CHAPTER 7
The First Invasion of Zululand, 11 January 1879
This army could not be beaten the world over.1
THE NATAL MERCURY
In the early hours of 11 January 1879 the Centre Column commenced the slow advance towards Ulundi; 5 miles away was a high row of steep red cliffs that formed the backdrop to the homestead of the Zulu chief Sihayo kaXongo, an anglophile who wore European clothes and had been a good friend of James ‘Jem’ Rorke. It was Sihayo’s sons who had murdered his two adulterous wives within sight of the mission station, the act that was used by the British as one of the grounds for the invasion. Sihayo’s homestead also lay directly in the path of the invading column’s main supply route; accordingly Chelmsford ordered that the stronghold be neutralized. On 12 January Chelmsford and most of his Centre Column watched as the NNC, the Natal-recruited black auxiliaries of Commandant Rupert La Trobe Lonsdale, spearheaded the first attack of the invasion against Sihayo’s homestead. Chelmsford commented:
I am inclined to think that the first experience of the power of the Martini-Henrys will be such a surprise to the Zulus that they will not be formidable after the first effort.2
The attack was led by Lieutenant Harford, a noted entomologist and a popular young officer on loan to the NNC from the 99th Regiment. The attacking force slowly advanced towards the steep cliffs and soon came under desultory fire from a handful of Zulus left to protect the homestead. Under fire from the Zulus now sheltering in caves set deeply into the rock face, the NNC formed up and then stormed the stronghold, supported by the 2/24th. The NNC lost less than half a dozen men with a similar number wounded while the 24th sustained no casualties. The Zulus, on the other hand, lost over thirty men killed. Several of Sihayo’s men, including wounded, were captured and forcibly interrogated, an unpleasant process that was to redound on the British a few days later. The captured Zulus nevertheless kept the secret that a great force of 25,000 warriors, accompanied by another 10,000 reserves and camp followers, was steadily closing with the unsuspecting British. Released the following day, the Zulus took comfort at the neighbouring village at Sotondose’s Drift, soon to be known as Fugitives’ Drift. Angered by the destruction of their village, the death of one of Sihayo’s sons and their own brutal treatment, not to mention the theft of their 413 head of cattle, they were not well disposed to the British fugitives who were to flee through Sotondose’s Drift a few days later.
The Natal Times on 16 January enthusiastically reported the engagement at Sihayo’s homestead:
Up to 9 o’clock last night no intimation had been received from the front of shots being fired in any quarter; but at that hour we received the following important telegram, notifying the repulse and flight of the Zulus, with great loss on their side, at the first encounter. It will be seen that the initiative in attack came from the enemy, and, as has been expected it was from Uirajo’s [Sihayo’s] people. We regret to see that one of Lonsdale’s officers has been killed, and, we fear, two of the Natal Mounted Police; but the telegram leaves room for a probability that the latter have only been wounded. They were probably chasing the flying enemy. The prediction of those best acquainted with the Zulus, that they would never stand the fire of regular forces, has been abundantly verified.
Following the skirmish at Sihayo’s homestead, the subject of Sihayo’s captured Zulu cattle caused much discontent among participating column troops who were all entitled a fair share of the plunder, based on the current market price. Evidently, the 413 head of cattle captured at Sihayo’s homestead and the surrounding area had been sold cheaply to contractors: cattle for the sum of £2 a head, the goats for 2s. 6d. and the sheep for 6s., and word spread quickly through the column.3
After destroying Sihayo’s homestead, most of the invasion force moved back to their temporary camp near to Rorke’s Drift; a detachment of infantry was deployed in the Batshe valley to control the forward route while the Royal Engineers repaired the track that ran through two swampy areas leading to Isandlwana. Over the next two days several local Zulus reported to Chelmsford that King Cetshwayo intended to decoy the British and then make for Natal. Chelmsford dismissed their warning and resolved to push on deeper into Zululand without delay. The Natal Witness reporter with the Carbineers submitted the following perceptive dispatch to his newspaper on 18 January; it was published on 23 January.
We have already had three different patrols into the enemy’s quarters. Rumour had it that there were thousands near to us: but, though we hunted up hill and down dale, ‘saw we never none.’ It is impossible to know what to believe. The Zulus must assuredly be somewhere, but wherever we go, we only come across deserted huts.
The battle of Isandlwana, 22 January 1879
The invading British force duly arrived at Isandlwana and there were considerable misgivings about the site on the part of the experienced colonial officers, including Major Dartnell. They were greatly concerned about the broken and wooded county to the rear of the camp, which offered ample cover for the Zulus to gather and prepare an attack completely unseen from the camp; their misgivings were ignored by Chelmsford. By 21 January some 750 tents, neatly erected according to strict military regulations, company by company, street by street, were spread out over an area nearly 1 mile square. There were tents for every purpose: medical tents, storage tents, numerous HQ and administration tents – although the majority were troop tents with either two officers or twelve men sleeping in each one. Each unit’s wagons were parked behind their own regimental lines; those required for resupply were left in the adjacent wagon park ready to return to Rorke’s Drift the following day. The camp location was perfect, with an ample supply of both water and wood for cooking. From a military perspective it was excellent: the position was elevated with a sheer rock face to its rear and therefore easy to defend. More importantly, it looked across the open plain towards the unseen Zulu capital at Ulundi so that any approaching Zulu force would be observed long before it could form up for an attack. Foot patrols were posted to the front of the camp while mounted patrols were detailed to ride to the surrounding hills; one patrol, accompanied by Lieutenant Milne RN, investigated the plateau that overlooked Isandlwana from the unprotected side of the camp. He later wrote that he saw a number of Zulu horsemen – which clearly alarmed him at the time. He wrote:
We then rode to the high land to the left of our camp, the ascent very steep, but possible for horses. On reaching the summit of the highest hill, I counted fourteen Zulu horsemen watching us at the distance of about four miles; they ultimately disappeared over a slight rise. Two vedettes were stationed at the spot from where I saw these horsemen; they said they had seen these men several times during the day, and had reported the fact. We then returned to camp, the General having determined to send out a patrol in this direction the next day.4
On the very same day Inspector George Mansell of the Natal Mounted Police had lookouts placed along the top of the Nqutu plateau overlooking Isandlwana. Major Clery, a former professor of tactics and the senior staff officer of the 1/24th, later withdrew the lookouts on the grounds that they ‘served no useful purpose’. A few hours later an officer of the Natal Mounted Police suggested to the same staff officers that the British camp might be attacked from the rear. The message was delivered to Chelmsford who retorted, ‘Tell the police officer my troops will do all the attacking.’ 5
Chelmsford and his staff persistently ignored intelligence that they considered inaccurate or implausible and concentrated instead on unconfirmed reports that large numbers of Zulus were approaching from the direction of Ulundi, the Zulu capital. This was exactly what Chelmsford was hoping for, and during the afternoon of 21 January Chelmsford dispatched an experienced Colonial officer, the recently promoted Lieutenant Colonel John Dartnell, towards the distant hills of Isipezi, the site of the next British camp. He took with him a reconnaissance force consisting of sixteen companies of the NNC with most of the Natal Mounted Police and half the Natal Mounted Volunteers
. Dartnell was requested to reconnoitre the area and return that evening. Meanwhile, Isandlwana camp remained unprepared for a Zulu attack even though a number of experienced Boer frontiersmen such as Gert de Jager and James Gregory had personally expressed their disquietude to Chelmsford at British indifference to the Zulus’ fighting ability. As a measure of British overconfidence, some Zulus, including Chief Gamdama, were allowed into the British camp on the pretext of surrendering some obsolete firearms; having had a good look at the British position they were then allowed to depart.
Prior to the invasion Chelmsford gave his commanders specific orders requiring British positions in Zululand to be laagered or entrenched at night, yet once the invasion was under way these orders were dismissed by the staff officers as unnecessary; in effect Chelmsford neglected his own written orders to entrench or fortify the camp at Isandlwana. To be fair, he was probably swayed by the knowledge that further supplies remained to be collected the following day from the depot at Rorke’s Drift. Chelmsford was also impatient to move the force just 12 miles across the plain to the next campsite at Isipezi, especially as there was no sign of the Zulus’ approach. Certainly the ground at Isandlwana was rocky and hard, but a solid defensive embankment of rocks could have been effectively constructed within a few hours.6
During that night Chelmsford received an urgent message from Dartnell, now bivouacked near the Hlazakazi hills, confirming that a strong Zulu force had been seen throughout the day and, more importantly, captured Zulus confirmed the imminent arrival of the Zulu army. After dark, hundreds of campfires could be seen in the hills leading off towards Ulundi. Understandably, Dartnell believed he had found the Zulu army. Chelmsford likewise presumed the main Zulu army of some 25,000 warriors had been located and at about 1.30 a.m. on 22 January he decided to split his invasion force. At 3 a.m. he set out with Colonel Glyn and a force of 2,500 men including the 2/24th Regiment and four of the six guns of the Royal Artillery to support Dartnell. The camp was to be left with two guns in case the enemy should have the temerity to attack the camp during Chelmsford’s absence. As G Company of the 2/24th were still being employed on night guard duty, they remained at Isandlwana. At about the same time a message was delivered to Durnford by Lieutenant Smith-Dorrien ordering him to move forward to support Chelmsford.
Lieutenant Colonel Henry Pulleine of the 1/24th was left in command of Isandlwana camp, now manned by 1,700 men armed with Martini-Henry rifles and supported by two 7-pound artillery guns and reserves of nearly one million rounds of Martini-Henry rifle ammunition. Pulleine was 41 years old and had been in the army for over twenty years but he had never seen action. Furthermore, he had only rejoined his regiment five days earlier after holding various administrative positions in Durban and Pietermaritzburg. His orders were straightforward: to defend the camp and await orders for the move to the next site at Isipezi.
By dawn, Chelmsford and over half the strength of the Centre Column were well on their way marching towards the Hlazakazi hills where Chelmsford eagerly expected to engage the main Zulu army. Instead he was to confront an illusive enemy decoy and by 8.30 a.m. he realized that he was not about to engage anyone. He told Commandant George Hamilton-Browne of the 3rd Battalion NNC to march his battalion the 12 miles back to Isandlwana; over rough terrain and in the heat of summer, this would take at least four hours. The order Hamilton-Browne received is recorded in his book published over thirty years later:
Commandant Browne, I want you to return at once to camp [with your men] and assist Colonel Pulleine to strike camp and come on here.7
As dawn broke over Isandlwana, Pulleine and the men of the 1/24th had watched Chelmsford’s column march out of camp. In compliance with Chelmsford’s orders Pulleine dispatched the infantry to form a line extending for almost 1 mile approximately 1,000 yards to the left front of the camp. Further positions were taken up at dawn by several companies of the NNC; these covered the base and shoulder of the nearby Nqutu plateau overlooking the north of the camp.
At 7 a.m. a number of disquieting events began with a report from the plateau that confirmed a large force of Zulus advancing towards the camp. The men on outpost duty had seen large numbers of armed Zulus approaching and of special concern to Pulleine was a report of a concentration of Zulus ‘in the broad valley before them. There were very many of them and they appeared to be moving in the direction of the camp’.
In response to the reports coming in, Pulleine ordered the buglers to sound ‘stand to’; breakfast was abandoned and the British enthusiastically prepared for action. No Zulus appeared; the troops were stood down but almost immediately a returning patrol reported large bodies of Zulus moving north-west towards Chelmsford’s position. The confusion in camp was reflected in the final diary entry of Lieutenant Pope – the diary was later discovered on the battlefield. He wrote:
Alarm. 3 Columns Zulus and mounted men on hill E. Turn Out.7,000 (!!!) more E.N.E.,4,000 of whom went round Lion’s Kop. Durnford, Basutos, arrive and pursue. Rocket Battery. Zulus retire everywhere. Men fall out for Dinners.8
Small groups of Zulus appeared along the edge of the plateau and within minutes the distant sound of firing was heard but due to the echoing among the hills it was impossible to pinpoint its exact position. Larger groups of Zulus then appeared on the plateau and the bemused British soldiers were again ‘stood to’. Pulleine knew the Zulus should not be on the plateau to his left – they were supposed to be to his front being engaged by Chelmsford’s attacking force, and he dithered. Unbeknown to Pulleine, the Zulus overlooking the camp were the commanders completing their pre-battle reconnaissance.
At about 10.30 a.m. Lieutenant Colonel Durnford arrived from Rorke’s Drift with 500 mounted men of the No. 2 Reserve Column. Durnford’s orders from Chelmsford, received only that morning, were vague:
You are to march to this camp at once with all the force you have with you of No.2 Column. Major Bengough’s battalion is to move to Rorke’s Drift as ordered yesterday. 2/24th, Artillery and mounted men with the General and Colonel Glyn move off at once to attack a Zulu force about 10 miles distant.9
When questioned later, Clery stated that his order to Durnford was very specific. He claimed he ordered Durnford, on Chelmsford’s behalf, to ‘take command of it’, referring to the Isandlwana camp. As can be seen from the actual order, only discovered a hundred years later, Durnford was the commander of No. 2 Column and was never ordered to take command of the Centre Column camp at Isandlwana.
Durnford apprised himself of the puzzling situation and was discussing the various sightings of the Zulus with Pulleine just as one of Chelmsford’s staff officers, Captain Shepstone of the NNH, arrived to report that Zulus had been sighted some 3 miles away on the plateau. Trooper Barker was one of the mounted scouts on the plateau and he later wrote:
Shortly afterwards, numbers of Zulus being seen on all the hills to the left and front, Trooper Swift and another were sent back to report. The Zulus then remained on the hills, and about two hundred of them advanced to within three hundred yards of us, but on our advancing they retired out of sight, and a few of us went up to this hill where the Zulus had disappeared, and on a farther hill, at about six hundred yards distance, we saw a large army sitting down. We returned to Lieutenant Scott, who was then about three miles from camp, and reported what we had seen. Hawkins and I were then sent back to camp to report a large army to the left front of the camp. On our way back we noticed the Zulus advancing slowly, and when about a mile and a half from the camp we met the rocket battery, who enquired the enemy’s whereabouts. We advised the officer to proceed to where Lieutenant Scott was stationed, but he asked if he could get up a hill to his left. We informed him that the Zulus were advancing towards that hill, and most probably would be seen on it within half an hour. The officer decided to proceed up this hill, and the battery was, half an hour afterwards, cut up to a man, just as they arrived, I believe, on the top of the hill in question.(We, the videttes, were at the time in a donga firing at
the Zulus, and witnessed the cutting up of this battery without their having time to fire a single shot.) Hawkins and I reported to an officer, staff, I believe, about the advance of the Zulus, and as we left camp to return to Lieutenant Scott, another Carbineer, I am not sure of his name, galloped in and reported Zulus in every direction advancing. He was then sent on to the General with some report, and was never seen again alive by any in camp, although he is reported to have given a dispatch to the General, who sent him back to camp, at which the poor fellow never arrived.10
To these experienced officers who had served in the previous Cape wars, large forces of warriors were not necessarily considered to be dangerous. Pulleine was undoubtedly thankful for Durnford’s presence and calm analysis; he gave the order to ‘stand down’ and turned his attention to the more routine task of moving the camp. Durnford was senior in service to Pulleine and much has revolved upon this seniority, the presumption being that command of the camp devolved upon Durnford, thus relieving Pulleine of overall responsibility. Pulleine may well have wished this to happen but as Commander of the No. 2 Reserve Column, Durnford was independent and no orders were ever given to merge the two columns.
Durnford was, however, forced to acknowledge that a significant enemy force was deploying along the plateau, possibly to drive a wedge between the Isandlwana camp and Chelmsford’s vulnerable force now 12 miles away towards Ulundi. At about 11.30 a.m. Durnford departed to join Chelmsford but before doing so he sent two of his mounted troops, under the command of Lieutenants Raw and Roberts, onto the plateau to obtain a factual report of Zulu movements. This small force would shortly collide with the advancing Zulu army.
Crossing the Buffalo Page 12
