The British and Egyptian cavalry, supported by the Camel Corps and Horse
Artillery, trotted out rapidly, and soon interposed a distance of eight
miles between them and the army. As before, the 21st Lancers were on the
left nearest the river, and the Khedivial squadrons curved backwards
in a wide half-moon to protect the right flank. Meanwhile the gunboat
flotilla was seen to be in motion. The white boats began to ascend the
stream leisurely. Yet their array was significant. Hitherto they had
moved at long and indefinite intervals--one following perhaps a mile,
or even two miles, behind the other. Now a regular distance of about
300 yards was observed. The orders of the cavalry were to reconnoitre
Omdurman; of the gunboats to bombard it.
As soon as the squadrons of the 21st Lancers had turned the shoulder of
the steep Kerreri Hills, we saw in the distance a yellow-brown pointed
dome rising above the blurred horizon. It was the Mahdi's Tomb, standing
in the very heart of Omdurman. From the high ground the field-glass
disclosed rows and rows of mud houses, making a dark patch on the brown
of the plain. To the left the river, steel-grey in the morning light,
forked into two channels, and on the tongue of land between them the
gleam of a white building showed among the trees. Before us were the
ruins of Khartoum and the confluence of the Blue and White Niles.
A black, solitary hill rose between the Kerreri position and Omdurman.
A long, low ridge running from it concealed the ground beyond. For the
rest there was a wide-rolling, sandy plain of great extent, surrounded
on three sides by rocky hills and ridges, and patched with coarse,
starveling grass or occasional bushes. By the banks of the river which
framed the picture on the left stood a straggling mud village, and
this, though we did not know it, was to be the field of Omdurman. It was
deserted. Not a living creature could be seen. And now there were many
who said once and for all that there would be no fight; for here we were
arrived at the very walls of Omdurman, and never an enemy to bar our
path. Then, with four squadrons looking very tiny on the broad expanse
of ground, we moved steadily forward, and at the same time the Egyptian
cavalry and the Camel Corps entered the plain several miles further to
the west, and they too began to trot across it.
It was about three miles to the last ridge which lay between us and the
city. If there was a Dervish army, if there was to be a battle, if the
Khalifa would maintain his boast and accept the arbitrament of war, much
must be visible from that ridge. We looked over. At first nothing was
apparent except the walls and houses of Omdurman and the sandy plain
sloping up from the river to distant hills. Then four miles away on
our right front emerged a long black line with white spots. It was the
enemy. It seemed to us, as we looked, that there might be 3,000 men
behind a high dense zeriba of thorn-bushes. That, said the officers, was
better than nothing. It is scarcely necessary to describe our tortuous
movements towards the Dervish position. Looking at it now from one point
of view, now from another, but always edging nearer, the cavalry slowly
approached, and halted in the plain about three miles away--three great
serpents of men--the light-coloured one, the 21st Lancers; a much longer
and a blacker one, the Egyptian squadrons; a mottled one, the Camel
Corps and Horse Artillery. From this distance a clearer view was
possible, and we distinguished many horsemen riding about the flanks and
front of the broad dark line which crowned the crest of the slope. A
few of these rode carelessly towards the squadrons to look at them. They
were not apparently acquainted with the long range of the Lee-Metford
carbine. Several troops were dismounted, and at 800 yards fire was
made on them. Two were shot and fell to the ground. Their companions,
dismounting, examined them, picked up one, let the other lie, and
resumed their ride, without acknowledging the bullets by even an
increase of pace.
While this passed, so did the time. It was now nearly eleven o'clock.
Suddenly the whole black line which seemed to be zeriba began to move.
It was made of men, not bushes. Behind it other immense masses and lines
of men appeared over the crest; and while we watched, amazed by the
wonder of the sight, the whole face of the slope became black with
swarming savages. Four miles from end to end, and, as it seemed, in five
great divisions, this mighty army advanced--swiftly. The whole side
of the hill seemed to move. Between the masses horsemen galloped
continually; before them many patrols dotted the plain; above them waved
hundreds of banners, and the sun, glinting on many thousand hostile
spear-points, spread a sparkling cloud.
It is now known that the Khalifa had succeeded in concentrating at
Omdurman an army of more than 60,000 men. He remembered that all the
former victories over the Egyptians had been won by the Dervishes
attacking. He knew that in all the recent defeats they had stood on
the defensive. He therefore determined not to oppose the advance at the
Shabluka or on the march thence to Omdurman. All was to be staked on the
issue of a great battle on the plains of Kerreri. The Mahdi's prophecy
was propitious. The strength of the Dervish army seemed overwhelming.
When the 'Turks' arrived, they should be driven into the river.
Accordingly the Khalifa had only watched the advance of the
Expeditionary Force from Wad Hamed with a patrol of cavalry about 200
strong. On the 30th he was informed that the enemy drew near, and on the
31st he assembled his bodyguard and regular army, with the exception of
the men needed for the river batteries, on the Omdurman parade ground.
He harangued the leaders; and remained encamped with his troops during
the night. The next day all the male population of the city were
compelled to join the army in the field, and only the gunners and
garrisons on the river-face remained within. In spite, however, of his
utmost vigilance, nearly 6,000 men deserted during the nights of the
31st of August and the 1st of September. This and the detachments in the
forts reduced the force actually engaged in the battle to 52,000 men.
The host that now advanced towards the British and Egyptian cavalry was
perhaps 4,000 stronger.
Their array was regular and precise, and, facing northeast, stretched
for more than four miles from flank to flank. A strong detachment of the
mulazemin or guard was extended in front of the centre. Ali-Wad-Helu,
with his bright green flag, prolonged the line to the left; and his
5,000 warriors, chiefly of the Degheim and Kenana tribes, soon began to
reach out towards the Egyptian cavalry. The centre and main force of the
army was composed of the regular troops, formed in squares under Osman
Sheikh-ed-Din and Osman Azrak. This great body comprised 12,000 black
riflemen and about 13,000 black and Arab spearmen. In their midst rose
the large, dark green flag which the Sheikh-ed-Din had adopted to annoy
Ali-Wad-Helu, of whose distinctive emblem he was inordinately jealous.
The Khalifa with his own bodyguard, about 2,000 strong, followed the
centre. In rear of all marched Yakub with the Black Flag and 13,000
men--nearly all swordsmen and spearmen, who with those extended in front
of the army constituted the guard. The right wing was formed by the
brigade of the Khalifa Sherif, consisting of 2,000 Danagla tribesmen,
whose principal ensign was a broad red flag. Osman Digna, with about
1,700 Hadendoa, guarded the extreme right and the flank nearest
Omdurman, and his fame needed no flag. Such was the great army which now
moved swiftly towards the watching squadrons; and these, pausing on the
sandy ridge, pushed out a fringe of tentative patrols, as if to assure
themselves that what they saw was real.
The Egyptian cavalry had meanwhile a somewhat different view of the
spectacle. Working on the right of the 21st Lancers, and keeping further
from the river, the leading squadrons had reached the extreme western
end of the Kerreri ridge at about seven o'clock. From here the Mahdi's
Tomb was visible, and, since the rocks of Surgham did not obstruct
the view from this point, the British officers, looking through their
field-glasses, saw what appeared to be a long column of brown spots
moving south-westwards across the wide plain which stretches away to the
west of Omdurman. The telescope, an invaluable aid to reconnaissance,
developed the picture. The brown objects proved to be troops of horses
grazing; and beyond, to the southward, camels and white flapping tents
could be distinguished. There were no signs that a retreat was in
progress; but from such a distance--nearly four miles--no certain
information could be obtained, and Colonel Broadwood decided to advance
closer. He accordingly led his whole command south-westward towards
a round-topped hill which rose about four miles from the end of the
Kerreri ridge and was one of the more distant hill features bounding the
plain on the western side. The Egyptian cavalry moved slowly across the
desert to this new point of observation. On their way they traversed the
end of the Khor Shambat, a long depression which is the natural drainage
channel of the plains of Kerreri and Omdurman, and joins the Nile about
four miles from the city. The heavy rain of the previous night had made
the low ground swampy, and pools of water stood in the soft, wet sand.
The passage, however, presented no great difficulty, and at half-past
eleven the Egyptian squadrons began to climb the lower slopes of the
round-topped hill. Here the whole scene burst suddenly upon them.
Scarcely three miles away the Dervish army was advancing with the
regularity of parade. The south wind carried the martial sound of horns
and drums and--far more menacing--the deep murmur of a multitude to the
astonished officers. Like the 21st Lancers--three miles away to their
left, at the end of the long sandy ridge which runs westward from
Surgham--the soldiers remained for a space spell-bound. But all eyes
were soon drawn from the thrilling spectacle of the Dervish advance by
the sound of guns on the river.
At about eleven o'clock the gunboats had ascended the Nile, and now
engaged the enemy's batteries on both banks. Throughout the day the loud
reports of their guns could be heard, and, looking from our position
on the ridge, we could see the white vessels steaming slowly forward
against the current, under clouds of black smoke from their furnaces and
amid other clouds of white smoke from the artillery. The forts, which
mounted nearly fifty guns, replied vigorously; but the British aim was
accurate and their fire crushing. The embrasures were smashed to bits
and many of the Dervish guns dismounted. The rifle trenches which
flanked the forts were swept by the Maxim guns. The heavier projectiles,
striking the mud walls of the works and houses, dashed the red dust high
into the air and scattered destruction around. Despite the tenacity and
courage of the Dervish gunners, they were driven from their defences and
took refuge among the streets of the city. The great wall of Omdurman
was breached in many places, and a large number of unfortunate
non-combatants were killed and wounded.
Meanwhile the Arab irregulars, under Major Wortley, had been sharply
engaged. That officer's orders were to co-operate with the flotilla by
taking in rear the forts and fortified villages on the east bank of
the river. As soon as the gunboats had silenced the lower forts, Major
Wortley ordered the irregulars to advance on them and on the houses. He
placed the Jaalin, who were practically the only trustworthy men in his
force, in reserve, and formed the tribes according to their capabilities
and prejudices. On the order to attack being given, the whole force,
some 3,000 strong, advanced on the buildings, from which the Dervishes
at once opened fire. Arrived within 500 yards they halted, and began to
discharge their rifles in the air; they also indulged in frantic
dances expressive of their fury and valour, but declined to advance any
further.
Major Wortley then ordered the Jaalin to attack. These--formed in a long
column, animated by the desire for vengeance, and being besides brave
men--moved upon the village at a slow pace, and, surrounding one house
after another, captured it and slew all its defenders; including the
Dervish Emir and 350 of his followers. The Jaalin themselves suffered a
loss of about sixty killed and wounded.
The village being captured, and the enemy on the east bank killed or
dispersed, the gunboats proceeded to engage the batteries higher up the
river. The howitzer battery was now landed, and at 1.30 began to bombard
the Mahdi's Tomb. This part of the proceedings was plainly visible to
us, waiting and watching on the ridge, and its interest even distracted
attention from the Dervish army. The dome of the tomb rose tall and
prominent above the mud houses of the city. A lyddite shell burst over
it--a great flash, a white ball of smoke, and, after a pause, the dull
thud of the distant explosion. Another followed. At the third shot,
instead of the white smoke, there was a prodigious cloud of red dust,
in which the whole tomb disappeared. When this cleared away we saw that,
instead of being pointed, it was now flat-topped. Other shells continued
to strike it with like effect, some breaking holes in the dome, others
smashing off the cupolas, all enveloping it in dust.
All this time the Dervishes were coming nearer, and the steady and
continuous advance of the great army compelled the Egyptian cavalry to
mount their horses and trot off to some safer point of view. Colonel
Broadwood conceived his direct line of retreat to camp threatened, and
shortly after one o'clock he began a regular retirement. Eight squadrons
of Egyptian cavalry and the Horse Artillery moved off first. Five
companies of the Camel Corps, a Maxim gun section, and the ninth
squadron of cavalry followed as a rear-guard under Major Tudway. The
Dervish horsemen contented themselves with firing occasional shots,
which were replied to by the Camel Corps with volleys whenever the
ground was suited to dismounted action. From time to time one of the
more daring Arabs would gallop after the retreating squadrons, but
a shot from a carbine or a threatened advance always brought the
adventurous horseman to a halt. The retirement was continued without
serious interference, and the boggy ground of the Khor Shambat was
recrossed in safety.
As soon as the Egyptian squadrons--a darker mass under the dark hills
to the westward--were seen to be in retirement, the 21st Lancers were
withdrawn slowly along the sandy ridge towards the rocks of Surgham--the
position whence we had first seen the Dervish army. The regiment wheeled
about and fell back by alternate wings, dropping two detached troops to
the rear and flanks to make the enemy's patrols keep their distance.
But when the Arab horsemen saw all the cavalry retiring they became very
bold, and numerous small groups of fives and sixes began to draw
nearer at a trot. Accordingly, whenever the ground was favourable, the
squadrons halted in turn for a few minutes to fire on them. In this way
perhaps half-a-dozen were killed or wounded. The others, however, paid
little attention to the bullets, and continued to pry curiously, until
at last it was thought necessary to send a troop to drive them away. The
score of Lancers galloped back towards the inquisitive patrols in
the most earnest fashion. The Dervishes, although more numerous, were
scattered about in small parties, and, being unable to collect,
they declined the combat. The great army, however, still advanced
majestically, pressing the cavalry back before it; and it was evident
that if the Khalifa's movement continued, in spite of it being nearly
one o'clock, there would be a collision between the main forces before
the night.
From the summit of the black hill of Surgham the scene was
extraordinary. The great army of Dervishes was dwarfed by the size of
the landscape to mere dark smears and smudges on the brown of the plain.
Looking east, another army was now visible--the British and Egyptian
army. All six brigades had passed the Kerreri Hills, and now stood drawn
up in a crescent, with their backs to the Nile. The transport and the
houses of the village of Egeiga filled the enclosed space. Neither force
could see the other, though but five miles divided them. The array of
the enemy was, without doubt, both longer and deeper. Yet there seemed a
superior strength in the solid battalions, whose lines were so straight
that they might have been drawn with a ruler.
The camp presented an animated appearance. The troops had piled arms
after the march, and had already built a slender hedge of thorn-bushes
around them. Now they were eating their dinners, and in high expectation
of a fight. The whole army had been ordered to stand to arms at two
o'clock in formation to resist the attack which it seemed the Dervishes
were about to deliver. But at a quarter to two the Dervish army halted.
Their drill was excellent, and they all stopped as by a single command.
Then suddenly their riflemen discharged their rifles in the air with a
great roar--a barbaric feu de joie. The smoke sprang up along the whole
front of their array, running from one end to the other. After this they
lay down on the ground, and it became certain that the matter would not
be settled that day. We remained in our position among the sandhills
of the ridge until the approach of darkness, and during the afternoon
various petty encounters took place between our patrols and those of the
enemy, resulting in a loss to them of about a dozen killed and wounded,
and to us of one corporal wounded and one horse killed. Then, as the
light failed, we returned to the river to water and encamp, passing into
the zeriba through the ranks of the British division, where officers and
men, looking out steadfastly over the fading plain, asked us whether
the enemy were coming--and, if so, when. And it was with confidence and
satisfaction that we replied, and they heard, 'Probably at daylight.'
When the gunboats had completed their bombardment, had sunk a Dervish
steamer, had silenced all the hostile batteries, and had sorely battered
the Mahdi's Tomb, they returned leisurely to the camp, and lay moored
close to the bank to lend the assistance of their guns in case of
attack. As the darkness became complete they threw their powerful
searchlights over the front of the zeriba and on to the distant hills.
The wheeling beams of dazzling light swept across the desolate, yet not
deserted, plain. The Dervish army lay for the night along the eastern
slope of the Shambat depression. All the 50,000 faithful warriors rested
in their companies near the flags of their Emirs. The Khalifa slept in
rear of the centre of his host, surrounded by his generals. Suddenly the
whole scene was lit by a pale glare. Abdullah and the chiefs sprang up.
Everything around them was bathed in an awful white illumination. Far
away by the river there gleamed a brilliant circle of light--the cold,
pitiless eye of a demon. The Khalifa put his hand on Osman Azrak's
shoulder--Osman, who was to lead the frontal attack at dawn--and
whispered, 'What is this strange thing?' 'Sire,' replied Osman, 'they
are looking at us.' Thereat a great fear filled all their minds. The
Khalifa had a small tent, which showed conspicuously in the searchlight.
He had it hurriedly pulled down. Some of the Emirs covered their faces,
lest the baleful rays should blind them. All feared that some terrible
projectile would follow in the path of the light. And then suddenly it
passed on--for the sapper who worked the lens could see nothing at that
distance but the brown plain--and swept along the ranks of the sleeping
army, rousing up the startled warriors, as a wind sweeps over a field of
standing corn.
The Anglo-Egyptian army had not formed a quadrilateral camp, as on other
nights, but had lain down to rest in the formation for attack they had
assumed in the afternoon. Every fifty yards behind the thorn-bushes were
double sentries. Every hundred yards a patrol with an officer was to be
met. Fifty yards in rear of this line lay the battalions, the men in all
their ranks, armed and accoutred, but sprawled into every conceivable
attitude which utter weariness could suggest or dictate. The enemy,
twice as strong as the Expeditionary Force, were within five miles. They
had advanced that day with confidence and determination. But it seemed
impossible to believe that they would attack by daylight across the open
ground. Two explanations of their advance and halt presented themselves.
Either they had offered battle in a position where they could not
themselves be attacked until four o'clock in the afternoon, and hoped
that the Sirdar's army, even though victorious, would have to fight a
rear-guard action in the darkness to the river; or they intended to make
a night attack. It was not likely that an experienced commander would
accept battle at so late an hour in the day. If the Dervishes were
anxious to attack, so much the worse for them. But the army would
remain strictly on the defensive--at any rate, until there was plenty of
daylight. The alternative remained--a night attack.
Here lay the great peril which threatened the expedition. What was to be
done with the troops during the hours of darkness? In the daytime they
recked little of their enemy. But at night, when 400 yards was the
extreme range at which their fire could be opened, it was a matter of
grave doubt whether the front could be kept and the attack repelled. The
consequences of the line being penetrated in the darkness were appalling
to think of. The sudden appearance of crowds of figures swarming to the
attack through the gloom; the wild outburst of musketry and artillery
all along the zeriba; the crowds still coming on in spite of the
bullets; the fire getting uncontrolled, and then a great bunching and
crumpling of some part of the front, and mad confusion, in which a
multitude of fierce swordsmen would surge through the gap, cutting
and slashing at every living thing; in which transport animals would
stampede and rush wildly in all directions, upsetting every formation
and destroying all attempts to restore order; in which regiments and
brigades would shift for themselves and fire savagely on all sides,
slaying alike friend and foe; and out of which only a few thousand,
perhaps only a few hundred, demoralised men would escape in barges and
steamers to tell the tale of ruin and defeat.
The picture--true or false--flamed before the eyes of all the leaders
that night; but, whatever their thoughts may have been, their tactics
were bold. Whatever advice was given, whatever opinions were expressed,
the responsibility was Sir Herbert Kitchener's. Upon his shoulders lay
the burden, and the decision that was taken must be attributed solely to
him. He might have formed the army into a solid mass of men and animals,
arranged the infantry four deep all round the perimeter, and dug as big
a ditch or built as high a zeriba as time allowed. He might have filled
the numerous houses with the infantry, making them join the buildings
with hasty entrenchments, and so enclose a little space in which to
squeeze cavalry, transport, and guns. Instead he formed his army in
a long thin curve, resting on the river and enclosing a wide area of
ground, about which baggage and animals were scattered in open order
and luxurious accommodation. His line was but two deep; and only two
companies per battalion and one Egyptian brigade (Collinson's) were in
reserve. He thus obtained the greatest possible development of fire,
and waited, prepared if necessary to stake everything on the arms of
precision, but hoping with fervour that he would not be compelled to
gamble by night.
The night was, however, undisturbed; and the moonlit camp, with
its anxious generals, its weary soldiers, its fearful machinery of
destruction, all strewn along the bank of the great river, remained
plunged in silence, as if brooding over the chances of the morrow and
the failures of the past. And hardly four miles away another army--twice
as numerous, equally confident, equally brave--were waiting impatiently
for the morning and the final settlement of the long quarrel.