The Story of the British Army

by Charles Cooper King

An incident in this phase of the campaign was the attack by the Swazi freebooter Umbelini on a convoy, guarded by a detachment of the 80th, when on its way from Luneberg to Derby in the Transvaal, in which the convoy guard lost 62 men out of 106, and Lieutenant Harward, for riding off to get assistance, was tried by court-martial, but acquitted.

The final stage of the war was approaching. Reinforcements were rapidly arriving. These were the 1st Dragoon Guards and the 17th Lancers, two more batteries, and Royal Engineers, the Royal Scots Fusiliers, 59th, 60th, 91st, and 94th; and among the fresh arrivals was Prince Louis Napoleon, who was appointed an extra aide-de-camp on the headquarter’s staff, and Sir Garnet Wolseley.

The reorganised army again formed three columns, but Wood’s command was to act as an independent flying column in the north; the next column, No. 2 Division, under General Newdigate, and based on Utrecht, moving by Landmann Drift across the Ityolyosi on Ulundi.

It was in a reconnaissance towards the last-named river that Prince Napoleon was slain, an event the sadness of which cannot be over-estimated, and over which it is well to draw a veil. Finally, on crossing the White Umvolosi the 2nd Division was joined by Wood’s column, and, leaving one battalion of the 24th to guard the baggage, the remainder formed a huge hollow rectangle, with the baggage in the centre. Marching in this formation with bands playing and colours flying, until a suitable position was found within sight of the king’s kraal at Ulundi, it there awaited battle four ranks deep, the two front of which knelt. Brave as was the assault, a bravery which asked no quarter, it was powerless against better arms and better discipline. The fight had lasted barely an hour when the Zulu power was utterly broken.

Meanwhile, the 1st Division under Crealock on the right had been operating in the south by the lower Tugela and Etschowe, moving somewhat close to the coast and in the direction of Ulundi; but through no fault of its own it did not reach the field in time, and when the final battle was won, the army as then constituted was practically broken up. Other arrangements for its distribution were then made, and a series of forts and fortified posts held by sufficient garrisons were formed all along the Zulu frontier. But the closing scene had yet to come. Two columns were formed for the final military exploration of Zululand, the one under Colonel Clarke, which had among its number the 57th, 60th, and 80th, and the other under Colonel Baker Russell, which included the 94th. The former was to occupy Ulundi, and thence attempt the capture of the king. This was effected by Major Marter after much trouble, and the war was thus at an end. On being captured, Cetewayo remained, though broken, a king, and objected with dignity to being taken by a private of dragoons, with the words, “White soldier, touch me not—I surrender to your chief.”

Baker Russell was to search the southern and eastern part of the country, and after doing so, enter the Transvaal about Luneberg. This was done, and the last shots in the Zulu war were fired by his column in an attack on the Manganobas in the Intombe valley.

The war had cost the army 76 officers and 1007 men killed, and 37 officers and 206 men wounded; while in addition 17 officers and 330 men died from disease, and 1286 were invalided home. The cost to the country financially had been £5,230,323.

Sir Garnet Wolseley’s lucky star had again shone over him in these operations. His presence in South Africa coincided with the period of success and the capture of Cetewayo. There was one more knotty point for him to settle, that of the still insurgent chief Sekukuni, who had been a thorn in the side of the Boers, whose territory we then possessed. It will be seen next how his good fortune, based on careful attention to details both moral and physical, led to the surrender of the last disturbing element in this section of South Africa,—at least as far as the natives were concerned.

It may be considered a matter of regret that the State did not undertake the annexation of Zululand, as it did the absorption of Indian tribes a century ago. Our brave but bitter enemies, the Sikhs, have become our most reliable soldiers in India. Similarly there was no personal hostility when war ceased between the Zulu and the English soldier; rather the reverse. They had received the elements of military organisation, and had shown themselves apt pupils in applying them. To have substituted for Panda’s discipline and training that of our own army under able and skilful officers, accustomed to make of native levies regiments more or less irregular but of the highest military value, would have been easy with our Eastern experience. A Zulu militia, well trained, well armed, and led by whites, would have conduced to the peace of South Africa as much as Sikhs, Beloochees, and Ghoorkas do to the preservation, by military means, of peace among the discordant elements, both national and theological, which go to make up our great Eastern satrapy. Such a force would have fought for brave leaders, and with them, as the hastily raised levies of the Mutiny fought for Fane, or Probyn, or Hodson.

Such an army, created mainly for defensive, and not necessarily offensive, purposes, would have created a military peace. Fear of it would have kept turbulent and restless peoples in wholesome fear. Trained and led by British officers, it would have been the police of South Africa at the smallest possible cost to the English State. To have kept alive the military instinct of the Zulu, to have instilled into him the soldier’s habit of discipline and cleanliness, would have saved him.