I must skip many other experiences of the period between 1897 and 1899 and come straight to the Boer War.
When the war was declared, my personal sympathies were all with the
Boers, but I believed then that I had yet no right, in such cases,
to enforce my individual convictions. I have minutely dealt with the
inner struggle regarding this in my history of the Satyagraha in
South Africa, and I must not repeat the argument here. I invite the
curious to turn to those pages. Suffice it to say that my loyalty to
the British rule drove me to participation with the British in that
war. I felt that, if I demanded rights as a British citizen, it was
also my duty, as such, to participate in the defence of the British
Empire. I held then that India could achieve her complete
emancipation only within and through the British Empire. So I
collected together as many comrades as possible, and with very
great difficulty got their services accepted as an ambulance corps.
The average Englishman believed that the Indian was a coward,
incapable of taking risks or looking beyond his immediate
self-interest. Many English friends, therefore, threw cold water on
my plan. But Dr. Booth supported it whole-heartedly. He trained us
in ambulance work. We secured medical certificates of fitness for
service. Mr. Laughton and the late Mr. Escombe enthusiastically
supported the plan, and we applied at last for service at the front.
The Government thankfully acknowledged our application, but said
that our services were not then needed.
I would not rest satisfied, however, with this refusal. Through the
introduction of Dr. Booth, I called on the Bishop of Natal. There
were many Christian Indians in our corps. The Bishop was delighted
with my proposal and promised to help us in getting our services
Time too was working with us. The Boer had shown more
pluck, determination and bravery than had been expected; and our
services were ultimately needed.
Our corps was 1,100 strong, with
nearly 40 leaders, About three hundred were free Indians, and the
rest indentured. Dr. Booth was also with us. The corps acquitted
itself well. Though our work was to be outside the firing line, and
though we had the protection of the Red Cross, we were asked at a
critical moment to serve within the firing line. The reservation had
not been of our seeking. The authorities did not want us to be
within the range of fire. The situation, however, was changed after
the repulse at Spion Kop, and General Buller sent the message that,
though we were not bound to take the risk, Government would be
thankful if we would do so and fetch the wounded from the field. We
had no hesitation, and so the action at Spion Kop found us working
within the firing line. During these days we had to march from
twenty to twenty-five miles a day, bearing the wounded on
stretchers. Amongst the wounded we had the honour of carrying
soldiers like General Woodgate.
The corps was disbanded after six weeks' service. After the reverses
at Spion Kop and Vaalkranz, the British Commander-in-Chief abandoned
the attempt to relieve Ladysmith and other places by summary
procedure, and decided to proceed slowly, awaiting reinforcements
from England and India.
Our humble work was at the moment much applauded, and the Indians'
prestige was enhanced. The newspapers published laudatory rhymes
with the refrain, 'We are sons of Empire after all.'
General Buller mentioned with appreciation the work of the corps in
his despatch, and the leaders were awarded the War Medal.
The Indian community became better organized. I got into closer
touch with the indentured Indians. There came a greater awakening
amongst them, and the feeling that Hindus, Musalmans, Christians,
Tamilians, Gujaratis and Sindhis were all Indians and children of
the same motherland took deep root amongst them. Everyone believed
that the Indians' grievances were now sure to be redressed. At the
moment the white man's attitude seemed to be distinctly changed. The
relations formed with the whites during the war were of the
sweetest. We had come in contact with thousands of tommies. They
were friendly with us and thankful for being there to serve them.
I cannot forbear from recording a sweet reminiscence of how human
nature shows itself at its best in moments of trial. We were
marching towards Chievely Camp where Lieutenant Roberts, the son of
Lord Roberts, had received a mortal wound. Our corps had the honour
of carrying the body from the field. It was a sultry day - the day
of our march. Everyone was thirsting for water. There was a tiny
brook on the way where we could slake our thirst. But who was to
drink first? We had proposed to come in after the tommies had
finished. But they would not begin first and urged us to do so, and
for a while a pleasant competition went on for giving precedence to