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Updated: June 14, 2025
But that convinced nobody, although it did the colonel sahib no harm in the regiment's opinion not that he needed advocates. We were all ready to die around Colonel Kirby at any minute. Even Gooja Singh was ready to do that. "Does the colonel sahib accept the situation?" one of the troopers asked. "Aye, for he must," said Gooja Singh; and I could not deny it.
And in the crack had been thrust, so that it stood upright, a gnarled tree-trunk, carried from who knows how far. And there, crucified to the dry wood was our daffadar Gooja Singh, with his flesh all tortured and torture written in his open eyes not very long dead, for his flesh was scarcely cold although the birds had already begun on him. Who could explain that?
Let it be known that the best behaved of those I leave with you shall be promoted to ride with me just as my unworthy ones shall be degraded to march on foot with you. That will help a little." "Aye," said I, "a little. Which daffadar will you take? That will help more!" said I. "Gooja Singh," he answered, and I marveled. "Sahib," I said, "take him out of sight and bury his body! Make an end!"
Few among them could talk any tongue that we knew, but they were full of curiosity and crowded round us to ask questions; and when Gooja Singh shouted aloud that we were Sikhs from India they produced a man who seemed to think he knew about Sikhs, for he stood on a step and harangued them for ten minutes, they listening with all their ears.
And now you suspect him of having tried to kill you! Bid me shoot him, sahib, and I obey!" "Who says I suspect him?" he answered. "Nay, nay, nay! I will have no murder done no drumhead tyranny, fathered by the lees of fear! Let Gooja Singh alone!" "Does your head not ache?" I asked him. "More than you guess!" said he. "But my heart does not ache. Two aches would be worse than one. Come silently!"
But the rest of the men were too interested to learn the reason of Gooja Singh's torture and death to care for the workings of a Kurdish chief's conscience. They crowded closer and closer, interrupting with shouted questions and bidding each other be still. So Ranjoor Singh said a word to Abraham and he changed the line of questioning. The truth was soon out.
Me ye have misnamed friend of Germany friend of Turkey enemy of Britain! Yourselves ye call honorable men!" "Why not?" asked Gooja Singh, greatly daring because the men were looking to him to answer for them. "Hitherto we have done no shameful thing!" "No shameful thing?" said Ranjoor Singh. "Ye have called me traitor behind my back, yet to my face ye have obeyed me these weeks past.
Tell him we will march toward Gallipoli or nowhither! We will march until opposite Gallipoli, and search for some means of crossing." "I will take that as Gooja Singh's message, then," said I. "Nay, nay!" said he. "That is the regiment's message!" And the dozen men with whom he had been whispering nodded acquiescence. "Is Gooja Singh the regiment?" I asked.
"Then, until I release you for good behavior, you three-and-twenty shall be ammunition bearers," said Ranjoor Singh. "Give over your rifles for other men to carry. Each two men take a box of cartridges. Swiftly now!" said he. So they gave up their rifles, which in itself was proof enough that they never intended harm, but were only misled by Gooja Singh and the foolishness of their own words.
And then, by signal and galloper and shouts from crag to crag came word that the Turks were marching in force to invade the mountains, and instantly they turned on Gooja Singh and would have torn him in pieces for being a spy of the Turks, sent on ahead to prepare the way. But some cooler head than the rest urged to put him to the torture, and they agreed.
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