1879--THE INHLOBANE, 28TH MARCH
The ride to Death--Buller surmounts the mountain--Fate of two
heroic Coldstream Officers--Campbell and Barton--Major Leet,
V.C.--Chicheeli’s description of Barton’s death--Buller’s
heroism--Ronald Campbell as tender hearted as he was brave.
At 3 a.m. on the 28th I rode Eastward, with the Staff officers and
escort. Captain Campbell and I were silent, but the two younger men
chattered till I wondered whether their voices could reach the Zulus
on the Inhlobane. When Ronald Campbell spoke on Lloyd’s challenge for
his thoughts, he replied, “I am hoping my wife is well and happy.”
Lloyd and Lysons, jubilant at the prospect of a fight, remarking on
my silence, asked, “Are you doubtful, sir, of our getting up to the
top of the mountain?” “Oh no, we shall get up.” “Then, of what are you
thinking?” “Well, which of you will be writing to my wife to-night, or
about which of you young men I shall be writing to parents or wife?”
Colonel Buller, to avoid risk of being surprised, had shifted bivouac
twice during the night, but at daylight we struck his track and
followed it. We met a Squadron of his Force coming Westwards, the
Commandant having lost his way the previous night, and I directed
him to move to the sound of the firing, which was now audible on the
North-East face of the mountain, where we could just discern the
rear of Colonel Buller’s column mounting the summit. I followed the
Squadron, but when it came under fire, as it did not advance rapidly, I
passed to the front, the track at first being easy to follow, from worn
grass and dead horses of Colonel Buller’s command lying on it. Hard
rock now replaced the beaten down grass, and as we came under fire I
unconsciously, by leading directly towards the rocks whence the bullets
came, missed the easier gradient, up which Buller’s men had ridden,
losing only one officer. The ground was now steep and very rugged, so
we dismounted and put the horses of my White and Black escort in a
cattle kraal, the walls of which were 2½ feet high. Campbell invited me
to leave my horse. I said, “No; I am a bad walker,” and pulled it after
me, Mr. Lloyd being close on my left hand. Half a dozen of the foremost
of the Irregulars had dismounted sooner, and followed me until Lloyd
and I were within 100 feet of the crest of the mountain, and we came
under well-directed fire in our front, and from both flanks, the enemy
being concealed behind huge boulders of rock.
The men of the Squadron 200 yards behind us now opened fire, and Mr.
Lloyd said, “I am glad of that, for it will make the Zulus shoot
badly.” He had scarcely spoken these words when a Zulu rose up from
behind a rock 50 yards above us, and, touching Lloyd with my elbow, I
observed, “He won’t hit us in the face,” for he laid his gun directly
at my waistbelt. He fired, and Lloyd fell back, exclaiming, “I am hit!”
“Badly?” “Yes, very badly; my back’s broken!” I tried to lift him on
my shoulders, but he was taller than I, and the ground being steep I
stumbled, when Captain Campbell climbing up said, “Let me lift him,”
and carried him on his shoulder 50 yards down to where the horses were
standing in the cattle kraal, under the walls of which the escort were
sheltering. I climbed a few yards higher, when a Zulu fired at me
from underneath a rock, 20 yards distant. The charge struck my horse
immediately in front of the girth, killing it instantaneously, and as
it fell, striking my shoulder with its head, knocked me down. I heard
an exclamation from my comrades, and scrambling up called, “No, I am
not hit!” and as they began climbing the hill, added, “Please stop
where you are. I am coming down, for it’s too steep to get on any
farther, in this place.” When I got down to the kraal, I saw Mr. Lloyd
was dying. He could no longer speak; obtaining some brandy from Lysons,
I tried to pour a little down his throat, but his teeth were already
set.
I told Captain Campbell to order the Irregular horsemen, who were
taking cover under rocks below us, to clear the caves from whence
the firing had come which killed my horse. He found much difficulty
in inducing the men to advance, as they alleged the position was
unassailable; and eventually, leading four of my personal escort, with
Lieutenant Lysons, he climbed up, Bugler Walkinshaw going with him. I
called Walkinshaw back before he was out of sight, for I wanted help
for Mr. Lloyd; and thus he, one of the bravest men in the Army, missed
the chance of gaining the Victoria Cross. In a few moments one of
the men told me that the cave was cleared, but that Ronald Campbell
was dead. He had led the small party of three or four men, passing
up a narrow passage only 2 feet wide between rocks 12 feet high for
several yards, and was looking down into the cave, when a Zulu fired,
almost touching him, and he fell dead. Lieutenant Lysons and Private
Fowler,[181] 90th Light Infantry, undauntedly passing over the body,
fired into the cave, and the few Zulus in it disappeared through
another opening.
By the time the men brought Ronald Campbell’s body down, Mr. Lloyd was
dead. Telling Walkinshaw to put his ear down to his heart, he made
sure, and then I tried to put the bodies up on my baggage animal. The
fire from the rocks on all sides was fairly accurate, killing many out
of the 21 ponies we had with us. As bullets were striking all round
me on the stones, my pony moved every time I got Campbell’s body on
my shoulder. Walkinshaw, who was entirely unconcerned at the bullets,
said, “If you will hold it, sir, I will put the bodies up”; and this he
did.
It then occurred to me that in the wallets of the saddle under my
horse, which was lying with all four feet in the air, was Campbell’s
wife’s Prayer book, a small one I had borrowed before starting
from Kambula, as my own was a large Church Service, and I said to
Walkinshaw, “Climb up the hill, and get the prayer book in my wallets;
while I do not want you to get shot for the saddle, you are to take all
risks for the sake of the prayer book.” He climbed up in a leisurely
fashion, and, pulling the saddle from underneath the horse brought it
safely down on his head. We then moved down the mountain 300 yards, to
find a spot on soil clear of rocks.
[Illustration: INHLOBANE, 28TH MARCH, 1879
COLONEL EVELYN WOOD TO LORD CHELMSFORD. “MR. LLOYD FELL MORTALLY
WOUNDED AT MY SIDE--CAPTAIN CAMPBELL LEADING IN THE MOST GALLANT AND
DETERMINED MANNER WAS SHOT DEAD. WE BROUGHT THEIR BODIES HALF-WAY DOWN
THE HILL, WHERE WE BURIED THEM, STILL UNDER FIRE”]
The operation of digging a grave was laborious, as our only implements
were the assegais of the native escort, and when it had been completed
to about 4 feet in depth, the men got flurried by the approach of some
300 Zulus from the Ityenteka Nek, and, lifting the bodies, placed
them in the grave. It was not long enough, and although I realised
the possibility of our having trouble with the approaching Zulus, yet
as they were still 600 yards off and were most of them bad shots at
that range, I had the bodies lifted out, and the grave made a proper
length to receive them without the lower limbs being doubled up. When
I was satisfied, I read an abridged form of the Burial Service from
Mrs. Campbell’s prayer book. We were now assisted by the fire of some
of Colonel Buller’s men, who, seeing our difficulty, opened on the
advancing Zulus, and, being above them, checked their approach. The
officer commanding the Irregulars asked permission to move down the
hill to regain Colonel Buller’s track, and by it he finally reached the
summit without further casualties. He had lost only 6 men dead, and 7
wounded, up to this hour.
As all firing on top of the mountain had now ceased, I decided to
move back, and see how the other column had fared. Passing one of the
Irregulars who had been shot in the thigh, I put him up on one of the
dead men’s horses, and as there was no apparent hurry, Umtonga’s men
drove with us a flock of sheep and goats. We stopped occasionally to
give the wounded man stimulants, being unconscious that the main Zulu
Army was moving on our left, across, and towards our path. When we were
under the centre of the mountain, Umtonga, whom I had sent out to a
ridge on our danger flank, gesticulated excitedly, explaining by signs
that there was a large army near us. Cantering up, I had a good view of
the Force, which was marching in 5 columns, with the flanks advanced,
and a dense Centre--the normal Zulu attack formation.
I sent Lieutenant Lysons to the officer commanding the western party
with the following order:--
“BELOW THE INHLOBANE. 10.30 a.m. 28/3/79.
“There is a large army coming this way from the South.
Get into position on the Zunguin Nek.
E. W.”
The plateau which Colonel Buller’s force had cleared was 150 feet
higher than the Lower Plateau on which the western column stood, but
both parties saw the Zulu Army a considerable time before I did, as
I was 1000 feet below them. Buller had seen it at 9 a.m., and the
western force had seen it rather earlier, Buller being engaged in
covering a party of 25 of the Frontier Light Horse under Captain
Barton, Coldstream Guards, who were descending the eastern slope to
bury one or two men killed in the assault. Sending word to Captain
Barton to retire, Buller fell back to the western end of the mountain,
and forming some selected men into a rear guard, he took them down the
almost precipitous edge of the Upper Plateau. The path was down the
apex of a salient angle, with long sides, and the head of the descent
was well suited for defence. Buller’s men had previously collected a
great number of cattle, which had been driven down towards the Zunguin
Nek at 7 a.m. Colonel Buller and all his party would have got safely
away had not the Makulusi, and the men of the Regular regiment with
it, taking courage at the advance of the Zulu Army, emerged from their
caves and harassed the retreat, during which some valuable lives were
lost. Colonel Buller came down, practically the last man, and was at
the foot of the descent from the Upper Plateau, when, seeing men nearly
surrounded by Zulus, he went back on two occasions, and brought out in
succession two on his horse. Piet Uys came down with him, until he saw
one of his sons having difficulty with his horse, and, going back, was
assegaied by a Zulu crouching behind him.[182]
About 80 of the First Battalion of Wood’s Irregulars were overtaken
and killed, and with them, to my great regret, Captain Potter, and
Lieutenant Williams[183] of the 58th regiment.
The main Zulu Army being exhausted by their march, halted near where
Vryheid now stands, but some of their mounted men came on, and a few of
the more active and younger footmen. Before leaving camp I had given
orders for a barricade of planks, 5 feet high, to be erected, and
securely bolted into the ground with supporting struts, to run between
the redoubt and the south end of the cattle laager, to stop a rush from
the ravine on to the fort. To those who objected that the Zulus would
charge and knock it down by the weight of their bodies, I replied it
would cause a delay of several minutes, during which 300 or 400 rifles,
at 250 yards range, ought to make an additional barricade of human
bodies, and I now sent an order to the Senior officer in camp, to chain
up the waggons, and to continue the strengthening of the barricade. I
wrote I had seen between 20,000 and 25,000 Zulus, and remained on the
Zunguin Mountain till 7 p.m., hoping to cover the retreat of any more
of our men who might come up, being particularly anxious about Captain
Barton,[184] of whom we had had no news since he descended the eastern
end of the mountain.
I never knew until that day the depth of regard which Buller felt for
me. I was sitting on the summit of the Zunguin range when he climbed up
it, and, seeing me suddenly, uttered so fervent a “Thank God!” that I
asked for what he was thankful, and he explained that he thought I had
been cut off at the eastern end of the mountain. It rained heavily on
the evening of the 28th. All the mounted men had been on the move day
and night since the 23rd, when we went to Luneberg; but at 9 p.m., when
a straggler came in to say that there were some Europeans coming back
by Potter’s Store, Redvers Buller immediately saddled up, and, taking
out led horses, brought in 7 men, who were, as we believed, the sole
survivors of the parties at the east end of the mountain.
So far as I know, the only officer who got down the western end of the
Inhlobane on horseback was Major Leet, who commanded the 1st battalion
Wood’s Irregulars. Six weeks earlier, at the Athletic Sports, we had
a Tug-of-war between the officers of the 13th and 90th Light Infantry,
captained by Leet and myself, and as the 90th pulled over the 13th Leet
wrenched his knee out of joint, and I had told him to remain in camp on
the 27th. This, however, he did not do, and as he could only hobble, he
tried, and successfully, to ride down the mountain. I believe he got
down before the counter attack; but while on the Lower Plateau, and
being followed up closely by the enemy, he showed distinguished courage
in going back to help a dismounted officer, for which he received the
Victoria Cross.
On the night of the 28th March, as I sat at dinner, I could not keep
my mind off Ronald Campbell, who had sat opposite me for three months,
and had anticipated every want with the utmost devotion, and I cannot
write now, even after the lapse of a quarter of a century, without pain
of the loss the army sustained when my friend fell. As I visited the
outposts at least twice every night from the date of Isandwhana till
after Ulandi, 4th July, my clothes were nearly always damp from walking
through the long grass, which, when not wet from the heavy rain which
fell constantly through the months of February and March, was soaked
with dew, and I had forbidden either of the Staff accompanying me,
because, as we slept in our boots and clothes, anyone who walked round
the sentries got saturated up to the waistbelt. I had, however, once
or twice suspected that I was being followed, and one night, turning
suddenly in the darkness, I knocked against a man, and then recognised
Campbell’s voice, as he answered my challenge. I said sharply, “Why are
you disobeying orders? What are you doing here?” “I have always the
fear, sir,” he replied, “that one night you won’t hear the challenge of
one of the sentries, and you will be shot.” On two occasions on which I
was in bed with fever for three days, he nursed me as tenderly as could
a woman, and I never saw anyone play a more heroic part than he did on
the morning of the 28th March 1879.
[Illustration: INHLOBANE MOUNTAIN
--_attacked 28th. March 1879_.--]