f o r e i g n p a r t s b o ok s hop in ‘a poor, cold, strong and remote country, among a turbulent people’. To paraphrase the Duke of Wellington: when the difficulties of invading Afghanistan are over, the real difficulties begin.
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Many British officers who set out from the Punjab at the head of a 20,000-strong army regarded the expedition as a hunting trip. They equipped themselves with every luxury, one regiment employing two camels to transport its stock of cigars, another travelling with a pack of foxhounds. But hunger, thirst and exhaustion amid crag and abyss, as well as incessant harassment by guerrilla warriors, soon disillusioned the invaders. One likened their advance on Kandahar to Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow. By mid-1839, though, they had foisted Shuja on a sullen Kabul. Macnaghten, an obtuse pedant who considered the Afghans naughty children, to be bullied and bribed by turns, became the British political agent.
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His task was to build an Afghan national army – a painfully familiar project – to prop up Shuja so that British forces could withdraw. Instead Afghan hatred of the Christian and Hindu intruders crystallised into a jihad, led by Dost Mohammad’s ruthless son Akbar. Sporadic outbursts of violence culminated in the murder of Burnes and Macnaghten, whose dismembered torso was hung on a meat hook in the Kabul bazaar. Having neglected to quell the uprising, to fortify the garrison or to safeguard his supplies, General Elphinstone, a gouty bumbler who had last seen action at Waterloo, embarked on the most ghastly evacuation in British history.
In blizzard conditions his long column, swollen by 12,000 camp followers and an immense baggage train, crawled out of Kabul. Afghans, later characterised by a Scottish officer as a ‘race of tigers’, attacked it ferociously. They butchered stragglers, seized pack animals and plundered bullock
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For details: http://ies.sas.ac.uk/events tel: +44 (0)20 7664 4859 | email: iesevents@sas.ac.uk carts. Many soldiers, most of whom were sepoys, froze or starved to death. More were killed in precipitous passes, their foes on the heights firing long-barrelled matchlocks ( jezails), which outranged British muskets. The jaws of one ‘terrible defile’ became choked with corpses. Akbar accepted the surrender of a few women, children and wounded men, whom he treated chivalrously. Nearly all the rest were slaughtered. Mounted on a dying pony, a single European, assistant surgeon William Brydon, reached the safety of Jalalabad.
The catastrophe seemed to shake the foundations of the British Empire. Lord Ellenborough, who succeeded the discredited Auckland in 1842, reversed his policy, restoring Dost Mohammad after the assassination of Shuja and accepting the Himalayan boundary of the Raj. But Ellenborough also authorised the dispatch of an army of retribution to punish the Afghans and salvage British prestige. It massacred, pillaged, raped and destroyed on an epic scale, razing villages and burning much of Kabul, including the splendid 17th-century bazaar in which Macnaghten’s lacerated torso had been displayed. (Interestingly, Dalrymple’s Afghan sources accuse the British of preternatural brutality, particularly towards women, the very charge that the British have always levelled against the Afghans.) Far from restoring national honour, needless to say, Ellenborough’s savage reprisal sowed seeds of enmity that even now spring up as armed men.
As Burke maintained, those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. Despite the fate of Elphinstone’s army there have been three further British incursions into Afghanistan, all fatal and futile. The first of them prompted Gladstone to inveigh against the irredeemable guilt of unnecessary war. The last is a monument to the vanity and folly of Tony Blair, who wanted to walk tall next to George W Bush and was culpably ignorant of history. Leaders will have no excuse in future. William Dalrymple’s Return of a King is not just a riveting account of one imperial disaster on the roof of the world; it teaches unforgettable lessons about the perils of neocolonial adventures everywhere. To order this book for £20, see the Literary Review bookshop on page 45
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