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There can be few military memoirs more exotic and colourful than John Masters’ two volumes on his life with the Gurkhas: Bugles and a Tiger and The Road Past Mandalay. The latter deals in harrowing detail with his fight against the Japanese in Burma, commanding a column of the famous Chindits on the eve of the Second World War. But it is the first volume that we will focus on here, relating to his transition from public school to Sandhurst, and then to the mountain passes of the old North-West Frontier.
By the time Masters wrote Bugles and a Tiger in 1956 he had already achieved fame as the author of a series of books chronicling the adventures of successive generations of an English family in India. These included Nightrunners of Bengal, The Deceivers, and Bhowani Junction – the last of which was made into a 1956 film starring Ava Gardner and Stewart Granger. In some ways, his career reflects that of another soldier-novelist, George MacDonald Fraser, author of the Flashman books (see ‘War Classics’, MHM 142, October/November 2024) and his own graphic memoir of the Burma campaign.
Masters’ fiction has been accused of being pro-Empire at the expense of Indians, but in reality his novels showed sympathy to the frictions experienced by both sides in the struggle for Indian independence, particularly the Eurasians (or Anglo-Indians) who found themselves caught in the middle. In 1962, Masters discovered that in his own long family history of military service there was indeed an Indian ancestor.
‘Terrible oaths, vile abuse’
The author’s family background made it almost inevitable that he would train as an officer and seek service in India. Enrolled in Sandhurst in 1933 at the age of 18, he became subject to the infamous rule of the drill sergeants: ‘Terrible oaths, vile abuse, always preceded by “Mr” and ending in “sir”. We looked at one another out of the corners of our eyes and trembled in our huge hobnailed boots.’
It is tempting to see the Sandhurst section as merely a space-filler before the colourful episodes with the Gurkhas, but looking at the book as a whole we see that it’s a tale of two tribes, with their different traditions, rituals, and values: the British officer class and the Gurkhas. It is with the latter that Masters finds his spiritual home. The Sandhurst days are treated with humour and tolerance, but Masters leaves us in no doubt that he was always something of an outsider in this privileged environment. Though his father was a lieutenant-colonel, young Masters was so impoverished that he worked as a farm labourer for a spell.
The selection process for Masters’ appointment to the 4th Prince of Wales’s Own Gurkha Rifles is typical of the Indian Army’s obsession with the regiment as ‘family’. Each candidate was invited in turn to reside with the regiment for two weeks, during which time they were subject to constant scrutiny regarding such matters as their table manners, along with their ability to hold their drink and maintain conversation. Masters is spared much of this ordeal by some Indian riots, which allow him coolly to deploy his troops under stress, leading to his commendation.
Masters’ affectionate description of the Gurkhas is often quoted:
Short stature, a merry disposition, and an indefinable quality that is hard to pin down with one word. Straightness, honesty, naturalness, loyalty, courage – all these are near it, but none is quite right, for the quality embraces all these.
He also anticipates the obvious criticism of any white officer describing his colonial troops:
But these large generalisations are vague and patronising. It is impossible to give an idea of the Gurkha by such means, because each Gurkha is a separate man.
The shy new officer is ‘dined into’ the regiment by its officers, amid the splendour of regimental silver and Gurkha bearers and bagpipers in full dress. It’s a scene straight out of the television series The Jewel in the Crown or the tales of Rudyard Kipling.
Readers might say that all this ritual and tradition has nothing to do with ‘warfighting’. But the two volumes of Masters’ memoirs are still regarded as offering valuable lessons for small-unit leadership, and his next chapters take us through the rigours of section, platoon, battalion, and brigade training. Pervading all this are the unique expectations of officers in the Indian Army in the twilight years of empire. Not only has he got to learn his soldiers’ language, he has to get to know them:
What did I know of 7550 Rifleman Deobahadur Gurung? I soon learned that the whole lot of them, 132 Gurkha officers and men, were my business – sleeping, waking, sober, drunk, down to the third generation, and their temperaments and capabilities, their homes, wives, fathers, children, cousins, next of kin, and inheritors.
There are many colourful descriptions of rituals and celebrations shared by officers and men (including a bloody description of the sacrifice of bullocks at a Hindu festival). Banter is exchanged, and Gurkhas and officers play pranks on each other – all in the context of deep mutual respect. How do we know this is true to life? We only hear the author’s voice, not the Gurkhas themselves, except when they are quoted by Masters. Yet the book is steeped in a tangible admiration for his fellow soldiers, and a compelling sense that the author is privileged to serve with them.
The modern 4th ‘Gorkha’ Rifles, as they are now known, transferred service to the army of independent India in 1948, and are still happy to celebrate the battles of the world wars. And, of course, the family tradition of service continues in the modern Brigade of Gurkhas, one of the few elements of the British Army that is actually expanding.
Masters’ book is steeped in admiration for his fellow soldiers.
Elusive enemy
In 1937, the Gurkha battalion was called on to join a major expedition on the North- West Frontier, the troubled border with Afghanistan which remains a flashpoint to this day. Fighting against tribesmen who are the ancestors of today’s Taliban, Masters faces an all-too-familiar conundrum. As he puts it: ‘The core of our problem in the army was to force battle on an elusive and mobile enemy… When he flitted and sniped, rushed and ran away, we felt as if we were using a crowbar to swat wasps.’
Insurgents disguised as civilians, booby-trapped roadsides, patrols sent out to keep roads open, fortified outposts, even primitive air support and light tanks – nearly all the elements of modern insurgent warfare are here. All that is missing is ‘smart’ weaponry, though perhaps Masters would say his Gurkhas filled that role – he describes the uncanny ability of one soldier to spot, unaided, a sniper invisible to several officers using powerful tripod-mounted binoculars.
Bugles and a Tiger concludes with a return to base camp and preparation for war. At the battalion’s base, Masters earns fame as ‘the sahib who shot the Bakloh Tiger’ – a fearsome behemoth that has been terrorising villagers. But, as he looks back, it is his rigorous training and campaigning with the rugged hill men of the Gurkhas that Masters most treasures.
Many Aldershot-type officers maintained that we learned only bad habits in this tribal warfare against what they called ‘ragged-arsed barnshoots’. It was not true. From the Frontier itself we learned unwinking, unsleeping alertness. From the Gurkhas we learned more about the tactical value of ground than any of our competitors or future enemies knew. I also learned to respect the enemy – any enemy.
John Masters
Born: 26 October 1914
Died: 7 May 1983
Nationality: British
Born in Calcutta in 1914, John Masters was educated in England – at Wellington College and later Sandhurst – but in 1934 returned to India to serve on the North-West Frontier. During the Second World War, he fought in Iraq, Syria, and Persia, and witnessed the capture of Mandalay in Burma. After retiring from the army in 1948, with a Distinguished Service Order and an OBE, he settled in the United States to begin a new career as an author. Masters wrote short stories for magazines, biographical non fiction, and many novels – a trilogy set during the First World War was particularly acclaimed. He lived out his final years in New Mexico.
Images: National Army Museum
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