Our greatest Gurkha heroes

“Let me impress on you one thing,” he said. “Our men knew well in advance the reputation of your front line regiments like the Guards and the toughness of the Paras. But do you know who frightened our men the most? The Gurkhas, those little men from Nepal.

“Many of my soldiers were utterly petrified. They were afraid that if the Gurkhas captured them they would be eaten or have their heads lopped off with those big knives they carry.”

The ferocious courage of the Gurkhas in battle is legendary, as is their unflinching loyalty to the British Army – a record that has lasted nearly two centuries.

This week these men, garlanded with honours that include 26 VCs, have won yet another ­telling battle. This was not in a jungle or a desert or across the rubble of smashed cities.

Their battle to live in Britain, fronted by the ­redoubtable Joanna Lumley, was won in the House of Commons when MPs voted to scrap new and mean rules by 267 votes to 246.

Gordon Brown’s bid to ban the loyal warriors, much respected and loved throughout Britain, was thrown out by ­furious MPs.

It was a humiliating defeat for the Prime Minister and came only hours after he had explained the Government’s shameful tactics – that Labour’s position was that “rights of residence” should be restricted for Gurkhas who quit the service before 1997.

Considering that the Gurkhas had fought with valour on British front lines since 1815, the very decision to take up legal arms to fight their corner against the British establishment was anathema. The British Army is their life, their home and the centre of their existence.

Throughout the 19th century whenever there was a major ­battle, these doughty warriors from Nepal were battling alongside many of the most famous regiments of the British Army.

More than 200,000 rushed to enlist in the First World War and a tenth of their number were killed or injured. In the Second World War, a further 250,000 Gurkhas fought the Germans in the fiercest of battles, including Monte ­Cassino and Tobruk.

T heir individual actions extended human courage to its very limits. There was Rifleman Kulbir Thapa who, on September 25, 1915, showed conspicuous bravery by rescuing badly wounded British soldiers from German trenches.

He stayed by one soldier all day and night and the following morning brought him to the German wire,leaving him in comparative safety.

Then, under severe German fire, he returned in broad daylight to bring out three other wounded soldiers.

Another hero was Karna Bahadur Rana, who on April 10, 1918, led a few men under intense fire to engage fierce enemy machine guns.

A fellow Gurkha, leading a Lewis gun team, opened fire but was shot immediately, whereupon Rifleman Rana pushed the dead man off the gun, opened fire and knocked out the German gun crew.

He then proceeded to ­silence other enemy elements and during the rest of the day ­finally assisted in covering fire during a withdrawal. The Germans were never far from him and continued to fire.

There was Havildar Gaje Ghale, who in May 1943 rallied men while under heavy mortar fire and led them forward. Approaching a well-entrenched Japanese enemy, the platoon came under withering fire and Havildar was wounded in the arm, chest and leg by an enemy hand grenade.

Without pausing to ­attend to his serious injuries and ignoring intensive fire from both sides, he led his men forward to close encounters with the enemy.

A bitter hand-to-hand struggle ensued and Havildar dominated the fight with dauntless courage and superb leadership. He hurled hand grenades, covered in blood from his own wounds, and led ­assault after assault, encouraging his men by shouting the ­­­Gur-­ khas’ blood-curdling battle cry.

Spurred on by the will of their leader, the platoon stormed the hill and inflicted heavy casualties on the Japanese.

In Burma, during intensive fighting in June 1944, Rifleman Agam Singh Rai and his men fell under intense fire from a 37mm gun. Without hesitation he led his men towards the gun under heavy fire. Despite this, Rifleman Rai and his men quickly reformed for a final assault.

In the subsequent advance brutal machine gun fire and showers of grenades from an ­isolated bunker position caused further casualties.

Once more, Rifleman Rai pushed ahead alone with a ­grenade in one hand and his Thompson sub-machine gun in the other. He wiped out all four occupants of the bunker.

On November 21, 1965, fighting in Indonesia, Lance Corporal Ram Bahadur Limbu displayed exceptional courage during an engagement. Rushing forward, he hurled himself on to the ground beside one of his wounded men who he picked up and carried to safety.

N ot stopping, he then returned to complete his task of saving those of his men for whom he felt personally responsible. It was clear from the increased weight of fire being ­concentrated on the men that the enemy was doing all they could to prevent any further attempts at rescue.

Despite this Lance Corporal ­Limbu again moved out into the open for a final effort. In a series of short forward rushes, once being pinned down for some minutes by automatic fire, he eventually reached a wounded man.

Again he picked him up and ­carried him back as far as he could through a hail of enemy bullets. For a few seconds, this young NCO had been moving alone in full view of the enemy and under the continuous aimed fire of automatic weapons.

His citation for the Victoria Cross commented: “That he was able to achieve what he did against such overwhelming odds, without being hit, is miraculous.”

Another encounter for bravery also makes thrilling reading. This was Rifleman Lachhiman Gurung of the 8th Gurkha Rifles who faced the Japanese in a bloody encounter on May 12-13, 1945, at Maungdaw, Burma.

He was manning the most ­forward post of his platoon, which bore a fierce attack by more than 200 ­enemy troops. In response, he hurled back two grenades that had fallen into his trench.

But a third exploded in his right hand, blowing off his fingers, shattering his arm and wounding him in the face, body and right leg.

Undaunted, he seized the rifle with his left hand and, ignoring the blood and pain, kept firing and reloading for fully four hours – always calmly waiting for each attack and returning the fire at point-blank range. He too was awarded the Victoria Cross for this incredible bravery.

All the men whose exploits are mentioned above, in fact, won the VC for their extreme courage.

During the Second World War, in the Far East, the Japanese were particularly frightened of the ­Gurkhas.

They regarded them with trembling, superstitious fear, ­convinced that they were devils in human form. They were particularly scared when, at night in actions in the steaming Burmese jungles, the Gurkhas would give full throat to their famous battle cry of “Ayo ­Gurkhali!” (The Gurkhas are upon you).

This, which I once heard during a visit to a Gurkha camp in Nepal, is quite terrifying. One can easily ­imagine how frightened an enemy would be on hearing it in a hot and humid jungle, late at night.

The Japanese, as well as many of the Gurkhas’ enemies, were particularly frightened of what the small, tough soldiers would do with their famous kukri knives.

Legend has it that it cannot be ­returned to its sheath unless blood is drawn.

Too often during the war in Burma, that proved to be Japanese blood; a Gurkha wielding the curved kukri is capable of severing a head in one swipe. (These days, though, they admit the knife is mostly used for cooking, although it would still be brought out for fighting if ammunition ran out.)

B ritish officers who had served with the Gurkhas through various wars had ­always been deeply impressed by their courage and dedication.

Young men, many of them from remote parts of Nepal, will walk for hundreds of miles to Gurkha recruiting centres and compete for the high standards it takes to be one of their soldiers.

Only the very fittest succeed. One officer, later Professor Sir Ralph Turner, who served with the 3rd Queen Alexandra’s Own ­Gurkha Rifles during the First World War commented: “As I write these words, my thoughts return to you who were my comrades, the stubborn and ­indomitable peasants of Nepal. Once more I hear the laughter with which you greeted every hardship.

“Once more I see you in your ­bivouacs or about your fires, on forced march or in the trenches, now shivering with rain and cold, now scorched by a pitiless and burning sun. Uncomplaining, you endure hunger and thirst and wounds; and at the last, your ­unwavering lines disappear into the smoke and wrath of battle.”

Movingly, Turner added: “Bravest of the brave, most generous of the generous, never had a country more faithful friends than you.”

Such sentiments, written more than 80 years ago, still ring true of the Gurkhas today.