Rorke's Drift

by Adrian Greaves

  Less than two hours later the Zulus attacked the mission station with a force of 4,500 warriors. By comparison, Chard and Bromhead had just 100 fit and thirty-five sick soldiers with which to defend the position. The Zulus commenced their attack at about 4 p.m. on 22 January and sustained their attack until the following morning when Lord Chelmsford relieved the post. For saving the post from the Zulus the two officers were subsequently recommended for the award of the Victoria Cross. Curiously, their well-earned awards were both highly irregular; the original recommendation for the Rorke’s Drift awards of the Victoria Crosses was in respect of Corporal Allen and Privates Hook, Hitch, Williams and the two Joneses and was submitted by Lieutenant Bromhead in his capacity as commander of B Company, through the correct military channels via Colonel Glyn, his commanding officer. Glyn forwarded these recommendations to Chelmsford on 15 February without further comment by Glyn. It was only when this report reached Chelmsford that he personally added the names of Chard and Bromhead, without the necessary recommendations or referring the matter back to Glyn. Both officers received their Victoria Crosses from General Wolseley while still serving in Zululand; Bromhead at Utrecht on 11 September 1879, Chard at St Paul’s on 16 July 1879. Their joint citation, prepared in London and not by Chelmsford, reads:

  For their gallant conduct at the defence of Rorke’s Drift, on the occasion of the attack by the Zulus on the 22nd and 23rd January, 1879.

  The Lieutenant General commanding the troops reports that, had it not been for the fine example and behaviour of these two officers under the most trying circumstances, the defence of Rorke’s Drift post would not have been conducted with that intelligence and tenacity which so essentially characterised it. The Lieutenant General adds, that its success must, to a great degree, be attributable to the two young Officers who exercised the chief Command on the occasion in question.

  ACTING ASSISTANT COMMISSARY JAMES DALTON,

  COMMISSARIAT AND TRANSPORT CORPS

  The two men who managed to escape via Fugitives’ Drift had brought a written message from Isandlwana warning the Rorke’s Drift garrison of the Zulus’ approach. Consulting together, Chard and Bromhead were persuaded by Dalton that it was too dangerous to attempt a retreat to Helpmekaar and risk being attacked in the open. They would not be able to move quickly as the sick from the hospital had to be evacuated and the considerable amount of ammunition and stores would have to be abandoned to the Zulus. The best option was to stay and fight from a good defensive position; something Commissary James Dalton had already set about constructing with piled sacks of corn, biscuit boxes and wagons.

  When the Ninth Frontier War broke out in 1877, Dalton came out of retirement and was appointed to the rather cumbersome rank of acting assistant commissary, which gave him officer status.

  At this time, Rorke’s Drift was home to approximately eighty-four men of B Company 2/24th, thirty-six sick or injured men in the hospital, three Royal Engineers, three Commissariat, four medics and one detached man of the Buffs; in all, a total of about 140 men. In addition, there were between 200 and 300 African recruits of the Natal Native Contingent. With so many hands, the barricades were all but completed by the time the Zulus appeared. Meanwhile, there was a succession of exhausted and demoralized fugitives passing by who tried to persuade the defenders to run and save their lives. When a large body of Native Horse were seen to head up the road to Helpmekaar, it was too much for the NNC who, with their colonial officer and NCOs, deserted en masse. This defection meant that the perimeter was too large to defend so a second defensive line was hurriedly constructed, leaving the hospital out on a limb. Both Chard and Bromhead assisted Dalton to organize the men around the perimeter, making sure there would be a constant supply of ammunition. As the Zulus attacked, Dalton occupied himself around the barricades, encouraging the men and taking shots where necessary. Then, as he leaned over the parapet to take aim, he was hit by a bullet that passed through his right shoulder. Surgeon Reynolds rendered him first aid and after a short rest Dalton was back passing ammunition and offering advice to the hard-pressed defenders. After the war James Dalton was promoted to commissariat officer, but he was put on half pay and returned to England. South Africa was too much of a magnet for him and he returned a few years later and took an interest in a mining company. He was suddenly taken ill and died on 17 January 1887, aged only 54. The citation for Dalton’s Victoria Cross was dated 17 November 1879 and reads:

  For his conspicuous gallantry during the attack on Rorke’s Drift by the Zulus on the night of the 22nd January 1879, when he actively superintended the work of defence, and was amongst the foremost of those who received the first attack at the corner of the hospital, when the deadliness of his fire did great execution, and the mad rush of the Zulus met its first check, and where by his cool courage he saved the life of a man of the Army Hospital corps by shooting the Zulu, who, having seized the muzzle of the man’s rifle, was in the act of assegaing him.

  This officer, to whose energy much of the defence of the place was due, was severely wounded during the contest, but still continued to give the same example of cool courage.

  PRIVATE JOHN WILLIAMS, 2/24th

  PRIVATE HENRY HOOK, 2/24th

  PRIVATE WILLIAM JONES, 2/24th

  PRIVATE ROBERT JONES, 2/24th

  CORPORAL WILLIAM WILSON ALLEN, 2/24th

  PRIVATE FREDERICK HITCH, 2/24th

  The defence of the hospital was a battle within a battle. The defenders were mostly isolated from each other by walls and partitions so individual soldiers fought without so much as an NCO in command. At first their fire from the loopholes was effective but once the Zulus had managed to reach the outside walls, the defenders felt their isolation. The Zulus set fire to the roof thatch, which forced some of the defenders to retreat to other rooms. Privates Williams and Hook found themselves in the same room with the Zulus breaking down the door. Using a pickaxe Williams knocked a hole in the far wall, while Hook, using his bayonet, kept the Zulus from entering. As the last patient was dragged through the escape hole, Hook jumped through and joined them in the next room. With Hook defending this hole, Williams again picked a hole in the far wall and knocked through into a small room occupied by Privates William and Robert Jones. They had been defending this room for some time and had managed to get most of the patients out through the window, while taking turns in preventing the Zulus entering.

  Well defended though they were, the soldiers around the perimeter were taking casualties, mostly from gunfire from the Oskarsberg. Corporal Allen was one of the sharpshooters who tried to dislodge the snipers from their rocky cover. In doing so, he exposed himself to fire over a considerable period of time even after he was hit in the right arm by a Zulu bullet.

  By this time the rest of the defenders had retreated to the new perimeter, leaving defenders and patients with 30 yards of open ground to cross under heavy fire and the threat of being stabbed by the pressing Zulus. Their colleagues laid down covering fire while both Corporal Allen and Private Hitch crossed the yard to assist in bringing back the wounded and sick. It was a miracle that so many did escape, thanks in the main to the bravery and coolness of four humble privates.

  Although wounded, both Hook and Robert Jones joined the rest of the company in continuing their desperate defence. With nightfall the fire from the hospital illuminated the dark and helped the defenders to see any approaching Zulus. Hitch was very prominent during the battle; he was stationed on the thatched roof of the hospital as a lookout and was the first to see the approaching Zulus. He was then sent to help man the weakest part of the defences, the veranda of the hospital. Although the ground sloped away quite steeply in front of the hospital, there had not been enough time to build up the barrier to more than waist height. Also, the warriors could creep up closely through the undergrowth before hurling themselves up the slope. The fixed bayonet soon proved just how effective a weapon it was in a tight defensive role. Most of the fighting here was hand to hand, the defend
ers having little time to reload as wave upon wave of Zulus charged them. Hitch recalled that one large warrior grabbed his rifle and struggled to disarm him. Managing to slip a cartridge into the breech, Hitch fired point-blank and dislodged his assailant.

  The fighting had been going on for about an hour and a half and the mounting toll of casualties persuaded Chard to withdraw to the second line of defence, thus abandoning the area between the hospital and the storehouse. The Zulus could not occupy this open ground but could get to the barricades and put down deadly fire. At the most exposed part of the wall, Hitch and Bromhead fought alongside each other, while comrades fell dead or wounded. Finally Hitch, too, was hit in the shoulder, which shattered the bone. Despite this terrible wound, Hitch managed to remove his tunic and strap his wounded arm under his waist-belt. He borrowed Bromhead’s revolver and, with Bromhead’s assistance in loading it, carried on firing. He was also later seen delivering ammunition to his comrades.

  By being forced to withdraw to the inner defence line, Chard had effectively left the occupants of the hospital to fend for themselves. It should be remembered, however, that the events within the hospital were taking place at the same time as those related above.

  The attacks became more sporadic and the last serious attempt by the Zulu to rush the barricades was about 11 p.m. by which time the opposing sides were both physically and emotionally spent.

  The soldiers had been firing almost continually for at least six hours. Their hearing was dulled; their heads were pounding, their shoulders were badly bruised from the notoriously heavy recoil of their Martini-Henry rifles and their hands were blistered by the overheated barrels. But still they could not relax their guard one moment during the long night. A flurry of shots were fired at them around 2 a.m., which they later discovered was the time the Zulus began to withdraw; and by dawn the Zulus had gone.

  The citations for the above read:

  PRIVATE JOHN WILLIAMS

  Private John Williams was posted with private Joseph Williams and Private Horrigan, 1st Battalion 24th Regiment, in a distant room of the hospital, which they held for more than one hour, so long as they had a round of ammunition left: as communication was for the time cut off, the Zulus were enabled to advance and burst open the door; they dragged out Private Joseph Williams and two of the patients, and assagaied them. Whilst the Zulus were occupied with the slaughter of these men, a lull took place, during which Private John Williams, who, with two patients, were the only men left alive in this ward, succeeded in knocking a hole in the partition, and in taking the two patients into the next ward, where he found private Hook.

  John Williams lived to be the last surviving Rorke’s Drift VC. He served in India during the period 1880–83 and then in various volunteer battalions until discharged. Because of the events of 22 January, his hair turned prematurely white. This appears to have been the only effect the battle had on him. When the First World War broke out Williams volunteered for duty at the age of 57, and was taken on as recruiting sergeant, Brecon Barracks. Within a few weeks he had lost a son killed in action during the retreat from Mons. After the war, he was still associated with the regiment when he was kept on the civilian staff at Brecon. When he died on 25 November 1932 he was given a lavish military funeral in keeping with such an extraordinary record of service. He was buried in St Michael’s Churchyard, Llantarnam, Wales.

  PRIVATE HENRY HOOK

  These two men together, one man working whilst the other man fought and held the enemy at bay with his bayonet, broke through three more partitions, and were thus enabled to bring eight patients through a small window into the inner line of defence.

  Henry Hook uniquely received his Victoria Cross at the site of Rorke’s Drift from Sir Garnet Wolseley. He is said to have flinched when his medal was pinned to his tunic as the medal clasp also pierced his breast. The medal fastening at that time was a rather vicious-looking double prong designed so that the queen could dispense the award with one hand while on horseback. It was not till later that a safer brooch fastening was fitted. Along with most of the surviving defenders, Hook had to endure weeks of privation and hardship as they slept rough at Helpmekaar in cold and wet conditions. This, as much as the actual battle, probably prompted him to purchase his discharge and return to London. He joined the British Museum staff and was employed as a cloakroom attendant; in 1893 he again met Wolseley when he visited the museum. Hook remained at the museum until ill health forced his retirement in 1904. He returned to his native Churcham in Gloucestershire, where he died the following year.

  PRIVATE WILLIAM JONES and PRIVATE ROBERT JONES

  In another ward, facing the hill, Private William Jones and Private Robert Jones defended the post to the last, until six out of the seven patients had been removed. The seventh, Sergeant Maxfield, 2nd Battalion 24th Regiment, was delirious with fever. Although they had previously dressed him, they were unable to induce him to move. When Private Robert Jones returned to endeavour to carry him away, he found him being stabbed by the Zulus as he lay on his bed.

  William Jones was invalided home suffering from chronic rheumatism, a condition that led to his discharge in 1880. He received his Victoria Cross from the queen. Unable to find regular work, he performed in theatres, reenacting the defence of Rorke’s Drift. He even appeared with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show when it toured Britain in the 1880s. Labouring jobs, when he could find work, followed. Poverty, however, forced him to pawn his Cross, which he was never able to redeem. By 1910 recurring nightmares of his ordeal were making him act irrationally. One night he took his small granddaughter from her bed in the belief that the Zulus were attacking and on another occasion he was found wandering the back streets of Manchester. He died confused and in great poverty. He was buried in Bradford Cemetery, Manchester, on 21 April 1913.

  Robert Jones, William’s comrade in the hospital, also had a tragic end. Despite receiving four wounds, he soon recovered and went back on active duty. He received his Victoria Cross at the same time as Major Bromhead; he returned to the regiment and served in India 1880–81. After years in the army reserve, he was discharged and went to work as a labourer for Major de la Hay in Peterchuch, Herefordshire. Bouts of depression and headaches made Jones increasingly turn to drink for solace. During the summer of 1898 he suffered a fit, which was followed by a blinding headache. Borrowing his employer’s gun, Jones said he was going to shoot crows. A shot was heard from the garden and a maid found his body. He had apparently committed suicide to end his terrible anguish, but suicides were generally excluded from burial in consecrated ground. The authorities partially relented: Robert Jones VC was buried in the churchyard of Peterchurch in Herefordshire, but to this day his headstone still faces away from the other graves to signify the nature of his death.

  CORPORAL WILLIAM ALLEN and PRIVATE FREDERICK HITCH

  It was chiefly due to the courageous conduct of these men that communication with the hospital was kept up at all. Holding together at all costs a most dangerous post, raked in reverse by the enemy’s fire from the hill, they were both severely wounded, but their determined conduct enabled the patients to be withdrawn from the hospital, and when incapacitated by their wounds from fighting, they continued, as soon as their wounds had been dressed, to serve out ammunition to their comrades during the night.

  William Allen was invalided home because of his wound, which never really healed. As a consequence he received his Victoria Cross from the queen at Windsor Castle. He served on as a sergeant-instructor of musketry in the 4th Volunteer Battalion of the South Wales Borderers. He died at Monnow Street, Monmouth on 12 March 1890, aged only 46 years, from influenza.

  Frederick Hitch was also sent home with Allen. His wound was severe and some thirty-nine pieces of bone had to be removed. He, too, received his Victoria Cross from the Sovereign at a ceremony held in the hospital. He was medically discharged and joined the Corps of Commissionaires. In 1901 his VC was snatched off his coat and a replacement was presented to him se
ven years later. He later became a London cab driver and died at home during a taxi strike in 1913. At his funeral, as well as family and military representatives, an estimated 1,500 cabbies paid their respects. His medals were purchased in June 1906 by Philip Wilkins, and they are now deposited at the regimental museum at Brecon.

  SURGEON JAMES HENRY REYNOLDS,

  Army Medical Department

  This 35-year-old Irishman had served in the tropics for many years. He had come to South Africa with the 1/24th in 1875 and was experienced enough to treat some battle wounds but not on the scale or under conditions he was about to experience. It was about 4.30 p.m. that the first Zulus were seen approaching from the shoulder of the Oskarsberg hill which loomed over the mission station to the south. As the Zulus extended to surround the defenders, the soldiers opened fire at about 500 yards and battle commenced.

  The Zulus had no plan and attacked in a headlong rush, probing for a weak point. The soldiers were heartened to see how many warriors they were killing, but such was their bravery and ferociousness, they kept coming on until they reached the barricades. It then became a primitive struggle of assegai and bayonet, knobkerrie and rifle butt; slashing, stabbing, clubbing and firing at point-blank range. The casualties were not carried to the hospital as portrayed in the film ZULU, but were treated in a makeshift redoubt in front of the storehouse by Surgeon Reynolds and his staff. When he was not tending the wounded, Reynolds delivered ammunition through the window of the hospital, which left him very exposed. In fact a bullet passed through his helmet. Dangerous and bloody though the fighting was on the perimeter, the events that unfolded in the hospital were even more dramatic.