Book Review: The Road to Kandahar by John Wilcox

The somewhat reluctant British hero Simon Fonthill returns to action for the second time, with his faithful Welsh sidekick 352 Jenkins – so known because of the sheer volume of men named Jenkins in his parent regiment – never far behind.

In some ways, the comparison between Wilcox’s Fonthill and Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe is justified, given that the two men are obviously larger-than-life fictionalised heroes, fighting in real campaigns, and interacting with real people in the process, and the two characters certainly don’t mind butting heads with superior officers in their own army (and seem to enjoy it as much as fighting the enemy) but Sharpe seems to enjoy life in the Army, such as it is, whilst Fonthill does not. Nor does his constant companion, 352 Jenkins.

In fact, the two are looking to be done with the British Army in the aftermath of the last victory in the Zulu Wars – Fonthill has already resigned his commission and has bought Jenkins out – but are blackmailed by an intelligence officer to travel to another hotspot for the vast British empire: Afghanistan, where the British are about as popular as they are amongst the Zulu hordes in South Africa.

Wilcox does a wonderful job of painting the picture of the times, militarily and politically, and his portrait of Afghanistan is one of lawlessness, with most of the country roused to fight against the British, who are having a tough time of it in the rugged landscape. Typically, Fonthill and 352 Jenkins (alongside a wonderfully eccentric Sikh guide who is a cricket fanatic and likes to be called W.G. Grace, one of Wilcox’s best creations) find themselves right in the middle of the action, working to gather intelligence for the British thrust towards Kandahar, and are captured in the process.

Not for the first time, Fonthill takes one for the team, and his torture at the hands of violent Afghani tribesmen (and women!) certainly made me squirm. I won’t elaborate, except to say that I’m glad it was Fonthill and not me. Even after putting his own life on the line to get the intelligence the British commanders need for their campaign, Fonthill is disbelieved by most of the upper echelon of officers, who regard him as unorthodox and insolent, and, because of his unorthodox nature, not to be trusted. In the end, though

As much as the battle scenes spring off the page – just like Cornwell’s do – it’s the personal conflict that makes these Fonthill stories so good. Fonthill’s enemy, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Covington makes a return, as does the intrepid female reporter Alice Griffith, and she’s still hell-bent on becoming a famous journalist, not caring which officers she upsets in the Army.

There’s nothing ground-breaking in these Fonthill adventures, but they’re enjoyable and easy to read, and have certainly opened my eyes as far as knowledge about the smaller conflicts the British were involved in during the last two decades of the 1880s. 

 

There’s a definite formulaic approach to these novels – not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, it just means that, no matter what scrape Fonthill finds himself in, you know he’s going to somehow emerge more or less unscathed.

It means that Fonthill and 352 Jenkins will be back out on the campaign trail somewhere soon. Can’t wait to read the next installment!