One determined Zulu rush caused Chard and Bromhead to join a threatened group of half a dozen men but they were still too few so, during a short lull, Chard gave the order to abandon the outer position and to withdraw to within the inner wall of boxes between the rock ledge and the storehouse. The British move now halved the size of the area to be defended but left the hospital and its six able-bodied men and patients surrounded by Zulus. Chard’s men were beginning to suffer serious casualties and apart from two fatalities, Byrne and Private Cole, four were seriously wounded – Corporal Allen and Privates Chick, Fagan and Scanlon. Now concentrated in the small entrenchment, Chard could no longer communicate with those trapped in the hospital some 40 yards away.
The side and far end of the hospital facing the Oskarsberg could no longer be protected by the defenders’ covering fire and the Zulus quickly massed along these two unprotected sides of the building to attack the barricaded doors and windows by grabbing the soldiers’ rifles as they fired through the loopholes. To make matters worse for those inside, the hospital now caught fire. It is possible that some Zulus threw spears with tufts of burning grass onto the thatched roof. It is more likely that the fire was started from within the building when a paraffin lamp broke during the fighting. Due to the heavy rains of the previous weeks, the thatch was still sodden and when the roof did eventually catch fire, it was slow to burn.
According to Private Hook in his account of the action, the defenders of the hospital were now caught ‘like rats in a trap’. He was defending a corner room with Private Cole when the pressing Zulus began clawing and battering at the barricaded doors. The claustrophobic Cole opened the door and in a wild panic fled outside, only to be shot to death by the massing Zulus. Another patient, Private Beckett, escaped in the same direction; he was wounded by a number of spear thrusts but in the darkness he managed to hide himself in the scrub near the garden, only to be found dying the following morning. Now alone, Hook used his bayonet to cut and hack his way through to the adjacent room where three more defenders, Privates John and Joseph Williams and Horrigan, together with their four patients, were trapped. The Zulus were about to break through and the smouldering thatch was filling the room with choking smoke. Hook took it upon himself to keep the Zulus at bay with his bayonet while John Williams smashed a hole into the next room; the intention was to reach the far end of the building before the Zulus got to them. They cut their way through and managed to pull three sick men after them before the Zulus broke the wall down and killed the remaining patients, including the wounded Zulu prisoner from the attack on Sihayo’s stronghold.
Hook was firing and wielding his bayonet by the hole as his colleagues broke through the next wall into the adjacent room where they found Private Waters who, when the time came to crawl through into the final room, hid instead in a wardrobe where he remained undetected by the Zulus until he was able to rejoin his comrades as dawn broke. Private Connolly had suffered a broken leg and while he was being dragged through the hole, his leg was inadvertently reinjured, causing him to scream pitifully. Hook guarded the hole for another fifteen minutes before the final wall could be breached; the Zulus repeatedly tried to get through the hole but were met by Hook’s bayonet; each time the Zulus would pull the twitching victim back only to enable another warrior to receive the same treatment.
The Zulus were unable to breach the hole guarded by Hook and the roof fire had not yet reached their end of the building, but there was no door out and the only possible exit point was a window high up in the wall. It overlooked the space between the hospital and Chard’s position 40 yards away but the window was too small to get a man through. Quickly they smashed the frame out. At Chard’s position the light of the hospital flames illuminated the defenders who were now lowering the hospital survivors to the ground. The Zulus were only yards away as Chard called for two volunteers to run across the no-man’s-land and bring the casualties to safety. Private Hitch and Corporal Allen immediately volunteered. Hitch had already been shot through his shoulder and Allen through his arm; notwithstanding their serious injuries, the two raced to and from the hospital – each man carrying a patient – as Chard ordered covering fire.
Trooper Hunter of the Natal Mounted Police escaped from the hospital and as he crawled towards safety a Zulu leaped over the barricade and killed him before the defenders’ eyes; the Zulu was then shot dead by a furious British volley. Sergeant Maxfield was on the verge of leaving the hospital but, being delirious, he refused to co-operate until properly dressed and fought repeated attempts to save him. The far end of the burning hospital then collapsed, which gave Gunner Howard the opportunity to escape; he dashed for cover and lay in the darkness – surviving to tell the tale. Private Adams stayed behind and died. Commissary Dunne later wrote ‘overhead, the small birds disturbed by the turmoil and smoke flew hither and thither confusedly’. The terrifying ordeal in the darkness, thick smoke and deafening noise of the hospital battle had lasted over two hours. The thatched roof of the hospital was now well ablaze, which illuminated the attacking Zulus.
Rorke‘s Drift hospital at time of attack
For Chard and his men the final desperate fight for survival now began. The other Zulu skirmishers who had been burning local farms had been drawn back to Rorke’s Drift by the flames and sounds of constant firing. They now joined Prince Dabulamanzi’s force and in the light from the burning hospital the Zulus increased their pressure all round. Fortunately for the British, the Zulus had not yet realized that the fire illuminated their massing ranks and made them easy targets for Chard’s marksmen.
Then Prince Dabulamanzi changed tactics; he ordered the firing of the storehouse’s thatched roof. As soon as Chard realized that the Zulus were making a determined effort to do this, presumably to force out the defenders, he ordered Commissary Dunne to construct a redoubt from two huge piles of mealie bags that had been previously stacked at the front of the store. Chard knew that if the storehouse fell, the Zulus would be able to surround the defenders at a distance of less than 20 yards. Dunne, a quiet young man, directed this work without thought for his personal safety; he stood on the mound of sacks and encouraged half a dozen weary soldiers to construct the final redoubt. In so doing he attracted steady fire from the Zulus on all sides but he remained unscathed throughout.
Suddenly a shout rang out from a soldier pointing towards the Helpmekaar road. The word quickly spread that marching redcoats were approaching from the direction of Helpmekaar, although when everyone peered into the growing darkness no sign of help could be seen. Believing relief was at hand, some of the men cheered, which confused the Zulus; they withdrew to safety to await events and for ten minutes little was heard other than more rounds being issued to the defenders. But no relieving troops came and then the Zulus regrouped ready for the next assault. Chard wrote of this incident:
Second withdrawal 7 p.m.
ZULUS FROM THE OSKARSBERG
It is very strange that this report should have arisen amongst us, for the two companies 24th Regiment from Helpmekaar did come down to the foot of the hill, but not, I believe, in sight of us. They marched back to Helpmekaar on the report of Rorke’s Drift having fallen.15
Major Spalding, the officer commanding Rorke’s Drift, had ridden to Helpmekaar that same afternoon to speed up the overdue reinforcements. At about 3.30 p.m. he encountered the two relieving companies of the 24th marching to Rorke’s Drift and accompanied them back to the top of the steep pass. He then went on ahead accompanied by Mr Dickson of the local Buffalo Guard. As they descended the pass, they saw the first black auxiliary fugitives from Rorke’s Drift; puzzled, they continued on until they met the first fugitives from the Mounted Infantry. There was no doubting their story; Isandlwana had fallen to the Zulus and Rorke’s Drift was now suffering the same fate, though Spalding rode on until he gained a low crest where he could see the mission station in flames. He and Dickson then saw a large group of Zulu skirmishers approaching them; the Zulus came to within 100 y
ards while forming their traditional attack formation. Realizing their predicament, Spalding and Dickson rapidly retreated back to the column to learn that other Zulu raiding parties were approaching the pass to Helpmekaar. Spalding ordered the column to ‘about turn’ and the two companies, along with all their wagons, began the ascent of the pass. All safely reached Helpmekaar at about 9 p.m. where they built a defensive laager using the wagons and all available stores. There can be little doubt that the defenders at Rorke’s Drift, even in the failing light, had seen the marching column when it was less than 3 miles from Rorke’s Drift; the relieving force certainly saw the burning mission station. Spalding later attempted to justify his actions and though Chelmsford backed him up, he was removed to an inconspicuous desk job.16
With no hope of relief, the British now retreated behind the barrier protecting the remaining building, the storehouse. Corporal Attwood defended a window in the building throughout the action and was kept busy shooting at the warriors as they attempted to fire the thatch above him. He held his position until the end of the battle and the Zulus failed to fire the roof. The pressure of hand-to-hand fighting continued until the defenders holding the outer wall of the cattle kraal were forced to retire, first to an intermediate wall that divided the kraal and then finally behind the wall which actually joined onto the storehouse. This was to be the final British position; there was nowhere else to go.
Final assault
Dunne completed the conversion of the two large pyramids of bagged maize into an oblong redoubt. The wounded were then placed inside the new position and Chard detailed marksmen to occupy the upper rampart. With an elevated field of fire illuminated by the dying glow of the burning hospital the marksmen poured several volleys into the massed Zulu ranks now pressing up against the final wall of boxes and mealie bags. As the night wore on, the glow from the hospital fire began to dwindle and, as it did, the Zulus’ enthusiasm for close combat waned. After midnight the battle had degenerated into a series of isolated attacks that enabled the British to anticipate more accurately the direction of each attack. The defenders had been without water for over eight hours and all were suffering from thirst so regardless of darting warriors, Chard led an almost suicidal bayonet charge over the wall to reach the water cart that he had brought from the river and which had been abandoned halfway between the two buildings. Curiously, the Zulus had ignored it, even though they were also desperate for water. The cart was brought back to the wall but was too heavy to lift over – so Chard improvised with a leather hose and drained the water through a hole in the wall into an assortment of containers.
By midnight Prince Dabulamanzi was in serious trouble; his men had suffered enormous casualties with nothing to show for their bravery and efforts. Their attacks had become unenthusiastic and sporadic in sympathy with the final flickering from the remains of the burning hospital, which died out at about 4 a.m. Thereafter there were no more Zulu attacks, only an ‘exchange of salutations’ according to a Zulu warrior, Munyu, who was present.17
Chard ordered his battle-weary men to remain at their posts and at 5 a.m. dawn came. Apart from the dead and wounded, the Zulu force had vanished. Just after 7 a.m. the Zulus reappeared on the western slope of the Oskarsberg but Prince Dabulamanzi’s men were exhausted. They collected themselves together before heading back towards the drift and Zululand. Chard later wrote that he was glad to seize an opportunity to wash his face in a muddy puddle, in company with Private Bush, a hospital defender whose face was covered with blood from a wound in the nose caused by the bullet which had killed Private Cole.
Many of the dead Zulus were locked in strange contorted positions by rigor mortis and some were horrifically disfigured by Martini-Henry bullet wounds. The numerous dead were ignored as the soldiers were too exhausted or caring for their own wounded; all were suffering from bruising and burns caused by firing their Martini-Henry rifles for hours on end. Commandant Hamilton-Browne wrote that the dead Zulus lay in piles, in some places as high as the top of the parapet. Pools of congealed and smeared blood bore witness to the death throes of both British and Zulu warriors and the whole area was littered with spears, empty ammunition boxes, torn cartridge packets and clusters of spent ammunition cases. Trampled maize from the damaged sacks lay thickly along the walls, and the remnants of red jackets lay in the dust, having been used by the soldiers for binding their red-hot rifle barrels to save their hands from burns as they fired. The nauseating smell of roasted human flesh emanating from the burnt-out hospital pervaded the area and on examining the ruined building the defenders discovered the charred bodies of Sergeant Maxfield and the other patients alongside a number of Zulus who had died within its walls. Fourteen dead Zulus lay outside the room that Joseph Williams had defended; his speared body showed that he had fought bravely to the end.
Colour Sergeant Bourne then remembered the casks of rum that had been guarded throughout the battle; he recovered them intact and began issuing the spirit among the defenders. Private Hook, a known teetotaller, joined the queue with the comment, ‘I feel I want something after all that’; he then returned to his campfire where he was making tea. An undamaged bottle of beer, discovered in the wreckage of one of the wagons, was handed to Chard and Bromhead who shared it in celebration. Neither could have anticipated the future impact of the battle they had just fought.
Chard sent out a patrol to flush out any hidden Zulu marksmen; all round the British outpost lay dead Zulu warriors, with more human remains still visible in the smouldering hospital building. Unnoticed by the defenders, a warrior walked straight into the British position and, being unarmed, was not fired upon. When challenged he claimed to be a member of the NNC. Daniels the pontman started interrogating the man by waving a sword at him but Chard took pity on the terrified prisoner and, believing his innocence, sent him to the officer commanding at Helpmekaar with a situation report and a request for assistance. Chard’s wagon driver had panicked when the Zulus first arrived and had climbed the slope of the Oskarsberg before secreting himself in the back of a cave, only to be unknowingly joined by Zulu marksmen who then spent several hours firing into the British position. Terrified into silence, he remained undetected and left his hiding place when the Zulus departed. Not being totally sure what the Zulus were doing, Chard initiated further patrols around the mission station and set the weary soldiers to repair their defences. They strengthened and raised the walls. Some considered removing the thatch from the roof of the commissariat store to prevent another fire but instead decided to collect the arms and ammunition from the numerous dead Zulus. The soldiers contemplated the dead, sometimes five deep; the dying and wounded Zulus were given the coup de grace by bayonet to put them out of their misery; there was no malice on the part of the soldiers and except for taking occasional Zulus for questioning, taking prisoners had never been British Army policy in South Africa.
The defeated Zulus assembled on the far bank of the Buffalo river. It was at this stage that the defenders first noticed the distant but slowly approaching column led by Lord Chelmsford; until that point the defenders presumed that the whole column had been defeated. The column was approaching the drift from the direction of Sihayo’s stronghold and, not wishing to engage the British, the departing Zulus followed the river bank to avoid conflict. It is uncertain whether the Zulus knew that Chelmsford and a portion of his force had survived; local myth suggests the Zulus genuinely believed that Chelmsford’s force had all died at Isandlwana. Chelmsford’s direct approach certainly confused the retreating warriors and the two groups passed each other at a safe distance, neither side wanting a fight. Chelmsford’s force had but twenty rounds of ammunition per man and it was as well that the Zulus were equally exhausted because as the departing Zulus closed with Chelmsford’s approaching column some of the 3rd NNC panicked and began firing at the Zulus; a young Zulu retaliated by singly charging at the British column, only to be shot at close range. Both sides ignored the incident and order was quickly restored.
> Some ten minutes later the first troop of mounted men, commanded by Major Cecil Russell and Lieutenant Walsh, crossed the drift and galloped up to the battered remains of the mission station. They were relieved to find the outpost still in British hands; as they crossed the river they had seen the rising smoke from other smouldering homesteads and farms towards Helpmekaar and feared that the garrison had suffered the same fate. Lord Chelmsford, with his full complement of staff officers, arrived half an hour later. When Lieutenant Milne, the Royal Navy staff officer to Lord Chelmsford, arrived at Rorke’s Drift at about 9.30 a.m. he noted that ‘the occupants received the General with three cheers. Then was seen the gallant defence made by the small garrison of 80 men’.
Crossing the Buffalo Page 17
