Nigel Jones is a writer, historian and journalist.
As wildfires ripped across South Wales during this long hot summer, firefighters combatting the flames received some very welcome help: soldiers from the Queen’s Own Gurkha Logistics Regiment were deployed in full uniform to battle this new enemy. Their presence was a welcome reminder of a lasting legacy of the British Empire of which no one should feel ashamed.
Gurkhas, of course, are more used to going into action against Britain’s foes on more traditional battlefields than the charred uplands of Wales: they have stood at our side in conflicts for more than 200 years, fighting in scores of wars from colonial combats to the two world wars and the Falklands ( where their fierce reputation alone was enough to make young Argentine conscripts surrender before a shot had been exchanged).
During the course of their service, native Gurkhas have won 13 Victoria Crosses, Britain’s highest award for gallantry in battle, so it is little wonder that a larger than life statue of a Gurkha warrior stands outside the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall, or that there is an entire museum in Winchester devoted to the heroic exploits of these legendary fighters from Nepal who seem to lack only one thing : the gene for fear.
It was in 1815 – the year that Britain finally humbled Napoleon at Waterloo and began its century as the world’s sole superpower- that the country first awoke to the supreme fighting qualities of the Gurkhas. Seeking to open trade routes from British ruled India to China via Tibet, soldiers employed by the Honourable East India Company unwisely trespassed into Gurkha territory in Nepal – and soon wished that they hadn’t bothered.
A small Gurkha force of 600 sallied out from the fort of Kalunga to do battle with a British column that outnumbered them three to one.
Waving their traditional weapons, the vicious curved knives called Khukris, the Gurkhas inflicted 750 casualties on the British, killing their commander, Major General Rollo Gillespie.
Although Gillespie’s successor General David Ochterlony eventually imposed a peace treaty on Nepal, his officers had been so impressed by the Gurkhas’ aggression and fearlessness in battle that they sought permission to recruit them as soldiers, and by the end of 1816 enough men had volunteered to form four battalions. So began the long association of the Gurkhas as an integral part of the British army in peace and war.
For the rest of the 19th century the Gurkhas fought in the Indian subcontinent, guarding the North-west frontier with Afghanistan, battling in the Anglo-Sikh wars, and capturing Delhi during the 1857 Indian Mutiny. In 1915 the 3rd Gurkha Rifles were sent to the trenches of the western front in the First World War, and here Rifleman Kulbir Thaba won the first Gurkha VC. Thaba remained with a wounded British soldier throughout a night before carrying him to safety under fire, and then repeated the feat with two injured fellow Gurkha comrades. Such selfless acts won the Gurkhas the admiring compliment “ Bravest of the brave, most generous of the generous “ and in World War Two another Gurkha Rifleman, Lachiman
Gurung justified such praise with an almost superhuman act of courage which won him another VC.
In Myanmar (Burma) in May 1945, Gurung’s unit were attacked by hundreds of Japanese who surrounded them near the Irrawaddy River for three days and two nights. The diminutive Gurung ( he was only 1.50 metres tall or 4’11 “) picked up two live grenades and hurled them back at the enemy, but a third exploded in his hand , shattering his arm, blinding him in one eye, and causing severe shrapnel wounds all over his body. Disregarding his injuries, Gurung yelled “ Come and fight a Gurkha!” and opened fire with his rifle using his remaining hand. He beat off repeated assaults and of the 89 dead enemy bodies counted after the battle, 31 were directly in front of Gurung’s position. He recovered and survived until 2010.
Such deeds and the typical Gurkha character (when they were not fighting) of being unfailingly cheerful and friendly won them a lasting place in the nation’s hearts, and after Indian independence in 1948 four Gurkha rifle regiments remained in the British army while six went to the new Indian army. Sadly, successive British governments have not always repaid the Gurkhas’ loyalty with the same generosity, and it took a determined campaign in 2008 fronted by actress Joanna Lumley (whose father had been an officer in the Gurkha Rifles) to allow all retired Gurkhas who had served in the British Army to be given an automatic right of abode in Britain.
Nepal remains a poor country, and a son or brother serving in the army is often the family’s only breadwinner in a Gurkha village. Competition for acceptance in the army is fierce, and for every place available there can be as many as ten applicants.
The Gurkha reputation for ferocity as well as loyalty is well deserved.
A few years ago I interviewed the late Lord Harewood ,whose mother, the Princess Royal, daughter of King George V, had been Hon. Colonel of the Gurkha Rifles. Harewood had a valuable collection of modern art at his stately home outside Leeds, and I expressed surprise to his butler that it had not attracted the attention of thieves. “That’s because there are Gurkhas living on the estate sir” he replied. An encounter with a sharpened Khukri was clearly a sufficient deterrent to keep the local villains at bay.
In an era when guilt about Britain’s imperial past is rampant amongst our chattering classes, the Gurkhas are one legacy of Empire that should fill us all with pride.
Nigel Jones is a writer, historian and journalist.
As wildfires ripped across South Wales during this long hot summer, firefighters combatting the flames received some very welcome help: soldiers from the Queen’s Own Gurkha Logistics Regiment were deployed in full uniform to battle this new enemy. Their presence was a welcome reminder of a lasting legacy of the British Empire of which no one should feel ashamed.
Gurkhas, of course, are more used to going into action against Britain’s foes on more traditional battlefields than the charred uplands of Wales: they have stood at our side in conflicts for more than 200 years, fighting in scores of wars from colonial combats to the two world wars and the Falklands ( where their fierce reputation alone was enough to make young Argentine conscripts surrender before a shot had been exchanged).
During the course of their service, native Gurkhas have won 13 Victoria Crosses, Britain’s highest award for gallantry in battle, so it is little wonder that a larger than life statue of a Gurkha warrior stands outside the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall, or that there is an entire museum in Winchester devoted to the heroic exploits of these legendary fighters from Nepal who seem to lack only one thing : the gene for fear.
It was in 1815 – the year that Britain finally humbled Napoleon at Waterloo and began its century as the world’s sole superpower- that the country first awoke to the supreme fighting qualities of the Gurkhas. Seeking to open trade routes from British ruled India to China via Tibet, soldiers employed by the Honourable East India Company unwisely trespassed into Gurkha territory in Nepal – and soon wished that they hadn’t bothered.
A small Gurkha force of 600 sallied out from the fort of Kalunga to do battle with a British column that outnumbered them three to one.
Waving their traditional weapons, the vicious curved knives called Khukris, the Gurkhas inflicted 750 casualties on the British, killing their commander, Major General Rollo Gillespie.
Although Gillespie’s successor General David Ochterlony eventually imposed a peace treaty on Nepal, his officers had been so impressed by the Gurkhas’ aggression and fearlessness in battle that they sought permission to recruit them as soldiers, and by the end of 1816 enough men had volunteered to form four battalions. So began the long association of the Gurkhas as an integral part of the British army in peace and war.
For the rest of the 19th century the Gurkhas fought in the Indian subcontinent, guarding the North-west frontier with Afghanistan, battling in the Anglo-Sikh wars, and capturing Delhi during the 1857 Indian Mutiny. In 1915 the 3rd Gurkha Rifles were sent to the trenches of the western front in the First World War, and here Rifleman Kulbir Thaba won the first Gurkha VC. Thaba remained with a wounded British soldier throughout a night before carrying him to safety under fire, and then repeated the feat with two injured fellow Gurkha comrades. Such selfless acts won the Gurkhas the admiring compliment “ Bravest of the brave, most generous of the generous “ and in World War Two another Gurkha Rifleman, Lachiman
Gurung justified such praise with an almost superhuman act of courage which won him another VC.
In Myanmar (Burma) in May 1945, Gurung’s unit were attacked by hundreds of Japanese who surrounded them near the Irrawaddy River for three days and two nights. The diminutive Gurung ( he was only 1.50 metres tall or 4’11 “) picked up two live grenades and hurled them back at the enemy, but a third exploded in his hand , shattering his arm, blinding him in one eye, and causing severe shrapnel wounds all over his body. Disregarding his injuries, Gurung yelled “ Come and fight a Gurkha!” and opened fire with his rifle using his remaining hand. He beat off repeated assaults and of the 89 dead enemy bodies counted after the battle, 31 were directly in front of Gurung’s position. He recovered and survived until 2010.
Such deeds and the typical Gurkha character (when they were not fighting) of being unfailingly cheerful and friendly won them a lasting place in the nation’s hearts, and after Indian independence in 1948 four Gurkha rifle regiments remained in the British army while six went to the new Indian army. Sadly, successive British governments have not always repaid the Gurkhas’ loyalty with the same generosity, and it took a determined campaign in 2008 fronted by actress Joanna Lumley (whose father had been an officer in the Gurkha Rifles) to allow all retired Gurkhas who had served in the British Army to be given an automatic right of abode in Britain.
Nepal remains a poor country, and a son or brother serving in the army is often the family’s only breadwinner in a Gurkha village. Competition for acceptance in the army is fierce, and for every place available there can be as many as ten applicants.
The Gurkha reputation for ferocity as well as loyalty is well deserved.
A few years ago I interviewed the late Lord Harewood ,whose mother, the Princess Royal, daughter of King George V, had been Hon. Colonel of the Gurkha Rifles. Harewood had a valuable collection of modern art at his stately home outside Leeds, and I expressed surprise to his butler that it had not attracted the attention of thieves. “That’s because there are Gurkhas living on the estate sir” he replied. An encounter with a sharpened Khukri was clearly a sufficient deterrent to keep the local villains at bay.
In an era when guilt about Britain’s imperial past is rampant amongst our chattering classes, the Gurkhas are one legacy of Empire that should fill us all with pride.