Letters From The Great War

Little is known about Indian soldiers who fought in the First World War. We bring you a selection of letters they wrote to their friends and family from the front line.

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Yesterday, the world marked 100 years since the outbreak of the First World War. Over a million Indian soldiers served in this war, which has been described by some as the “seminal catastrophe” of the century. Sixty thousand of them lost their lives, and about 9,000 were decorated for their valour.

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Yet little is known about these “sepoys”, save the names of the martyrs etched on India Gate in New Delhi. Penguin Viking’s new book Indian Voices of The Great War attempts to fill this gap. A collection of letters written by soldiers to their relatives and friends back home while they served in France, the book tells the “Indian story” of the Great War. They bear a poignant testament to the encounters our soldiers had fighting in a foreign land alongside foreign people.

We bring you a selection of eight letters.

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A Garhwali to his father

[39th Garhwal Rifles?]

[Garhwali]

France

14 January 1915

It is very hard to endure the bombs, father. It will be difficult for anyone to survive and come back safe and sound from the war. The son who is very lucky will see his father and mother, otherwise who can do this? There is no confidence of survival. The bullets and cannon-balls come down like snow. The mud is up to a man’s middle. The distance between us and the enemy is fifty paces. Since I have been here the enemy has remained in his trenches and we in ours. Neither side has advanced at all. The Germans are very cunning. The numbers that have fallen cannot be counted.

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A wounded Punjabi Rajput to a relative (India)

[Urdu]

England

29 January 1915

Do not think that this is war. This is not war. It is the ending of the world. This is just such a war as was related in the Mahabharata about our forefathers.

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A Sikh to Mahant Partab Das (Patiala State, Punjab)

FPO.13

[Gurmukhi]

France?

18th October 1915

What you say in your letter about not being disloyal to the Emperor, and it being the religion of Sikhs to die facing the foe — all that you say is true. But if only you yourself could be here and see for yourself! Any shrivelled charas-sodden fellow can fire the gun and kill a score of us at our food in the kitchen. Ships sail the sky like kites. Wherever you look, machine guns and cannon begin to shoot, and bombs fly out which kill every man they hit. The earth is mined and filled with powder; when men walk upon it, the powder is lit and up go the men!  There is no fighting face to face. Guns and massacre regiments sitting ten miles off. Put swords or pikes or staves in our hands, and the enemy over us with like arms, then indeed we should show you how to fight face to face! But if no one faces us, what can we do? No one stands up to fight us. Everyone sits in a burrow underground. They fight in the sky, on the sea in battleships, under the earth in mines. My friend, a man who fights upon the ground can hardly escape. You tell me to fight face to the foe. Die we must — but alas, not facing the foe! My friend, the cannons are such that they throw a shell weighing twelve maunds which destroys the earth five hundred paces round about where it falls. We are in France. It is a very cold country … It is fair country and the people are like angles. All they lack is wings … The fighting is along a line of 300 miles. England, France, Italy, Belgium, Russia — these five are on one side; Germany, Turkey, Austria, Hungary, Bulgaria — these five on the other. The battle sways evenly balanced. None can kill the other. When it ends there will be peace. No one knows when this will be.

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Jalal-ud-din Ahmed (Hindustani Muslim) to Haji Saadat Mir Khan (Etmadpur, UP, India)

[Urdu]

Rouen

France

14 October 1915

Today I purchased some pictures in great haste and am sending some of them to Bashir. I could not find any more pictures of the woman who stands, clad in armour, with her glance turned up towards heaven, and [who] seems to be a very fine, handsome, young woman. I am looking for them and have searched many shops. Four hundred years ago that woman gained some notable victories in war against the English. However, she was caught and the English burnt her alive. [1] I think this is why the sale of the picture has been stopped, lest it should affect adversely the present friendship between the French and the English. The French people, seeing it, would remember that their blessed, beautiful, brave and fearless maiden had been burnt alive by the English and would resent it. No doubt here in France is the extreme of beauty, but the very name of modesty and chastity is unknown. Therefore, the beauty of India clad as it is in modesty and chastity, is far better. In India, one may see fine handsome men, such as are never seen here.

[1]: He is referring to Joan of Arc, a popular subject for contemporary French postcards

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A Sub-Assistant Surgeon (Hindu) to a friend (Peshawar District, NWFP)

[Hindi and Urdu; some English]

A hospital ship

England

[late January or early February 1915?]

I have received only one letter from you for which I have already thanked you. Why only one? You ought to write to me every week or at least every fortnight.

Today I am sending you a bundle of newspapers as samples by packet post. You will see from them how up-to-date the papers of this country are. For example, the events of this evening are printed during the night and tomorrow morning will be in the hands of the people in every corner of the country. The papers have an enormous circulation. You may rely on almost everything being reported in different papers … Even the working classes read the papers and keep themselves informed of the state of affairs in their country and the events of the war. The Times is the best of all the newspapers. It has raised a subscription of a million [pounds] (that is a crore and a half of rupees) for its relief fund. This paper devotes its efforts to the advancement of patriotism and the service of the nation and not to squabbling with its fellows. The papers here do not quail-fight as do the papers of the Punjab.

Further, in the papers, pictures of the scenes of events appear with the news. The mind is amazed when one sees their cleverness. Whenever a ship sinks, a printed picture of it appears in the papers.

Besides the newspapers, proclamations and attractions of theatre-folk excite the people. They arouse the women and stir up the children all for the profit of the nation and give a stimulus to recruiting.

When one considers this country and these people in comparison with our own country and our own people one cannot but be distressed. Our country is very poor and feeble and its lot is very depressed. Our people copy the faults of the British nation and leave its good qualities alone. We shall never advance ourselves merely by wearing trousers and hats and smoking cigarettes and drinking wine. In fact they have a real moral superiority. They are energetic. We are poor and hunger for ease. They limit their leisure, do their work justly and do it well. They do not follow their own inclinations, but obey their superior officers and masters. They avoid idle chatter. Their delight is cleanliness. Even a sweeper will not remain in a bare house. He will adorn it with some green plants and flowers and will take pains to improve his condition. Never under any circumstances do they tell lies. As for shopkeepers, everything has a fixed price. You may take it or leave it as you please. They do not marry until they have reached maturity. For a lad of sixteen to marry and beget children is looked upon with disapproval. You will never find a case of a boy leaving school and going to college who is already the father of children. Our boys are spoilt by our evil customs.

There is a carpenter who works on our ship, who gets seven shillings a day. He is over thirty. When I asked him, he told me that he was not yet married. I asked him ‘why not?’ and he answered that his old mother was still alive. So long as she lived, he would not marry, for two women could not live in one house, and he would not leave his mother. Therefore he could not marry. The children are very pretty and well-mannered. They meet a foreigner in a very pleasant fashion. Here in front of every house and every shop are fixed great big glass panes — as it were doors of glass. I could not help thinking as I walked along the other day that if these were in our country the children would soon put more stones through them. Here little, little children smaller than my Madan come boldly up to strangers and put out their hands to shake. The children are very clean. You never see any of them eating or easing himself in the public streets.

If a woman is walking alone and does not wish to speak to anyone, no matter whether she be respectable or not, it is a breach of good manners to talk to her first. You must wait till you are invited. This is very different from India where a lady cannot venture unescorted into any street.

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Sant Singh (Sikh) to his wife

[Gurmukhi poetry]

[France?]

18th September 1915

We perish in the desert:  you wash yourself and lie in bed. We are trapped in a net of woe, while you go free. Our life is a living death. For what great sin are we being punished? Kill us, Oh God, but free us from our pain! We move in agony, but never rest. We are slaves of masters who can show no mercy. The bullets fall on us like rain, but dry are our bodies. So we have spent a full year. We cannot write a word. Lice feed upon our flesh: we cannot wait to pick them out. For days we have not washed our faces. We do not change our clothes. Many sons of mothers lie dead. No one takes any heed. It is God’s will that this is so, and what is written is true. God The Omnipotent plays a game, and men die. Death here is dreadful, but of life there is not the briefest hope.

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A wounded Sikh to his brother (Punjab)

 [Urdu]

Milton Hospital

England

18th January 1915

I am well and pray ever for your welfare. My dear brother, this is a very fine country. They have an excellent way of doing things, and there is such beauty in the country. There is no doubt about it. Very many people come to see us, and one cannot tell the Lord from the beggar. All are alike and they do everything with great intelligence and skill. They use dogs to drive their animals (that is cattle) and to extract butter from milk. They grind wheat and do everything by machinery, and thresh the straw — all by the machinery. And they plough with horses. As for the shopkeepers, they are very honest and make no difference in their prices. Whether it be a child or a grown man, they ask the same price of everyone. There is no theft or dishonesty. The shops remain open all day long and never a penny is stolen. And if a man commits theft they inflict a very severe punishment on him. They fix him alive and upright to a stake and fasten his hands with nails, and there he dies. So nobody commits theft. And the building (that is the house) are very, very fine indeed. Each house has at least seven storeys and the workmanship that they put into them is beyond description. You many look at it all day and still not satisfy the desire of your heart to see. And they are very rich and full of intelligence. Even the children speak well. And they deal with one another in very brotherly fashion. And there is no doubt of their cleanliness: they are very clean. And they eat with wonderful skill and daintiness. The boys and girls go to school from their earliest years to be educated, and there are many Indians here who are here for education.

My dear brother, I have received a letter from home and after reading over the earlier letter my heart was filled with such happiness to describe makes the earth hard and heavens high [sic]. My dear brother, when I read the letter, and heard about the village I was quite overjoyed…

My dear brother, I must finish my letter. For here I’m as a king, but the war is still going on. Hundreds and thousands are engaged and it goes on day after day… There can be no confidence of life or of seeing again the dear children or of seeing you once more. For in a few days I shall go back to the war. When shall come the day when I shall see again my children? When shall I see you? Well my brother, do not be anxious. We shall see what will come out of it. My love to the dear children and greeting to all my friends. If I live I will write again.

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An Afridi Pathan to his brother (55th Rifles, India)

[Urdu and Pashtu]

57th Rifles

France

 27th June 1915

[Urdu] Do not be anxious. Death is from God. Do not think that all who have gone to the war will die. No, have hope that we shall come back to our own country. No doubt, in the end, we must die. But such a sight no man has seen as we have seen. If I were to spend Rs. 40,000 I should not get such sight for it. There is no country like the country of France. It is a most beautiful country and women of this country are women like the good fairies. [Pashtu] Oh happy paper, how I envy your lot. We shall be here but you will go and see India.

Excerpted with permission from Penguin Books India from Indian Voices of The Great War: Soldiers’ Letters, 1914-1918, edited by David Omissi (Viking | Penguin)

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