The Natal Mounted Police shared these miserable conditions. At first the whole garrison was shut in every night and marched out an hour before daybreak under a police escort. As clothing and bedding were scarce, the people of Ladysmith sent a wagonload of useful articles for the police, who by the middle of February were more comfortably encamped. Then in early February the Natal press were informed of the plight of the Colonial volunteers:
TO THE EDITOR OF THE NATAL MERCURY.
Sir,– The following notice appears on the Government notice board, in an ‘extra’ published in the Times:
“Notice.– The Carbineers having suffered the loss of all their clothing, it is urgently requested that they be supplied with the following articles, each:– 2 shirts, 2 pair socks, 1 pair breeches, 1 blanket, 1 pair boots. Contributions for procuring above, either in money or kind, may be sent to Holliday’s Mart. – J D Holliday, Volunteer Agent, Pietermaritzburg.”
Does this mean that the Imperial authorities have taken no measure to supply these men with clothing in place of that burnt at the camp, and that unless contributions come in, the poor fellows are to be without these actual necessaries? What notice has been issued, signed by authority, that parents or wives are required to provide such articles to send to the front? Should it be left to a private individual to suggest and make provision for such necessities?
The Imperial Government, for Imperial policy, called these young fellows out, and now, through some unexplained blunder, they have been deprived of everything but what they stand in. The Imperial authorities seem so paralysed that they cannot even issue an order that an outfit similar to that lost shall be issued, but leave it to private subscription to send; and if private subscription fail, the poor fellows are to be left in the field destitute.
Why do not the Government authorities provide the things necessary, without delay, as they would be obliged to do for regulars in the same position? Should subscriptions be raised, there will be difficulty in expending the money for the good of those at the front.
When news of the appalling conditions reached the people of Pietermaritzburg, they collected and dispatched food, clothing and washing equipment for the Colonial troops, most of whom came from the town; there was little comfort for the Imperial troops who would have to wait until March before they were re-supplied. The only personal equipment to be purchased was that previously belonging to the officers and men killed at Isandlwana, including the possessions of Major Stuart Smith, which fetched high prices.
The garrison troops had no option but to wear their clothes and boots at night, and slept under wagons and tarpaulins, often being disturbed by false alarms. But even worse was to follow; annoyance and frustration were soon overtaken by sickness. By the beginning of February many of the Helpmekaar force succumbed and most became stricken with enteric fever or typhoid. The medical officers were mystified by the speed with which diseases spread and it was believed, mistakenly, that the sodden and rotting mealie bags were responsible. Captain Walter Parke Jones wrote: ‘I cannot account for it all as the place used to be so healthy. Of course being crowded together in a fort with rotten meal and other stores and difficulties about sanitary arrangements has something to do with the question.’ When fever broke out at Helpmekaar during February, the news quickly reached the War Office. Although it was usual for more men to die through sickness when campaigning than to be killed fighting, the rate of sickness was so severe that the Army Intelligence Branch at the War Office voiced its own opinion as to the cause:
Immediately after Isandhlwana this important place strategically was secured for defence by extemporizing with sacks of mealies to build revetments. The garrison of 1,000 Europeans and Natives were crowded together without tents or shelter except for a few tarpaulins, exposed to cold and rain. Some slept on wet mealie bags, others on the damp ground, disturbed by frequent alarms and subjected to noxious exhalation. The military authorities were informed of the danger from decomposing grain and mealies, and of the unsanitary conditions, but failed to take action, because it was considered vital for the military position. Thus men soon succumbed to the malaise, lost their appetite and the young men especially were attacked by fever, diarrhoea and dysentery.5
Psychological disturbances, largely bred by the disaster of Isandlwana, began to proliferate through all ranks, a condition made worse by inactivity, boredom and ill-founded rumours. All those associated with Isandlwana were haunted by it, and continually harked back to 22 January. Some of the officers began to display an unnatural lack of interest in their duties while the men became lethargic and sullen, no doubt due to the disaster and general malaise that followed. At Rorke’s Drift, Glyn was dysfunctional due to the depression brought on by the loss of his regiment at Isandlwana. At Helpmekaar Colonel Harness, his friend Colonel Cecil Russell and Lieutenant Curling had all lost interest in their commands, though Curling could blame fever for his bout of apathy. The collapse of Russell could have had more serious consequences, as he was responsible for mounted patrols, which were sporadic and ill planned. His inertia was criticized by Clery, who realized that the absence of mounted forays, which Russell should have commanded, allowed the Zulus to roam at will. Among the troops, speculation on the progress of the war and possible future tactics occupied much time at Helpmekaar. It took several weeks, an improvement in the weather and the news of a new military commander before morale began to improve.6 Even then conditions remained far from satisfactory. A letter dated March 5, from an unnamed Colonial soldier to his family, was reported in the Natal Witness. It reads:
Here we are, Foot, Artillery, Engineers, Police, and Carbineers (about 500 strong), living in tents during the day, and turning into the fort at night. With the exception of a stink of rotten mealies, and the rain continually swilling through and through, the fort is not so bad, being so strong and well built that the men here now could hold it against the whole of the Zulu army. It is not healthy though, for the hospitals are always full, and we have had eight or ten deaths here. Hay of the Carbineers died last night; one of the N.M.P. shot himself last week, and several Engineers have died. What with guards, videttes, &c., the duties are very heavy.
By the beginning of March Chelmsford’s preparations for the second invasion of Zululand were well under way and the previous invasion route through Rorke’s Drift was changed for the easier passage to the north. In any event, Chelmsford did not intend marching his rejuvenated army past Isandlwana which was still strewn with the debris of the wrecked camp and, worse, the unburied bodies of the 24th Regiment. This change of plan accordingly reduced the strategic importance of the Helpmekaar garrison whose role was transferred to Dundee, 20 miles to the north. By the middle of April only two companies of the l/24th remained at Helpmekaar before they also joined the new advance into Zululand. Helpmekaar then became a shell with a small guard to watch over several sheds of unwanted supplies; these were eventually sold off at a public auction on 25 October when the garrison closed. Helpmekaar was again used as a military garrison during both the Boer War and the Zulu uprising of 1906.
CHAPTER 9
Explanations
The defeat of the Zulus at this post, and the very heavy loss suffered by them, has, to a great extent, neutralised the effect of the disaster at Isandhlwana, and no doubt saved Natal from a serious invasion.
LORD CHELMSFORD, 8 FEBRUARY 1879
Immediately following the battle at Rorke’s Drift, Colonel Glyn and his team of staff officers arrived back at the mission station and, in theory, resumed command of the battered garrison. This relegated Chard and Bromhead back to their normal regimental duties and there is no record or account of Chard or Bromhead having any further impact on the scene thereafter; they had performed their duties bravely and admirably. Chelmsford had thanked the assembled defenders and in the minds of the two officers and all the soldiers involved, that was that. The newly combined garrison of the Rorke’s Drift defenders and Chelmsford’s recently arrived force was now in a state o
f chaos, shock, exhaustion and confusion; every man had either fought in the defence of Rorke’s Drift or had been part of Lord Chelmsford’s force that had, in intense heat, marched 50 miles in the previous forty-eight hours and witnessed the results of the slaughter of their colleagues at Isandlwana. There were no tents to accommodate the troops and the fierce heat of the previous two days had given way to torrential rainstorms. The garrison was without vital supplies and the troops were terrifyingly low on ammunition; most of the day-to-day stores and essentials had been lost or damaged in the battle and those stores that had been dispatched to Isandlwana were beyond reach, either destroyed or looted by the Zulus. In the midst of this distressingly desperate situation there was so much to be done; there were the British dead to be buried and hundreds of Zulu bodies to be cremated, the sick and injured required urgent medical treatment and the remaining stores had to be sorted and unpacked in the attempt to find food for the 700 men. It was to be several days before good military discipline and order was finally restored; meanwhile, the Zulu army, its location unknown, was still expected to descend upon the mission station at any time.
As and when the soldiers had any spare time, some sought to write letters home but all available paper had been burnt in the fire or destroyed during the fighting. When Commandant Hamilton-Browne sought to arrange a field court martial for a captured Zulu spy he had great difficulty finding paper or pens to record the proceedings. All of a sudden, paper had become a very rare commodity; one soldier, Private Robert Head, was so desperate to write a letter to his brother with the news that he was still alive that he paid one shilling, a day’s pay, for a scrap of scorched paper. This morsel of a letter survived – but the true identity of the soldier remains unknown as there was no Private Robert Head recorded either in the 24th Regimental records or on the list of Rorke’s Drift defenders.1 Presumably he wrote home using his correct name but at the time of his enlistment had used a false name. Of greater significance is the statement by Lieutenant George Stanhope Banister of the 2/24th who, having accompanied Chelmsford during the previous four days, found himself appointed as assistant garrison adjutant at Rorke’s Drift after the action there. In a brief note to his father dated 27 January 1879, Banister wrote, ‘No paper or pens or in fact any single thing. I have managed to get some foolscap in my extra capacity as Garrison Adjutant.’ Likewise, without paper, no camp orders could be issued until 28 January, six days after the battle, when a limited official supply arrived from Helpmekaar. The soldiers had to continue to make do with scraps; one soldier, Private John Bainbridge, even sent a note to his family in England with a request for writing paper – on the grounds that there was ‘none to be had within 200 miles of here’. Lieutenant Curling, who was a compulsive letter writer, couldn’t find any writing paper; he bemoaned his plight but was thankful to have been the sole survivor from the British front line. He eventually managed to write home and stated:
One ought not to think of anything after having had such a wonderful escape. As to clothing, blankets etc., there have been sales of all the kits belonging to the officers who were killed and I have been able to get the most necessary things one requires. This paper I am writing on belonged to one of the poor fellows in the 24th.
Remarkably, amidst the incessant heavy downpours of rain, the mire and chaos, and within two days of the battle, Chard ostensibly managed to obtain a sufficient supply of clean undamaged paper in order to prepare and submit a perfectly sequential report of the battle that was carefully composed, neatly written and complete in extraordinary detail.2 The report, apparently written in secret, included accurate timings, precise locations and the names of the thirteen different units represented as well as listing the names and units of those who were killed, injured or who might receive acknowledgement for their outstanding courage during the battle. Yet there is no known record of any participant in the battle having assisted Chard with his report, neither is it known how Chard was able accurately to recall the names of all the participants, or draw accurate pictures of the hospital building after it had been destroyed by fire. Bromhead was subsequently requested to write an account but he repeatedly avoided the issue until 15 February when a report was written outlining the bravery of certain participants in the battle. Likewise there is no evidence that any of the NCOs present during the battle assisted Chard or Bromhead in the preparation of their reports. Colour Sergeant Bourne left no contemporary account.3
For an officer with a reputation for slothfulness, and given the extraordinarily difficult circumstances under which Chard’s report was written, the result is a truly masterful and perceptive account of the battle. Curiously, if Chard made any notes in the preparation of the report they have never been seen; when, over twelve months later, he was asked to rewrite the account for Queen Victoria, he reported that he had lost his original notes.4
Although Chelmsford had not remained at Rorke’s Drift for more than a few hours, he had given specific instructions for a formal enquiry to be conducted into the Isandlwana defeat; it is also probable that he ordered a report concerning the victory at Rorke’s Drift. It is now known from recently discovered letters that Chelmsford knew that an account was being prepared; his own correspondence reveals that he was most anxious to receive the account although it is not known who ordered the report or who was to write it. As early as 28 January Chelmsford wrote to Glyn:
I hope you are sending me in a report of the defence of Rorke’s Drift post and also the names etc of the killed during that gallant fight.
On 31 January Glyn received a further request from Chelmsford’s staff officer. This request is ambiguous as it relates to the word ‘reports’, indicating that Chelmsford was expecting at least two reports, presumably concerning Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift. He wrote:
Your immediate attention is called to the fact that no reports have been received from you regarding the entrenchment of your column or of the occurrences of the 22nd instant; neither has any return of casualties been made.
On 3 February Glyn received a further curt note from Chelmsford marked ‘Private’ reminding him that Chelmsford was still waiting for the Rorke’s Drift report; not only was Glyn suffering depression from the loss of his regiment and friends, he was also aware of rumours that he was to be a scapegoat for Isandlwana – Glyn ignored the communication. His suspicions were soon confirmed when he received a formal request from Chelmsford’s staff for information relating to Isandlwana. It was to this request that Glyn made the abrupt reply, ‘Odd the general asking me to tell him what he knows more than I do’. Meanwhile Chard’s report reached Chelmsford who immediately forwarded it to the Secretary of State for War. It would have been in Chelmsford’s interest to have a dramatic report of the victory at Rorke’s Drift – which he could then promulgate; he knew the spectacular victory at Rorke’s Drift would deflect those who would soon seek to humiliate him for the appalling loss of men and the longer-term implications of a highly trained British force being defeated by a native army. Chelmsford’s advisers would also have been aware that, especially in the minds of the British public, an inglorious defeat could be offset by a glorious victory. And so it was. Furthermore, before Parliament could act to censure Chelmsford for his unauthorized invasion of Zululand, Queen Victoria pre-empted any criticism by ordering a congratulatory message to be sent to Chelmsford via the Secretary of State for War:
The Queen has graciously desired me to say she sympathises most sincerely with you in the dreadful loss which has deprived her of so many gallant officers and men and that Her Majesty places entire confidence in you and in her troops to maintain our honour and our good name.
This was followed by a further message from the Field Marshal His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. His telegram reads:
Have heard, by telegraph, of events occurred. Grieved for 24th and others who have fallen victims. Fullest confidence in regiment, and am satisfied that you have done and will continue to do everyt
hing that is right. Strong reinforcements of all arms ordered to embark at once, February 13th.
The ‘Chard Report’ concerning Rorke’s Drift was initially hailed throughout the British and Colonial press as evidence of Britain’s strength in adversity while both Chard and Bromhead were feted in the newspapers and popular weekly journals as heroes – as indeed they were. Amongst their fellow officers there was a certain amount of growing resentment and incredulity for their unexpected status as popular heroes; Curling and others were soon annoyed by the intensity of fame being attached to the two officers. Curling, the only officer to survive the front line at Isandlwana, wrote:
It is very amusing to read the accounts of Chard and Bromhead. They are about the most common-place men in the British Army. Chard is a most insignificant man in appearance and is only about 5 feet 2 or 3 in height. Bromhead is a stupid old fellow, as deaf as a post. Is it not curious how some men are forced into notoriety?5
On 15 February a report was written concerning the bravery of certain soldiers of the 24th during the battle at the mission station. Subsequently known as the ‘Bromhead Report’, it was signed by Bromhead and submitted to Glyn, the regiment’s commanding officer, who relayed it without any comment to Chelmsford. It is not known who wrote the report although Bromhead signed it in his capacity as the commander of B Company. Strangely, and highly irregularly, Chelmsford personally added the names of Chard and Bromhead to the report without further comment. Why Chelmsford did not discuss with Glyn the matter of awards for the two officers is not known; Glyn had not seen fit to recommend them and in accordance with established military protocol, any recommendation should have come from Glyn as the commanding officer of Rorke’s Drift.6
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