To the Indian, war is a religion.  One day I went down the line to where a body of Ghurkas were lying to our left.  I walked along about a mile through the muddy ditches and at last came up with one of the men.  I stopped and spoke, then offered him a fag.  After this interchange of courtesies we fell into conversation.  He did not know very much English, and I no Hindustani at all, but in a short time one of the Ghurka officers approached.  The officers and men of these regiments are very friendly, more chummy almost than are our officers to our men.  This officer acted as an interpreter, and together they told me much that I was anxious to know.

After a little I asked the Ghurka to show me his knife, but he would not.  The Ghurka knife is a weapon of wonderful grace.  It is short and sharpened on both edges, while it is broad and curved almost to the angle of a sickle.  It is used in a flat sweeping movement, which, when wielded by an expert, severs a limb or a head at one blow.  I was told that at twenty yards, when they throw it, they never miss.

At last, through the agency of the officer, I found that it is against all the laws of battle for a soldier of this clan to remove his knife from the scabbard unless he draws blood with the naked blade.  The unfailing courtesy of the Hindu forbade a continued refusal, and as I urged him the soldier at last slowly drew the blade from its sheath.  He did not raise it for me to examine, nor did he lift his eyes to mine until he had pricked his hand between the thumb and first finger and raised a jet of his own red blood.  Then only did I have the privilege of looking at his treasured weapon.

The Hindu warrior believes that to die in battle is to win at once a coveted eternity in Erewohne.  He does not wish to be merely wounded, he desires death in fight rather than immunity from injury.  He does not evade danger; rather he seeks it.

Shortly after this, at the great battle of Neuve Chapelle, where the British took over five miles of trenches and four miles of front from the enemy, the Hindu troops distinguished themselves in magnificent charges.  They leaped out of the trenches almost before the word of command had reached their hearing.  Fleet of foot and lithe of action, they had sprung into the enemy trenches and slashed the Hun to submission before the heavier white men had got across the intervening country.  They were wonderful, full of dash and courage, but the difficulties of the situation called for an alteration of their fighting milieu.

Feeding these troops also was a matter of considerable moment.  Their religion forbade the eating of any meat but that of the goat.  These animals must be freshly killed and must be killed by the Hindu himself.  This entailed the bringing up to the line of herds of live goats.  In addition, many other formalities of food supply had to be taken into account.