The battles of the British Army

by Robert Melvin Blackwood

One corporal who was covered with blood and reeling in his saddle, was yelling, “Fall in! fall in!” to the remnant of his company. “Fall out, corporal; you’re wounded!” roared an officer. “No, sir! Fall in!” bawled the wounded man, waving his bent lance; “Form up, No 2!” and No. 2 Squadron re-formed—four whole men all told.

Then it was that Lieutenant Grenfell was missed for the first time. Lieutenant de Montmorency, with Corporal Swarback, dashed out to effect, if possible, the rescue of his body. They were immediately joined by Captain Kenna. With their revolver fire the two officers kept the enemy forty yards away, and would have secured Lieutenant Grenfell’s body if the horse upon which it was placed had not shied with its burden.

Seeing that a second charge would be futile, Colonel Martin dismounted his men, and with magazine and carbine fire drove the enemy steadily back into the zone of the Anglo-Egyptian infantry fire, the Lancers having accomplished their object by covering the enemy’s line of retirement, though at the cost of heavy casualties.

“This maiden charge of the 21st Lancers,” says an eye-witness, “is regarded as an extremely brilliant affair.”

All over the field the enemy were falling back before the tremendous fire of the British, but a last splendid stand was made by the Khalifa’s most devoted followers to the south-west of Gebel Surgham. Upon Macdonald fell the brunt of this last and most determined engagement. Suddenly the enemy poured down from Kerreri upon Macdonald’s right, and for a moment things looked critical. “To meet the attack he turned his front through a complete half circle. Every tactician in the army was delirious in his praise. ‘Cool as on parade’—Macdonald was very much cooler. Beneath the strong square-hewn face you could tell that the brain was working as if packed in ice. He saw everything. Knew what to do. Did it. All saw him and knew they were being nursed to triumph.” The issue was not long; the British fire tremendous. Soon the enemy remaining fled in all directions, and the fight was won.

At a quarter past eleven the Sirdar sounded the advance, and the whole force in line drove the scattered remnants of the foe into the desert, while the cavalry cut off their retreat to Omdurman. At 12.55 the Anglo-Egyptian column, preceded by the Sirdar with the captured black standard of the Khalifa, headed for Omdurman once more, this time unopposed.

The slaughter of Omdurman had been appalling. The dervish casualties reached the astonishing total of 11,000 killed, 16,000 wounded, and over 4000 prisoners. The Anglo-Egyptian losses were phenomenally small, some 66 killed of all ranks in both forces—387 killed and wounded together. Such was the extraordinary disparity in the numbers. The Khalifa himself escaped with the Sheik el Din to Omdurman. Ali Wad Helu was wounded. Mahdism was completely overthrown. The only dervish force now left in the field was that of the garrison of Gedaref up the Blue Nile. Here, some days later, Parsons Pasha, the Governor of Kassala, killed 700 of this number, and dispersed the rest, with a loss of only 37 killed.

No words can be too high in praise of the courage and discipline of the Egyptian troops. Led by such able men as Macdonald and Lewis, they had proved themselves first-class fighting men, and hearty congratulations were conveyed to all ranks from Her Majesty the Queen when the news of Omdurman became known in Britain.

Newspaper correspondents suffered heavily on the day of Omdurman. The Hon. Hubert Howard, acting for the “Times,” was killed by a bullet, but not till the end of the day. Colonel Rhodes, of the “Times,” and Mr. Williams, of the “Daily Chronicle,” were wounded. Mr. Cross, of the “Manchester Guardian,” died shortly afterwards of enteric fever—a heavy list in all.

Meanwhile the advance to Omdurman continued, and about two o’clock in the afternoon the city of the Khalifa was reached. Here for some days past the gunboats had been doing considerable execution. The forts on Tuti Island had been totally demolished, and the dome of the Mahdi’s tomb and the mosque of Omdurman partially destroyed. The destruction thus wrought became clearly visible as the British troops approached the city. They were met on the outskirts by “an old man on a donkey, with a white flag,” and after some parley with the Sirdar, and an assurance that the British would not put all the inhabitants to the sword, the way was continued into the heart of the city. Strange scenes were witnessed. Assured at length that the victors would not massacre and pillage, the inhabitants streamed out in their thousands, and, with shrill shouts of welcome, escorted the British soldiers through the streets.