November

Beneath an ancient pipul-tree, fast by the Jhelum’s tide, In silent thought sat Harnam Singh, A Khalsa soldier of the King. He mused on things now done and past For he had reached his home at last, His empty sleeve his pride.

Five years before a village lout, beneath the self same tree, He met the Havildar, who’d come With honeyed words and beat of drum, Cajoling all who glory sought, And telling how the regiment fought The Zakha and the Mohmand clans With shouts of victory. WaheGuru Ji! Rang in his ears, the famous battle cry.

And since those days Harnam had seen On Flanders plains, from fierce Messines To Festubert and Neuve Chapelle Mid festering bogs and scenery of hell How Khalsa soldiers die.

(Short extract from a ‘poem titled ‘Hurnam Singh’. Written by General Sir James Willcocks, Commander of the Indian Corps in France. Published in Blackwood’s Magazine December 1917)