The band is posed in front of their barracks

In 1922, the British Empire still held sway over vast stretches of the world, and nowhere was this more evident than in India, the "jewel in the crown." Amidst the political tensions and growing movements for independence, British soldiers continued their duties, maintaining the daily rhythms of the empire’s military presence. Among these soldiers was a military band stationed at a remote British outpost in India, as captured in this worn and weathered photograph.

This band was more than just a collection of musicians; they were an integral part of the regiment’s morale and public image. Music had long been a tool of the British military, used to rally soldiers, mark significant occasions, and instil a sense of discipline and order. The men in this band, dressed in their immaculate uniforms, represented that tradition. They had travelled across seas, leaving behind the rolling hills and misty towns of Britain to serve in the sweltering heat and humidity of colonial India.

At the centre of the photograph sits Sergeant Arthur McAllister, a stern yet fatherly figure to the younger soldiers in the band. Hailing from the Scottish Highlands, McAllister was a veteran of the Great War, where he had played his pipes in the trenches of France. Now, far from the battlefields of Europe, his role was to lead this band, to ensure that the regiment’s parades, ceremonies, and public appearances were marked by the grandeur of military music. His bagpipes, worn and well-loved, lay at his feet — an instrument that had seen more of the world than most of the soldiers around him.

To his right was Private James Hargrove, a fresh-faced young man from London. James had joined the army after the war, seeking adventure and a means to escape the post-war economic depression gripping Britain. His skill with the trumpet had earned him a place in the band, but what he hadn’t anticipated was the profound culture shock upon arriving in India. The smells, the languages, the vibrant colours of Indian life — all of it was so far removed from the grey streets of his childhood. Yet, like many young soldiers, he adjusted, finding solace in the familiar notes of his trumpet.

On McAllister’s left was Corporal Edward “Teddy” Collins, a seasoned drummer from Wales. Teddy had enlisted before the war, and while he had seen action in the early stages of World War I, his primary role had always been as a drummer. He viewed his drum not just as an instrument, but as the heartbeat of the regiment. His steady, rhythmic playing had guided soldiers into battle and now marked the cadence of their ceremonial marches through the dusty streets of Indian garrison towns.

The band was composed of a mix of British soldiers — some like McAllister, who had long careers in the military, and others like Hargrove, who were just beginning their service. There was camaraderie between them, born out of their shared experiences of being so far from home. They spent their days practising, perfecting their routines, and performing at official functions. In the evenings, when the heat of the day gave way to cooler breezes, they often gathered in the barracks to share stories of home, of sweethearts waiting for them, and of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

But beyond the walls of their garrison, India was changing. The Non-Cooperation Movement, spearheaded by Mahatma Gandhi, was in full swing. Protests and strikes were becoming more frequent, and the British soldiers stationed across the country were often called upon to maintain order. The members of the band, though shielded from much of the direct conflict, were not oblivious to the tension in the air. They could sense the growing resentment toward their presence, and some wondered about their role in a country that was increasingly calling for its own freedom.

Sergeant McAllister, with his deep sense of duty, was determined to keep his men focused. "Our job is to play," he would often remind them. "We provide the rhythm that holds the regiment together." But even he, a man who had served the Empire for decades, sometimes found himself questioning what lay ahead for India, and for the soldiers like him who served in it.

In this photo, the band is posed in front of their barracks, instruments in hand, their expressions a mix of pride and formality. They may not have known it at the time, but they were part of a slowly crumbling empire. The Indian soldiers who drilled alongside them were beginning to question their own loyalties, and the very structure that these British soldiers represented was on the verge of monumental change.

By the time India gained independence in 1947, many of these men would have long since returned home, their experiences in India just a memory. Some would have gone on to fight in World War II, while others would have retired to quiet lives in Britain. But in 1922, as they posed for this photograph, they were part of a military machine that still believed in the permanence of the British Empire, even as the foundations beneath it were beginning to shift.