The riders hurriedly retreated back towards the camp hotly pursued by the Zulus; unfortunately several riders had earlier failed to notice a small spring and their retreat took them through boggy ground, slowing their retreat. With the Zulus upon them, two men were pulled from their horses and killed. Another rider, Trooper Petersen of the Frontier Light, also got into difficulties and his plight was seen by Lieutenant Colonel Russell, who had so rapidly fled Hlobane the previous day. Russell bravely went to Petersen’s aid but found himself in a similar predicament. Several of the Natal Native Horse, including the young Trooper Mossop, rushed to assist the trapped Petersen while Lieutenant Browne of the 24th Regiment went to Russell’s aid; all had a miraculous escape and reached the camp just as the artillery began firing case shot over their heads. Browne was later awarded the Victoria Cross, the only VC of the day, and Troop Sergeant Major Learda of the NNH received the DCM. Wood disliked Russell, especially after his underhand retreat from Hlobane, and so Russell’s bravery went unrecognized.
With shouts of ‘we are the boys from Isandlwana!’19 the right horn charged towards the camp and into a firestorm from the artillery and a rapid series of violent close-range volleys. Some Zulus even managed to reach the outer line of wagons but eventually they were forced into an urgent retreat. Many British soldiers were forced to admire the Zulus’ bravery; one wrote, ‘I never saw anything like it, nothing frightened them, and when any of their numbers were shot down, others took their places.’20 The Zulus made several gallant attempts to breach the British line; each attack was driven back by further close-range volleys, causing great loss to the Zulus. About a half-mile to the north of the camp was a rocky dip in the ground; the attacking Zulus withdrew to the protection of this cover and apart from a desultory and inaccurate fire, they took no further part in the battle.
The Zulu left horn were still largely unaware of the course of the raging battle and by the time they had cleared the marsh, the right horn were in full retreat. A brief lull ensued in the British position, which allowed Wood to turn his attention, and that of the 7 pound guns, in the anticipated direction of the approaching left horn that was now clambering up the ridge towards the British. The attacking Zulus began to mass within 100 yards of the camp’s cattle laager. While they prepared for their first attack, unexpected rifle fire began to hit the main British position from the east where Zulu snipers at the front of the main Zulu force commenced fire; simultaneous sniper fire came from the camp’s old rubbish and dung dumps some 300 yards to the west. The recent rains had caused a tall crop of mealies and grass to sprout around the dumps, which provided the Zulu snipers with relatively close cover. It was soon apparent to the soldiers under fire that the Zulus were in possession of numerous Martini-Henry rifles taken from Isandlwana. One British observer recalled, ‘The bullets whizzed across the camp like a perfect hailstorm.’21 Their accuracy left much to be desired but the fire was a serious irritation to the British defenders. At this point some of the uNokhenke broke through the camp’s outer defence, which resulted in a brief hand-to-hand skirmish involving Captain Cox’s company; in the desperate fray Cox was shot in the leg and Colour Sergeant Fricker received a serious head wound. Private Grosvenor helped Fricker away only to be fatally speared himself by a Zulu. Wood ordered a series of volleys into the advancing Zulus, which steadily drove them back from the close proximity of the camp.
The chest, consisting of the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, iNdluyengwe, uDloko, iMbube, iSangqu and uDududu regiments, now mounted its first attack. The warriors initially advanced in good order but soon took serious casualties from the sustained volleys of rifle fire and, like the right horn, they too fell back.
The calm control that now pervaded the British camp was in stark contrast to the extensive confusion among the Zulus; Wood noticed several indunas attempting to encourage the Zulus back into the fray. It is believed that it was at this point Wood took his orderly’s rifle from him and shot two of the Zulu commanders, causing the remainder to take cover. Wood then turned his attention to the Zulus still hiding behind the cattle laager and ordered Major Robert Hackett to take two companies of the 90th and, with fixed bayonets, drive the Zulus from the shelter. Hackett’s men fired several volleys and advanced behind their bayonets towards the Zulus; sporadic fire from the Zulus struck a number of the soldiers and a sniper’s bullet struck Hackett in the head. The bullet passed right through his head directly behind his eyes. (Later that night Hackett called for a candle as he found the night ‘uncommonly dark’; the wound rendered him blind for the rest of his life.) His subaltern, Lieutenant Bright, was hit in the thigh by a bullet that smashed one leg and lodged in the other. The British retired to the camp, taking with them their two seriously wounded officers.
The uVe and iNgobamakhosi made one final determined attack towards the redoubt but, once again, they were beaten off and sustained further serious casualties. The whole Zulu attack was now stalled; the main force made no attempt to advance on the British camp and the only fire still affecting Wood’s men was coming from Zulu marksmen firing from the rubbish dumps. Buller took charge: he ordered his men to fire directly into the rubbish heaps, a tactic so successful that after the battle over fifty Zulu bodies were recovered from the dumps.
The 90th recaptured the cattle laager at bayonet point and from this moment the willingness of the Zulus to mount further attacks dissipated. The Zulus were exhausted and by late afternoon it was evident to Wood that they were on the verge of effecting a mass withdrawal. Wood seized the opportunity to turn it into a rout; he ordered the guns to fire canister shot into the retreating Zulus and unleashed his several hundred mounted irregular troops to harass their withdrawal.
Among the riders were a number who had survived Hlobane the day before. The event was still very raw in their memories and all had lost friends, so they saw this as their chance to exact revenge. They were led out by Commandant Cecil D’Arcy of the Frontier Light Horse who spurred his men on with a chilling cry: ‘No quarter, boys, and remember yesterday.’ The fleeing Zulus were easily run down and were mercilessly slaughtered in their tens and twenties. Private John Snook created something of a stir at home when a letter he wrote to his parents was published in the British press; it included the chilling words:
I can tell you some murdering went on. Every Zulu caught was killed;the killing went on until darkness fell;only then did the slaughter cease.22
Wood lost eighteen NCOs and men killed, with eight officers and fifty-seven NCOs and men wounded of whom three would die of their injuries, including Lieutenant Bright. The surgeon attending Bright had failed to notice that the round had also passed through his other leg, causing him to bleed to death. Major Hackett survived and was returned to his home in Ireland where his brother nursed him into old age.
It is probable that over 500 Zulus were killed in the immediate area around the camp but it is even more likely that twice as many again were slain along their line of retreat. The dead around the camp were transported by wagons and buried well beyond the camp area. The close-range rifle and cannon fire had horribly mutilated many Zulu bodies and the results of the action distressed many soldiers in the burial parties. According to a journalist who was present at the battle,
The ground was strewn with bodies, most of the bullets taking effect on their heads and blowing their brains out. After the battle terminated I took a walk for a distance of a mile to the old camping ground near the hill, and the trenches were full of killed from the shells bursting. It was the most ghastly sight ever seen; on some bodies the entrails were torn out by the shells. Several were shot in the act of throwing their assegais and firing their rifles, and retained those same positions when shot. The frightful appearance of those killed would make the most hard-hearted man’s blood creep.23
I confess that I do not think that a braver lot of men than our enemies in point of disregard for life, and for their bravery under fire, could be found anywhere. We were all employed burying the dead yesterday,
and we had not finished by dark, pits being made three-quarters of a mile from camp, and the dead taken in carts. A more horrible sight than the enemy’s dead, where they felt the effects of shellfire, I never saw. Bodies lying cut in halves, heads taken off, and other features in connection with the dead made a sight more ghastly than I ever thought of.24
Wood and Buller realized that the battle had been decisive; they had the victory they desperately needed to obscure the awful loss at Hlobane just twenty-four hours earlier.
CHAPTER 14
The Second Invasion, 31 May – 4 July 1879
Too many cooks spoil the pudding.1
LIEUTENANT CURLING RA
Following the battle of Khambula the Zulu capacity to mount a serious offensive against the British was broken. At the opposite end of the country, the Zulus had also been defeated at Gingindlovu and their total casualties since Isandlwana now numbered over 5,000 dead with countless numbers wounded. All the strategic advantages that King Cetshwayo had won at Isandlwana were irretrievably lost and the tide of war turned decisively against him. The king desperately tried to reopen diplomatic contacts with the British in a final attempt to discover what terms they would accept for peace, but both Chelmsford and Sir Bartle Frere needed a decisive military victory to avenge Isandlwana.
With his campaign in tatters after the shattering defeat at Isandlwana, Chelmsford was determined to defeat Cetshwayo without risking another humiliation. To this end he began to assemble the largest field force that Britain had sent against an enemy since the Crimean War. A total of 23,500 men were to be pitted against the remnants of the once invincible Zulu army, whose numbers had dwindled to below a demoralized 20,000. This time Chelmsford was not taking any chances.
There was an impression among the soldiers scattered along the Natal border that very little was being done during the aftermath of Isandlwana. In fact, five days after the battle Chelmsford had sent a telegram to the War Office requesting immediate reinforcements, specifying at least three infantry and two cavalry regiments and another company of engineers. He followed this telegram with a report to the Duke of Cambridge, indicating his temporary depression by requesting a successor for both himself and Sir Bartle Frere:
Might I suggest to Your Royal Highness the advisability of sending out a Major General who will be competent to succeed me not only as Commanding the Forces, but also as Lt. Governor & High Commissioner should anything happen to Sir B. Frere.2
Once he had recovered his composure and become focused on the second invasion, he appears to have completely forgotten the report. Conversely Sir Garnet Wolseley recognized the career opportunity and, eager for a field command, volunteered his services within days of learning of the Isandlwana defeat. The result of Chelmsford’s hasty missive was that reinforcements were rushed to South Africa and General Sir Garnet Wolseley was appointed to take over from both Chelmsford and Frere but, due to the slowness of communications and transport, the new commander could not arrive for some time yet.
For the second invasion Chelmsford planned on making a two-pronged attack using two divisions. The first division would advance along the coast using troops already in place from Pearson’s original Coastal Column and supplemented by the re-equipped Eshowe relief column. It was under the command of Major General H.H. Crealock. Chelmsford’s main fighting force, designated the Second Division, would advance from the north-west along the intended route of the previous Centre Column but avoiding the battlefield of Isandlwana, where the dead still lay unburied. The Second Division consisted largely of inexperienced troops fresh out from England and was commanded by the recently arrived Crimean veteran Major General Newdigate. Like Glyn before him, Newdigate was to have little or no responsibility as the column would be accompanied by Chelmsford and his staff. His command was composed of men of the 2/21st, 1/24th, 58th and 94th regiments and was supported by artillery, engineers and colonial volunteers. Just before the invasion, Newdigate met with a riding accident but gamely insisted on retaining command. With his leg encased in plaster and in obvious pain, Newdigate was lifted on and off his saddle during the month-long advance and was even able to participate in the battle of Ulundi.
The one force that had been lacking during the first invasion was cavalry; accordingly, a new cavalry division was formed consisting of the 1st (King’s) Dragoon Guards and the 17th Lancers, commanded by Major General Marshall – according to one witness they were all dressed in ‘booted overalls and gold lace all complete like a lot of damned tenors in an opera’.3 The fourth general sent by the Duke of Cambridge to assist Chelmsford was Major General the Honourable Sir Henry Clifford VC, who was appointed Inspector General of Line Communication and Base. He was resentful that his authority ended at the Zululand border and became a thorn in Chelmsford’s side with his tactlessness and constant criticism. Conversely, ever mindful of Colonel Wood’s unflinching support and willingness to take risks in the face of overwhelming odds, Chelmsford promoted Wood to the local rank of brigadier general and his column was redesignated the Flying Column. Wood was given full command of the Flying Column and ordered to advance in tandem with the Second Division to Ulundi.
The presence of so many generals in support of Chelmsford provoked cynical comment from many officers. Lieutenant Curling RA wrote home:
Col. Wood’s Column marches a few miles ahead of us. It is a pity we are not organised like him but we consist of Generals with large staffs;too many cooks spoil the pudding and we have no less than five generals (including two Brigadiers) with us.4
Curling’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Harness, also commented on the top-heavy nature of the staff:
There is a tremendous staff:all Lord Chelmsford’s and General Newdigate’s. Indeed the whole thing has taken such large proportions that it makes one rather sad and wish for the old days when two or at most three tents formed the headquarters camp;now it is as large as a regiment.5
The second invasion commenced on 31 May. So far Chelmsford had little more than a series of serious setbacks to show for all his efforts and Zululand was still unconquered. On 1 June a further unimaginable disaster beset Chelmsford when the Zulus killed the 22-year-old Louis Napoleon, Prince Imperial of France, an exile to England and recently appointed to Chelmsford’s staff as a civilian observer. The South African correspondent of Le Figaro, Paul Deléage, neatly summed up this curious appointment:
After all, what’s the Prince supposed to be doing in this row? He’ll get no credit from us, and I can’t see what good it’s to do him in his own country, unless he goes back a cripple – and even then! 6
But who was this enigmatic young prince who considered himself to be next in line to the title of Napoleon, and what was he doing in Africa supporting a British invasion of Zululand? His pedigree was not quite as French as France might have expected, for his family line reveals him to be half British.7 The prince had attended the Military Academy at Woolwich where he ensured that every physical feat was carried to excess; he was immediately noted for his extravagance and white-hot enthusiasm. Louis had passed out seventh but, being French, he was not permitted to take a commission in the British Army.
When the Zulu War first broke out, not even the prince had thought it worth going to. It was hardly a war; it was merely a skirmish against black warriors and nothing more than a punitive expedition. Then came the slaughter at Isandlwana and the affair grew ‘serious’ overnight. Since so many of his comrades were going to the war the prince worked on Sir Lintorn Simmons, Governor of the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, for permission to join them. He badgered his mother, the Empress Eugénie, to such a point that she actually visited the War Office in secret to plead his cause. With Queen Victoria’s tacit approval, the decision he desperately wanted then arrived; the prince would leave for Zululand ‘in the capacity of a spectator’.
The young prince quickly frustrated those charged with his care. Even when attached to Lord Chelmsford’s staff, he soon exasperated his senior officers, inclu
ding Colonel Buller. He displayed a penchant for over-enthusiastically giving chase to lone Zulus without authority, putting his own life, and that of others, at unnecessary risk; accordingly he was confined to camp. On the morning of 1 June, he had persuaded his supervisory officer, Major Harrison, to overlook the restriction on his movement and allow him to accompany a small sketching party.
Accompanied by Lieutenant Carey and an escort of six members of Bettington’s Horse, the prince set out from Chelmsford’s headquarters to sketch the territory through which Chelmsford’s second invasion would pass. The route had previously been declared free of Zulus by a cavalry patrol and the party was accompanied by a friendly Zulu scout, a normal procedure for a routine sketching mission. The party had intended to meet six mounted BaSotho troopers to bolster their force but the two groups missed each other and the prince’s party continued into Zululand. At about midday the group paused on a hill overlooking the valley of the Tshotshozi river. From here they spotted an apparently deserted Zulu homestead near the river and rode down with the intention of examining the Zulu huts and making coffee. The small cluster of huts was surrounded on three sides by a fully grown mealie plantation. The question of command now arose. Carey spoke French and was used to the prince’s company, and though Carey was the only officer in the party it appears that he allowed the prince to exercise a token command. Carey would have appreciated the prince’s importance and the prince would doubtless have enjoyed the unofficial privilege of giving certain routine commands.
Having checked that the Zulu homestead was abandoned, the party off-saddled; coffee was brewed and the men relaxed while the prince and Carey chatted. The safety of the group was left to the scout who was instructed to watch the surrounding area. Even though the reinvasion was well under way, Carey would certainly have known that the Zulus employed a system of fast-moving scouting parties to relay intelligence back to the Zulu commanders. One such group, from a combination of the iNgobamakhosi, uMbonambi and uNokhenke regiments that coincidentally included one of the king’s personal attendants, Mnukwa, was in the area and decided to investigate the resting British patrol. The Zulus had first seen the prince’s party from a distance and, using the cover of the ground, successfully drew near to the resting soldiers. The Zulus were able to use the protection of the head-high mealie crop to close in. At this point the scout reported to Carey that he had seen faces in the mealies; unperturbed by the information, Carey allowed the prince to give the order for the horses to be gathered together and saddled. This took a few minutes and it appears that no one thought the scout’s information warranted any immediate action. Once the horses were saddled the prince gave the order to mount. At this critical moment the Zulus fired a closerange volley at the mounting soldiers and then charged among them; the patrol was put to flight and in the confusion every man sought to protect himself as best he could. Amazingly the Zulus’ volley missed the soldiers, but Trooper Rogers’s horse had taken fright, leaving the trooper helpless. The Zulus fell upon him; they chased him through the huts and killed him. Trooper Abel was equally unlucky; he was spurring his horse away when a bullet struck his spine; he fell from his horse to share the same fate as Rogers. The black scout darted away on foot but was quickly caught and killed.
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