6 A British resident official was to oversee Zulu affairs.
7 Missionaries were to be readmitted to Zululand without let or hindrance. Any dispute involving a European was to be dealt with under British jurisdiction.
Having respectfully listened to the ultimatum, the Zulu deputation then expressed their horror at the terms. They were united in their protest that Cetshwayo had never given any such assurances but Shepstone stifled their protests. The Zulus requested an extension of the deadline but this was also refused. By the middle of the afternoon, Shepstone drew the meeting to a close and the perplexed Zulus were ferried back across the Tugela to take the terms of the ultimatum to Cetshwayo. A local white trader, John Dunn, managed to obtain a copy of the ultimatum and, being on good terms with Cetshwayo, sent a copy directly to the king. There followed a succession of futile attempts by the Zulus to placate the British, all to no avail.
Cetshwayo sent a letter denying that he had broken any vows; interestingly, the letter was not made public until after the invasion of Zululand. Cetshwayo wrote:
Did I ever tell Mr Shepstone I would not kill? Did he tell the white people I had made such an arrangement? If he did, he has deceived them. I do kill, but do not consider that I have done anything yet in that way. Why do the white people start at nothing? I have not yet begun. I have yet to kill. It is the custom of our nation and I shall not depart from it. Why does the Government of Natal speak to me about my laws? Do I go to Natal and dictate to him [Shepstone] about his laws?
I shall not agree to any laws or rules from Natal, and by so doing throw the large kraal, which I govern, into the water.
My people will not listen unless they are killed; and while wishing to be friends with the English, I do not agree to give my people over to be governed by laws sent to me by them.
Have I not asked the English to allow me to wash my spears since the death of my father Mpande? And they have kept playing with me all the time, treating me like a child.
Go back and tell the English that I shall now act on my own account, and if they wish me to agree to their laws, I shall leave and become a wanderer, but, before I go it will be seen, as I shall not go without having acted.
Go back and tell the white men this, and let them hear it well. The Government of Natal and I are equal. He is the Governor of Natal and I am the governor here.
Frere would have realized that this poignant but angry letter was a virtual declaration that Cetshwayo would fight a defensive war if Zululand were attacked.
The ultimatum posed serious problems for both the British government at home and the Zulu king. The British government, still not aware of the full terms of the ultimatum, had to be content with awaiting news of the outcome of events. Cetshwayo responded by sending conciliatory messages to Sir Bartle Frere while he reluctantly prepared his army to oppose British troops now massing along his border. Yet, for Cetshwayo, the time was opportune; the whole Zulu army was shortly due to assemble at Cetshwayo’s royal homestead at Nodwengu, near Ulundi, for the umKhosi, the annual festival of first fruits. With the Zulu warriors already preparing to travel to the event, a further instruction was issued for the warriors to attend, not to celebrate a festival, but with their arms and shields ready to defend their country. Lord Chelmsford had not appointed an intelligence officer to his staff; seeing no need for such an appointment, the omission unfortunately resulted in the expiry of the ultimatum and the invasion of Zululand both coinciding with the one occasion in the year when the whole Zulu army would be assembled before Cetshwayo at Ulundi. Just three days before the British ultimatum was due to expire, each regiment in turn began the process of being ‘doctored’ for war by special war-doctors who administered potions (muti) to make the warriors believe they would be bullet proof, or would rapidly heal in the unlikely event of sustaining injury.
Zulu accounts reveal that Cetshwayo was genuinely distressed by the prospect of war; after all, the Zulus had been faithful allies of the British for many years and had not engaged in warfare during the previous twenty-two years since the battle of Ndondakusuka, although they were, nevertheless, highly trained. In the final weeks leading up to the British invasion Cetshwayo sent no fewer than six pleas for more time to be given. The British received his final request on 11 January; the reply was curt – Cetshwayo should contact Lieutenant General Lord Chelmsford, whose forces were already invading Zululand. Cetshwayo responded by addressing his army with the words:
I am sending you out against the whites, who have invaded Zululand and driven away our cattle. You are to go against the column at Rorke’s Drift and drive it back into Natal, and if the state of the river will allow, follow it up through Natal right up to the Drakensberg. You will attack by daylight as there are enough of you to eat it up, and you will march slowly so as not to tire yourselves.8
The Zulus’ determination to defend their country was to produce the most unexpected result. From this point onwards the news from South Africa was to dominate the British press. Curiously, the Swedish government had realized the outcome of the coming conflict was not a foregone conclusion; prior to the ultimatum, the British Foreign Office had received an application from the Swedish government asking ‘that steps might be taken to afford protection in the event of a Zulu war to the Mission Station at Rorke’s Drift’. Apparently the Swedish government’s dispatch was not considered worthy as no reply was sent or considered necessary; it was merely noted internally.9
As far as the white population of Natal was concerned, the rumblings of war meant little to them other than an opportunity of making profit by supplying the British Army. With Christmas coming, life in Natal proceeded as normal; the possibility of war with the Zulus did not unduly concern the civilian population who were more interested in the coming festivities and the price of their market commodities. Both towns were prospering from the influx of the military that consumed vast quantities of provisions. Several new buildings in both Durban and Pietermaritzburg had second floors, which reflected the colony’s new wealth, and their shops and stores were well provisioned. Good beef could be obtained for 5d. per pound, lamb for 6d., sugar 4d., and coffee 1s. 4d. There was plenty of Christmas fare specially imported from Europe and most popular were English hams and bacon, Stilton cheese and a variety of sherries and champagne. Private houses were decorated with local ferns, flowers and lilies. The social scene thrived with concerts, theatres and music halls all well attended. All transactions were in British coinage – sovereigns and half-sovereigns, crowns and half-crowns, florins, shillings, fourpenny and threepenny bits, copper pence, halfpence and farthings.
These two towns each had a small hospital to cater for their growing populations, people who generally regarded the function of such places as purely to receive dead and dying people. Illness and injury were much dreaded, patent medicines known as ‘cure-alls’ being all that was available to the population. Better-off families usually owned a medicine chest complete with a book of instructions and phials of lotions and potions for every known ailment. The Zulu War would bring a flood of British medical teams to Natal, and the women of Natal who generously assisted with nursing the military sick and wounded would likewise quickly gain their expertise.
CHAPTER 1
The Invaders of Zululand
For a shilling a day.
During the reign of Queen Victoria, there were more than enough recruits to make conscription unnecessary and taking the queen’s shilling, and all it stood for, was a legally binding contract between the recruit and the army. Recruiting sergeants knew where to find hungry and unemployed young men and consequently frequented the public houses and taverns where they collected, although any recruit who could be proved to have been drunk at the time of his ‘enlistment’ could be released from the commitment on payment of £1. Recruits were normally ‘sworn in’ within twenty-four hours before being medically examined and posted to a regiment or to join a draft being sent abroad. Most young men joined the army to escape unemployment, pover
ty and wretched squalor. Many were initially unfit or suffering from poor physique due to the ravages of illness and disease that swept the civilian population of the time; tuberculosis, cholera, influenza, whooping cough, scarlet fever, measles, syphilis and a variety of lesser infectious diseases were rife. The life expectancy of the working classes was as low as 38 years – with only the well-off having any hope of reaching their mid-fifties. The average height of an army recruit had fallen over the previous ten years to a skinny 5ft 4in and yet, in spite of their poor physical condition, several weeks of sustained military training usually sufficed to transform the recruits into competent soldiers. A comparison of contemporary statistics reveals that in 1869 there were 12,000 recruits to the army with 3,341 desertions, or 27 per cent. In 1878 the recruits numbered 28,325 and the desertions 5,400, or 19 per cent. Despite these figures, the British soldiers about to face Cetshwayo’s Zulus were resilient fellows hardened by the African weather and by six years’ constant campaigning, although most had little or no idea why they would be fighting the Zulus. They amused themselves with a variety of sports such as wrestling and spear throwing and soldiers with less than fifteen years’ service were expected to undertake three half-mile runs each week. At first sight a soldier’s pay appeared to be reasonable, but from the daily shilling, official deductions ensured his continued poverty. A married soldier could have maintenance deducted from his wages and paid to his wife or family though no official help, other than charity, was available to the widow of a soldier killed in action, or who died of disease on campaign. It was not until after 1881 that any form of widow’s benefit became payable.
Letters from soldiers in the Zulu War tended to concentrate on worries about their families and friends rather than the conditions they were experiencing in Africa. At the time of the invasion of Zululand their life centred on staying dry and comfortable, a difficult task during the heavy thunderstorms of the four-month rainy season. The older and more experienced soldiers knew how to look after themselves and their equipment; they knew to sleep among rocks rather than on the damp ground to keep clean and dry, to dry out their wet kit when the sun shone and to swill out their boots daily with their own urine to fight athlete’s foot. Preventative medicine as such was not knowingly practised and so dysentery, enteric fever and tuberculosis all took their relentless toll, especially when the soldiers were coughing and spitting in squalid and overcrowded conditions. Close contact with infected animals and drinking contaminated milk resulted in tuberculosis spreading rapidly among the soldiers while the common practice of drawing drinking water from the same source used by animals and local people spread enteric fever. Likewise, it was not realized until after the war that sick oxen and dying Zulus tended to make for water; the many decomposing carcasses polluted the watercourses, but unfortunately this was ignored by water-collecting parties.
Disease was one problem, staying out of trouble was another; most soldiers quickly learned to obey every order instantly as flogging was still regularly practised. Of the 12,000 soldiers who took part in the two invasions of Zululand, 545 were flogged between 11 January and 4 July 1879; the standard punishment for insubordination or similar minor offences was twenty-five lashes, sleeping on duty or theft merited fifty lashes. It appears from their letters that soldiers accepted the necessity of corporal punishment though a number described it as ‘a sorry sight’. Following furious protests in the British press, flogging was eventually banned at the end of 1879, even for active service offences.
The British officers who led their men to Zululand were generally taller and fitter than their men. They usually came from the middle and upper classes and most had purchased their commissions prior to the Cardwell reforms that abolished the purchase system. Most officers enjoyed the benefits of family wealth but on campaign officers were expected to display a high level of fitness, loyalty, team spirit and physical bravery. By the time of the Zulu War many officers had adopted a more paternal attitude towards their men; they were more concerned for their men’s welfare and many readily assisted with the vital task of letter writing and reading.
By 1874 communications and trade throughout Natal were so severely hampered by impassable roads, a complete lack of navigable rivers and the absence of a transport system that a government enquiry had taken place to examine the feasibility of creating a unified infrastructure throughout Natal. The enquiry considered developing an integrated rail and road network but, due to a lack of finance, the recommendations of the enquiry were never implemented. The commerce of Natal continued to depend on a network of dirt roads and inaccurate maps; and with regard to neighbouring Zululand, no reliable maps existed as much of the country remained unexplored.
By mid 1878 plans were well advanced for the invasion of Zululand, but one practical problem remained – there was no established system of transport within the British Army. Lord Chelmsford’s invasion force would amount to an estimated total of 12,500 fighting men who would need many hundreds of wagons with thousands of oxen, mule carts, mules and horses. Lord Chelmsford requested the imposition of martial law in order that his army could commandeer all the wagons, oxen and horses needed for the invasion but the civilian Governor of Natal, Sir Henry Bulwer, refused the request. The officer in charge of supplies, Commissary General Strickland, had a peacetime establishment of twenty junior officers and thirty men under his command, a woefully inadequate staff for such an enormous undertaking. Chelmsford quickly realized his invasion could not take place without sufficient transport and appointed a Board, under Colonel Sir Evelyn Wood, to advise him. Chelmsford telegraphed the War Office for an urgent draft of experienced captains to be sent to Natal to supplement the commissariat; he then ordered the unopened railway line that was still under construction from Durban to Pietermaritzburg to be made available. While the commissariat pondered the merit of purchase as an alternative to the hire of transport, Chelmsford ordered the purchase of 200 wagons on the open market. This decision caused a dramatic increase in prices across the country and the army was soon at the mercy of speculative contractors. Chelmsford had even less luck with oxen and horses as Natal had only recently come through a two-year drought and healthy animals were already being traded at a premium. Horses in poor condition, that would previously have sold for as little as £2 each, were being traded for £40 while oxen could only be hired at exorbitant rates, but not purchased as the owners realized they could levy monthly hire charges that were in excess of the animals’ true value.1
Without the imposition of martial law to control prices, the cost of mounting the invasion soared by the day. At last, exasperated and frustrated by the profiteering and lack of progress, Chelmsford took control of the commissariat and immersed himself in the task of resolving the situation. It was to his credit that, within weeks, he brought the situation back under control and had established an effective commissariat team under Commissary General Strickland, shortly to be reinforced by the specially drafted officers now en route from England. The Commissariat and Transport Department was still a young department of the army, having come into existence only on 9 December 1875 by royal warrant. Its officers held commissions identical to other army officers although their rank structure set them apart. On operations the senior officer was the commissary general; his deputy held the equivalent rank to a lieutenant colonel, a commissary as a major, a deputy commissary to a captain and an assistant commissary to a lieutenant. Sadly, other officers in the British Army looked down on their commissary brothers; even Wolseley wrote that ‘to rely upon a Commissariat officer is to be destroyed, and so it must always be until the Commissariat men are gentlemen, or at least as much gentlemen as the average British Officer’. At Rorke’s Drift, Commissary officers were shortly to prove they were more than an equal match for their brother officers.
Within the regiments and units preparing for the invasion, Chelmsford ordered each unit to appoint its own officers of transport to assist the commissariat. These officers were required to coordinate
and take responsibility for their unit’s transport requirements, assisted by a sub-conductor for every ten wagons. The total number of wagons allocated per infantry battalion amounted to seventeen, including one HQ (Headquarters) wagon; a battery of artillery had ten wagons and a squadron of mounted infantry had four. The overall responsibility for transport fell on the appointed transport officer, one per invading column. By September Chelmsford had created an effective and efficient supply system and advanced planning for the invasion was finalized. Fate then intervened; the two-year drought suddenly came to an end with incessant torrential rain and, within a matter of days, the dusty rutted tracks of Natal had become impassable quagmires.
It soon became obvious to Chelmsford that his plan for five invasion columns was totally impracticable; there were simply not enough wagons to carry the necessary stores. The list of stores was enormous and wide-ranging; it included tents, ammunition, cooking equipment, mobile hospitals and medicines, tools, spare boots and uniforms and food for the whole campaign. Chelmsford wisely decided to reduce the number of invasion columns from five to three, and also instructed that a series of supply depots be established at intervals along each column’s line of march; the column could then be ‘drip-fed’ on a daily basis from the nearest depot. For the Centre Column, which Chelmsford would accompany, depots were prepared and stocked with one month’s supplies at Helpmekaar and Rorke’s Drift. By 11 January when the invasion commenced, Chelmsford was satisfied that he had enough stores in place to sustain his columns; each could theoretically carry fifteen days’ supplies enabling them to move at 10 miles per day. Chelmsford had achieved an apparently impossible task.
The average soldier was probably unaware of all the administrative arrangements necessary for him to fight the Zulus; he was probably more concerned with the availability of his daily rations and bottled beer. His daily entitlement was a minimum of 1 pound of fresh meat, 1.5 pounds of fresh bread or its equivalent in biscuits, plus fresh vegetables and fruit or lime juice and sugar in lieu; this regulatory ration allowance gives an indication of the logistical planning necessary just to feed the 12,500 strong invasion force.
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