The mysteries of a 200-year-old Asian arsenal have just been unlocked, and tons of rare artifacts have been brought back to the United States for all to see-and own. All of us dream of finding buried chests of Spanish doubloons or an undiscovered Rembrandt or a cased Paterson revolver in grandma's attic. But, in the grim reality of today's world, it seems as though such romantic notions are just that-notions. Imagine then, coming across not just one or two rare arms-but thousands of them! Improbable? Perhaps. But it did happen-in fact it's still happening. And it's one heck of a story. As all great treasure hunt stories should, this one begins in the past and involves proud families, intrigue, death, warfare, and fortunes won and lost. The scenario and cast of characters is so bizarre and unusual that no modern novelist would have the nerve to make them up. But it is true nonetheless. The tale begins some 200 years ago in the exotic Kingdom of Nepal, located at the foot of the Himalaya Mountains. In 1814 the Nepalese Army, composed of the legendarily fierce Gurkha fighters, invaded northern India-then under the control of the British East India Company-and occupied the hill stations of Mussoorie, Simla and Dehra Dun. Needless to say the English were perturbed, not only for the effrontery of the thing, but for the real possibility that they might lose an area boasting some of the most agreeable weather for summer retreats on the sub-continent. They launched a counter-attack, and though initially defeated, after several tries the Company troops, under General David Ochterlony, finally subdued the Ghurkhas, broke through the Katmandu valley and threatened the nation's capital. Realizing the game was up, the King of Nepal, at the advice of Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa (more about him later) decided to sign the Treaty of Sagauli, which allowed the British to establish a Resident at Katmandu and permitted them to cross Nepal and trade with Tibet. As well, the Company was allowed to recruit Gurkha soldiers into its armies. As a further part of the agreement, the British vowed to supply the Nepalese armies with small arms, artillery and ammunition-a promise, as we shall see later on, that was more than generously fulfilled.During hostilities, both the British and Gurkhas gained considerable respect for one-another regarding their tough fighting abilities and chivalric behavior. For example, in one of the earlier campaigns the British built a monument to the Gurkhas which was inscribed, "They fought in their conflict like men and, in the intervals of actual conflict, showed us a liberal courtesy." Gurkhas, carrying their deadly trademark kukri knives, have remained an important element of the British Army ever since, and they have served proudly in scores of campaigns and both World Wars. They remain among the most respected and highly decorated fighting forces in the world. But, back to Nepal. After many years of honorable government service, Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa (remember him), decided to retire to his country estate. Things weren't to rest there however, for palace intrigues resulted in his being lured back to Katmandu in 1839 where he was imprisoned on charges of high treason. Bhimsen, a proud man, refused to be broken under torture. Finally he was told that his senior wife and children would be dragged naked through the streets of the city. Unable to deal with the shame, the former prime minister hanged himself in his cell. Upon hearing of his death, Bhimsen's wife, who was residing at the family's ancestral palace, Lagan Silekhana, hung herself from one of the residence's high windows. Even today, a rope is suspended from the window in tribute to the statesman and his wife. In 1845, Bhimsen Thapa's nephew became prime minister and set about righting the wrongs that had been done to his uncle, deftly removing all enemies in a subsequent purge. Lagan Silekhana was never reoccupied, and instead turned into a royal arsenal to house British gifts as well as homefabricated arms and equipment. The Treasure Hunt The story now jumps forward a century or so to 1969 when Christian Cranmer, now president of Int'l Military Antiques, was walking along Oxford Street in London with an old boarding school chum one day. His friend, whose parents were in the high-end antiques business, had just returned from Nepal with a fantastic story about meeting a Russian ex-ballet dancer who owned a hotel in Kathmandu. According to the Russian, there was an incredible cache of arms in an old palace in the heart of the city. Interested, Cranmer's friend visited the arsenal and, if anything, found his guide's claims to be considerably understated. It was an Aladdin's cave full of wonderful things. After hearing the tale, Cranmer immediately set about verifying the story, and discovered that it was true. he began negotiations with the authorities, but as always there was a glitch. Several different governmental agencies felt that the material came under their jurisdiction, and it became almost impossible to determine exactly who to deal with. Finally, in 2000, because of a serious lack of up-to-date weaponry to fight Maoist rebels-and an even greater lack of funds to pay for it-the Nepalese decided to start accepting offers. After rather tortuous negotiations, Cranmer and his partner, Sudhir Windlass, owner of Atlanta Cutlery, emerged victorious. Originally the bid was for 200 tons of armament, but after it was learned that there were 146 cannons destined for smelting, and an almost equal number of artillery carriages that were systematically being burned, it was decided that these too should be included in the package, bringing to 430 tons the total of everything from bayonets and knives to siege guns. Congratulating themselves on their successful bid, Cranmer and Windlass didn't realize their troubles were far from over. Arriving in Katmandu in January, 2003 for a one-month stay to supervise the packing and shipping of their prize, Cranmer made a tour of the palace and realized that the job would be considerably more complicated than he had originally thought. At one time, with its gilded wall decoration and exotic murals, Langan Silekhana must have been one of the most splendid residences in Nepal, but after 200 years of neglect it was, as described by Cranmer, "absolutely filthy." The rooms of the palace, which had no electric lights or running water, were stuffed from floor to ceiling with stacks of muskets, swords, rifles and artillery. To make matters worse, working space was at a minimum and everything was covered in layers of black brick dust (seven tons of which still falls on Katmandu daily). Realizing the job was going to be several times greater than originally imagined, Cranmer dug in and started removing the treasure. Much of the material actually had to be passed out through high windows, as there was no way it could be negotiated out of first floor doors. Every day brought new revelations. Of course, they knew about the Pattern 1842 muskets and Snider and Martini-Henry rifles, but who could account for the piles of Model 1853 Slant-Breech Sharps carbines and rifles, or the million or so musket flints and .75-caliber Brown Bess musket balls? Or what about the bronze cannon emblazoned with the cipher of Catherine the Great. His one-month stay stretching to half a year, by june Cranmer had all 430 tons packed into 31 containers and ready be moved south, through India from Kathmandu to Calcutta. Unfortunately the convoy was hit by a monsoon, and a trip that should have taken three days took three grueling weeks. Despite adversity, all the loot is now in the United States in two locations, at Int'l Military Antiques in New Jersey and Atlanta Cutlery in Georgia, where it has been unpacked, is being cleaned and currently offered for sale. I recently took a tour of IMA's facilities, and, frankly, it was virtually impossible to keep a journalistic detachment concerning what I saw. The only word for it-and really it's quite inadequate-is "Wow!"