The Zulus and Matabele: Warrior Nations

by Glen Lyndon Dodds

  In front of the camp itself, Pulleine had four companies of the 24th (Porteous’ A, Younghusband’s C, Wardell’s H company of the first battalion, and Pope’s G Company of the second) as well as a number of unattached men of the 2/24th. There was also at least one company of NNC. Perhaps also present was a mixed force of white mounted irregulars under Captain Robert Bradstreet of the Newcastle Mounted Rifles; but it is more likely that the men in question were also engaged, for a member of a company of NNC under Captain J.F. Lonsdale (located on a low stony ridge about 1,000 yards to the east of the camp between two dongas) recalled seeing them ascending the escarpment to his left to help check the Zulu advance.

  In due course, Pulleine caught sight of Zulu warriors pouring over the escarpment well to the northeast, i.e., to the right of those of his men who were engaged on the escarpment and whom he decided to recall, for they were in danger of being cut off. Hence the escarpment was abandoned.

  Furthermore, Pulleine ordered Major Stuart Smith RA to deploy the two 7-pounders on a rocky crest due east of the NNC camp and about 600 yards from the base of Isandlwana. From this piece of rising terrain, Smith commanded the dead ground of the larger, more easterly of the two aforementioned dongas. Having done so, Smith opened fire over the heads of the Ngwane, shelling warriors as they appeared on the skyline.

  Infantry companies soon moved up in support, and Smith found himself flanked to the left and right by the companies of Porteous and Wardell which fell in beside him, deployed in skirmishing order, with the men kneeling or lying behind the boulders. Evidently Pope’s G Company of the 2/24th (which had likely been augmented by unattached members of the battalion in the camp) took up a position some way off to Wardell’s right and again facing in a northerly direction. Roughly to the south of Wardell and Pope was Lonsdale’s company of NNC, still in place on the ridge between the two dongas. And what of the left of the line? Apparently, next to Porteous’ company were the Ngwane and then a company of the NNC. Beyond, were Mostyn’s and Cavaye’s companies and, finally, Younghusband’s company, which Pulleine had evidently sent to cover their retreat.

  As the Zulus swarmed forward against Pulleine’s extended line, the camp’s defenders opened up with their rifles, supported by Smith’s guns. A heavy toll was taken of the uNokhenke regiment as it charged down the spur against the left-hand companies. So much so that it turned and began making its way back up the slope before following the uDududu, iMbube and iSangqu, which, as mentioned, were heading westward in an encircling movement that would enable them to take the British from the flank and rear.

  Many warriors were likewise killed to the left of the uNokhenke where the uMcijo, elements of the uMxhapho and members of the reserve who had thrown in their lot with the chest, found themselves subjected to withering fire in the hollow between the plateau and the rocky ridge where the British firing line was most concentrated. Hence when some 400 yards from their opponents, the chest came to a halt as the warriors took cover by throwing themselves on the ground. It was now about 1pm. Zulus armed with guns tried to answer in kind; but the volume of their fire was only matched by its lack of effect. True, some shots struck home, but the majority of rounds simply passed overhead and landed in the camp area. One of these, however, killed Quartermaster Edward Bloomfield of the 2/24th, evidently quite early in the battle, according to an eye-witness account written four days later. In contrast, General Smith-Dorrien (who at this date was a subaltern on the staff of the column) recalled of the 24th that it consisted of ‘war-worn men . . . . Possessed of a splendid discipline and sure of success, they lay on their position making every round tell.’ Whenever the Zulus rose from cover, they were compelled to get down again.

  Further to the Zulu left, the uMbonambi regiment, or at least sections of it, evidently clashed with Pope’s exposed company. In 1882, a warrior of the uMbonambi told Bertram Mitford that as the regiment descended the escarpment, redcoats close to the conical kopjie ‘kept up a heavy fire upon us’, with the result that the ibutho ‘lost a lot of men’ who ‘kept tumbling over one upon another.’ Even so, it seems that Pope was eventually constrained to fall back and take up a position between Wardell and Lonsdale on the right of the British line.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the Zulu left horn was closing, after swinging west around the southern face of the conical kopjie, chasing Durnford’s command and the survivors of the rocket battery. In due course, Durnford reached the easternmost of the two dongas, about a mile from the camp, where his men made a determined stand, supported by Bradstreet and his command who had either already taken up a position in the donga or now proceeded to do so: from somewhere out on the British left, they had been moved to help defend the camp against the left horn by Captain Gardner of the 14th Hussars. Between them, they poured sufficient fire into the uVe to halt the young regiment in its tracks. Indeed, it was repulsed until reinforced by the older and slower-moving iNgobamakhosi who were in turn brought to a standstill in a dense mass beneath the kopje.

  Worse, still, Smith briefly repositioned one of his 7-pounders so that it could fire against the Zulu left, and thus added to the toll of Zulu dead and wounded in this sector, before it was returned to its previous position. Among the Zulus evidently affected by the shelling and rifle fire of their opponents were members of the uMbonambi, on the right of the iNgobamakhosi, who proceeded to move to their left, behind and beyond the iNgobamakhosi and uVe, and thereby found themselves on the extreme left of the Zulu line at about the time the attack of the centre was brought to a halt. The uMbonambi continued to advance on the camp under cover of a herd of cattle which had been grazing on the slopes of Mahlabamkhosi.

  Seeing that he was being outflanked, Durnford ordered his men to mount up and abandoned the donga. He rode back towards the camp and took up a new position, perhaps in the westernmost donga. His withdrawal exposed the right of Pulleine’s line, and the latter evidently responded by ordering his men to fall back and take up a close defensive position nearer the camp.

  As the companies of the 24th retreated, firing as they did so, the Zulu centre began moving forward again. The Zulu commanders, who were overlooking the chest from the plateau, sent an induna to order it forward. He was a member of the uMcijo and as he ran down towards his colleagues he shouted: ‘You did not say you were going to lie down!’ and exhorted them to action. He paid with his life—he was shot through the head—but the uMcijo (and the rest of the chest) rose in pursuit of the retiring British. At first the warriors advanced little faster than a walking pace, but then they shouted the national cry, ‘uSuthu!’, and charged, hurling a shower of throwing spears. Some of the Zulus reached N/5 before the guns, which had been firing case-shot, could be limbered up, and fierce hand-to-hand fighting occurred. But Smith nonetheless managed to have the guns driven off towards the camp.

  Fighting at close quarters also happened elsewhere as the soldiers fell back, for the iNgobamakhosi and members of the uVe who had not joined the uMbonambi’s outflanking manoeuvre, likewise surged forward, almost simultaneously with the centre, against the retreating enemy: among the withdrawing units was Lonsdale’s company of NNC, which was intent on quitting the field. A Zulu named Uguku, who was a member of the uMcijo, was to recall that fighting occurred ‘all the way’ and that as the soldiers ‘got into the camp, we were intermingled with them.’

  It was the uMbonambi of the left horn who entered the camp first, followed by the iNgobamakhosi and uMcijo. The climax of the battle was at hand, and the uNokhenke were among amabutho involved for they soon rushed into the camp from the northwest to participate with the left horn and centre in the slaughter. The rest of the right horn had made its way down to ground west of Isandlwana, intending to effect a junction with the left horn and cut off the British line of retreat along the road to Rorke’s Drift.

  The reserve was not involved in the battle. It had followed the right horn along the plateau, though well to the rear, and upon arriving behind
the camp, and seeing that it was being overwhelmed, headed off in the direction of the British post at Rorke’s Drift.

  Isandlwana was now a scene of desperate conflict. Fighting reached fever pitch as the 24th and some of their colleagues fought desperately against the engulfing mass of determined warriors. Shots and screams rent the air, which became thick with smoke and dust. Moreover, a partial eclipse of the sun, which was at its greatest extent at 2.29pm, cast darkness over the carnage. Bayonets plunged home; spears were thrust through scarlet tunics. Confusion, fear and death were everywhere. In the hand-to-hand fighting, the Zulus learned a bitter lesson—a long bayonet at the end of a rifle thrust proved far more effective than an assegai. As Mehlokazulu kaSihayo of the iNgobamakhosi later recalled: ‘Any man who went to stab a soldier was fixed through the throat or stomach, and at once fell.’ Hence some warriors responded by throwing their spears. Nonetheless, Zulu numerical superiority told, and remorselessly the number of dead and dying soldiers increased. Mpatshana kaSadondo of the uVe subsequently told James Stuart that it often took more than one warrior to finish off an opponent: ‘It was recognised that fighting against such a foe and killing some of them was of the same high grade as lion hunting.’

  Many of the soldiers fell as they withdrew through the camp, fighting as they went. Some managed to escape across the nek through a narrow gap in the Zulu encirclement—which was soon closed—but the majority of the British regulars who died lost their fight for survival on and near the nek, as did many of the irregulars. Captain George Shepstone, for instance, perished at the south-western foot of Isandlwana, evidently accompanied by a fairly substantial number of black troops, in what appears to have been a last stand against members of the Zulu right horn moving in to help the chest and left horn destroy the enemy.

  More fleet-footed members of the camp’s overwhelmed garrison, or those who possessed mounts, or had taken to their heels before the battle reached its climax, were dashing for their lives southwest towards the Mzinyathi, for escape by way of the road to Rorke’s Drift (with the exception of those who had been the first to flee) had been rendered hopeless by the sight of the right horn closing in behind Isandlwana. As they fled, the fugitives were harried from both sides over difficult ground by warriors of the right and left horns as far as the valley of the Manzimyama stream. Some Zulus kept up the chase even further. Many of those in flight were killed, and the warriors seem to have been particularly intent on killing Europeans.

  Among those who died were Lieutenant Teignmouth Melvill and Lieutenant Neville Coghill. The former was carrying the Queen’s Colour of the 1/24th, perhaps having been ordered by Pulleine to carry it to safety when it was clear that the day was lost. Evidently, during his flight he met up with Coghill, who was likewise mounted and moreover unable to walk, having damaged his knee two days earlier. Upon reaching the Mzinyathi, which was in flood, Coghill (like others who were fleeing) managed to make his way across a drift—known ever since as Fugitives’ Drift—but Melvill was unhorsed in mid-stream, whereupon Coghill rode back into the water to help him. Both officers managed to reach the Natal bank, although Coghill’s horse was killed by enemy fire. But they were too exhausted to continue and were soon killed, either by Zulus who crossed the Mzinyathi or by Africans living on the Natal side of the river. Both men were posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross years later for endeavouring to save the Colour.

  Within a few hours, Isandlwana and much of the countryside within its vicinity had thus been transformed into a scene of desolation, littered with the wreckage of war. Fifty-two officers, 727 white soldiers and 471 Natal blacks had perished. It is said that little drummer boys present had been hung up and butchered, though doubt has been cast on the veracity of this claim, which was made by some European soldiers who subsequently arrived on the scene with Chelmsford.

  Zulu losses had also been heavy (the chest suffered the most severely), but how heavy? To this there is no definite answer. A high proportion of the Zulu dead consisted of injured individuals who later died of their wounds, in some cases far from the scene of battle. The rudimentary state of Zulu medicine was such that even many of the relatively lightly wounded succumbed—there was more hope for those who had been bayonetted than struck by bullets, a fact that led the Zulus to conclude that the latter had been poisoned. Probably between one and two thousand warriors in all died.

  It was during the momentous afternoon of the 22nd that Chelmsford began returning to Isandlwana, escorted by Mounted Infantry. En route he encountered Hamilton-Browne and his battalion of NNC, whom he had ordered to return to Isandlwana that morning. Upon seeing the camp being overrun, however, Hamilton-Browne had taken up a defensive position on a ridge from where he had watched the horrific events unfolding. He told Chelmsford that the camp had fallen. The general reacted with angry incredulity, but soon sent an officer to recall Glyn and the rest of the men in the Mangeni area.

  Following the arrival of Glyn’s column, Chelmsford delivered a short speech and began moving towards Isandlwana, with the 2/24th around the guns in the centre and flanked by the other units. As they drew near, they saw large numbers of Zulus on the escarpment, to which they had retired from the camp that they had thoroughly looted.

  Darkness had fallen by the time Isandlwana was reached. Upon ascertaining that all the Zulus were gone, Chelmsford and his men bivouacked for the night in a position of all-round defence. Shock, sadness and fear were the dominant emotions. There was also a sense of foreboding. A dull red glow and the sound of distant gunfire could be seen and heard from the direction of Rorke’s Drift.

  The Battle of Rorke’s Drift

  Instead of engaging at Isandlwana, the Zulu reserve, as noted, headed off in the direction of Rorke’s Drift. It consisted of the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, uDloko and iNdluyengwe regiments and totalled approximately 3,500 warriors. It was under the command of 40-year-old Prince Dabulamanzi kaMpande, a half-brother of Cetshwayo who was vexed at having missed the action at Isandlwana, as were many of his warriors. En route it split into three contingents, and the youngest ibutho, the iNdluyengwe, whose warriors were 33 years old, in contrast to those of the other regiments, who were all in their 40s, was foremost.

  The iNdluyengwe forded the Mzinyathi just above Fugitives’ Drift (having killed some of the survivors from Isandlwana) while the other Zulus crossed further upstream near the confluence of the Mzinyathi and the Batshe. After crossing, the contingents rested and took snuff. The iNdluyengwe then recommenced marching, heading northwest—some detached sections ravaged the plain towards Helpmekaar—and in turn the other warriors began moving in the same direction.

  Meanwhile, at about 3.15pm, fugitive horsemen from Isandlwana arrived at Rorke’s Drift where Lieutenant John Chard RE (a 31-year-old charged with supervising the ponts at the drift and preparing an entrenchment on the Natal bank to protect the crossing) was writing home after eating lunch. In Norman Holme’s compilation, The Silver Wreath, Chard is quoted as saying that his attention was caught by ‘two horsemen galloping towards [him] from the direction of Isandlwana. From their gesticulation and their shouts . . . we saw that something was the matter.’ Upon arriving, one of the men, Lieutenant Adendorff of the 1/3rd NNC, told Chard that the camp at Isandlwana had been annihilated and that Zulus were advancing on Rorke’s Drift.

  When the Centre Column had crossed into Zululand at the drift on the 11th, B Company of the 2/24th had been left behind, together with a company of the 2/3rd NNC and several detached personnel. It was stationed in an abandoned Swedish mission about a quarter of a mile southwest of the drift. B Company’s commander was Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead, a 33-year-old handicapped by increasing deafness. He had also just received word of the Zulu approach, for Chard relates that while he himself was talking to Adendorff, a messenger arrived from Bromhead asking him ‘to come up at once.’ Upon arrival at the post, he found that preparations for its defence were already in hand:

  Lieut. Br
omhead had, with the assistance . . . of other officers present, commenced barricading and loopholing the store building and the Missionary’s house, which was used as a Hospital, and connecting the defence of the two buildings by walls of mealie bags [and biscuit boxes], and the two wagons that were on the ground.

  Major Spalding, the post’s commander, was absent for he had ridden off to Helpmekaar hours earlier. Chard, who was senior to Bromhead, now assumed command and conferred with his fellow officer. The total number of men at the post, including the sick and wounded, is uncertain. However, Ian Knight, a leading authority on the battle, states that ‘the most convincing estimate appears to be 152, excluding Stevenson’s 2/3rd NNC’, which probably numbered about 100 men, and Chard himself. A withdrawal towards Helpmekaar, where there were two companies of the 1/24th, was considered but this course was rejected in view of the problems entailed in trying to defend two cumbersome wagons laden with the sick and wounded while on the march. The only viable option was to stand and fight. Hence, as rapidly as possible, they continued preparing for battle.

  The principal buildings at the post were a hospital and a storehouse. The hospital was located in the Oskaberg Mission House, which belonged to the Reverend Otto Witt. It had stone and brick walls, a thatched roof, and a verandah running along the north front, just beyond which the ground, covered by bush, sloped away towards a road that ran to the drift. Mud-brick walls divided the interior of the building into eleven rooms, some of them little larger than cupboards. On 22 January 1879, the hospital had 35 sick and injured patients belonging to various units, three of whom had been wounded in the skirmish at Sihayo’s homestead on the 12th. The inmates were cared for by Surgeon-Major James Reynolds, three men of the Army Hospital Corps and a chaplain, the Reverend George Smith.