“My God, you are clever.” Billy lowered the field glasses, astonished at the tact of his Zulu counterpart.
It was a stroke of pure genius in deploying his forces. The “Horns of the Buffalo” from the south would distract and absorb the firepower of the British position, whilst more of his warriors lay under cover on the enemy’s flank. With almost seven hundred yards to cover to the British lines, the Zulu commander knew that his warriors would be chopped to ruins by the British volleys if he threw in a simultaneous attack. Instead, he had deployed a phased attack. The “Chest” from the south would absorb the losses, the traditional Zulu tactic. With about three or four hundred yards for the “Chest” to go, the Zulu commander had let loose his remaining warriors from the eastern donga. The warriors from the south would reach the British position, and envelop it. This would allow the warriors from the dongas to approach the final few hundred yards virtually unchallenged by the British rifles. The warriors from the donga would have to run a gauntlet of maybe three or four hundred yards before the British were pre-occupied with the hand-to-hand combat in front of the barricade.
Sheer genius, Billy had to acknowledge, and it would make the defence of this position all the more difficult. The first wave from the south was very likely to surround the position, and the additional warriors from the dongas would add further weight to that assault.
“Shall we open fire, sir?!” a voice called from behind him.
“Yes, Captain!” Billy got the attention of one of the redcoat company commanders. “Commence independent firing!”
Now, Billy thought, it’s going to come down to the cold mathematics. Could the riflemen and the cannon kill or injure enough Zulus to give them a fighting chance in the hand-to-hand? Major Pulleine was still sending volleys streaking down from the south wall, but still the Zulus came on with the “Zulu-Zulu-Zulu-Zulu” chant that seemed to drone and buzz in Billy’s ears.
On the east wall, the riflemen were starting to take a steady toll of the Zulus emerging from the dried-up stream bed. At first, the Zulus clambered over the edge, and within seconds, were being toppled back into the donga by the British sharpshooters.
“East wall!” Billy called, “Commence volley fire!”
The redcoat captain in charge of the west wall, a man by the name of Pope, waved his acknowledgement of the order. A few seconds later, the first of the volleys slashed downrange to start systematically cutting down the attackers.
Switching his attention to the western wall, the Zulus were still emerging, but in far fewer numbers than on the eastern wall.
Maybe this is simply a diversion, Billy considered, as he watched a young warrior in a simple black loincloth, and a black shield, thrown back down into the donga he had just clambered out of.
There certainly appeared to be far fewer warriors to the west, but then again, the “Horn” of the western attack hadn’t made quite as much progress as their eastern brothers. To the south, Major Pulleine was still pouring volleys and cannon fire into the “Chest” of the Zulu attack, which had now come within two hundred yards of the British position. From the sound of the cannon fire, Major Smith was now double-shotting the artillery. Regardless of their overwhelming firepower, the Zulus still kept coming on. The tactic of throwing themselves flat to the ground just before the British volley had been abandoned. The Zulus were now close enough to realise that they had a better chance of surviving if they just dashed forward and got into the hand-to-hand combat.
When the Zulus to the south had reached about one hundred and fifty yards, Billy called for Captain Nourse. The Natal Infantry Captain was instructed to deploy one Spear Company, each consisting of one hundred and fifty men, to each wall. There were to be two more Spear Companies in reserve. With the deployment of the Natal Infantry, Billy knew that he had four hundred and fifty men on each wall. The Natal Infantry would each provide support for two riflemen, or so Billy planned.
The Natal Infantrymen scampered to their allotted positions on each wall and stood ready behind the riflemen. From their expressions, Billy could see that the Natal Infantrymen were eager to get into the fight. The all-important question was, would his gamble about spears and rifles be able to combine effectively to overcome the Zulu numbers? Looking to the south, Billy saw that the Zulus were within one hundred yards of the barricade. In a +scant+ few minutes, he would find out.
“West wall!” Billy called, “Commence volley fire!”
The Zulus emerging from the donga on the western wall were now sufficient in number to require the regular volley fire to thin down their numbers.
On the south wall, Billy could see the Natal Infantrymen taking their stations behind the riflemen. The Zulus were now within fifty yards of the barricade, and with no glass and nail trap to impede them, it would be a matter of less than a minute before the soldiers were engaged in the hand-to-hand. The east and west walls were now falling into the routine of the volley fire, whilst on the south wall, the volleys had now reached a fever pitch in their tempo and regularity.
On the edges of the south wall, the two cannon roared for the last time. Having triple-shotted both guns, the two artillery pieces had been blown from their carriages. Like huge shotguns, the cannon had blasted an inferno of shot at the approaching Zulus.
However, with a huge powder charge to drive the three case shots into the enemy, the recoil had toppled the two guns backwards. This had thrown the metal barrels clear of the carriages designed to hold them. With the guns wrecked, the artillerymen retreated back onto the position and started to break out the rocket warheads that had been taken from their launchers to provide the guns with powder.
The rocket warheads were now to be used as hand grenades, and the artillerymen would have the job of lighting the warhead fuses before heaving them over the barricade and into the Zulu attackers.
“Fire!” The horde of attacking Zulus vanished in a great blanket of white smoke and the roar of rifles.
Behind the smoke, several hundred Zulu warriors were scythed down and mutilated by the rifle bullets. The British soldiers, shielded from the horror of the final volley, nervously held out their bayonet-tipped rifles, ready for the horde to smash down on them like an avenging tidal wave.
Like black, hell-bound spectres, the Zulu warriors swept out of the smoke and threw themselves at the British line. In a few moments, they hit the front face of the barricaded square and began to envelop the flanking faces like a huge oil slick. The Zulus struggling to get out of the dongas on the square flanks would now get the respite they needed to make it over and join their comrades in the hand-to-hand. This would lead to the entire square being surrounded.
Quietly, Billy Caudwell cursed the situation; he had hoped that the British rifle fire would thin down the Zulu ranks for a few more minutes before they began to engage in hand-to-hand combat. The metal of the Zulu assegais clashed and clattered against the steel of the British bayonets, which was interspersed with rifle shots, the shouts of men in battle, and the screams of men in pain. The chant of “Zulu-Zulu-Zulu-Zulu” underpinned the hellish cacophony of the battle.
As the Zulus raced up to the barricade, the Natal Infantry officers and NCOs took their Spear Companies forward. Screaming their tribal war cries, the Natal Infantrymen plunged into the hand-to-hand with their long spears and shields. The Zulus, expecting to deal with bayonet-tipped rifles, found themselves facing the longer Natal Infantry spears that jabbed and lunged at them from across the barricade. The Natal Infantrymen, looking to spill Zulu blood, jabbed, lunged, and gouged at the targets in front of them. The Zulus, having dashed up from the dongas, now found themselves blocked by the barricade in front of them With the front rank of their attack being blocked, the warriors behind them found that their comrades in front of them were delaying their progress.
The Zulus, five or six deep in some places, were now struggling to make any progress against the resolute defenders. This was where Billy hoped that the combination of rifle and spear behind the b
arricade would pay dividends. With the first Zulus already falling to the gouging and jabbing spears, Billy felt more confident that his strategy would pay off. However, the Zulus with spears of their own were starting to claim lives on the British side of the barricade. At first, it had been throwing spears that had arched over the Zulu front line from the rear ranks.
A great many had missed their targets, but some had managed to find the chests, heads and arms of the red-coated or Natal Infantry defenders. Within a few minutes, the first of the casualties were tumbling back from the barricade, with Zulu throwing spears embedded in their bodies.
Whilst looking at the west wall, Billy saw one redcoat tumble backwards from the barricade as if he had been pole-axed. With his arms outstretched, the redcoat fell with a Zulu throwing spear lodged in his chest. The sergeant, standing behind the line, quickly stripped the dead redcoat of his rifle and ammunition, and passed the bullets to other riflemen on the line. The line was holding, but bodies were starting to fall or stumble back from the hand-to-hand. It was now time for Billy to get involved.
Trotting forwards, Billy quickly made his way to the south wall. This was where he expected the fighting to be heaviest, and where the part of his mind that was Teg Portan told him that he should be. It was no place for the faint-hearted, and Billy knew that he had to take his share of the hand-to-hand battle. Drawing the heavy Pryce revolver from the holster at his hip, Billy moved towards the battle line. Already, bodies littered the area behind the barricade. The bandsmen were doing their best to drag away the wounded, whilst the dead were left where they fell. Pushing into the battle line with his pistol ready, Billy got his first sight of the enemy in the hand-to-hand combat.
Meanwhile, the Zulus on the other side of the barricade were jabbing and thrusting with both long and short spears at the redcoats and Natal Infantry. Doing their best to avoid the bayonets and spears from the British side, many Zulus in the front line were holding up their shields to fend off the blows. This, however, presented a problem for many, in that the shields of their comrades were blocking their own attempts to stab at the British soldiers. Because of this, Zulus in the second and third lines were having more success trying to jab and thrust at the British.
The British line, however, was holding up; mainly thanks to the Natal Infantry, who with their own tribal shields were holding back many of the thrusts and jabs that would have been aimed at the riflemen. The Zulu, with their short-stabbing assegai, could thrust and jab at the redcoats with ease. If the redcoat held his nerve, he soon found out that his bayonet-tipped rifles had a better reach than the Zulu spears. Checking his pistol one more time, Billy pushed his way to the front of the battle line, between a redcoat and a Natal Infantryman carrying a brown shield. For Billy, looking over the south wall, it seemed as if everything moved in slow motion. There was a strange, almost savage, clarity in everything he saw, heard and felt, all of which he had never experienced in any other situation except combat.
In the few feet of battle that unfolded just mere feet in front of him, Billy saw a Zulu warrior with a leopard skin headband raise his war club into the air, only to strike down a redcoat who was bayoneting another warrior on his right. The British soldier lunged with his own bayonet; piercing the Zulu’s chest just below the nipple. The Zulu, his face twisted in the rictus of pain fell forward, dragging the soldier’s bayonet and rifle down with him. With his bayonet being pulled away and his body off balance, the soldier was vulnerable and didn’t see the warrior to his right, who smashed his war club down onto his helmeted head. With a sickening thud, and crack of bone, the soldier fell forwards, on top of the body of another fallen Zulu.
Billy fired his pistol into the face of the Zulu with the white feather plume in his black cloth headband, who had just clubbed the soldier to death. The angry black face shattered under the force of the bullet like an eggshell, causing a huge spray of blood, bone, and brain matter from the huge exit wound that tore away half of his head. The Zulu fell back against his comrades and slipped quietly to the ground. The next target was a Zulu, in the second rank, with a white shield who was about to throw a spear towards Billy. The pistol banged impressively, with the recoil pushing Billy’s hand upwards. The bullet smashed through the animal hide shield and into the Zulu’s chest. The Zulu was flung backwards into his comrades, and the spear was never thrown.
Stepping back, Billy watched as a Natal Infantryman jabbed his spear forwards and caught a Zulu on the throat. The thrust of the spear was so fierce that it pierced through the Zulu’s neck, severing his spinal cord and protruding out through the back. With a desperate twist of the wrist, the Infantryman, not wishing to lose the spear, pulled the spear back towards him. The dead Zulu, still caught on the blade, seemed to be drawn towards the British position, and pushing up against wall, hung pressed against the barricade for a few moments.
In those few moments, Billy saw the cold still, lifeless eyes of the dead Zulu seem to stare at him in accusation, until, mercifully, the weight of the body pulled the corpse clear of the blade.
The third shot from the pistol went into a Zulu with a white head-dress who was leaning over the barricade to stab at a redcoat. With the assegai blade piercing the redcoat’s shoulder, the soldier fell backwards; pulling his rifle with him. The successful Zulu then tried to climb onto the barricade, but was hit by Billy’s third shot somewhere in the left side of his chest. The Zulu fell sideways amongst his comrades, scattering and knocking over several other warriors in the process. The stabbed redcoat struggled to his feet using the rifle as a crutch. Feeling that the wound wasn’t too bad, he reloaded his rifle and plunged back into the battle line. A moment later, he shot another Zulu, and was last seen by Billy Caudwell trying to push his bayonet into another Zulu’s face.
The screams and yells of men caught in the midst of the hellish scrimmage for survival barely registered in Billy Caudwell’s consciousness. He was too focussed on the stabbing, clubbing, hacking and slashing melee that was just a few feet in front of him. All around him, the close quarter battle was raging. The screams and yells of men echoed amongst the clash of steel, the bang of rifle shots, and the sickening THUD of war clubs finding their mark on British helmets. To Billy Caudwell, it was chaos. The stench of blood, powdered smoke, and naked terror assailed his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses.
At the same time as the horror he felt, he felt that he was more alive than he had ever been in his life. His world, as a commander in a space battle, was one of standing at his War Table and directing forces in a battle where he was in no immediate personal danger. Out here, in the Time Warrior Ritual, the physical danger was very real. The part of his mind that was Teg Portan knew all too well about the thrill of risking it all in pursuit of victory. Billy Caudwell was beginning to understand the adrenaline rush that came with risking his life. Despite his own fears and trepidations before the battle, he now felt the sheer animal joy and intensity of that emotion.
To his left, Billy caught sight of another shape on the barricade. Another Zulu, in a black loincloth and shield, had managed to clamber onto one of the wagons. Stretching out his arm, Billy let fly with his fourth shot. Whether he hit the Zulu or not, Billy did not know, but two red coated riflemen had also fired at the same warrior; who had fallen like a sack of potatoes onto the top of the wagon.
With one shot left, Billy chose his moment. A long throwing spear was being jabbed at a Natal Infantryman next to Billy. With his left hand, Billy caught the spear as the Infantryman avoided the razor sharp blade. Pulling the blade towards him, Billy dragged it away from its intended target, and held onto the shaft as the blade passed harmlessly behind him. With his right hand, Billy raised the pistol quickly and pulled the trigger when the overbalanced Zulus forehead was no more than fifteen centimetres from the muzzle. The Zulu was completely defenceless to the bullet that struck him in the middle of his forehead. With a spray of brains, blood, and bone, the Zulu jerked back, like a puppet on a string, and vanished into t
he press of bodies that wanted to get closer to the barricade. The Natal Infantryman that he had just saved smiled nervously and rejoined the battle.
With the pistol now empty, Billy stepped back from the battle line. Quickly, he scanned the whole position. The plan was working well. The Spear Companies from the Natal Infantry were managing to hold the Zulus at bay whilst riflemen reloaded and fired into the press of enemy bodies.
On the west wall, the position was holding, but there did seem to be quite a lot of dead and injured men lying behind the barricade. Looking more closely, Billy could see that many of them were Natal Cavalry. He would have to keep a close watch on the west wall. On the east wall, the Zulus were almost as numerous as those at the south wall. The position was still holding; a junior lieutenant had a dozen riflemen behind the fighting line and was blasting volleys over the shoulders of the spear and bayonet men to some effect.
On the south wall of the square, the British troops were under severe pressure. The heavily reinforced “Chest” of the Zulu attack was pressing the barricade. Along the length of the barricade, Billy could see the line of redcoats and Infantrymen begin to buckle under the pressure of the Zulu onslaught. The barricade was holding, but the number of red coated or bare-chested figures lying on the ground bore testimony to the savagery of the fighting. The pile of Zulu bodies stacked up on either side of the barricade bore testimony to their suicidal bravery.
The whole British square was engaged in hand-to-hand fighting, but the south face was particularly under threat.
Already, small groups were starting to step back from the barricade. Zulu warriors were starting to clamber onto, or pull down, the piles of material that made up the defensive wall. Zulus managing to scramble onto the barricade were quickly being shot down. However, their comrades were rapidly tearing at the barricade, and that was the immediate concern for Billy.
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