the treatment of the bodies of the Muslim troops brought about efforts to inter the dead in accordance with their religious beliefs.
Sadr-ud-Din had been requested by the government to bury the Muslim soldiers who died in the hospitals in England. When he consented to do this, the letter was sent to the Viceroy and much publicity given in India to the fact that Muslims would be buried with full religious rites by the Imam of the mosque. Initially the burial ground at Netley Hospital was offered to him, but the Maulvi felt that it was not right for Muslims to be buried in a Christian cemetery. It would also be inconvenient for visitors as they would need the permission of the War Office to visit the burial grounds. Furthermore, as there were six hospitals in the area, it would not be possible for him to go from Woking to the various hospitals to carry out the burials. He had therefore requested that the Muslim soldiers be buried in grounds near the mosque at Woking. It caused a great controversy but ultimately a plot of land was procured. However, the Maulvi, was not satisfied:
I then asked the government whether they would not (1) rail in the cemetery (2) make paths in the ground (3) provide a gravedigger (4) provide a caretaker (5) provide some place where the bodies should be left for the night (6) provide a decent waiting room (7) erect a gateway in Eastern style – however inexpensive – as a Memorial to the fallen Indian soldiers.
At first the government blankly refused to do anything, and many months went past. I could not bury the dead soldiers in the marshy piece of unfenced ground over which people and dogs could stray. Therefore I buried twenty-five of them in the Mahomedan burial ground at Brookwook at my own expense. This is now full, and I have already buried three in the new burial place, but though it is fenced in, it is in such a disgraceful state that it would not be policy to allow the Indian soldiers to go and see the burial place of their comrades. They have frequently asked, but I have had to put them off because – being a loyal subject of His Majesty – I did not desire to raise the resentment which for king and another country must inevitably be felt when the truth becomes known of the manner in which the British government have treated their dead heroes.
I have had bodies sent to me bearing the wrong names, bodies sent without any flowers; bodies sent to me at any hour of the day or night without any previous notice, and no respect shown for them whatever – not even any military demonstration at their graves.
I desire to point out to the government the very grave danger of allowing the impression to gain ground in India that England is not showing sufficient respect to the memories of her Indian heroes.
I need not enlarge upon the very serious effect which an exposure of this kind would make, both among the soldiers at the front, and the entire population throughout India.
The Maulvi’s scathing letter was not received well by Walter Lawrence, who was in charge of the welfare of Indian soldiers. Lawrence blamed Sadr-ud-Din for the problems.
The Maulvi’s letter nevertheless had the desired effect. Efforts were made to ensure that the bodies of the Muslim soldiers were taken to Woking from hospitals in Brighton, Bournemouth and Netley in a convoy, with the body in a hearse and forty to fifty mourners in lorries. The Assistant Quarter Master of the Muslim priest at Woking Mosque, D.R. Thaper, wrote that each death meant a whole day’s travel to London and back. Though Thaper was not a Muslim, he soon became proficient as an undertaker and the chief mourner. To make the Muslims feel that they had not been neglected, the souvenir on the Brighton Pavilion mentioned the fact that the Muslims were taken to Woking accompanied by a Muslim doctor and that the burial was conducted with full military funerals honours including a firing party. This was circulated in India for the satisfaction of those Muslims who may have been critical of the British government for fighting the Turks.
A letter written from Brighton in January 1916 described the funeral of a fellow Muslim soldier: ‘A fine coffin was provided on which his name and age were engraved. The inside was lined with silk cloth and cushions of silk. In our country doubtless only the greatest in the land are furnished with coffins of this sort. He was buried in a Muslim cemetery near London with great honour and dignity.’
It was decided that the Hindu soldiers who died in the hospitals would be cremated on the South Downs in Patcham near Brighton. The ‘burning ghats of Patcham’ consisted of three cement platforms built on the Downs on which the funeral pyres were lit. A corrugated tin roof provided shelter from the elements and a Brahmin priest performed the last rites. The tranquil spot with its sweeping views over the Downs made it the perfect place for the last rites of the Hindu and Sikh soldiers. The reporter for The Times newspaper witnessing a funeral in October 1915 reported: ‘but a short time ago to find its parallel, one must have journeyed thousands of miles. For this was the burning ghat of our Hindu troops.’
Fifty-three Indian soldiers were cremated on the Downs and their ashes scattered in the sea near Brighton. Subedar Manta Singh was one of them. He had been brought to the Kitchener General Hospital after he was injured in the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. The Chief Resident Officer recorded his wounds: ‘one, gunshot wound, left leg, two, gangrene of leg and toxaemia.’ The gangrene had spread across his leg and the doctors told him they would have to amputate it. ‘What use would a cripple be to his family,’ moaned Manta Singh. The young Sikh despaired about his wife and son in Punjab. Despite the amputation, there was no hope for Manta Singh. The infection spread in his body and he died in the hospital a few weeks later. Lying on a hospital bed, his friend, Captain Henderson, heard the news of the death of the man who had saved his life.
In August 1915 Lieutenant Das Gupta of the Indian Medical Service, approached the Mayor of Brighton, John Otter, for permission to erect a memorial on the site where the cremations took place. Otter was immediately enthusiastic, taking on the role as Chair of the Indian Memorial Committee of Brighton. He proposed a memorial at the site for king and another country of the crematorium and another on the walls of the Brighton Pavilion to mark the link the town had with the Indians. Otter was later knighted for his services.
In December that year, Sir Walter Lawrence also proposed to the India Office ‘on political and historical grounds’ to do something to preserve the memory of the Indian soldiers who had died in England and France. In response to his note, a War Office staffer suggested that the Army Council make arrangements for the erection of ‘adequate memorials’ starting with the cemeteries at Netley and Brockenhurst. The notes eventually reached the Secretary of State for India, Austen Chamberlain, who had visited the Indians in hospital, and on 16 February 1916 he recommended that ‘where cremation has been resorted to, a simple monument of an oriental character should be erected on the site of the crematorium’. Brighton Council agreed to bear half the costs along with the India Office. The architect Sir Swinton Jacob was consulted who proposed a structure in an Indian chhatri-style built with granite, sandstone and marble. The umbrella design symbolising the protection offered to the memory of the dead was completed by E.C. Henriques. The dome and eight pillars would be of Sicilian marble in keeping with Indian traditions and three large granite slabs would be laid over the original platform of the crematorium. The marble from Sicily, however, could only arrive after the war and construction began in 1920. The memorial was inaugurated on 21 February 1921 by the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII. Inscribed in Hindi and English were the words: ‘To the memory of all the Indian soldiers who gave their lives for their King-Emperor in the Great War, this monument, erected on the site of the funeral pyre where the Hindus and Sikhs who died in hospital at Brighton, passed through the fire, is in grateful admiration and brotherly affection dedicated.’
Excerpted from From King and Another Country by Shrabani Basu, and published by Bloomsbury.