Setting Jhamjarhistan Ablaze!

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Let’s hope the return series in England later this year will bring better results....

I do hope you are right, D. M.! However, I have a bad premonition, a feeling in my water, if you will, that we are not going to enjoy the Australian visit to Blighty this year.

We should not have replaced old Archie Carr as Captain. He had the right idea, plenty of beer the night before a match. Adds fire to your vitals next day, in my view. I was chatting to him in the Long Room at Lord's last year and he told me an amusing tale...

He reminded me of “the historic occasion on which, after having had a few, I was driving two of the Notts team back home at a fast pace. One of the two… went to sleep and fell off the back of the car and I and the other did not know he was missing until an efficient young gentleman in blue stopped us and suggested that I and my companion… should accompany him to the station. When we got there, I was invited to say, ‘Sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers.'"

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Pope Benedict XV was saddened to hear that his missionary priests in Jhamjarhistan had been slaughtered by persons unknown in the Old Souk in Gummibad, a town to the north of Djelibad. Visiting Bishop Brennan from Ireland was with the Pope when the news cam through. “Holy Father” he said, “I have just the replacement priests you need. My priests on Craggy island have been doing sterling work locally. They would jump at the chance to go to Jhamarhistan”.

Of course, Bishop Brennan was being a little economical with the truth here. The priests of Craggy island were his bête noire and he was delighted to find an opportunity to be shot of them.

The priests in question were Father Ted Crilly, Father Dougal McGuire, Father Jack Hackett and their loyal housekeeper, Mrs Doyle. They had been banished to Craggy Island as punishment for different incidents in their past: Ted for alleged financial impropriety (apparently involving some money 'resting' in his account and a child being deprived of a visit to Lourdes so that Ted could go to Las Vegas), Dougal for something only referred to as the "Blackrock Incident" (resulting in many nuns' "lives irreparably damaged"), and Jack for his alcoholism and womanising, particularly for an incident at a wedding in Athlone.

Recently Father Ted Crilly had delivered a very nasty kick up the arse to the Bishop and Len Brennan was not going to take it lying down! Ted was forced into this after losing a bet to his rival from Rugged Island Parish, Father Dick Byrne.

“Send them with my blessing “, intones the Pope “but make sure a hit-squad from the Ordo de quod Crucis Gladio go with them, for protection”. “It will be as you say, Holy Father” replies the Bishop.

Father Jack Hackett, Father Ted Crilly, Father Dougal McGuire, Mrs Doyle.

The Catholic Church's Ordo de quod Crucis Gladio (Order of the Cruciform Sword) are a covert and secret order of warrior nuns. The Order dates back to 1066, when a young Valkyrie woman named Sigrdrífa converted to Christianity. Renamed Mater Casia Bellator, she selects a new Mother Superior (distinguished by her lavender coloured robes) every generation to carry on her mission of battling the agents of hell, along with her highly trained Sisters.

Ordo de quod Crucis Gladio

To be continued...

[Mike Blake]

beyond comment...

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Thanks, Mike.

Started work on a small elite force for the Trotsky player (Doug). I am going to have about 10 - 15 figures to represent Trotsky's armoured train guard, the Red Sotnia. Some rather nice umootvod chaps! Here's the first one as a test piece.

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Firstly, an extract from an article which appeared in the Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Volume 267 on 8 November 1905. This is a genuine article and concerns Carl Rossegger, who is Blackwolf’s great grandfather. Blackwolf sent me a transcript of the article and it is a truly astonishing story. Ignoring the understatement in the article, an escape from Siberia, across the Gobi desert, China, Tibet, French Indo-China, then Singapore and finally to New Zealand where he made his home. He later worked as an architect/engineer designing many buildings around Sydney including the entrance to Taronga Zoo (where Blackwolf’s father was the vet, then director).

In view of the state of affairs prevailing in European Russia and Poland at the present time, and of the immense social upheaval that threatens, which ever increasing imminence, to bring both Government and State of the Czar tumbling into hopeless and irretrievable ruin, an account of the personal experiences of one who was drawn into the revolutionary movement in Russian Poland, and who suffered for that participation by deportation to Siberia, will doubtless be keenly interesting to our readers.

Mr C Rossegger, who has recently settled in Auckland, gave to a “Star” representative, a graphic version of events which he had experienced on his journey to New Zealand.

About nine years ago, he was an enthusiastic student in Russian Poland, and eager to take part in any movement that had for its object the relieving and up-lifting of the suppressed, and the advancement in general of the rights of man.  At this time, he was living at Lodz, an industrial town of considerable importance being about 100 miles to south-east of Warsaw.  The greater part of the labouring population in this district is Jewish, the working population of many of the town being entirely so and the “Yiddisher Bund” is one of the most powerful revolutionary organisations in that quarter of Poland.  This bund, which, as its name implies is a Jewish association, is very active in propagating more liberal principles, and of advocating the substitution of a constitutional Government in place of the Autocrative: but its methods have always been opposed to open violence, its members favouring a course that anywhere but in Russia would be accounted mild and law-abiding.  Open air meetings were frequently held by the bund at this period, however, and this alone constituted a crime against the State, so that everyone who attended these meetings did so at the imminent risk of arrest, with the certainty of being transported to one of the distant and isolated colonies in dreaded Siberia.

It should be understood, explained Mr Rosegger at this point, that the Russian working classes are not as violently anti-Semitic as is represented – in fact, throughout a greater part of Poland and Russia, the common struggle for greater freedom has created a bond of sympathy between the various races.  Owing to the great amount of interest taken by the Jewish part of the population in revolutionary movements, the Government adopted a strong repressive policy towards them and, accordingly encourages, either openly or secretly, all outbreaks against the Jews.  In this way, the outside world is largely misled as to the true feeling of the great mass of the people in Russia towards the Jewish section of the community.

Reverting to his own experiences, Mr Rosegger said that one night at a meeting of about 300 in the neighbourhood of Lodz, a strong force of secret police suddenly appeared on the scene and in the subsequent dispersal of the gathering, fifteen or sixteen of those taking part, including the speaker, found themselves in the terrible iron grip of the Russian Political Law.  The prisoners were entrained to Warsaw where, without any unnecessary delay they underwent a “trial”.  The proceedings were carried on entirely in Russian, which language was wholly unintelligible to the greater number of the prisoners.  The judges at this remarkable trial seemed to be solely composed of gorgeously attired young police officials who gravely considered the awful offence that had been committed by these young fellows, none of whom had given utterance to anything like the remarks that may be heard at any political gathering in a British community.  The “prisoners” were arrayed on one side of the hall, closely guarded by warders, who flourished glittering sabres.  The sergeants of the Secret Police, who conducted the prosecution, explained matters to the Court, translation being totally absent.  After some lengthy proceedings, the Court rose from their seats and judgement was delivered in the name of the “Little Father”.  The prisoners were then conducted back to their temporary place of confinement where, by bribing the warders, they gained the knowledge that they were invited to spend several years at the expense of the Czar’s Government in the colonies of Eastern Siberia.

“The invitation proved irresistible indeed”, grimly commented Mr Rosegger “ but we were young men and resolute, and all determined to make a bold effort to escape whenever the opportunity presented itself.”

At this point, it may be worth mentioning that political prisoners were kept, until leaving Warsaw, entirely apart from criminals, and the treatment was very tolerable, while sympathisers all along the journey provided comforts.  It was also common property that the exiles would attempt to leave their enforced residence as poor as opportunity should allow and through agents of the revolutionary committee, money was handed to them which in turn served as bribes to mollify the drink-sodden warders.
After a detention of about a week in Warsaw, they were, together with a number of others, exiled to Siberia and started out under a strong military escort for their distant destination, travelling through Russia by slow trains to the Siberian border.
At this time, the railway across Siberia did not extend beyond Krasuoyarsk, a place about 200 miles east of Toulsk, but political prisoners were usually entrained to Omsk and from their distributed to their various destinations by road.  The part of which Mr Rosegger was a member set out from Warsaw in the early part of the winter, and travelling across Russia by train at a very leisurely speed, Omsk was reached towards the end of December.  On the train was a church and services were regularly conducted for the benefit of the passengers and their guards throughout the journey.  The prisoners were kept under strict guard, loaded rifles being levelled at them, so to speak, night and day but apart from this they were not harshly treated, and were not submitted to the indignities and privations popularly associated with the lot of exiles bound to Siberia.  “Any undue hardships that are suffered by those unfortunates is usually the result of petty vindictiveness of the lower officials, due sometimes to the want of a small bribe” said Mr Rosegger , “and must not be regarded as the deliberate treatment meted out to political prisoners by the Russian authorities.  The Government of the Czar has always been very keep upon colonising Siberia to effect which it is not at all scrupulous as to the means.  There is no doubt that were it not for Siberia a great number of persons who are torn from their homes in Europe and condemned to Siberia as political suspects would remain quietly at home without any fear of molestation.  It is not, therefore, with the idea of immuring them in dungeons and loading them with irons that the Government transports its political prisoner beyond the Urals but with the notion of settling them in different parts of its Eastern Empire as colonists.  Those who are considered to be dangerous to the State, however, are treated more rigorously, which usually means being condemned to such a place as Yakutsk, for instance, banishment to which is held tantamount to a sentence of death.”

At Omsk, the party was divided, some being sent on to Krosnoyarsk, others to Irkutsk while a few were despatched to the dreaded Yakutsk, which is held tantamount to a sentence of death.  Fortunately, it was not his fate to belong to this last number, his destination being Irkutsk.  The distance between Omsk and Irkutsk as the crow flies is about fourteen hundred miles, but this was considerably increased by the route over which they travelled.  The journey was commenced in the early part of January when the whole country was in the grip of the Ice King, and the outlook as they travelled in sleighs across the frozen fields was indeed a dismal one.  Every guardhouse along the road was provided, however, with large fire hearths and the “Samovar” was soon steaming and giving forth the tea which mixed with Vodka, formed a welcome and warmth producing beverage to the frozen wayfarers, guard and prisoner alike.  A great part of the country through which they journeyed was well timbered and at night as they rested and thawed under the heat of the great blazing camp fires, the scene was indeed a strange one and typical with peculiar and terrible force of that anomaly among civilised nations, “Holy Russia”.

The guards were not bad fellows, however, and those of the prisoners who were supplied with money were able to obtain a number of little indulgences that greatly helped to vary the deadly monotony of the journey.

The sleigh journey to Irkutz occupied in all about three months for, although they travelled at a rate of from twenty five to thirty miles a day, the number of stoppages for rest sometimes extending over several days, protracted the journey very considerably beyond ordinary limits.  The tedium of the route was occasionally broken by passing large gangs of navvies engaged on the construction of the Trans-Siberian railroad while roving bands of Kirghiz, Kalmuks, Teherkess, etc , were often met with.  Occasionally, they passed on the road a squad of criminal convicts bound for Saghalien.  These dismal processions dragged along to the accompaniment of jangling leg irons and fierce short orders from the Cossack escorts to the lagging wretches whom they guarded.  Each convict was attired like a zanv, one side of his body being clothed in black and other half in grey, while even his head was treated in similar manger, one half of it being short close, while on the remaining half the hair grew long.  These unfortunates were chained together, and frequently linked in like manner to their guards.  The whole country through which the caravan passed seemed to be alive with uniformed Russians, the white caps and big boots of the Russian officials being everywhere in ample evidence.

When the party finally arrived at Irkutzk the prisoners were severally taken before the Governor of the district, examined registered and handed passports.  They were then allotted to certain districts, closely guarded by patrols of Cossacks and on pain of severe penalties forbidden to wander byond certain circumscribed areas.  Beyond this, however, they were fairly well treated.

After a “political has been a short time in the country and should express a desire to settle permanently, he is afforded facilities for doing so in the shape of practical assistance from the Government.  The authorities supply him with money to obtain implements and stock to start with and he is exempted from all taxes for twenty years.  Under these conditions, the expatriated political may if he becomes reconciled sufficiently to his lot to throw himself with energy into the task, eventually becomes comparatively wealthy as the soil in many parts of the country is extremely fertile and with ordinary cultivation productive of heavy crops.  “Needless to say” remarked Mr Rosegger, “these manifold inducements to settle in Siberia are seldom regarded by the deported suspect with the favour desired by the ‘Little Father’s’ paternal Government.

ESCAPE OF POLISH EXILES THROUGH THE CHINESE EMPIRE. ONLY TWO ESCAPEES SURVIVE.

Mr C Rosegger, who is now in Auckland, and who in our issue of the 8th inst gave an account of the arrest of himself and other young students in Poland and their deportation to Siberia, thus describes the escape of the exiles:

Among the political “prisoners” who were interned at the Irkutsk colony, several of the younger exiles had been forming a plan, and made elaborate preparations to make an attempt to regain liberty.  At the time when our party was “settled on the land” this plot was nearly ready, and I joined the participants, twelve all told.  In a manner which prevented suspicion ammunition and good were being stored at certain secret places.  Partly by bribe and partly by drugging some of the guards, service rifles and revolvers were obtained and preparations were concluded without having roused the slightest bit of suspicion amongst the guarding troops.  An old friendly Mujik, who had a farm some 50 miles south west of Irkutsk was the authority on geography in that broken and rugged country.  During the last days of April, on a stormy and clouded night, the dash for freedom was made.
Our party numbered 12 exiles and the Mujik guide.  We had about 18 horses, three of which were loaded with ammunition and food.  To go beyond the reach of the guards it was necessary to reach the top of a steep mountain range and follow that ridge for about five miles, descending by a narrow, pathless and scrub-covered gully to the river Kitoi which was flowing on the southern side of the mountains.  We soon found there was a little used log –raft ferry which we borrowed for our immediate requirements.  The ropes were cut, and some of the fugitives moved the raft up-stream, punt fashion, with poles. 
The remainder decorated the raft with branches of fir trees so as to hide the outline of horses and men should a lightning reveal the floating group to a casual Cossack patrol.  About 4 o’clock in the morning we passed such a troop, who were sleeping round a low burning camp fire on the bank, with one drowsy guard humming a melancholic song.  It was a moment of great excitement.

The greatest silence had to prevail so as not to attract the attention of the trooper.  But luck was with us, and we passed unobserved: and at the next bend of the river landed and disembarked on the southern bank following a pathless gorge upward.  The raft was set adrift and a pursuit made difficult, no tracks being left to follow beyond the northern bank of the river.  In a cave-like recess of the gorge the first rest was made in the forenoon.  A few hours of sleep were very refreshing and, as a result, the second stage of the journey up the next range and along the ridge for a few miles was made far quicker than the previous night’s portion.  The pursuers much have been led to follow an entirely wrong scent, for they never molested us.
The farm of the Mujik was reached in a few days, and after having received full instructions as to the directions we bade farewell from our faithful guide and followed as nearly as possible a southerly direction.

Continued in next post...

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

FATAL ENCOUNTER WITH TROOPS

We were moving in a kind of extended order, having a vanguard of two and two pairs of side scouts.  About ten days after the escape, we sighted a small troop of frontier guards, who were moving on the foot of the range from which the fugitives were just descending.  The soldiers did not notice the caravan.  Several of our number proceeded in their descent, against the warning of the rest.  As it happened, a few stragglers of the guards put in an appearance, and the sharp report of a few shots proved the folly of the too eager scouts.  Needless to say, the shooting attracted the attention of the main body, which at once stopped, turned, and thus saw two strange horsemen.  It was lucky that we were not close together.  The soldiers were thus unaware of our full number and the existence of pack-horses.  As it was, the encounter proved to be disastrous enough.  The troops, although at a great disadvantage, being visible to anyone who hid among the trees of the slope, managed to kill five of us, but paid a dear price for them by losing over twenty.  The night was setting in, and prevented successfully an immediate pursuit.  Two more of our diminished number were missing, and were probably captured by the soldier.
 
We, the remaining five, with three pack-horses, proceeded on the southward journey unmolested and reached, after another week, the outskirts of a bare, rocky and hilly plateau.  This was the northern part of the great Asiatic.

DESERT OF GOBI

Desert it was only in certain times of the year, for upon closer investigation plenty of hard, stubby herbage and even a kind of grass, was found growing in the protected places between rocks and hills.  The horses were thus provided for, and wild mountain sheep proved a very good food for the travellers. 

Several camps of Therkess were encountered, who treated the wayfarers very well indeed, especially on the understanding that we were enemies of the Russia troops, who did not seem to be popular amongst those half-civilised Tartar nomads.
Although all immediate danger of a further encounter with Russian troops seemed to have disappeared, we deemed it wise not to use the caravan route from the Baikal to Peking, but keep to the west of it and try to reach the Erzerun route, which reached the Great Wall.

3000 MILES ACROSS CHINA

The trip across the Mongolian desert, or rather around the eastern part of the desert, was dreary and monotonous.  After six weeks the summer heat began to burn the grass and herbage and to dry up what water there was left of the spring rains.  The ancient southern caravan track was reached at the end of July by two emaciated travellers with three horses, all more like skeletons than live beings.  Three of our small number who escaped the bullets of the boundary guards had succumbed to the greater foes “thirst and heat” and so had most of the hardy horses.

HOSPITABLE TREATMENT BY A CHINESE MERCHANT

We met a Chinese tea merchant who was on his return journey from Turkestan, where he had sold his tea.  His knowledge of some French words made an understanding comparatively easy, and we managed to pick up quite a lot of Northern Chinese while we were travelling as his guests.  In slow stages proceeded the camel caravan on its road.  The beasts of burden here used had two humps, and were ugly, shaggy brutes.

After two months of comfortable travelling, we reached the “Great Wall” which was in excellent preservation at that part not far from the “Hwang Ho” (Yellow River).  We had by this time quite regained our strength and made our minds up to do a bit of travelling in China rather than go straight to Peking.  So we parted from our friendly host, who presented us with some money, small brass coins of infinitesimal value as compared with European money, beaded up by holes on strings which, however, represented quite a formidable sum  in the Celestial Empire.  Many hearty “Chin chin”, and we went up the river.

THE INTERIOR OF CHINA

The country in this part of the empire was not very densely populated, it being very hilly and broken and the Chinese have an objection apparently to cultivate or inhabit elevations.  For a ridiculously small sum, we purchased the permission to use one of the small river craft to travel up stream.  Through changing scenery, large fields alternating with densely wooded low hills and rock-strewn, bare mountains, the river was winding its course and had a considerable current so that our horses, which we had lent to the skipper, came in very handy to give a “pull”.

It was early in November when we arrived at Singanfu.  By that time, we were fairly well able to understand the colloquial spoken in those parts of China.  We learned on arriving that the Prefect, the highest official in the town, had bought a steam launch which was somehow not in working order.  We saw our chance and offered at once to repair the craft.  As luck would have it, nothing serious was the matter with that new engine except that the engineer had somewhat altered the valve setting.  Being able to make the boat once more fit for use brought us together with the official, who was a very liberal and advanced man.  He had spent two years in European universities and spoke French excellently.  Upon learning our history, he invited us to stay with him and to come with him in the early spring when he intended going to some place in Eastern Tibet.  Of course, this offer was gladly accepted.

TRAVELLING IN TIBET

After four months, we left Singanfu as members of the mandarin’s party.  We were travelling on horseback, whereas “His Excellency was borne in a palankin” of very comfortable design.  The densely populated river flats were slowly narrowing as we neared the western mountains and soon we found ourselves amongst the grandest and most majestic mountain scenery.
After a fortnight of, under the circumstances, very rapid travelling we had arrived at the Tsishan Mountains where the mandarin owned a magnificent summer residence.  He intended to make the return trip to Singanfu via the river, and his launch was coming up stream to meet him at Jamakar on the head-waters of the Yellow River, about 40 miles from the official’s land-house.
We were now in Tibet, at least in the eastern province, Kukunor, of that mysterious country.  Of course, we wanted to go to Lhassa, but our host managed to divert our attention from that perilous project and advised us to cross the ranges to reach the head-waters of the Yangtsekiang, or further south of Mekong.  So, understanding the impossibility to reach the sacred city, we started southward.  Our hose presented us with a very useful passport, which caused that we were treated as officials travelling on government business.

After crossing the Datsky Range, we arrived in about five days in Thudi, and ancient town on the Upper Yangtsekiang, which was called here Murussa.

A DENSE POPULATION

We visited a very interesting Buddhist Lhamasery situated on the southern hills and, after a brief stay at that monastery,  proceeded southward to Surnam, near the springs of the Mekong.  About 130 miles down the river we reached the ancient Post route from China to Lhassa.  All the country seemed to be alive here; every square  foot of the fertile river flat was cultivated.  Hundreds of little villages and many landhouse were dotting the green fields.  About 160 miles further down the river we reached Kianka, an old and very romantic frontier town near which we re-entered China proper.  The river winds through that country for a distance of about 300 miles.  We crossed the Post-road to India near Keng Hunt, and reached on the left bank, French China and on the right part of Burma.  We sighted the first Europeans here, and were well received by the French officer who commanded a small garrison.  From here we had about 820 miles of down-river trip until we reached the vast delta of the giant river. Towards the end of July, we reached and sea border and, in the capital of Rench India, Saigon, we managed to obtain a place in a vessel bound for Singapore.

I then propose to enter the realms of fiction here and state on his travels through China and Tibet, Carl Rossegger heard rumours of the Jīn de Guǒjiàng Guàn de Nián Shén. After settling in Auckland, he realised that he was never going to settle to normal life after his extraordinary journey across Asia. With what little money he had, he purchased a steam-boat passage back to that great continent and followed the little knowledge he had learnt about the Golden Jhamjarh of Sticky Gods. After many false starts, he finds himself in Djelibad, assisting the girls of Hilda Rumpole College on their dig for Scythian remains and artefacts. We shall hear more of this great adventurer…

To be continued...

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Just a bit more for Jhamjarhistan. A Chinese donkey cart to be used by Snapforce. Carl Rossegger (from the previous post), deciphering a Scythian tablet and two WRAF drivers; Flight Sergeant Samantha Janus and Leading Aircraftwoman Sheridan Smith.

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Snapcase was sitting in his office, going through the logistics of his last-minute motorised force, destined for Jhamjarhistan. There came a knock at the door, “Enter” said Snappers. The door opened to reveal a fresh-faced Major who entered, came to attention and saluted. “Major L. T. J. Arlott, sir. 2nd Battalion/9th Jat Regiment, Mooltan Battalion, reporting for duty sir. I have been posted to Snapforce?”. “Yes, that’s right Major, come in and take a pew, we don’t stand on ceremony here”.

Major Leslie Thomas John Arlott

Snapcase summoned his office clerk, Corporal Mushtaq Ali, incidentally a rather interesting bod. As a batsman he played right-handed but when summoned to bowl, he was a somewhat deceptively slow, left arm bowler, albeit with an orthodox spin. “Large G and T’s for myself and the Major, please Corporal and make it snappy (Snappers was given to punning and fancied himself something of a wit). Now Major, are you a sporting man? We play a little cricket here when we can, obviously not much chance now we are on the qui vive for a move, but still, one likes to keep one’s eye in, what”.

It transpired that Major Arlott was mainly a club cricketer but had turned out once for his county. Snapcase was agog with interest. It seems that the young Arlott spent most of his free time following the Hampshire team both home and away. As a result of his regular support, he became known to the team and this led to his one and only brief playing exposure to the first-class game. He was watching Hampshire play Kent at Canterbury when they discovered they would be short of a twelfth man for the following game. Being willing and available, young Arlott was co-opted and he travelled with the team to Worcester. It was quite a memorable day in the field, with the Nawab of Pataudi scoring an elegant undefeated century for Worcester in one of his exceedingly rare appearances on the county circuit. The match ultimately fizzled out as just a tame draw with Hampshire scoring 313 and 91 – 2 and Worcester 413 – 3 declared. It was Arlott’s one and only appearance in a first-class cricket fixture and it had proved to be the pinnacle of his playing career.

“Been chummy with the Nawab of Pataudi [Mohammad Iftikhar Ali Khan Siddiqui Pataudi], or I. A. K. as we called him, ever since. One was hoping to bump into him, so to speak after being posted to India”, concluded Major Arlott. “Egad,” ejaculated Snapcase “we have a journo chappie from the Times travelling with us, one D. M. D’Emfore. D. M. tells me he used to turn out for the Old Flatulents along with the Nawab”. “Well, stap me vitals” replied Arlott “old D.M.’s here? How spiffy! I haven’t seen him since that regrettable incident in the Members' Pavilion at The Oval. Something to do with a policeman’s helmet, a billy-goat and the Chairman of the Selectors, as I recall!”.

The two officers had a jolly good chuckle over that rather bawdy anecdote as they downed their G and T’s. Then they stepped outside onto the parade ground to inspect the Jat soldiers. “They were of course, the old Mooltan Regiment until the recent Indian Army reforms. During the last war, they saw service at the Battle of Basra, the Battle of Qurna, the Battle of Es Sinn and then that bit of trouble at the Battle of Ctesiphon, leading to a withdrawal to Kut” informed Major Arlott. “Fine soldiers”, cried Snapcase as he inspected these fearsome warriors, “we’ll soon settle the hash of the Emir of Jhamjarhistan with these chaps, what, what”.

Major L. T. J. Arlott and the 2nd Bn/9th Jat Regiment, Mooltan Battalion.

To be continued...

[FramFramson]

Can't believe there's still no word of comment on Blackwolf's true and amazing family history. I want to thank both of you for sharing that incredible odyssey!

As always, fiction, unlike reality, is burdened by the obligation to at least seem somewhat realistic! 

[Blackwolf]

Thanks Fram,and of course my most excellent Snapcase

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Thanks to Blackwolf for allowing me to publish this remarkable story

Can't believe there's still no word of comment on Blackwolf's true and amazing family history.

I agree FramFramson, whilst my meandering nonsense is obviously of limited appeal, the true story of Carl Rossegger is definitely worthy of everyone's time and interest.

Escaping from Siberia and then to travel across the Gobi desert, China, Tibet, French Indo-China, then Singapore and arrive finally in New Zealand is an incredible feat of endurance and courage.

'Not all those who wander are lost.'

[Doug ex-em4]

Can't believe there's still no word of comment on Blackwolf's true and amazing family history......

Mea Culpa - I did comment but in an email to his Lordship rather than here. It’s a most incredible story and a great read. His Lordship has woven it into his ongoing narrative rather well, I thought...

Doug
ps: Is the Arlott cove any relation to the commentator fellow of the same name? He sounds quite posh compared with the radio fellow...

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Doug,

Mea Culpa

Don't worry, I know you have been busy the last few days!

Is the Arlott cove any relation to the commentator fellow of the same name? He sounds quite posh compared with the radio fellow...

It is indeed he, I struggled to reproduce an 'ampsher accent in my writing! True story about 12th man in the Hants vs. Worcs game and the Nawab taking part, though.

[Doug ex-em4]

 MTrue story about 12th man in the Hants vs. Worcs game and the Nawab taking part, though.

Oh, obviously I knew that

Léon et al....

[Mad Lord Snapcase]

Oh, obviously I knew that

I should have guessed that you would know that story!   

Ayo Gorkhali! The Gurkhas are upon you!

5th Royal Gurkha Rifles, Frontier Force

शौर्य एवं निष्ठा

Shaurya Evam Nistha

Courage and Determination