The Sabre's Edge

ashamed, and not a little angry.

Rangoon, 17 May 1824

My dear Somervile,

I am very afraid that your strictures regarding the assumptions on which this war is prosecuted appear already to have been most sadly prescient. We made a landing here but one week ago against opposition unworthy of mention, but the populace has not risen in our support. Indeed, the native people are nowhere to be seen, and with them, we may suppose, are all the provisions and transport upon which the supply of the army was to be found. There are some cattle hereabout, but the order that they be unmolested remains, and therefore our soldiers starve that the sacred cows might live. The rains have come - in such torrents as I could scarce describe - and the river is now swollen in the manner required, but Peto's flotilla is unable to make progress until the supply is ordered and the gun forts all about - of which nothing was known hitherto - are reduced.

Two days ago I attended the Grenadier Company of the 38th, which is Campbell's own regiment, in two most gallant attacks upon stockades upstream of here. Their Captain was killed, and the ensign too, and they lost one in three of the Company, but they were all for assaulting a third and stronger fort until I ordered them to await reinforcement by the battalion companies, which, in the event, did not show because of some alarm here. The fighting spirit of the men is admirable, but I have a fear that it will be frittered away in ill conceived assaults - the Company had not even ladders for the escalade - and, perhaps the more so, by sickness, which is already rife.

Major Seagrass is dead of a fever, and I am thereby now General Campbell's military secretary. There is little for me to do, however, and yesterday when I gave my opinion of the parlous state into which we were lapsing (my cause was in respect of the mounting sick lists), Campbell became so angered that I am still unaware if it were on account of his despair at our situation or with my candour, though in this connection I must say that I do not believe he has a true grasp of our peril. I see none of the energy for which he had reputation in Spain, nor any faithful imagination of the scale of the undertaking. I pray most fervently that I am wrong in this assessment, but . . .

There was the sound of spurs outside and then a knock. The door opened and into Hervey's quarters stepped one of General Campbell's ADCs, well-scrubbed, hat under arm and sword hitched high on his belt. 'Sir, the general would speak with you; at once, if you please, sir.'

'Very well,' said Hervey, rising. 'Do you know in what connection?'

^‘I am afraid I do not, sir. The general has spent much of the morning in conference with his brigadiers.'

Hervey placed the letter to Somervile in the pocket of his writing case, gathered up his sword and shako, and left his quarters certain that he was to hear another paragraph of sorry testimony for inclusion in the letter.

The general's door was open. Hervey knocked and stood to attention.

'Come in, Captain Hervey; come in.'

General Campbell looked tired. Or was it worry? Hervey had received no word from him after handing the quartermaster-general a report on the Thirty-eighth's endeavours. He was unsure even if he had read it, for there had been nothing but routine orders from Campbell's office in days. Neither had there been any sort of conference; Peto had fumed about it when they had dined together the evening before. 'Good morning, General,' said Hervey, a shade warily.

'Sit down, sit down.'

It was curious, thought Hervey, how the general repeated his bidding. He did it not infrequently, of late especially. Was it a mere affliction of the nerves, like blinking or twitching, or did it reveal an uncertainty? Since the general could not doubt that any order would be obeyed, it could only be that he tried to overcome his reluctance to give the order by repeating it for his own hearing. Yet in such small matters as entering a room and taking a chair, what could there be by way of difficulty?

Except, perhaps, that the general intended saying something disagreeable.

Surely not? Surely a major-general would not rebuke a captain direct when there were others to whom he might so easily delegate the unpleasant task. Hervey took off his shako and sat in a rush-seat chair in front of the general's writing table.

^‘I did not say that I approved of your conduct the other day - on the river, I mean.'

Hervey was perplexed. The fact was indisputable, but the words suggested one thing and the manner of their delivery another. Was this a statement of disapproval or not? The general did indeed seem weary. 'No, sir.'

'I did approve, most decidedly. We can have no frittering-away of our troops, especially not our best ones. We shall need every man.'

Hervey nodded. He would once have said 'Thank you' to a sign of approval, but now he saw no occasion for thanks.

'I have intelligence that Kemmendine shall be the base from which the Burmans will launch their attacks on us. It is in all likelihood in a strong state of fortification already.'

Hervey nodded again, wondering what these remarks portended.

'Your observations on the Burman manner of fighting would appear most apt. It would seem they are advancing on us by degrees through the jungle, digging and throwing up their damned stockades with each day.'

Hervey frowned. 'That is exactly the manner in which I understand them to fight, General. But I must say that it is not by my observation as much as by study of what others have written before.'

The general waved a hand dismissively. 'Yes, yes, but it was you who wrote the memorandum. That is what I meant. And now you've been inside one of these damned bamboo forts of theirs, you'll have other notions of how to deal with them, no doubt.'

Hervey was about to say that he considered any attack without artillery to be iniquitous, when the general pronounced his intention to deal with the encroaching threat. 'I shall attack at once -tomorrow. I shall take them utterly by surprise.'

Hervey, certainly, was surprised. Indeed, he was as intrigued by the notion as he was by the general's purpose in summoning him.

'You think ill of my design, then, Captain Hervey?'

Hervey would once have been flattered by such an enquiry. Now he felt only anger for the reply he would have to make, for it hardly seemed a design at all - more a statement of hope. 'I should not advise it, sir.'

The general looked taken aback; whether by the sentiment or by its plain expression, Hervey could not tell. Nor, indeed, was he in the slightest degree concerned.

The general frowned. 'How so?'

Again, Hervey would once have measured his words; now he paused but a moment. 'The jungle is the Burman's habitude. General. It is where they would choose to fight us. To fight them there we should have an approach through very trappy growth, and could scarce keep formation. Or, if we were in column, it would be the very devil to deploy, especially if there were skirmishers concealed. And in all this it would seem to me utterly impossible to achieve the slightest degree of surprise.'

General Campbell looked astonished. 'That is not the opinion of my brigadiers.'

'They must answer for themselves, General,' replied Hervey confidently. 'With respect, sir, you asked me for my opinion.'

The general made no reply for the moment. He might at other times have been angry, but now he was thoroughly baffled. He might be new-come to India, but he had fought here long ago, and in Mysore, and it was 'the India rule' that a prompt attack confounded the enemy. Was that not, indeed, the duke's own tactic at Assaye? It had certainly been their method at Seringapatam. 'Then what would be your course?'

Hervey imagined the answer was obvious. He managed nevertheless to hide his dismay. 'Let them expend their effort in coming to us. Fight them in the open, or at the forest's edge, not when they're behind their walls. We might borrow some of the navy's artillery, too.'

'I don't care for the notion of waiting,' replied Campbell, shaking his head very decidedly.

^‘I am not suggesting we sit idly, sir. There is much to be done by way of outposts and patrols, and harassing. The thing is this: the Burmans must come to us if they are to seek any decision. They have no alternative. In which case we can make their work devilish unpleasant.'

The general sighed, loud and rather peevishly, then lapsed into silence.

After what seemed an age, Hervey judged his attendance no longer required. He replaced his shako, saluted and left for his quarters without a word.