April 8, 1898
In the evening of Thursday, the 7th of April, the army at Umdabia
paraded for the attack on Mahmud's zeriba. The camp lay in the scrub
which grows by the banks of the Atbara, as by those of the Nile, and
in order to profit by the open, level ground the four infantry brigades
moved by parallel routes into the desert, and then formed facing
south-east in column of brigade squares, the British brigade leading.
The mounted forces, with four batteries of artillery, waited in camp
until two o'clock the next morning, and did not break their march. The
distance from the river bank to the open plain was perhaps a mile and a
half, and the whole infantry force had cleared the scrub by six o'clock.
The sun was setting, and the red glow, brightening the sandy hillocks,
made the western horizon indefinite, so that it was hard to tell where
the desert ended and the sky began. A few gazelle, intercepted on their
way to the water by the unexpected movement of troops, trotted slowly
away in the distance--white spots on the rosy-brown of the sand--and on
the great plain 12,000 infantry, conscious of their strength and eager
to encounter the enemy, were beautifully arranged in four solid masses.
Then the march began. The actual distance from the camp to the Dervish
position was scarcely seven miles, but the circle necessary to avoid the
bushes and the gradual bends of the river added perhaps another five to
the length of the road. The pace of the advance was slow, and the troops
had not gone far when the sun sank and, with hardly an interval of
twilight, darkness enveloped everything. In the stillness of the night
the brigades moved steadily forward, and only the regular scrunching of
the hard sand betrayed the advance of an overwhelming force upon their
enemies.
No operation of a war is more critical than a night-march. Over and
over again in every country frightful disaster has overtaken the rash or
daring force that has attempted it. In the gloom the shape and aspect of
the ground are altered. Places well known by daylight appear strange and
unrecognisable. The smallest obstacle impedes the column, which can only
crawl sluggishly forward with continual checks and halts. The effect
of the gloom upon the nerves of the soldiers is not less than on the
features of the country. Each man tries to walk quietly, and hence all
are listening for the slightest sound. Every eye seeks to pierce the
darkness. Every sense in the body is raised to a pitch of expectancy. In
such hours doubts and fears come unbidden to the brain, and the marching
men wonder anxiously whether all will be well with the army, and whether
they themselves will survive the event. And if suddenly out of the black
silence there burst the jagged glare of rifles and the crash of a volley
followed by the yell of an attacking foe, the steadiest troops may be
thrown into confusion, and a panic, once afoot, stops only with the
destruction or dispersal of the whole force. Nevertheless, so paramount
is the necessity of attacking at dawn, with all the day to finish the
fight, that in spite of the recorded disasters and the known dangers,
the night-march is a frequent operation.
For more than two hours the force advanced, moving across smooth swells
of sand broken by rocks and with occasional small bushes. Several
shallow khors traversed the road, and these rocky ditches, filled with
a strange, sweet-scented grass, delayed the brigades until the pace
was hardly two miles an hour. The smell of the grass was noticed by
the alert senses of many, and will for ever refresh in their minds
the strong impression of the night. The breeze which had sprung up
at sundown gradually freshened and raised clouds of fine sand, which
deepened the darkness with a whiter mist.
At nine o'clock the army halted in a previously selected space, near the
deserted village of Mutrus and about two miles from the river. Nearly
half the distance to Mahmud's zeriba was accomplished, and barely four
miles in the direct line divided the combatants; but since it was not
desirable to arrive before the dawn, the soldiers, still formed in their
squares, lay down upon the ground. Meat and biscuits were served out to
the men. The transport animals went by relays to the pools of the
Atbara bed to drink and to replenish the tanks. All water-bottles were
refilled, pickets being thrown out to cover the business. Then, after
sufficient sentries had been posted, the army slept, still in array.
During the halt the moon had risen, and when at one o'clock the advance
was resumed, the white beams revealed a wider prospect and, glinting
on the fixed bayonets, crowned the squares with a sinister glitter. For
three hours the army toiled onwards at the same slow and interrupted
crawl. Strict silence was now enforced, and all smoking was forbidden.
The cavalry, the Camel Corps, and the five batteries had overtaken the
infantry, so that the whole attacking force was concentrated. Meanwhile
the Dervishes slept.
At three o'clock the glare of fires became visible to the south,
and, thus arrived before the Dervish position, the squares, with the
exception of the reserve brigade, were unlocked, and the whole force,
assuming formation of attack, now advanced in one long line through the
scattered bush and scrub, presently to emerge upon a large plateau which
overlooked Mahmud's zeriba from a distance of about 900 yards.
It was still dark, and the haze that shrouded the Dervish camp was
broken only by the glare of the watch-fires. The silence was profound.
It seemed impossible to believe that more than 25,000 men were ready to
join battle at scarcely the distance of half a mile. Yet the advance had
not been unperceived, and the Arabs knew that their terrible antagonists
crouched on the ridge waiting for the morning; For a while the suspense
was prolonged. At last, after what seemed to many an interminable
period, the uniform blackness of the horizon was broken by the first
glimmer of the dawn. Gradually the light grew stronger until, as a
theatre curtain is pulled up, the darkness rolled away, the vague
outlines in the haze became definite, and the whole scene was revealed.
The British and Egyptian army lay along the low ridge in the form of
a great bow--the British brigade on the left, MacDonald in the centre,
Maxwell curving forward on the right. The whole crest of the swell of
ground was crowned with a bristle of bayonets and the tiny figures of
thousands of men sitting or lying down and gazing curiously before them.
Behind them, in a solid square, was the transport, guarded by Lewis's
brigade. The leading squadrons of the cavalry were forming leisurely
towards the left flank. The four batteries and a rocket detachment,
moving between the infantry, ranged themselves on two convenient
positions about a hundred yards in front of the line of battalions. All
was ready. Yet everything was very quiet, and in the stillness of the
dawn it almost seemed that Nature held her breath.
Half a mile away, at the foot of the ridge, a long irregular black line
of thorn bushes enclosed the Dervish defences. Behind this zeriba low
palisades and entrenchments bent back to the scrub by the river. Odd
shapeless mounds indicated the positions of the gun-emplacements, and
various casemates could be seen in the middle of the enclosure. Without,
the bushes had been cleared away, and the smooth sand stretched in a
gentle slope to where the army waited. Within were crowds of little
straw huts and scattered bushes, growing thicker to the southward. From
among this rose the palm-trees, between whose stems the dry bed of the
Atbara was exposed, and a single pool of water gleamed in the early
sunlight. Such was Mahmud's famous zeriba, which for more than a month
had been the predominant thought in the minds of the troops. It was
scarcely imposing, and at first the soldiers thought it deserted. Only
a dozen stray horsemen sat silently on their horses outside the
entrenchment, watching their enemies, and inside a few dirty-white
figures appeared and disappeared behind the parapets. Yet, insignificant
as the zeriba looked, the smoke of many fires cooking the morning
meal--never to be eaten--showed that it was occupied by men; and gay
banners of varied colour and device, flaunting along the entrenchments
or within the enclosure, declared that some at least were prepared to
die in its defence.
The hush of the hour and the suspense of the army were broken by the
bang of a gun. Everyone on the ridge jumped up and looked towards
the sound. A battery of Krupps a little to the right of the Cameron
Highlanders had opened fire. Another gun further to the right was fired.
Another shell burst over the straw huts among the palm-trees. The two
Maxim-Nordenfeldt batteries had come into action. The officers looked at
their watches. It was a quarter-past six. The bombardment had begun.
Explosion followed explosion in quick succession until all four
batteries were busily engaged. The cannonade grew loud and continuous.
The rocket detachment began to fire, and the strange projectiles hissed
and screamed as they left the troughs and jerked erratically towards the
zeriba. In the air above the enclosure shell after shell flashed into
existence, smote the ground with its leaden shower, and dispersed--a
mere film--into the haze and smoke which still hung over the Dervish
encampment. At the very first shot all the dirty-white figures
disappeared, bobbing down into their pits and shelters; but a few
solitary horsemen remained motionless for a while in the middle of the
enclosure, watching the effect of the fire, as if it had no concern with
them. The British infantry stood up on tip-toe to look at the
wonderful spectacle of actual war, and at first every shell was eagerly
scrutinised and its probable effect discussed. But the busy gunners
multiplied the projectiles until so many were alive in the air at once
that all criticism was prevented. Gradually even the strange sight
became monotonous. The officers shut up their glasses. The men began to
sit down again. Many of them actually went to sleep. The rest were soon
tired of the amazing scene, the like of which they had never looked
on before, and awaited impatiently further developments and 'some new
thing.'
After the bombardment had lasted about ten minutes a great cloud of dust
sprang up in the zeriba, and hundreds of horsemen were seen scrambling
into their saddles and galloping through a gap in the rear face out into
the open sand to the right. To meet the possibility of an attempt to
turn the left flank of the attack, the eight squadrons of cavalry and
two Maxim guns jingled and clattered off in the direction of the danger.
The dust, which the swift passage of so many horsemen raised, shut the
scene from the eyes of the infantry, but continual dust-clouds above
the scrub to the left and the noise of the Maxims seemed to indicate a
cavalry fight. The Baggara horse, however, declined an unequal combat,
and made no serious attempt to interfere with the attack. Twice they
showed some sort of front, and the squadrons thought they might find
opportunity to charge; but a few rounds from the Maxims effectually
checked the enemy, inflicting on each occasion the loss of about twenty
killed and wounded. With the exception of one squadron detached on the
right, the Egyptian cavalry force, however, remained on the left flank,
and shielded the operations of the assaulting infantry.
Meanwhile the bombardment--no longer watched with curiosity--continued
with accuracy and precision. The batteries searched the interior of the
zeriba, threshing out one section after another, and working the whole
ground regularly from front to rear. The zeriba and palisades were
knocked about in many places, and at a quarter to seven a cluster of
straw huts caught fire and began to burn briskly. At a quarter-past
seven the infantry were ordered to form in column for assault.
The plan of the attack for the army was simple. The long, deployed line
were to advance steadily against the entrenchments, subduing by their
continual fire that of the enemy. They were then to tear the zeriba to
pieces. Covered by their musketry, the dense columns of assault which
had followed the line were to enter the defences through the gaps,
deploy to the right, and march through the enclosure, clearing it with
the bayonet and by fire.
At twenty minutes to eight the Sirdar ordered his bugles to sound the
general advance. The call was repeated by all the brigades, and the
clear notes rang out above the noise of the artillery. The
superior officers--with the exception of Hunter, Maxwell, and
MacDonald--dismounted and placed themselves at the head of their
commands. The whole mass of the infantry, numbering nearly eleven
thousand men, immediately began to move forward upon the zeriba. The
scene as this great force crested the ridge and advanced down the slope
was magnificent and tremendous. Large solid columns of men, preceded
by a long double line, with the sunlight flashing on their bayonets and
displaying their ensigns, marched to the assault in regular and precise
array. The pipes of the Highlanders, the bands of the Soudanese, and
the drums and fifes of the English regiments added a wild and thrilling
accompaniment. As soon as the advance masked the batteries, the guns
were run forward with the firing line, in order effectually to support
the attack. The deployed battalions opened a ceaseless and crushing fire
on the entrenchment, and as the necessity of firing delayed the advance
of the attacking columns, the pace did not exceed a slow march.
The Dervishes remained silent until the troops were within 300 yards.
Then the smoke-puffs spurted out all along the stockades, and a sharp
fusillade began, gradually and continually growing in intensity until
the assaulting troops were exposed to a furious and effective fire.
From 250 yards up to the position losses began to occur. The whole
entrenchment was rimmed with flame and smoke, amid which the active
figures of the Dervish riflemen were momentarily visible, and behind
the filmy curtain solid masses of swordsmen and spearmen appeared. The
fortunate interposition of a small knoll in some degree protected
the advance of the Lincoln Regiment, but in both Highland battalions
soldiers began to drop. The whole air was full of a strange chirping
whistle. The hard pebbly sand was everywhere dashed up into dust-spurts.
Numerous explosive bullets, fired by the Arabs, made queer startling
reports. The roar of the rifles drowned even the noise of the artillery.
All the deployed battalions began to suffer. But they and the assaulting
columns, regardless of the fire, bore down on the zeriba in all the
majesty of war--an avalanche of men, stern, unflinching, utterly
irresistible.
Two hundred yards from the entrenchment and one hundred and fifty from
the thorn bushes independent firing broke out, running along the
line from end to end. Shooting continually, but without any hurry or
confusion, the British and Soudanese battalions continued their slow,
remorseless advance; and it was evident that, in spite of the fierce
fire of the defence, which was now causing many casualties, the assault
would be successful.
The loss during the passage of the zeriba and in the assault of the
entrenchments was severe. Captain Findlay and Major Urquhart, of the
Cameron Highlanders, were both mortally wounded in the fight at the
stockades, and expired still cheering on their men. Major Napier, of
the same regiment, and Captain Baillie, of the Seaforth Highlanders,
received the wounds, of which they subsequently died, a few yards
further on. At all points the troops broke into the enclosure.
Behind the stockade there ran a treble trench. The whole interior was
honeycombed with pits and holes. From these there now sprang thousands
of Dervishes, desperately endeavouring to show a front to the attack.
Second-Lieutenant Gore, a young officer fresh from Sandburst, was shot
dead between the thorn fence and the stockade. Other officers in the
Lincoln and the Warwickshire regiments sustained severe wounds. Many
soldiers were killed and wounded in the narrow space. These losses were
general throughout the assaulting brigades. In the five minutes which
were occupied in the passage of the obstruction about four hundred
casualties occurred. The attack continued.
The British brigade had struck the extremity of the north front of
the zeriba, and thus took the whole of the eastern face in enfilade,
sweeping it with their terrible musketry from end to end, and strewing
the ground with corpses. Although, owing to the lines of advance having
converged, there was not room for more than half the force to deploy,
the brigades pushed on. The conduct of the attack passed to the company
commanders. All these officers kept their heads, and brought their
companies up into the general line as the front gradually widened
and gaps appeared. So the whole force--companies, battalions, even
brigades--mixed up together and formed in one dense, ragged, but
triumphant line, marched on unchecked towards the river bed, driving
their enemies in hopeless confusion before them. Yet, although the
Dervishes were unable to make head against the attack, they disdained to
run. Many hundreds held their ground, firing their rifles valiantly till
the end. Others charged with spear and sword. The greater part retired
in skirmishing order, jumping over the numerous pits, walking across the
open spaces, and repeatedly turning round to shoot. The XIth Soudanese
encountered the most severe resistance after the defences were
penetrated. As their three deployed companies pressed on through the
enclosure, they were confronted by a small inner zeriba stubbornly
defended by the Emir Mahmud's personal bodyguard. These poured a sudden
volley into the centre company at close range, and so deadly was the
effect that nearly all the company were shot, falling to the ground
still in their ranks, so that a British officer passing at a little
distance was provoked to inquire 'what they were doing lying down.'
Notwithstanding this severe check the regiment, gallantly led by their
colonel and supported by the Xth Soudanese, rushed this last defence
and slew its last defenders. Mahmud was himself captured. Having duly
inspected his defences and made his dispositions, he had sheltered in a
specially constructed casemate. Thence he was now ignominiously dragged,
and, on his being recognised, the intervention of a British officer
alone saved him from the fury of the excited Soudanese.
Still the advance continued, and it seemed to those who took part in
it more like a horrible nightmare than a waking reality. Captains and
subalterns collected whatever men they could, heedless of corps or
nationality, and strove to control and direct their fire. Jibba-clad
figures sprang out of the ground, fired or charged, and were destroyed
at every step. And onwards over their bodies--over pits choked with dead
and dying, among heaps of mangled camels and donkeys, among decapitated
or eviscerated trunks, the ghastly results of the shell fire; women and
little children killed by the bombardment or praying in wild terror
for mercy; blacks chained in their trenches, slaughtered in their
chains--always onwards marched the conquerors, with bayonets running
blood; clothes, hands, and faces all besmeared; the foul stench of a
month's accumulated filth in their nostrils, and the savage whistle of
random bullets in their ears.
But at about twenty minutes past eight the whole force, with the
Seaforth Highlanders well forward on the left, arrived at the bank of
the Atbara, having marched completely through the position, and shot or
bayoneted all in their path. Hundreds of Dervishes were still visible
retiring across the dry bed of the river, and making for the scrub on
the opposite bank. The leading companies of the Seaforth Highlanders and
Lincolns, with such odd parties of Camerons as had been carried on with
the attack, opened a murderous fire on these fugitives. Since they would
not run their loss was heavy, and it was a strange sight--the last vivid
impression of the day--to watch them struggling through the deep sand,
with the dust knocked up into clouds by the bullets which struck all
round them. Very few escaped, and the bodies of the killed lay thickly
dotting the river-bed with heaps of dirty-white. Then at 8.25 the 'Cease
fire' sounded, and the battle of the Atbara ended.
Forthwith the battalions began to re-form, and in every company the roll
was called. The losses had been severe. In the assault--a period not
exceeding half an hour--eighteen British, sixteen native officers and
525 men had been killed or wounded, the greater part during the passage
of the zeriba.
The actual pursuit was abortive. Colonel Lewis, with his two battalions,
followed a line of advance which led south of the zeriba, and just
before reaching the river bank found and fired upon a few Dervishes
retreating through the scrub. All the cavalry and the Camel Corps
crossed the Atbara and plunged into the bush on the further side. But
so dense and tangled was the country that after three miles of peril
and perplexity they abandoned the attempt, and the routed Arabs fled
unmolested. The Baggara horse had ridden off during the action,
headed by the prudent Osman Digna--whose position in the zeriba
was conveniently suited to such a manœuvre--and under that careful
leadership suffered little loss. The rest of the army was, however,
destroyed or dispersed. The fugitives fled up the Atbara river, leaving
many wounded to die in the scrub, all along their line of retreat. Of
the powerful force of 12,000 fighting men which Mahmud had gathered at
Metemma, scarcely 4,000 reached Gedaret in safety. These survivors were
added to the army of Ahmed Fedil, and thus prevented from spreading
their evil tidings among the populace at Omdurman. Osman Digna, Wad
Bishara, and other important Emirs whose devotion and discretion were
undoubted, alone returned to the capital.
As soon as the troops were re-formed, the zeriba was evacuated and the
army drew up in line along the neighbouring ridge. It was then only nine
o'clock, and the air was still cool and fresh. The soldiers lit fires,
made some tea, and ate their rations of biscuits and meat. Then they
lay down and waited for evening. Gradually, as the hours passed, the
sun became powerful. There was no shade, and only a few thin, leafless
bushes rose from the sand. The hours of a day, peculiarly hot, even for
the country and season, dragged wearily away. The sandy ridge beat back
the rays till the air above was like the breath of a furnace and the
pebbly ground burned. The water in the fantasses and bottles was hot
and scarce. The pool of the Atbara was foul and tainted. In spite of
the devoted efforts of the few medical officers who had been allowed
to accompany the force, the wounded officers and soldiers endured the
greatest miseries, and it is certain that several died of their wounds
who might in happier circumstances have been saved.
Several hundred prisoners were taken. They were mostly negroes--for the
Arabs refused to surrender, and fought to the last or tried to escape.
The captive blacks, who fight with equal willingness on either side,
were content to be enlisted in the Soudanese regiments; so that many
of those who served the Khalifa on the Atbara helped to destroy him at
Omdurman. The most notable prisoner was the Emir Mahmud--a tall, strong
Arab, about thirty years old. Immediately after his capture he was
dragged before the Sirdar. 'Why,' inquired the General, 'have you come
into my country to burn and kill?' 'I have to obey my orders, and so
have you,' retorted the captive sullenly, yet not without a certain
dignity. To other questions he returned curt or evasive answers, and
volunteered the opinion that all this slaughter would be avenged at
Omdurman. He was removed in custody--a fine specimen of proud brutality,
worthy perhaps of some better fate than to linger indefinitely in the
gaol at Rosetta.
With the cool of the evening the army left its bed of torment on the
ridge and returned to Umdabia. The homeward march was a severe trial;
the troops were exhausted; the ground was broken; the guides, less
careful or less fortunate than on the previous night, lost their way.
The columns were encumbered with wounded, most of whom were already in
a high state of fever, and whose sufferings were painful to witness. It
was not until after midnight that the camp was reached. The infantry had
been continuously under arms--marching, fighting, or sweltering in the
sun--for thirty hours, and most of them had hardly closed their eyes
for two days. Officers and soldiers--British, Soudanese, and
Egyptian--struggled into their bivouacs, and fell asleep, very weary but
victorious.
British and Egyptian casualties on the Atbara included 20 officers and
539 men killed or wounded. The Dervish loss was officially estimated at
40 Emirs and 3,000 dervishes killed. No statistics as to their wounded
are forthcoming.
. . . . . . . . . .
As the battle of the Atbara had been decisive, the whole Expeditionary
Force went into summer quarters. The Egyptian army was distributed
into three principal garrisons--four battalions at Atbara camp, six
battalions and the cavalry at Berber, three battalions at Abadia.
The artillery and transport were proportionately divided. The British
brigade encamped with two battalions at Darmali and two at the village
of Selim, about a mile and a half distant.
For the final phase of the campaign three new gunboats had been ordered
from England. These were now sent in sections over the Desert Railway.
Special arrangements were made to admit of the clumsy loads passing
trains on the ordinary sidings. As usual, the contrivances of the
railway subalterns were attended with success. Sir H. Kitchener himself
proceeded to Abadia to accelerate by his personal activity and ingenuity
the construction of the vessels on which so much depended. Here during
the heat of the summer he remained, nursing his gunboats, maturing
his plans, and waiting only for the rise of the river to complete the
downfall of his foes.