With Guns in the pink

Britain’s colonial territories opened up a host of opportunities for the sportsman; Diggory Hadoke looks back at the days of the Empire

-  Diggory Hadoke

My grandfather left Ireland for Sandhurst in 1934. Upon graduating as a second lieutenant, he was commissioned into the 5th Royal Gurkha Rifles (Frontier Force) and embarked on a steamer for Delhi.

Posted to the North-West Frontier, he engaged in fighting the 1930s version of the Taliban. My grandparents were of the opinion that western forces would never tame the Afghan tribes. Their rationale, based on experience, was that “they like fighting”.

There was, then, mutual respect between combatants. The Gurkhas hired Pashtun guides, who were very good, loyal, and effective. However, they returned to their villages for annual leave and when there, invariably got bored and joined fellow villagers on skirmishing parties to attack the British.

Upon returning from one such break, a guide laughingly said: “I almost got you last week, sahib, when we skirmished in the pass above the village.” It was, to them, a sport. Such was the life of a soldier guarding the gates of the Empire. It was a risky business, with not only the locals likely to have a pop at you.

There was also the threat of diseases to which Europeans had little resistance, poor hygiene, perilous transportation, and, of course, wild animals, all queuing up to cut short a promising career.

Yet, the martial spirit of derring-do fostered in Britain’s public schools, which served to prepare boys to rule the Empire, encouraged manly pursuits. As James Greenwood wrote in