Jas Athwal

I beg to move, That this House has considered the contributions of Commonwealth troops in the First World War. I grew up in Ilford as a youngster with my childhood friends Harp and Sukha. We were ordinary lads bound together by a love for football, and oblivious to the fact that our fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers could, unknown to us, similarly have been bound together, but on the battlefields of Europe. How were we to know? That was not taught in schools, and it was not shown in the films I watched on the silver screen as a child. It was as if the heroism of the troops from what we now call the Commonwealth had simply been airbrushed out of history. The reality was very different. When Britain entered the first world war in August 1914, it did not stand alone. From across the oceans and continents, and from villages and cities thousands of miles away, the Commonwealth answered the clarion call. They came from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the Caribbean, Africa and the Indian subcontinent, then known as British India. They had different languages, different cultures and different faiths, yet they stood together with a shared purpose. They stood together because, in that moment, the Commonwealth stood as one. On Monday, we mark Commonwealth Day, which is a moment not only of celebration, but of remembrance of the extraordinary contribution made by soldiers from across the Commonwealth—the men and women whose courage and sacrifice helped to shape the world we live in today. The first world war is often remembered through images of muddy trenches in France and Belgium, yet the reality was far wider. The war stretched across continents from the fields of Flanders to the deserts of Mesopotamia, and from the mountains of Gallipoli to the plains of east Africa. Across all these theatres of war, soldiers of the Commonwealth fought and fell side by side. Over 620,000 Canadians answered the call, more than 416,000 Australians enlisted and about 136,000 New Zealanders served, while from the Caribbean, thousands volunteered for the British West Indian Regiment, crossing the ocean to fight a war not of their making. From the undivided India, the contribution was immense. More than 1.3 million soldiers from the Indian subcontinent served in the first world war—in the trenches of Europe, the deserts of Africa and the battlefields of the middle east. Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs stood shoulder to shoulder with the British Tommy. They travelled thousands of miles from home, leaving behind families and communities, who would carry the weight of their absence for a lifetime, because many would never return. Most had never seen Europe before—and many had never known the freezing winters of the western front—yet when they arrived they faced one of the most brutal forms of warfare the world had ever witnessed. At the onset of the great war, King George V appealed directly to the proud martial tradition of the Punjabis, invoking a single, powerful word: izzat—honour, duty, reputation. He declared: “Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers and Men: I look to all my Indian soldiers to uphold the izzat of the British Raj against an aggressive and relentless enemy.” It was a deliberate and unmistakable call to men whose identities were rooted in honour, whose regiments carried generations of service, and whose sense of duty ran deep —and they answered. A few weeks later, as the situation on the western front became increasingly perilous, the Secretary of State for War, a certain Lord Kitchener, rose in Parliament to steady a nation anxious about defence in Europe. He told the other place: “On their way from India are certain Divisions from the Indian Army, composed of highly trained and very efficient troops, and a body of Cavalry including regiments of historic fame.” —[Official Report, House of Lords, 17 September 1914; Vol. 17, c. 736.] His speech was received to rapturous applause. Those words carried urgency and hope, because reinforcements were coming. Across thousands of miles of ocean, ships pressed westward carrying men who had never seen Europe. In September 1914, Indian troops arrived in France. Within weeks, they would be in the trenches. Among them were men of the Lahore Division, recruited largely from the Punjab. They were among the first colonial forces to land in France to defend the Crown. The Sikhs had well and truly arrived. Landing in Marseille, they were greeted like heroes. French women rushed forward with flowers and embraces, hailing them as the saviours of France, but admiration could not shield those fine men from one of the most desperate moments of war. Within weeks, they found themselves fighting in one of the fiercest battles of the conflict: the first battle of Ypres. German forces launched massive assaults, determined to break through allied lines. The fighting was relentless, trenches were overrun, artillery pounded the earth day and night, and machine gun fire swept across the fields. In those trenches stood soldiers who had travelled from the golden fields of Punjab, from Bengal and from villages across the Indian subcontinent. Among them was a Muslim soldier, Khudadad Khan, a machine gunner from the British Indian Army. In October 1914, his unit came under overwhelming attack. German troops advanced in large numbers, intent on tearing through allied lines. One by one, the soldiers around him fell, but Khan did not waver. Even as he was badly wounded, he stood relentless in the face of the enemy. His courage held the line, delaying the German advance and preventing a breakthrough that could have changed the course of that battle. For his extraordinary bravery, he became the first Indian soldier, a Muslim, to receive the Victoria Cross—the highest, most prestigious medal of all. His story reminds us of something profound: heroism knows no nationality and courage has no borders. Across the Commonwealth, millions of soldiers stepped forward. They were farmers, students, labourers, clerks and teachers—ordinary people placed in extraordinary circumstances. In the trenches, life was very harsh and unforgiving. Mud filled the trenches, shellfire shook the ground, cold winters and relentless rain turned battlefields into oceans of mud, and letters were written to homes never reached. One soldier wrote home of a cold that pierced through his uniform, of frost covering the ground and of the sheer strangeness of fighting in a land so far from home. And yet they stood firm. In the trenches, it did not matter where someone came from or the colour of their skin. What mattered was who they stood beside: a Sikh soldier sharing a trench with a Scottish highlander; a Muslim cavalryman alongside an English infantryman; a Caribbean volunteer marching with an Australian battalion. They were of different faiths, languages and cultures, yet were united by a shared commitment, loyalty and courage. The story of the Commonwealth in both the world wars is not only the story of soldiers; it is the story of labourers, nurses, porters and support workers—the men and women whose efforts made victory possible. Everywhere across the war, the Commonwealth was present, and everywhere, the cost was immense. More than 1.1 million soldiers from across the British empire and the Commonwealth lost their lives in the first world war, according to records maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.