RORKE'S DRIFT: FAKE NEWS 1879

Blog 2: The Accepted View of History

    Before I begin my analysis, it’s probably best to summarise the generally accepted version of events that constitute ‘the Battle of Rorke’s Drift’, the most famous of all the engagements that took place during the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879.

    The man ultimately responsible for initiating the Anglo-Zulu War was Henry Howard Molyneux Herbert, 4th Earl of Carnarvon, a Conservative politician whose one real triumph had been, when Secretary of State for the Colonies, to secure the confederation of all the disparate Canadian states into a single Dominion. This was accomplished in 1867 and when Carnarvon was once again appointed Colonial Secretary in 1874 he was determined to repeat this trick by melding the various colonies, protectorates and enclaves that made up southern Africa into one whole. This was part of the imperialistic ‘Cape to Cairo’ strategy many Victorian politicians held so dear.

    Unfortunately for Carnarvon, those living in that part of Africa were less than enthusiastic about being ‘confederated’, the relatively well-off Cape colonists reluctant to subsidize the more backward parts of the sub-Continent and the vehemently independent Boers not wishing to submit to “die juk van Engeland”, the yoke of England. The upshot was they refused to attend the conferences Carnarvon called to discuss the matter. In an attempt to break this impasse, Carnarvon appointed Henry Bartle Frere as High Commissioner for Southern Africa, a man he charged with being the ‘Clive of Africa’, doing what Clive had done in India – bringing all the principalities and fiefdoms together under British rule.

    One of these ‘fiefdoms’ was Zululand. In 1879 the Zulus were a nation of 350,000 people occupying lands to the east of southern Africa having come to prominence under the leadership of the famous – and very warlike ‒ Shaka Zulu, the man who forged the Nguni people into the Zulu nation. Shaka’s martial inclinations were still favoured by his descendant, Cetshwayo, who was able to muster an army of around 30,000 warriors, warriors who were brave, highly motivated, highly mobile and decidedly formidable. Increasingly formidable: although most Zulu warriors were still armed with their traditional stabbing spears and oxhide shields, by 1879 a sizeable proportion carried rifles, albeit of an obsolete variety. Martially inclined Cetshwayo might have been, but he was no fool, and, sensing which way the political wind was blowing, had done his best to align himself with the British, but, as he was to discover, the fealty of the British was a very fickle thing.

    The British annexed the Boer territory of the Transvaal in 1877 – done at the orders of Carnarvon who did so without first seeking the permission of Parliament ‒ and, as a consequence, the British inherited the longstanding and festering dispute between the Zulus and the Boers as to the ownership of the lands to the east of the Buffalo River, the river which marked the boundary between the Transvaal and Zululand. Carnarvon’s man, Frere, sided with the Boers and determined to put the Zulus firmly in their place, his belief being that the subjugation of the Zulu nation was the ideal means of furthering confederation: it would bring Zululand under British control; neutralise the threat posed by the Zulu army; deny the Boers a means of securing a route to the sea (let’s keep the buggers landlocked!); and bring a new source of cheap, native labour to the Cape, doing all this whilst demonstrating to the uppity Boers (and any natives inclined towards making trouble) the might of the British army.

    By certain legerdemain (I won’t go into the hows and whys here, it’s much too depressing) Frere, desperate to find a casus belli, connived to issue Cetshwayo with an ultimatum, this containing demands which Frere knew Cetshwayo would (and did) find impossible to accept. Like his mentor, Carnarvon, the sneaky Frere did this without authorisation from the British Government. He sent the notification to London of his intention to make war on the Zulu safe in the knowledge that, because there was no direct telegraph connection between Cape Town and London, any answer would not reach him until after the ultimatum had expired and war commenced. Not that Frere was worried about any protest from London, his low opinion of the Zulu convincing him the war to be over in a matter of weeks. By the time any missive from London arrived the subjugation of the Zulu would be a fait accompli …

    The ultimatum expired on the 11^th January, 1879, the day upon which the British army invaded Zululand. The British army was commanded by Lieutenant General Frederic Augustus Thesiger, 2^nd Baron Chelmsford. Chelmsford had arrived in the Cape early in 1878 just in time to witness the end of the Ninth Frontier War and be mightily impressed by the effectiveness of the Martini-Henry rifle when used against native warriors (the Ninth Frontier War was the first major outing of the British army’s new rifle). As Chelmsford wrote in November 1878; ‘I am induced to think the first experience of the power of the Martini-Henry will be such a surprise to the Zulus that they will not be formidable after the first effort’. So, convinced there would be few problems in vanquishing the Zulu, Chelmsford divided this army into three main and two supplementary columns (Chelmsford had a penchant for dividing his army) to prosecute the invasion. The Column we are interested in – No.3 Column – advanced from Natal into Zululand via Rorke’s Drift, a drift being a river crossing, the river in question being the Buffalo.

    That Chelmsford decided to accompany No.3 Column when it moved into Zululand had unfortunate consequences for the Column’s notional commander, Colonel Glyn, Glyn relegated to looking after the more routine management of the Column and, as a consequence, the division of responsibilities between him and Chelmsford became blurred (which, as I will explain in later Blogs, had ramifications post-Isandlwana).

    The Station at Rorke’s Drift had been established as a trading post by an Irishman, James Rorke, being sold, on Rorke’s death, to Mr and Mrs Robert Surtees and subsequently to the Church of Sweden, who appointed Pastor Otto de Witt as their representative missionary in the place. The Station consisted of two buildings: a storehouse, which Witt used as a church, and a house where Witt and his family lived. The British army commandeered the Station as No.3 Column’s supply depot, the church reverting to its original use as a storehouse and the house converted into a hospital. Major Spalding of the 104^th Regiment, Chelmsford’s deputy assistant adjutant and quartermaster general, was the commanding officer at Rorke’s Drift, the defence of the Station entrusted to ‘B’ Company, 2/24^th under the command of Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead. The stores were managed by Acting Commissary, Walter Dunne, assisted by James Dalton and Louis Byrne. The hospital was supervised by Surgeon James Henry Reynolds who had around 35 patients in his care, these suffering from a variety of injuries and infections. Also present was a force of perhaps 100 men (this number is much disputed) of the Natal Native Contingent (NNC), under the command of Captain William Stephenson.

    There had been much concern regarding the raising of the NNC, Sir Henry Bulwer, Lieutenant Governor of Natal, posing strenuous objections regarding the arming of ‘kaffirs’, these objections such that they didn’t muster until November 1878. The result was there was no time to train them properly, this compounded by their being poorly led and each regiment equipped with just one rifle for every ten men (and these supplied with only five rounds of ammunition). They were contemptuously referred to as the ‘untrained untrainable’, their function simply to provide the British army with muscle-power.

    No.3 Column entered Zululand on the 11^th January, the Column consisting of both the 1^st and 2^nd Battalions of the 24^th Foot; ‘N’ Battery, 5^th Brigade, Royal Artillery with six 7-pdr guns; a mixed bag of ‘cavalry’ comprising No 1 Squadron Mounted Infantry and an assortment of mounted police and mounted Volunteers; and two battalions of the NNC. In total there were 1,900 European and 2,400 African troops which, with staff officers, pioneers and civilian helpers, brought the total to nearly 5,000 men. To transport their supplies and food there were 220 Cape ‘waggons’, 82 carts, 4,000 oxen, 500 horses and 67 mules. The invasion had to be delayed until the drought gripping the Cape eased (which it did in November 1878), the rains needed to make the grass lush and verdant so the oxen hauling the waggons could be grazed regularly. The downside was that the torrential rain made progress difficult, the myriad of waggons, oxen et al quickly churning the tracks (such as there were) leading into Zululand into quagmires. The appalling conditions meant that, after crossing the Buffalo, it took ten long days for No.3 Column to reach a place called Isandlwana (this, a dozen miles or so distant from Rorke’s Drift) where the Column encamped on the 21^st January. Conscious that the Column’s stay at Isandlwana would be only temporary, Chelmsford, despite strong advice to the contrary, declined to laager the camp.

     On arrival at the camp, Chelmsford immediately sent out scouting parties which identified a strong Zulu presence ten miles to the south-east of Isandlwana, towards the Mangeni Falls. On receiving this intelligence, Chelmsford, eager to bring the Zulu to battle, once again split his forces and, in the small hours of the 22^nd January, advanced towards Mangeni, accompanied by six companies of the 2/24^th Regiment, the bulk of the native levies and four of his six guns.

    In Chelmsford’s absence, at around noon on the 22^nd, a Zulu impi – comprising around 20,000 warriors ‒ attacked that part of No.3 Column left to guard the unlaagered camp at Isandlwana, overwhelming it and crushing all resistance. Of the 1,700-plus force of British troops and African auxiliaries defending the camp, about 1,300 were killed (800 British army regulars, 130 Colonial troops and perhaps 350 NNC), including field commanders Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Pulleine and Lieutenant-Colonel Anthony Durnford. As a defeat, the Battle of Isandlwana would send shockwaves through the Empire, being seen as a military humiliation of the first order.

     Unfortunately, not all the Zulu regiments were involved in the victory at Isandlwana. Four of them, the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, uDloko and iNdluyengwe, with a combined strength of around 6,000 men had been held in reserve and, all of them desperate for battle honours, once the fighting at Isandlwana was over, moved towards Natal ready to indulge in a little farm-burning and cattle-rustling. After crossing the Buffalo River, 4,000 of them advanced on Rorke’s Drift looking for trouble and there they found trouble aplenty.

    The accounts which have done most to inform with regard to the action at Rorke’s Drift are those of Lieutenant John Chard, Royal Engineers, officer commanding Rorke’s Drift. Chard arrived at the Drift early on the 19^th January to supervise work on the ponts (the ferries) used to convey men and materiel from one bank of the Buffalo River to the other. The orders he received being somewhat ambiguous, early on the morning of the 22^nd he rode to Isandlwana to seek clarification. He was ordered to remain at the Drift. Oblivious to the disaster that was soon to be inflicted on the camp, he journeyed back to the Station and reported to Major Spalding. Spalding, seemingly unsettled by Chard’s observation that Zulus had been seen in force around Isandlwana, decided to ride to Helpmekaar – the British army’s principal supply depot ‒ to chase up the reinforcements the Station had been promised. Before he left he consulted with the Army List 1878 which established that Chard was the senior officer remaining at the Drift.

    Once Spalding departed, Chard returned to his tent, this set a quarter of a mile from the Station next to the river, and settled down to enjoy a quiet lunch and a spot of letter writing, his idyll interrupted by riders galloping up and breathlessly informing him that the camp at Isandlwana had fallen to the Zulus. At that same moment he received a note from Bromhead asking him to return to the Station where he found Bromhead and Assistant Commissariat Dalton (a highly experienced soldier) supervising the entrenchment of the Station in anticipation of a Zulu assault, this involving the perimeter being encircled by a 4 feet high barricade made from sacks of mealie and the loopholing of the stone walls of the storehouse and the hospital. Chard, as Bromhead’s superior, confirmed the correctness of this entrenchment¹.

    Whilst this work was going on a body of Natal Native Mounted Contingent who had somehow avoided the slaughter at Isandlwana arrived but when the first shots were heard fired by the oncoming Zulu, they fled. As a consequence, the 100 or so members of the NNC and their white officer and NCO also decided to make a run for it.

    Stripped of their support, Chard found his force of around 104 able-bodied men too few to adequately defend the perimeter, so he ordered the throwing up of a ‘back up’, retrenchment line of defence constructed from biscuit-boxes, this more than halving the length of barricades to be defended. Chard’s plan of the defensive works erected to protect the Station (which has informed much of the material written about the action) was included in the Second Report he scribed, this presented to Queen Victoria in February 1880.

AFTER LIEUTENANT JOHN CHARD'S PLAN OF RORKE'S DRIFT DEFENCES

    According to the timings included in the reports Chard made of the action, the Zulus, 600 or so in number, first made their appearance about 16:30 on the afternoon of the 22^nd. They attacked from the south of the Station and the heavy volley fire they met persuaded them to veer to the west and worry the fortifications to the front of the hospital where a garden wall, shrubs and an orchard provided substantial cover. Shortly afterwards they were reinforced when the main body of the Zulus (about 3,400 in number according to Chard) hoved into view. They also concentrated their attack along the front of the hospital, the Zulus so valiant that, despite the savage rifle fire they were subjected to, on numerous occasions they surmounted the mealie-bag barrier and were on the brink of taking that area, only bayonet charges, led by Bromhead and Colour Sergeant Frank Bourne, clearing them away.

    The reinforced Zulus now began to attack further along the north-facing barricades, threatening to overwhelm the defenders. At around 18:00, sensing the danger, Chard ordered his men to abandon the most westerly part of the barricades furthest from the storehouse, and retreat behind the biscuit-box retrenchment barricade. Whilst this was a wise move tactically, it meant that those defending the hospital and the patients housed therein were abandoned, a situation made all the more dangerous when the Zulus managed to set the thatched roof of the hospital alight. The interior of the hospital – a warren of small rooms the majority of which did not interconnect – became a scene of mayhem, soldiers fighting off the Zulus while attempting to smash holes in the internal, mudbrick walls to facilitate their escape and that of the patients in their care. The heroic action in the hospital, described by one of the defenders, Henry Hook, in several interviews, has become the stuff of legend.

     About 19:00 darkness fell but fortunately the light cast by the burning roof of the hospital allowed the defenders to cope with the Zulus’ several onslaughts. Such were the casualties inflicted on the Zulus, these attacks begin to peter out after 21:00 though there were sporadic attacks through to the early hours. The Station was relieved at 08:00 on the morning of the 23^rd January when the remnants of No.3 Column generalled by Chelmsford staggered its way to the Drift.

    In the time which elapsed between the first appearance of the Zulu and their final retreat, the defenders fired some 20,000 rounds of ammunition inflicting a terrible toll on the attacking Zulus. The bodies of 351 Zulus were discovered littering the area around the Station and perhaps as many as 500 were found wounded, these summarily despatched by butt and bayonet. Of the defenders, 17 were killed and 10 wounded.

     When Chard’s report of the action was published in the UK it caused a sensation, the battle hailed as a glorious victory, the defenders by their valour said to have saved Natal from being ransacked by the Zulu horde. Eleven VCs were awarded – both Bromhead and Chard amongst the recipients ‒ the most ever received for a single action by one regiment. In addition, four Distinguished Conduct Medals were awarded.

    So that, in 2000 words or so, is the story of the battle of Rorke’s Drift … or is it? I think the reality was much different and I’ll begin by looking at Chard’s reports.

¹Except on a few occasions, I’ve used Imperial measures throughout the blog. I did begin showing metric equivalents alongside but that got oh-so-boring. As a rough rule-of-thumb one yard (three feet) is a little under one metre in length. The abbreviations for feet and inches are ‘ and ‘’ as in five feet (5’) and five inches (5’’).