The native kingdom of Sind, in 1842 had a population of slightly more than a million divided into four distinct elements: Sindians proper, Hindus, Baluchis of the plain, and Baluchis of the mountains. The chieftainship was divided among the Amirs of Kyrpur or Upper Sind and the Amirs of Hyderabad or Lower Sind and the Amir of Mirpur on the border of the eastern desert.

When the British army marched through Upper Sind in 1838 to 39 whilst proceeding to Afghanistan the Amirs of Sind had been forced into compliance with British demands, including cession of territory and strong places, payment of annual subsidies to the British Government and rights of passage for troops and supplies. The ruler of Upper Sind declared his territory a British dependency but no sooner had the British army moved forward than Lower Sind broke out into open violence. The British stores at Hyderabad were plundered, and the British Agent was driven from the Residency.

At this stage however, the Amirs did not feel themselves strong enough to fight and signed a treaty in March 1839 with the British Government. Its main stipulations were that a British force of a strength specified by the Governor-General was to be quartered in Sind; that the Amirs should pay towards the maintenance of the force whilst quarrels among themselves were to be referred to British mediation; their foreign policy was to be sanctioned by the British Government and they were to furnish a defensive force at call.

It was at this stage that Sir Charles Napier, on the 25th of September, arrived at Hyderabad, and had his first interview with the Amirs of Lower Sind. It is apparent that at this time he had the conviction that the practical annexation of Sind by peaceful means was neither difficult not far distant. But it was not long before he discovered serious breaches of the treaty on the part of the Amirs, he became aware that they were entering into secret compacts against the English.

Matters came to a head when Napier had to present a new and more stringent treaty than that previous in force. The Amirs remonstrated violently, but tempered their protest with assurances of submission with which they were hoping to gain time.

The military strength of the Amirs was variously estimated from thirty-thousand up to double that number. The total British force in Sind amounted to eight-thousand men, of whom about two-thousand were garrisoned at Karachi. If Napier meant to fight he had no time to lose, for no military operations could be carried on in Sind later than the beginning of April.

General Sir Charles Napier was both prudent and daring; whilst the Amirs were hesitating and trifling he was acting. Knowing that they intended to harass the British forces by petty warfare and by annoying his communications, he decided to take a most daring step. He had heard of the fortress of Emaum Ghur, a hundred miles out in the great eastern desert, the Amirs believed that it was invulnerable and that a hostile force could not reach it and they intended, should Napier assemble a large force, to fall back on the desert fortress and so be safe.

While this assurance existed they were disposed to treat Napier lightly; but the veteran believed that he could reach Emaum Ghur and so convinced the Amirs that they could find no refuge from his British power and had no resource but good behaviour.

The site of the desert fortress was unknown to Napier, but he believed it to be about eight long marches from Khyrpur by vague, ill-defined tracks. His scouts brought him such dismal accounts of arid sands and empty wells, that Napier determined to go only with a picked body consisting of three-hundred and fifty men of H.M.’s 22nd regiment on camels, two soldiers on each; two twenty-four pound howitzers, with double teams of camels and two-hundred troopers of the Sind Horse. They took with them provisions for fifteen days and water for five days.

The march began from Deji on the night of the 5th of January 1843 and two marches brought the little force to the springs of Dom, where there were water and trees. But at Chunka, on the confines of the desert, one-hundred and fifty troopers were sent back. For eight days the gallant little band pressed on, sometimes finding water sometime not and on the 12th, Emaum Ghur was reached.

Napier looked down on a strong and well-built force in a hollow from the sandy eminence from which he stood. There was a strange weirdness about the complete silence that lay around the place, which evidently had been evacuated. The force went down and the clatter of Napier’s horses’ hooves in the courtyard was the only sound that awoke the echoes. The cannon on the battlements were loaded with the priming freshly laid for the two-thousand strong garrison had gone off but a few hours before.

Thus fell into British hands the impregnable refuge of the Amirs, the fortress which no European had ever before seen – and all without the loss of a single man. The force rested for three days during which time twenty-four mines were loaded with gunpowder, just before their departure the fortress was blown up.

Napier wrote, “Emaum Ghur is shattered to atoms with ten-thousand pounds of powder. The explosion was grand and hellish beyond description; the volume of smoke, fire and embers flying up were a throne fit for the devil!” Later, the Duke of Wellington wrote of this desert expedition:

“Sir Charles Napier’s march on Emaum Ghur is one of the most curious military feats I have ever known to be performed, or have ever read an account of, in my life. He moved his troops through the desert against hostile forces; he had his guns transported under conditions of extreme difficulty, and in a manner the most extraordinary; and he cut off a retreat of the enemy which rendered it impossible for them ever to regain their position.”

Without losing a life, Napier’s little force returned to the vicinity of Deji where they waited the main body. In this position from which he could fall on the Hyderabad Amirs or on those of Khyrpur Sir Charles Napier vainly waited for the Amirs to assemble to complete the treaty. Finally when it was apparent that they did not intend to appear, Napier put his army in motion and marched slowly southward, still inclined to yield to his natural desire to avoid bloodshed.

Major Outram, the Resident at Hyderabad, was a chivalrous man who had deep sympathies with the Amirs in their approaching downfall, which he was striving in vain to avert. So unwilling was he to admit the truth of reports of warlike preparations on their part, that he informed Napier that not a man in arms was in Hyderabad, and that a peaceful arrangement could be concluded if the general would leave his army and come in person to the town.

But Napier’s spies reported that twenty-five thousand men were gathered within a few miles of Hyderabad, and that twenty-five thousand more were rapidly converging on the central rendezvous in spite of signing and sealing a treaty in Outram’s presence on the 12th of February, the Amirs encouraged their men to assail the Residency on the 15th of February so that Outram and Conway, with only one-hundred men withstood the attacks of eight-thousand Baluchis with six guns for four hours. Finally they affected a retreat to the steamers, which bore them off to rejoin the main force.

On the night of the 12th of February, Napier’s cavalry captured a Baluchi chief, on whom was found a letter from the Amir of Hyderabad calling on him to assemble all his warriors and be at Meanee on the 9th. The discovery of this message decided Napier that he would march straight on Meanee.

On the 16th he was at Muttara, sixteen miles from Hyderabad when, in the evening he was told that the enemy was near Meanee, which was, ten miles further south. They were entrenched in the dry bed of the Fullailli river; there were twenty-five to thirty-thousand of them and as many no the British flanks and rear.

Napier ordered his men to be in readiness to march early in the morning, so as to arrive in front of Meanee at about 9 a.m. Napier’s force totaled only about two-thousand two-hundred men, of whom less than five-hundred were Europeans. On reaching the place where the enemy were positioned, it was plain to Napier at a glance that there was no chance of manoeuvring to gain the Baluchi flank and that he had no alternative but to attack the enemy’s center directly in front across the bare white plain. Bordered by dense and rugged shikargas (hunting forests), that bounded them on either side, Napier had barely room to deploy his troops.

These were the days of Order of Battle when, under enemy fire, the stationary troops were assembled, their ranks dressed and as they formed up before advancing in the same formation into which they had been placed. Whilst eighteen enemy guns poured their shot into the small British force they assembled so that Lloyd’s twelve guns were on the right flanked by 50 Madras sappers.

On Lloyd’s left stood, less than 500 strong, H.M.’s 22nd regiment under Colonel Pennefather. This regiment consisted largely of Irishmen, “strong of body, high-blooded soldiers, who saw nothing but victory”. On the left of the 22nd were the three Bombay native regiments, of which the 25th was immediately on the left of the 22nd then in succession towards the left the 12th, and the 1st Grenadiers. The whole force was in echelon of battalions from the right.

Closing the extreme left, but somewhat held back, rode the 9th Bengal cavalry under Colonel Pattle, on which flank also the gallant Jacob with his Sind Horse were out in front, along with the Grenadier and light companies of the 22nd in front of the center and right, taunting the enemy to show his strength. About a thousand yards away the Baluchi front showed just above the bank of a hollow; where the order was given to advance.

With his staff, Napier joined the skirmishers, conspicuous in blue uniform and helmeted head-dress, he rode forward under a heavy fire from the enemy’s guns. As they passed near the high containing wall of the shikargas on his right, he observed a gap in it through which his right rear could be taken in reverse. Instantly he thrust into this gap Captain Tew’s company of the 22nd, with orders to hold it to the last man. These orders were obeyed and the gap was maintained; 6,000 Baluchis being held inactive and withdrawn from the battle by the bravery of a single company or troops.

The main body continued their advance in columns of regiments and when within a few hundred yards of the riverbed, the 22nd rapidly deployed into line and all the columns formed in succession. Each company, as it came up directed its fire on the top of the bank, over which the faces of the Baluchis could just be seen bending over their leveled matchlocks. The British front had not completed its movement when the voice of General Napier rang out shrill and clear as he stood out to the front and ordered the charge.

A loud British shout answered him; bending with the forward rush of a mighty movement, the red wall of the 22nd hedged with the bright steel of their bayonets, rushed on at the charge. But when they reached the dry bed of the river the advancing infantry were shocked to see a dense mass of warriors standing ready to withstand the shock; flashing tulwars and shields were held high over turbaned heads as twenty thousand fighting men shouted their war-cries and clashing sword and shield together prepared to meet the small British force.

For a moment the vast numerical superiority of their opponents checked the ardour of the British advance and the red wall seemed to stagger and momentarily recoil. General Napier rode forward briskly to the front of his troops and with pealing voice and vigorous gestures urged them on. It was the 22nd’s first battle, and their young soldiers responded gallantly to the old leader’s call, the sepoy regiments prolonging the line of fire to the left and coming into action successively without any sign of fear.

The Baluchis did not yield; they closed in denser masses and their shouts heard over the pealing musketry-fire filled the air. The native swordsmen, shields held high and blades drawn back, strove with might and valour to break through the British ranks. In parts of the line Napier’s infantry tried to hold them back by sheer weight of fire power but no musketry, or sweeping discharges of grape could drive them back; they leapt at the guns and the gunners and were blown away by scores at every discharge, their dead rolling down steep slopes till the corpses rose in piles. Continually, the gaps in their lines were filled from behind and intermingled antagonists fought had-to-hand in an ebbing and flowing contest.

For more than three hours this desperate struggle continued, until every British officer was either wounded or killed. Napier was in a dilemma – he could not quit the right where the Baluchi onslaughts continued unflaggingly: so he sent orders to Colonel Pattle to charge the enemy’s right with the whole mass of the Bengal and Sind cavalry. The troopers dashed through the Baluchi guns, crossed the deep river bed, gained the plain beyond and charged with irresistible fury to spread confusion along the rear of the masses opposed to the British infantry.

The native swordsmen slackened their efforts as they looked over their shoulders to their rear in consternation. The 22nd Regiment took advantage of their hesitation and leapt forward with a shout of victory to push the natives back into the deep ravine. It was the beginning of the end and soon the Amirs had lost the battle, and their dogged tribesmen slowly and reluctantly retired on all sides. Their conquerors followed closely, pouring in volley after volley.

Even so they were still outnumbered by so many of the enemy who still adopted a threatening attitude in many places that at one stage Napier recalled his cavalry and formed a square around the baggage and followers. Sixty-two years old Sir Charles Napier emerged uninjured in the strife, calling out to those around him:

“The enemy are beaten! God save the Queen!”

Affectionally know as “Old Faggin” to his men, Napier was a much wounded man and throughout the battle of Meanee was in such great pain from a wounded hand that he could scarcely hold his reins, yet he never ceased to walk his horse slowly up and down in the thick of the fighting. At one time it is said that he was alone for several minutes in the midst of the enemy, who “stalked around him with raised shields and scowling eyes, but none lifted weapon against him, and he got away unharmed.”

Meanee was a soldiers battle in which no quarter was given or taken. In the fierce action twenty British officers fell, of whom six were killed, two-hundred and fifty men went down, of whom more than fifty were killed; it is reported that the Baluchis lost in killed and wounded about seven-thousand men.

Immediately, Napier summoned the enemy to surrender offering “Life and nothing else” in answer to their question of terms. He added that the decision must be taken before mid-day, “for the dead will then be buried, and my soldiers shall have had their breakfasts.” Six Amirs promptly came in and laid their swords at Napier’s feet; he instantly returned them. He learned that Shere Mohammed, a leading Amir, had been within a few miles of Meanee during the battle with ten-thousand men, but so confident had the Baluchis been of victory that he had purposely stood aloof.

Napier was desirous of attacking Shere Mohammad whilst he was still astonished at the result of the battle, but Outram prevailed upon the old General to hold back as he believed that Shere Mohammad was friendly. Thankful for the respite, the Amir moved from the area and gathered around him an army of twenty-five thousand men, declaring his intention of resuming the war.

In the March heat, Napier remained quietly on the defensive in a fortified position on the Indus, expecting the Amir to come down and offer battle. On the 21st of March reinforcements strengthened Napier’s army coming up from down-stream on river steamers; they were followed almost immediately by further reinforcements from up-stream, from Sukkur.

In the evening of the 23rd, the whole force was drawn up in front of the camp, to accustom officers and men to their posts and duties. Just as the army formed up, envoys came in from the Amir with a summons to the British general to surrender. Napier simply bade them report to their master what they had seen and then dismissed them.

After a ten-mile march that began at three in the morning, Napier found himself in sight of the enemy in a position that had been skillfully chosen and utilized. There right rested on the river Fullailli at the village of Dubba; that flank could not be turned because of the great pond of soft mud in the river bed.

From Dubba a double line of Baluchi infantry stretched to miles to the left as far as a wood, which appeared to be their left flank. In reality, a single line was prolonged further to the left behind another nullah somewhat retired. The position was held by at least twenty-six thousand men with matchlocks and artillery; Napier’s force consisted of five-thousand men, of whom one-thousand one-hundred were cavalry, with nineteen guns, five of which were horse-artillery pieces.

Hoping to seize the apparently unoccupied village of Dubba before the enemy got there, Napier sent forward his horse artillery and advanced with his infantry in echelon of battalions. When he found the village to be full of Baluchis, their commander having assessed the situation as quickly as Napier, the old general wondered whether he had underestimated his opponent’s military skill.

Suddenly, he received news from his right that a premature cavalry charge was taking place. Napier was advancing at that time at the head of the 22nd regiment; he ordered them to continue their advance on Dubba and galloped to the right to see for himself. He found the whole body of cavalry to be dashing across the smaller nullahs at full speed, the riders shouting triumphantly and waving their swords; they seemed to be achieving success. Napier galloped back to his left and gave the order for the infantry to charge. Cheering wildly, the infantry swept down into the midst of the swordsmen supported by heavy fire of British artillery and musketry; the two armies soon became a struggling throng.

It was not long before the Baluchis were forced into the second nullah, which was deeper than the first one, where the desperate fight was renewed. The British infantry were not to be denied, and soon they were out of the second nullah and pressing fiercely on the rear of the retreating swordsmen until they reached the village of Dubba. Here they found some of the enemy’s most experienced troops entrenched in the houses.

Two of Napier’s regiments lapped round the nearest point of the village, while the cavalry of the left wing turned the place. In a few minutes more, Dubba was completely invested by the infantry, while the cavalry and horse artillery repeatedly charged into the retiring masses in the plain beyond; in one of these charges the enemy commander himself was nearly captured.

Typically, Napier led the storming attack on Dubba and when it fell galloped off to pursue with the cavalry on the left for several miles, on returning he was greeted with the ringing cheers of the infantry.

Five-thousand of the enemy were counted lying dead on the field; Napier’s loss amounted to two-hundred and seventy officers and men, of whom one-hundred and forty-seven were of the 22nd regiment.

The war was now at an end and the conquest of Sind was complete. Writing later Napier said, “We have taught the Baluchi that neither his sun, nor his desserts, nor his jungles, nor his nullahs can stop us. He will never face us more!” And in this respect Sir Charles Napier was a true prophet.