On the 13th of September, 1845, Hodson landed in India, and went up country at once to Agra. Here he found the Hon. James Thomason, Lieutenant-Governor of the Northwest Provinces, a family friend and connection, with whom he stayed till November 2d, when he was appointed to do duty with the 2d Grenadiers, and began his military career as part of the escort of the Governor-General, who was on his way to the Punjab. In that quarter a black cloud had gathered, which it was high time should be looked after.
Hodson, however, marches on, all unconscious, and his first letters give no hint of coming battle, but contain a charmingly graphic description of the life of an Indian army on march. Here, too, in the very outset, we find that rare virtue of making the best of everything peeping out, which so strongly characterized him.
"It is a sudden change of temperature, truly,--from near freezing at starting, to 90° or 100° at arriving. It _sounds hot_, but a tent at 84° is tolerably endurable, especially if there is a breeze."
At Umbala, he attends a grand muster of troops, and sees the Irregulars for the first time.
"The quiet-looking and English-dressed Hindoo troopers strangely contrasted with the wild Irregulars in all the fanciful _un_uniformity of their native costume: yet these last are the men _I_ fancy for service."
This was on the 2d of December. On Christmas-day he writes:--
"I have been in four general engagements of the most formidable kind ever known in India. On the 10th, on our usual quiet march we were surprised by being joined by an additional regiment, and by an order for all non-soldiers to return to Umbala."
Then comes the description of forced marches, and battles which one feels were won,--and that was all. The same story everywhere as to the Sepoys; at Moodkee,
"Our Sepoys could not be got to face the tremendous fire of the Sikh artillery, and as usual, the more they quailed the more the English officers exposed themselves in vain efforts to bring them on.... At Ferozeshah on the evening of the 21st, as we rushed towards the guns in the most dense dust and smoke, and under an unprecedented fire of grape, our Sepoys again gave way and broke. It was a fearful crisis, but the bravery of the English regiments saved us. A ball struck my leg below the knee, but happily spared the bone. I was also knocked down twice,--once by a shell bursting so close to me as to kill the men behind me, and once by the explosion of a magazine. The wound in my leg is nothing, as you may judge when I tell you that I was on foot or horseback the whole of the two following days.... No efforts could bring the Sepoys forward, or half the loss might have been spared, had they rushed on with the bayonet.... Just as we were going into action, I stumbled on poor Carey, whom you may remember to have heard of at Price's at Rugby. On going over the field on the 30th, I found the body actually cut to pieces by the keen swords of the Sikhs, and but for his clothes could not have recognized him. I had him carried into camp for burial, poor fellow, extremely shocked at the sudden termination of our renewed acquaintance.... I enjoyed all, and entered into it with great zest, till we came to actual blows, or rather, I am (_now_) half ashamed to say, till the blows were over, and I saw the horrible scenes which ensue on war. I have had quite enough of such sights now, and hope it may not be my lot to be exposed to them again.... We are resting comfortably in our tents, and had a turkey for our Christmas dinner." (pp. 66, 67, 68, 69.)