28. If Flashman were not so positive, one might be tempted to regard this reference to "Drink, puppy, drink" as another misplaced musical memory; elsewhere in the Papers he occasionally errs in "remembering" tunes (e.g. "The Gal-loping Major", "Old Folks at Home") before they have been written. At first sight, "Drink, puppy, drink" and "The Tarpaulin Jacket", which he quotes on p. 233, look like similar cases of faulty recollection; both were written by Flashman's fellow-officer, George Whyte-Melville (1821-78), none of whose writings appear to have been published before his first retirement from the Army in 1849. So how can Flashman have known them in 1845, and be so sure of "Drink, puppy, drink" that he refers to it no fewer than three times in his memoirs of that year?
There is a plausible explanation. Although no reference to Whyte-Melville has yet appeared in The Flashman Papers, it is quite possible that they met as early as their first year in the Army, when Flashman was stationed at Glasgow and Whyte-Melville was a subaltern in the 93rd (later Argyll, and Sutherland) Highlanders. In such a small society it would be strange if two young men with so much in common did not come together: they were the sons of landed gentlemen who had married into the aristocracy, were both outstanding horsemen, keen sportsmen, and popular convivialists, and may even have discovered a bond of suffering from their schooldays (Flashman at Arnold's Rugby, Whyte-Melville at Eton under the notorious Keate). And when it is remembered that Whyte-Melville's considerable literary talent was of that precocious, carefree kind which may be called amateur in the true sense (in later life he gave all his royalties to establishing reading-rooms for stable boys, and similar charities), it seems quite probable that such songs as "Drink, puppy, drink" were being sung in messes and clubs long before their genial author had even thought of looking for a publisher.
An interesting discovery, from Flashman's dungeon ordeal, is that in roasting Tom Brown so memorably before the schoolroom fire at Rugby (see Tom Brown's Schooldays), he was simply passing on a lesson learned from the deplorable Dawson, to whom he also refers in Flashman in the Great Game.
29. How many Sikhs crossed the Sutlej it is impossible to say, far less how many were in the field on both sides of the river. Flashman's.eventual figure of 50,000 may not be far out, but it can be regarded as a maximum; Cunningham's estimate is 35,000-40,000, plus another force of unspecified size advancing on Ludhiana. Against this Gough had about 30,000 at most, but only 22,000 of these were on or near the frontier, and they were widely dispersed. The Khalsa, according to Cunningham, had a superiority of almost two to one in artillery.
30. Lal Singh did send this note to Peter Nicolson, word for word except that where Flashman gives "Khalsa" Lal wrote "Sikh army". He also informed Nicolson of Jeendan's friendship, with the hope that the British would "cut up" the invaders. Nicolson's reply was that Lal should not attack Ferozepore, but delay and march to meet the British—thus confirming what Flashman had already told the Wazir. These proofs of treachery by the Khalsa's own leaders were not published immediately, as a result of Nicolson's death, but Dr M'Gregor, writing within a year of the event, obviously knew the truth: having pointed out that a leader like Runjeet Singh would have caused as much havoc as possible by burning and sacking on a wide front, he adds: "We are almost tempted to believe that the Sikh leaders wished to keep their troops together, in order that the British might have a full and fair opportunity of destroying them!" In 1849 Cunningham was stating bluntly that the object of the Sikh leaders was "to get their own troops dispersed by the [British]". He knew of Lal's correspondence with Nicolson, but not the details. In the light of what these two respected historians wrote at the time, it is remarkable to find William Broadfoot, forty years later, disputing the charge of treachery against Lal and Tej. Nor was he alone; at least one other British historian discounted it. If, in the light of the evidence available, any doubt remained, Flashman has surely dispelled it. (See Cunningham, Khushwant Singh, M'Gregor, Broadfoot, and Herbert Compton, "Mudki and Firozshah", in Battles of the Nineteenth Century (1896))
31. Flashman's memory is almost certainly at fault. Lieut.-Col. Huthwaite may well have been able to tell which guns were being used, but the British howitzers did not arrive at Mudki until the following day. (See Fortescue.)
32. A fair judgment, and Flashman had cause to be pleased with his strategy, for although the British force was only slightly larger than the Sikh, it had an advantage of four or five to one in infantry, which was decisive. "Unsatisfactory and unduly costly" is Fortescue's verdict, and he is rightly critical of Gough for attacking head-on an enemy stationed in jungle. But considering that the British force had covered sixty miles in two days before going into action, it could have been worse.
33. This remarkable observation, so characteristic of Broadfoot, was originally made by him after a skirmish in Afghanistan from which he emerged perspiring heavily and with a blood-stained sabre, having killed three men and been wounded himself. (See Broadfoot.)
34. This is the only existing account of the extraordinary exchange between Hardinge and Gough before Ferozeshah, although the gist of their conversation was communicated to intimates soon afterwards. Charles Hardinge, in his father's biography, was an eye-witness from a distance, but apparently out of earshot. Unique or not, the dispute arose from Hardinge's decision to place himself under the military command of Gough, while retaining overall authority as Governor-General. In theory it was a risky arrangement, but understandable; it would have been foolish not to use Hardinge's military experience. He had been twice wounded in the Peninsular War, losing a hand, served as deputy quartermaster-general of the Portuguese army, and been attached to Prussian headquarters in the Waterloo campaign, in which he was again badly wounded. He was active in politics, serving as Wellington's Secretary for War, before being sent to India as Governor-General. (See Hardinge, and Note 40.)
35. This military pleasantry was still going the rounds in the Second World War. Only the 9th Foot (Royal Norfolk) could take a lady into barracks, the "lady" being the figure of Britannia on their cap badge.
36. Historians disagree about the behaviour of the Sikh cavalry. One describes their advance as hesitant, Fortescue says they were stationary, but an eye-witness called it "the most splendid sight of the campaign, their horses caracoling and bounding, and the bright sunlight flashed from steel armour and spears … they came on at a rapid pace to within four hundred yards of the British line," Gough's biographer hardly mentions it. Obviously it depends on the point of view, but Flashman is probably right in thinking that White's intervention was decisive.
37. This incident is true. Gough "with my gallant aide" (C. R. Sackville West; he had obviously forgotten Flashman) deliberately rode ahead to draw the Khalsa's fire, and succeeded. He has been criticised for needlessly endangering himself; on the other hand, it has been argued that the effect on his troops' morale was considerable. Gough himself probably never gave a thought either to danger or morale; he seems to have acted emotionally, on the spur of the moment.
38. Flashman's account of the two days of Ferozeshah is so full and accurate that little need be added to it. For both sides, it was a battle of missed opportunities: the British should have had it won on the first day, but they ran out of daylight (thanks to Hardinge, according to Gough supporters) and in the confusion of the night fighting they lost the advantage they had gained. The Sikhs should have overwhelmed Gough's force on the second afternoon, but Tej's treachery robbed them of victory; a point Flashman does not mention is that Tej seems to have waited until he was sure Lal Singh's defending force had been thoroughly routed (some had deserted in the night, including Lal himself, whose personal headquarters had been attacked and looted by the furious Akalis).