This terrible state of things, living in slush, caused a lot of sickness from fever and dysentery that carried off a large number of men and one or two of the officers. Notwithstanding this, and the knowledge that the fort was overcrowded, Colonel Glyn declined to have any tents pitched outside to relieve matters, being afraid that the Zulus might sweep down on the place again, no one but the officers and NCOs of the Contingent were allowed outside the fort.22
On 4 February a patrol led by Major Black discovered the bodies of Coghill and Melvill on the Natal bank of the Buffalo river just 5 miles from Rorke’s Drift. The lost Queen’s Colour was also discovered in the river some half-mile downstream, events which improved morale throughout the garrison. A cairn of stones was piled on the bodies and the colour was brought back to Rorke’s Drift. Glyn was moved to tears when he received the colour and learned of the fate of his favourite young officers. Two months later he wrote a moving letter to his young daughter following the discovery of the colour:
Yesterday I went down to where poor Melvill and Coghill’s remains were lying to erect the cross Sir Bartle Frere and staff sent. I had two strong coffins made and exhumed the bodies, rolled them up in blankets, put them into the coffins and buried them just under the rock on which the cross is placed. Henry D [Degacher] took a sketch that he is going to finish off at once and have photographed. I got from Melvill’s pockets a white silk pocket handkerchief, ten shillings and six pence in silver, a little dog whistle and his gold watch and chain which I shall carefully keep until I hear from Mrs Melvill what she wishes done with them. The water when he was in the river has got into the watch – and discoloured the face – it stopped at ten minutes past two p.m. which must have been about the time they crossed the Buffalo.23
By the end of February conditions had become so bad at Rorke’s Drift that a new fort, initially named ‘Fort Revenge’, but renamed Fort Melvill (as Chelmsford thought the original name too provocative), was built 800 yards away on an adjacent hillock overlooking the pont river crossing. Rorke’s Drift was abandoned and demolished, the stonework being removed for the construction of Fort Melvill. The Illustrated London News commented:
Fort Melvill, named after the late Lt. Melvill, is an oblong fort with flanking towers, built partly in masonry, partly with dry wall, loopholed throughout, and surrounded by a ditch, with an obstacle formed of aloes planted on the glacis. It is constructed on a height 150 yards from, and overlooking and commanding, the ponts by which the invading army crossed on January 11th last. Lieutenant da Costa Porter, RE, has superintended its erection;and manned with 200 Europeans, it may be considered impregnable against any number of Zulus. A large stone store, roofed with galvanised iron, has been built inside, to hold commissariat supplies.
Once the garrison was removed to Fort Melvill, the grim conditions soon returned as the men were still tightly confined at night. This stubborn attitude of Glyn ensured that sickness and disease continued to spread unchecked. During the short period of occupancy of Fort Melvill no fewer than twelve men died.24
For the dishevelled and fatigued survivors from Isandlwana, Helpmekaar offered little consolation; the lively depot they had left just a fortnight earlier had been transformed into an unfortified, barren and sodden area consisting of three corrugated store sheds and a few decrepit tents belonging to a section of infantry that had been left behind as guards. On arriving from Isandlwana, Captain Essex took command and prepared its defence with the few tools that he had at his disposal. A small laager was constructed around the main zinc shed utilizing the three remaining wagons and infilling the gaps with sacks of mealies. Some forty-eight people, including volunteers, camp followers and three farmers with their families, swelled the small number but there were just twenty-eight rifles to defend Helpmekaar from the attack that was fully expected (but which never came). The fatigued Colonial volunteers had little enthusiasm for the fight and began to take their horses and drift away. When Essex realized that his force was melting away he threatened to shoot all the horses to stop further desertions.
At its best, Helpmekaar is a high, open, windswept and desolate location on the edge of the Biggarsberg range of hills. In 1879 it was described by Major Harness RA as being like the bottom of the sea with grass on it; with the passage of time it has not changed. Never a popular place with British soldiers, its reputation was about to get much worse, especially among the sick and wounded. In the days that followed, over 1,000 men arrived at Helpmekaar; all were suffering various ailments and now they were exposed to cold and rain, some sleeping on wet mealie bags, others on the waterlogged ground saturated with the overflow from the latrines. At night there were constant alarms to play on everyone’s nerves. Bilious, remittent and enteric disease struck; the first to succumb were the young and weak men already suffering fever, diarrhoea and dysentery.
The more seriously wounded from Rorke’s Drift were accommodated in one end of a corrugated zinc shed. This was one of several filled with commissariat stores, chiefly bags of maize that had been repeatedly soaked by heavy rains during their transportation from Pietermaritzburg; tons of damp bagged maize were now decomposing and giving off the most offensive smell. For the seriously sick and wounded the only bedding, until replacement stores arrived from Pietermaritzburg, consisted of heavy square biscuit boxes arranged along the inside of the building with empty sacks laid over them. The station’s medical stores were non-existent; such stores had been sent to the column’s hospital at Rorke’s Drift where they had been destroyed in the fire. Fortunately the doctor at Helpmekaar, Surgeon Blair-Brown, had one small personal medical kit that contained a mixture of pills, powders, bandages and a tourniquet; unfortunately the labels of the pills and medication had been washed off in a storm and the doctor relied on his intuition and luck when dispensing to the patients. With the decline in morale and general health, the doctor was kept very busy; 646 soldiers reported sick or sought treatment during their first week at Helpmekaar. Surgeon Blair-Brown wisely took control of a crate containing bottles of brandy and port wine; this form of medication proved very popular and efficacious in treating most conditions.
Lieutenant Curling RA was among those who escaped from Isandlwana and after reaching Helpmekaar wrote to his mother mentioning that life at Helpmekaar was bleak. ‘We have 30 sick and wounded men inside and several typhoid patients who however are left in a tent outside where of course they will at once be killed if we are attacked.’ In the aftermath of Isandlwana there was a climate of paranoia about any native caught near either Rorke’s Drift or Helpmekaar; indeed, the gulf of cultural misunderstanding was so wide that, after Isandlwana, any Zulu who fell into British hands was doomed. Surgeon Reynolds wrote in his diary that a Zulu prisoner was tried by court martial and found to be a spy; ‘he was shot by 10 Basutos. He jumped into his grave to try & escape the bullets, but without avail’.25
On a visit to Rorke’s Drift Curling had seen a Zulu hanging from a tree and several natives met a similar fate at Helpmekaar, even though they were probably entirely innocent. On 2 February Curling wrote:
What is going to happen to us, no one knows. We have made a strong entrenchment and are pretty safe even should we be attacked. The only thing we are afraid of is sickness. There are 50 sick and wounded already who are jammed up at night in the fort. The smell is terrible,800 men cooped up in so small a place. Food, fortunately, is plentiful and we have a three months supply. All spys [sic] taken now are shot:we have disposed of three or four already. Formerly, they were allowed anywhere and our disaster is to a great extent due to their accurate information of the General’s movements. What excitement this will cause in England and what indignation.26
Curling was right about the shock and outrage with which the news of the disaster was received in Britain, though the suggestion that a Zulu spy network was behind Chelmsford’s defeat was indicative of the wild rumours circulating around the British camps.
Little that was positive could be said concerning Major Spaldi
ng. One rumour focused upon his departure from Rorke’s Drift and suggestions abounded that he deserted his command prior to the Zulu attack. Chard had certainly informed Spalding that the Zulus were possibly approaching the position and if Spalding had felt the need to hurry up the reserves, any one of the several underemployed officers or NCOs could have been sent the short distance to Helpmekaar with the task. Furthermore, having collected the two companies, Spalding reached a point less than 3 miles from the beleaguered mission station and could have pressed on to relieve the post. Inexplicably, no official questions were asked of Spalding although Major Clery came straight to the point in one of his letters home. He wrote from Helpmekaar on 13 April, ‘Spalding is utterly worthless, so that the General was – as regards an opinion on any subject – practically without an adjutant or quarter-master.’ Spalding pre-empted any criticism by submitting an explanatory report to Chelmsford detailing his actions on the day. If Spalding had remained at his post he would, as the commanding officer, have certainly been awarded the Victoria Cross. It was inevitable that rumours of Spalding deserting his men would spread and reach Chelmsford, who intervened on Spalding’s behalf. He wrote a memo to the adjutant general which exonerated Spalding; Chelmsford believed that Spalding was acting correctly when he left Rorke’s Drift to chase up the overdue replacements.
For the shocked survivors from Chelmsford’s column who managed to reach Helpmekaar, the fear of another Zulu attack remained. Consequently, Captain Walter Parke Jones RE and his able subordinate Lieutenant da Costa Porter commenced the construction of a substantial entrenchment. Jones described the fort’s location as ‘vile’; its position had been determined by Chelmsford who insisted that its construction should focus on defending the existing iron storehouses. Jones thought the position was totally unsuitable; the ground was waterlogged and following one particularly heavy downpour, the surrounding ditch was filled with water to a depth of 6ft. And when it rained, the fort quickly became a swamp. As at Rorke’s Drift, there were no tents and the whole garrison was shut in every night and marched out for ablutions an hour before daybreak under a police escort. When supplies arrived from Pietermaritzburg some tents were erected outside the fortifications but, due to the close proximity of fit and sick men, such accommodation was moved on 31 March to a new location 500 yards away and a wagon laager was built to house the hospital tents. Much discomfort arose and, with few stores and constantly driving rain, life at Helpmekaar was physically and mentally exhausting. Washing facilities were limited to one bathe per week in a nearby stream and men and officers had to let their beards grow. Improvisation and invention flourished and rubbish heaps were scoured for empty tins that could be used to fashion knives, forks and combs.
As soon as the people of Ladysmith learned of the plight of their Natal Mounted Police at Helpmekaar, they sent a wagonload of useful articles. They dispatched food, clothing and washing equipment for the Colonial troops, most of whom were recruited locally. There was no such comfort for the Imperial troops who would have to wait until March before they were resupplied. The personal equipment that previously belonged to the officers and men killed at Isandlwana, including the possessions of Major Stuart Smith, were auctioned and fetched high prices.
By the beginning of February most of the Helpmekaar force succumbed to the conditions and 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.’ 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.27
The feelings of the troops are well represented by a piece of graffiti scratched on the sign over the store at Helpmekaar:
When war is on and danger nigh
God and the soldier is all the cry
But when war is over and all things righted
God is forgot and the soldier slighted
It is well known that the disaster of Isandlwana, combined with the appalling conditions, inactivity, boredom and ill-founded rumours, culminated in psychological disturbances through all ranks. Isandlwana haunted all those who survived or witnessed the aftermath of 22 January. A number of officers were equally affected while the men became lethargic and sullen. At Rorke’s Drift Glyn was dysfunctional due to depression. At Helpmekaar Colonel Harness, his friend Colonel Cecil Russell and Lieutenant Curling lost interest in their commands, though Curling could blame fever for his bout of apathy. The collapse of Russell had more serious consequences as he was responsible for mounted patrols that were sporadic and ill planned, which 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. 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, vedettes,& c., the duties are very heavy.
By March Chelmsford’s preparations for the second invasion of Zululand were well under way, although he would avoid marching his rejuvenated army past Isandlwana which was still strewn with the debris of the wrecked camp and, worse, 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 1/24th 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 and the garrison then closed. Helpmekaar was later reopened as a military garrison during both the Boer War and the Zulu uprising of 1906.
After the glowing reports of victory at Rorke’s Drift came the recognition and awards for bravery. Victoria Crosses were awarded to the six soldiers named in Bromhead’s report, and also to Lieutenants Bromhead and Chard but only after Lord Chelmsford secretly added the officers’ names to the list. This was an unprecedented breach of military protocol, which was further disregarded by the War Office as neither of the two officers responsible for these recommendations was ever consulted, namely Chard, as the senior officer during the battle, and Glyn as the overall comm
ander of those involved. Yet Glyn had not seen fit to recommend them and in accordance with established military protocol, any recommendation beyond being ‘mentioned in despatches’ should have come from Glyn as the commanding officer of Rorke’s Drift. A member of the royal household, Lieutenant Colonel Pickard, mentioned this in a letter to Sir Evelyn Wood (commander of the Northern Column in Zululand) after Chard had been to Balmoral to meet Queen Victoria. Pickard wrote on the matter:
It seemed odd to me that he [Chard] was not consulted on the distribution of the VCs. But it is only one of the things that ‘no fellow can understand’. He is not a genius, and not quick, but a quiet plodding, dogged sort of fellow who will hold his own in most situations in which, as an English officer, his lot may be cast.28
It is probable that, to those who were serving in South Africa at the time, the award of so many medals seemed an indication of the perceived propaganda value of the successful defence rather than a measure of the enormous bravery of those involved. As author Ian Knight wrote, ‘by elevating Rorke’s Drift to the level of a major strategic victory the more damaging significance of Isandlwana was obscured’.29 This was certainly the opinion of Lord Wolseley, the new Commander-in-Chief and General Officer Commanding South Africa. Wolseley was not shy of speaking his mind and his observation concerning the award of VCs for Rorke’s Drift is typical:
Crossing the Buffalo Page 20
