The Collection of Medals formed by the late Alan Wolfe

Punjab 1848-49, 2 clasps, Mooltan, Goojerat (Resaldar Futteh Khan, Corps of Guides) naming officially engraved in fine running script, dark toned, very fine and rare £600-800

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Collection of Medals formed by the late Alan Wolfe.

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The gallant part played by Resaldar Futteh Khan during the first siege of Mooltan is described by Colonel G. J. Younghusband, C.B., in The Story of the Guides, from which the following extract is taken:

‘But the siege of Mooltan, in so far as the Guides were concerned, was chiefly memorable for bringing prominently to notice the gallant and romantic figure of Fatteh [sic] Khan, [of] Khuttuk. This noble fellow was one of those Bayards of the East who know no fear, and as soldiers are without reproach. Born of a fighting stock and fighting tribe, cradled amidst wars and alarms, he developed the highest qualities of a brave, resolute, and resourceful partisan leader. Always ready, always alert, nothing could upset his equanimity, nothing take him by surprise, while no odds were too great for him to face. With the true instinct of the cavalry leader he struck hard and promptly, and upheld in person the doctrine that boldness, even unto recklessness, should be the watchword of the light cavalryman. Yet this paladin of the fight could barely write his name. It is not every soldier who has the opportunity nowadays, as in the days of champions, to perform a historic deed in the open with both armies as spectators. Yet so it happened to Ressaldar Fatteh Khan one hot day in August, 1848, before the walls of Mooltan.

Lumsden was absent on some duty; indeed, there were only three British officers, and these took turn and turn about in the trenches, when a messenger galloped into the Guides' camp to report that a marauding party of the enemy's cavalry, some twenty strong, had driven off a herd of General Whish's camels which were grazing near his camp. Fatteh Khan, as ressaldar, was the senior officer in camp, and at once gave the order for every man to boot and saddle and get to horse at once. The little party, numbering barely seventy, led by Fatteh Khan, followed the messenger at a gallop for three miles to the scene of the raid. Arrived there they suddenly found themselves confronted, not by a marauding troop of horsemen hastily driving off a herd of camels, but by the whole force of the enemy's cavalry, some twelve hundred strong. These veteran swordsmen and lancers, of whose skill and bravery in battle we had had ample proof during this and previous wars, had been sent out to intercept a convoy of treasure expected in the British camp. Having, however, failed in their mission, they were leisurely returning to Mooltan, when a little cloud appeared on their fighting horizon. Some returning patrol, no doubt, they thought, some frightened stragglers driven in perhaps, some stampeding mules or ponies. But no! the little cloud now discloses a little line of horsemen, tearing along as if the devil drove. The whole mass of cavalry, like startled deer, halted and stared at this reckless onslaught; and while thus standing, transfixed with astonishment, Fatteh Khan and his gallant troop of Guides were on them.

Yelling fiercely, with lance and sword the Guides clove their way through the huddling mass of the enemy. Then clearing, they wheeled about, and with unabated fury fell again upon the benumbed and paralysed foe. Not yet content, the heroic Khuttuk again called on his men for another effort, and, rallying and wheeling about, the weary troopers and still wearier horses once more rode down into the stricken mass. But "God preserve us from these fiends," muttered the demoralised Sikhs, and, assisting their deity to answer the pious prayer, the whole mass broke and fled, pursued up to the very walls of Mooltan by "that thrice accursed son of perdition, Fatteh Khan, Khuttuk," and the remnants of his seventy Guides.’

Prior to April 1849, there was only one rissalah of cavalry in the Corps of Guides, with a strength one hundred sabres, including four Indian Officers - one resaldar, one resaidar, and two jemadars. Resaldar Futteh Khan was therefore the senior native officer of the Guides during its important formative years. The Marquis of Dalhousie, Governor-General of India, visited Peshawur in March 1851, and took the opportunity of inspecting the Guide Corps at Akorah, and in a letter of both praise and thanks, dated “Attock, 24th March, 1851,” and addressed to Lieutenant Lumsden, he concluded:

‘(3) The conduct of Futteh Kham Khuttuk, Resaldar of the Guides, has been conspicuous on many occasions. The Governor-General has satisfaction in conferring on him the title of “Khan Bahadur,” and his lordship requests that the honour which has been conferred on him, and the sentiments herein expressed, may be made known to the corps in regimental orders.’

This is not, however, the last we hear of our gallant resaldar for he is mentioned for his gallantry on a later occasion, when his camp was raided by trans-border marauders in Yusafzai, on the North West Frontier, in 1852. The raid is described by Harry Lumsden in a letter written on 1 April, 1852:

‘In the middle of the night of the 7th March the troop sentries observed a large body of horse coming towards camp, and, challenging them, received for answer “Friend!” and on inquiry, “What friend?” were answered “Sahib.” This put the sentries off their guard, and the Resaldar Futteh Khan ran out of his tent to meet the supposed Sahib. He had no sooner got to the end of the camp than he saw that the party coming towards them had lighted matches, and therefore could not belong to any regiment in our service, and, with great presence of mind, called out to his men, “Draw swords; the enemy are on us.” The Troopers, surprised but not frightened, rushed to their arms just as 180 of the enemy’s cavalry, headed by Mokurrum Khan, charged into camp. My duffadars (who carry lances) went like men to the front, and received the brunt of the shock, while the troopers, sword in hand, got into knots, and resisted at every point, and the enemy could not penetrate beyond the skirts of the camp. Eight or ten of my best men then got onto their knees, and in the dark, creeping under the horses’ legs, cut the poor animals down, sending the riders flying in the air. The business was short and sharp. Scarcely a tent in camp escaped untouched, but in half an hour the enemy were thrashed out of camp and driven back to their hills, leaving two men dead in our camp and five horses, besides carrying off no end of wounded and dead. Thank God, my loss was only two men killed and five syces wounded. We did not lose a single horse, whilst we took five from the enemy.’