Current Events

Reflections On The Gallipoli Anniversary

Dr GURNAM SINGH

 
As part of the centenary commemoration of the First World War, we have seen over the past year various tributes on the immense contribution made by Sikh soldiers of the British Indian army.

However, on a personal note, none have been more fitting and moving than the National WW1 Memorial Service held at St. Martins-in-the-Field’s in the heart of London.

What made this service unique was that is was specifically focused on the ill-fated Gallipoli campaign in 1915. This involved a serious tactical error by allied powers, which was supposed to shorten the war by annexing Turkey. Tragically, the expedition failed resulting in over 140,000 casualties of allied military and naval forces from many nations around the world.

This also included the 14th Sikh regiment -- which was part of the 29th, Indian Infantry brigade -- which displaying extreme acts of gallantry to a man, and was all but wiped out.

The amalgam of courage and loyalty was captured so powerfully in an iconic painting by the English illustrator, Lawson Wood (1878-1957) depicting Manta Singh, providing a piggy back for the seriously wounded Captain Henderson. It was therefore befitting that this image, depicting the bond between Sikhs and their British comrades, should form the central inspiration for what was a historic interfaith memorial service.

The organisers of the event, the trailblazing Anglo Sikh Heritage Trail, had asked all invited guests to arrive 30 minutes early, and I obediently obeyed. My initial suspicions were that this was a clever ploy to ameliorate the effects of 'Indian time’, which tends to result in people from the sub-continent consistently arriving between 30 minutes to an hour after any official time given for an event.

However, my cynicism was misplaced. To my great surprise, large crowds had already started gathering outside the main entrance. There were Sikhs displaying any number of ornaments, showing their associations with and affections towards their ancestors. Along with glitzy displays of military medals and military uniforms, both past and present, was the distinctive sky blue turbans worn by Sikh soldiers, both retired and active, and also by other Sikhs, including me, in a symbolic display of solidarity.

The service itself was conducted to military precision. All the speakers were lined up at the front of the church in the pews in order as if they were preparing for a military parade. And each rose to speak in turn with prepared texts that had obviously been crafted according to a predefined allocation of time.

The entire proceedings were set out in the beautifully compiled memorial service programme, which was handed out to the large gathering. Indeed, the fact that there was a shortage of programmes suggests that even the organisers had underestimated the popularity of the event; St. Martins-in-the-Field’s was literally packed to the rafters.

For most of the service, other than the orators, choirs and musicians, one could literally hear a pin drop. And in this regard, it was largely and appropriately a very solemn occasion.

The silence, order and self-discipline was in total contrast to my experience in the gurdwara where services are characterised by a cacophony of noise accompanied by chaos around the stage microphone as various individuals compete to have they views heard … or to be seen.

The words ‘chalk and cheese’ come to mind!

It is strange how Sikhs tend only to show discipline when they do things for others! It makes one wonder how much more we could achieve as a community if we were able to replicate the kind of self discipline on show at such events and that which is consistently displayed by Sikh regiments, past and present.

The inter-faith dimension of the service resulted in a wonderful syncretic experience where the poetry of Siegfried Sassoon was dancing with the varas of Guru Gobind Singh, where the haunting echos of the magnificent St. Martin-in-the-Fields youth choir were complimented by the soothing renditions of gurbani by the Acapella Jatha, all against a dazzling bouquet of stringed and percussion instruments, both Punjabi and Western.

As if this wasn’t enough, the whole service resonated to the sounds of the Walker organ at St Martin-in-the-Fields that is made up of an astonishing 3,000 pipes ranging in size from a mighty 32-foot reed to flutes smaller than a pencil.

The stunning array of sounds was punctuated by readings of varied lengths and genre.

The service commenced with a short reading and prayer led by the Revd Dr Sam Wells who is the vicar of St Martin-in-the-Fields. By keeping his head covered throughout the service and asking the congregation to do likewise, the Revd displayed a much appreciated level of accommodation to Sikh sentiments. Since the headwear is traditionally removed in Church, by breaking with tradition, Dr Wells arguably foregrounded the much higher moral imperative of interfaith unity; a lesson that we can all heed in times where globally religious intolerance and conflict are in the ascendancy.

Mandeep Kaur, Sikh Chaplain to the British Armed Forces, offered up selections from Sikh scriptures which were eruditely translated into English.

There were presentations by many with direct connections, either through the military or family, with many of the men that fought and died in the battlefields of Turkey.

However, perhaps the most moving moments of the whole afternoon was when Harbans Singh Thandi, the son of Udai Singh of 14th KGO Sikhs who had saved the life of Lieutenant Savory at the battle of Krithia during the Gallipoli campaign, came forward and faced the congregation.

The ceremony ended with a rendition of the Last Post, which however many times I have heard, always brings a tear to my eyes and a lump in my throat. If there ever was a piece of music written only for one instrument, the bugle, then it is the Last Post.

Just when I thought the sad and serene notes were provided a fitting end to the proceedings, as we exited the Church in a procession we were greeted by a guard of honour by the 1914 Sikhs, who were splendidly dressed in their WW1 khakis made distinct in that the jackets were designed as kurtas.

This is a group of young, mostly UK born, Sikhs who after spending some 16 months in training with the British Army, made history last year by becoming the first Sikhs in 200 years to march at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, in honour of their fallen forefathers.

As we moved under the guard of honour with raised Lee–Enfield rifles, which were the British Army's standard rifle from its official adoption in 1895, for a moment, by letting my imagination get the better of me, I felt a real sense of the presence of my brave ancestors.

I was not the only one; many of the war veterans at the ceremony were saluting them, with tears rolling down their cheeks.

War is not a pleasant thing and should be avoided at all costs. However, if there is anything good that can come out of war, it is the realisation that, as the Sikhs have so famously demonstrated in their short but illustrious history, it is under such conditions that the true qualities of the saint-soldier emerge.

As General Sir Ian Hamilton, the Commander in Chief of the Expedition at Gallipoli, in a tribute to the Sikh soldiers noted: 'Their devotion to duty and their splendid loyalty to their orders and to their leaders make a record their nation should look back upon with pride for many generations.'

The author is Principal Lecturer in Social Work, Coventry University, and Visiting Professor of Social Work, University of Chester.

June 18, 2015
 

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