SEPTEMBER 2, 1898
The bugles all over the camp by the river began to sound at half-past
four. The cavalry trumpets and the drums and fifes of the British
division joined the chorus, and everyone awoke amid a confusion of
merry or defiant notes. Then it grew gradually lighter, and the cavalry
mounted their horses, the infantry stood to their arms, and the gunners
went to their batteries; while the sun, rising over the Nile, revealed
the wide plain, the dark rocky hills, and the waiting army. It was as
if all the preliminaries were settled, the ground cleared, and nothing
remained but the final act and 'the rigour of the game.'
Even before it became light several squadrons of British and Egyptian
cavalry were pushed swiftly forward to gain contact with the enemy and
learn his intentions. The first of these, under Captain Baring, occupied
Surgham Hill, and waited in the gloom until the whereabouts of
the Dervishes should be disclosed by the dawn. It was a perilous
undertaking, for he might have found them unexpectedly near. As the sun
rose, the 21st Lancers trotted out of the zeriba and threw out a spray
of officers' patrols. As there had been no night attack, it was expected
that the Dervish army would have retired to their original position
or entered the town. It was hardly conceivable that they would advance
across the open ground to attack the zeriba by daylight. Indeed, it
appeared more probable that their hearts had failed them in the night,
and that they had melted away into the desert. But these anticipations
were immediately dispelled by the scene which was visible from the crest
of the ridge.
It was a quarter to six. The light was dim, but growing stronger every
minute. There in the plain lay the enemy, their numbers unaltered,
their confidence and intentions apparently unshaken. Their front was
now nearly five miles long, and composed of great masses of men joined
together by thinner lines. Behind and near to the flanks were large
reserves. From the ridge they looked dark blurs and streaks, relieved
and diversified with an odd-looking shimmer of light from the
spear-points. At about ten minutes to six it was evident that the masses
were in motion and advancing swiftly. Their Emirs galloped about and
before their ranks. Scouts and patrols scattered themselves all over the
front. Then they began to cheer. They were still a mile away from the
hill, and were concealed from the Sirdar's army by the folds of the
ground. The noise of the shouting was heard, albeit faintly, by the
troops down by the river. But to those watching on the hill a tremendous
roar came up in waves of intense sound, like the tumult of the rising
wind and sea before a storm.
The British and Egyptian forces were arranged in line, with their back
to the river. The flanks were secured by the gunboats lying moored in
the stream. Before them was the rolling sandy plain, looking from the
slight elevation of the ridge smooth and flat as a table. To the right
rose the rocky hills of the Kerreri position, near which the Egyptian
cavalry were drawn up--a dark solid mass of men and horses. On the left
the 21st Lancers, with a single squadron thrown out in advance, were
halted watching their patrols, who climbed about Surgham Hill, stretched
forward beyond it, or perched, as we did, on the ridge.
The ground sloped gently up from the river; so that it seemed as if the
landward ends of the Surgham and Kerreri ridges curved in towards each
other, enclosing what lay between. Beyond the long swell of sand which
formed the western wall of this spacious amphitheatre the black shapes
of the distant hills rose in misty confusion. The challengers were
already in the arena; their antagonists swiftly approached.
Although the Dervishes were steadily advancing, a belief that their
musketry was inferior encouraged a nearer view, and we trotted round the
south-west slopes of Surgham Hill until we reached the sandhills on the
enemy's side, among which the regiment had waited the day before. Thence
the whole array was visible in minute detail. It seemed that every
single man of all the thousands could be examined separately. The pace
of their march was fast and steady, and it was evident that it would not
be safe to wait long among the sandhills. Yet the wonder of the scene
exercised a dangerous fascination, and for a while we tarried.
The emblems of the more famous Emirs were easily distinguishable. On the
extreme left the chiefs and soldiers of the bright green flag gathered
under Ali-Wad-Helu; between this and the centre the large dark green
flag of Osman Sheikh-ed-Din rose above a dense mass of spearmen,
preceded by long lines of warriors armed presumably with rifles; over
the centre, commanded by Yakub, the sacred Black banner of the Khalifa
floated high and remarkable; while on the right a great square of
Dervishes was arrayed under an extraordinary number of white flags,
amid which the red ensign of Sherif was almost hidden. All the pride and
might of the Dervish Empire were massed on this last great day of its
existence. Riflemen who had helped to destroy Hicks, spearmen who had
charged at Abu Klea, Emirs who saw the sack of Gondar, Baggara fresh
from raiding the Shillooks, warriors who had besieged Khartoum--all
marched, inspired by the memories of former triumphs and embittered by
the knowledge of late defeats, to chastise the impudent and accursed
invaders.
The advance continued. The Dervish left began to stretch out across
the plain towards Kerreri--as I thought, to turn our right flank. Their
centre, under the Black Flag, moved directly towards Surgham. The right
pursued a line of advance south of that hill. This mass of men were the
most striking of all. They could not have mustered fewer than 6,000.
Their array was perfect. They displayed a great number of flags--perhaps
500--which looked at the distance white, though they were really covered
with texts from the Koran, and which by their admirable alignment made
this division of the Khalifa's army look like the old representations of
the Crusaders in the Bayeux tapestry.
The attack developed. The left, nearly 20,000 strong, toiled across the
plain and approached the Egyptian squadrons. The leading masses of the
centre deployed facing the zeriba and marched forthwith to the direct
assault. As the whole Dervish army continued to advance, the division
with the white flags, which had until now been echeloned in rear of
their right, moved up into the general line and began to climb the
southern slopes of Surgham Hill. Meanwhile yet another body of the
enemy, comparatively insignificant in numbers, who had been drawn up
behind the 'White Flags,' were moving slowly towards the Nile, echeloned
still further behind their right, and not far from the suburbs of
Omdurman. These men had evidently been posted to prevent the Dervish
army being cut off from the city and to secure their line of retreat;
and with them the 21st Lancers were destined to have a much closer
acquaintance about two hours later.
The Dervish centre had come within range. But it was not the British and
Egyptian army that began the battle. If there was one arm in which the
Arabs were beyond all comparison inferior to their adversaries, it was
in guns. Yet it was with this arm that they opened their attack. In
the middle of the Dervish line now marching in frontal assault were
two puffs of smoke. About fifty yards short of the thorn fence two red
clouds of sand and dust sprang up, where the projectiles had struck. It
looked like a challenge. It was immediately answered. Great clouds
of smoke appeared all along the front of the British and Soudanese
brigades. One after another four batteries opened on the enemy at a
range of about 3,000 yards. The sound of the cannonade rolled up to us
on the ridge, and was re-echoed by the hills. Above the heads of the
moving masses shells began to burst, dotting the air with smoke-balls
and the ground with bodies. But a nearer tragedy impended. The 'White
Flags' were nearly over the crest. In another minute they would become
visible to the batteries. Did they realise what would come to meet them?
They were in a dense mass, 2,800 yards from the 32nd Field Battery and
the gunboats. The ranges were known. It was a matter of machinery. The
more distant slaughter passed unnoticed, as the mind was fascinated by
the approaching horror. In a few seconds swift destruction would rush
on these brave men. They topped the crest and drew out into full view of
the whole army. Their white banners made them conspicuous above all. As
they saw the camp of their enemies, they discharged their rifles with a
great roar of musketry and quickened their pace. For a moment the white
flags advanced in regular order, and the whole division crossed the
crest and were exposed. Forthwith the gunboats, the 32nd British Field
Battery, and other guns from the zeriba opened on them. About twenty
shells struck them in the first minute. Some burst high in the air,
others exactly in their faces. Others, again, plunged into the sand and,
exploding, dashed clouds of red dust, splinters, and bullets amid their
ranks. The white banners toppled over in all directions. Yet they rose
again immediately, as other men pressed forward to die for the Mahdi's
sacred cause and in the defence of the successor of the True Prophet.
It was a terrible sight, for as yet they had not hurt us at all, and it
seemed an unfair advantage to strike thus cruelly when they could not
reply. Under the influence of the shells the mass of the 'White Flags'
dissolved into thin lines of spearmen and skirmishers, and came on in
altered formation and diminished numbers, but with unabated enthusiasm.
And now, the whole attack being thoroughly exposed, it became the duty
of the cavalry to clear the front as quickly as possible, and leave the
further conduct of the debate to the infantry and the Maxim guns.
All the patrols trotted or cantered back to their squadrons, and the
regiment retired swiftly into the zeriba, while the shells from the
gunboats screamed overhead and the whole length of the position began
to burst into flame and smoke. Nor was it long before the tremendous
banging of the artillery was swollen by the roar of musketry.
Taking advantage of the shelter of the river-bank, the cavalry
dismounted; we watered our horses, waited, and wondered what was
happening. And every moment the tumult grew louder and more intense,
until even the flickering stutter of the Maxims could scarcely be heard
above the continuous din. Eighty yards away, and perhaps twenty feet
above us, the 32nd Field Battery was in action. The nimble figures of
the gunners darted about as they busied themselves in their complicated
process of destruction. The officers, some standing on biscuit-boxes,
peered through their glasses and studied the effect. Of this I had one
glimpse. Eight hundred yards away a ragged line of men were coming on
desperately, struggling forward in the face of the pitiless fire--white
banners tossing and collapsing; white figures subsiding in dozens to
the ground; little white puffs from their rifles, larger white puffs
spreading in a row all along their front from the bursting shrapnel.
The infantry fired steadily and stolidly, without hurry or excitement,
for the enemy were far away and the officers careful. Besides, the
soldiers were interested in the work and took great pains. But presently
the mere physical act became tedious. The tiny figures seen over the
slide of the backsight seemed a little larger, but also fewer at each
successive volley. The rifles grew hot--so hot that they had to be
changed for those of the reserve companies. The Maxim guns exhausted
all the water in their jackets, and several had to be refreshed from the
water-bottles of the Cameron Highlanders before they could go on with
their deadly work. The empty cartridge-cases, tinkling to the ground,
formed a small but growing heap beside each man. And all the time out
on the plain on the other side bullets were shearing through flesh,
smashing and splintering bone; blood spouted from terrible wounds;
valiant men were struggling on through a hell of whistling metal,
exploding shells, and spurting dust--suffering, despairing, dying. Such
was the first phase of the battle of Omdurman.
The Khalifa's plan of attack appears to have been complex and ingenious.
It was, however, based on an extraordinary miscalculation of the power
of modern weapons; with the exception of this cardinal error, it is
not necessary to criticise it. He first ordered about 15,000 men,
drawn chiefly from the army of Osman Sheikh-ed-Din and placed under the
command of Osman Azrak, to deliver a frontal attack. He himself waited
with an equal force near Surgham Hill to watch the result. If it
succeeded, he would move forward with his bodyguard, the flower of the
Arab army, and complete the victory. If it failed, there was yet another
chance. The Dervishes who were first launched against the zeriba,
although very brave men, were not by any means his best or most reliable
troops. Their destruction might be a heavy loss, but it would not
end the struggle. While the attack was proceeding, the valiant left,
consisting of the rest of the army of Osman Sheikh-ed-Din, might move
unnoticed to the northern flank and curve round on to the front of the
zeriba held by the Egyptian brigade. Ali-Wad-Helu was meanwhile to march
to the Kerreri Hills, and remain out of range and, if possible, out
of sight among them. Should the frontal and flank attacks be unhappily
repulsed, the 'enemies of God,' exulting in their easy victory over the
faithful, would leave their strong place and march to the capture and
sack of the city. Then, while they were yet dispersed on the plain,
with no zeriba to protect them, the chosen warriors of the True Religion
would abandon all concealment, and hasten in their thousands to the
utter destruction of the accursed--the Khalifa with 15,000 falling upon
them from behind Surgham; Ali-Wad-Helu and all that remained of Osman's
army assailing them from Kerreri. Attacked at once from the north and
south, and encompassed on every side, the infidels would abandon hope
and order, and Kitchener might share the fate of Hicks and Gordon. Two
circumstances, which will appear as the account proceeds, prevented
the accomplishment of this plan. The second attack was not executed
simultaneously by the two divisions of the Dervish army; and even had
it been, the power of the musketry would have triumphed, and though the
Expeditionary Force might have sustained heavier losses the main result
could not have been affected. The last hopes of barbarism had passed
with the shades of night.
Colonel Broadwood, with nine squadrons of cavalry, the Camel Corps, and
the Horse Artillery, had been ordered to check the Dervish left, and
prevent it enveloping the downstream flank of the zeriba, as this was
held by the Egyptian brigade, which it was not thought desirable
to expose to the full weight of an attack. With this object, as the
Dervishes approached, he had occupied the Kerreri ridge with the Horse
battery and the Camel Corps, holding his cavalry in reserve in rear of
the centre.
The Kerreri ridge, to which reference has so frequently been made,
consists of two main features, which rise to the height of about 300
feet above the plain, are each above a mile long, and run nearly east
and west, with a dip or trough about 1,000 yards wide between them.
The eastern ends of these main ridges are perhaps 1,000 yards from
the river, and in this intervening space there are several rocky
under-features and knolls. The Kerreri Hills, the spaces between them,
and the smaller features are covered with rough boulders and angular
stones of volcanic origin, which render the movements of horses and
camels difficult and painful.
The cavalry horses and camels were in the dip between the two ridges;
and the dismounted men of the Camel Corps were deployed along the crest
of the most southerly of the ridges, with their right at the desert end.
Next in order to the Camel Corps, the centre of the ridge was occupied
by the dismounted cavalry. The Horse Artillery were on the left. The
remainder of the cavalry waited in the hollow behind the guns.
The tempestuous advance of Osman soon brought him into contact with the
mounted force. His real intentions are still a matter of conjecture.
Whether he had been ordered to attack the Egyptian brigade, or to drive
back the cavalry, or to disappear behind the Kerreri Hills in conformity
with Ali-Wad-Helu, is impossible to pronounce. His action was, however,
clear. He could not safely assail the Egyptians with a powerful cavalry
force threatening his left rear. He therefore continued his move across
the front of the zeriba. Keeping out of the range of infantry fire,
bringing up his right, and marching along due north, he fell upon
Broadwood. This officer, who had expected to have to deal with small
bodies on the Dervish flank, found himself suddenly exposed to the
attack of nearly 15,000 men, many of whom were riflemen. The Sirdar,
seeing the situation from the zeriba, sent him an order to withdraw
within the lines of infantry. Colonel Broadwood, however, preferred to
retire through the Kerreri Hills to the northward, drawing Osman after
him. He replied to that effect.
The first position had soon to be abandoned. The Dervishes, advancing in
a north-easterly direction, attacked the Kerreri Hills obliquely. They
immediately enveloped the right flank of the mounted troops holding
them. It will be seen from the map that as soon as the Dervish riflemen
gained a point west and in prolongation of the trough between the two
ridges, they not only turned the right flank, but also threatened the
retreat of the defenders of the southerly ridge; for they were able to
sweep the trough from end to end with their fire. As soon as it became
certain that the southerly ridge could not be held any longer, Colonel
Broadwood retired the battery to the east end of the second or northern
ridge. This was scarcely accomplished when the dip was enfiladed, and
the cavalry and Camel Corps who followed lost about fifty men and many
horses and camels killed and wounded. The Camel Corps were the most
unfortunate. They were soon encumbered with wounded, and it was now
painfully evident that in rocky ground the Dervishes could go faster on
their feet than the soldiers on their camels. Pressing on impetuously at
a pace of nearly seven miles an hour, and unchecked by a heavy artillery
fire from the zeriba and a less effective fire from the Horse battery,
which was only armed with 7-pounder Krupps of an obsolete pattern,
the Arabs rapidly diminished the distance between themselves and their
enemies. In these circumstances Colonel Broadwood decided to send
the Camel Corps back to the zeriba under cover of a gunboat, which,
watchfully observing the progress of the fight, was coming down stream
to assist. The distance which divided the combatants was scarcely 400
yards and decreasing every minute. The cavalry were drawn up across the
eastern or river end of the trough. The guns of the Horse battery fired
steadily from their new position on the northern ridge. But the Camel
Corps were still struggling in the broken ground, and it was clear that
their position was one of great peril. The Dervishes already carpeted
the rocks of the southern ridge with dull yellow swarms, and, heedless
of the shells which still assailed them in reverse from the zeriba,
continued to push their attack home. On the very instant that they saw
the Camel Corps make for the river they realised that those they had
deemed their prey were trying, like a hunted animal, to run to ground
within the lines of infantry. With that instinctive knowledge of war
which is the heritage of savage peoples, the whole attack swung to the
right, changed direction from north to east, and rushed down the trough
and along the southern ridge towards the Nile, with the plain intention
of cutting off the Camel Corps and driving them into the river.
The moment was critical. It appeared to the cavalry commander that the
Dervishes would actually succeed, and their success must involve the
total destruction of the Camel Corps. That could not, of course, be
tolerated. The whole nine squadrons of cavalry assumed a preparatory
formation. The British officers believed that a terrible charge
impended. They would meet in direct collision the swarms of men who were
hurrying down the trough. The diversion might enable the Camel Corps to
escape. But the ground was bad; the enemy's force was overwhelming; the
Egyptian troopers were prepared to obey--but that was all. There was no
exalted enthusiasm such as at these moments carries sterner breeds
to victory. Few would return. Nevertheless, the operation appeared
inevitable. The Camel Corps were already close to the river. But
thousands of Dervishes were running swiftly towards them at right
angles to their line of retreat, and it was certain that if the
camelry attempted to cross this new front of the enemy they would be
annihilated. Their only hope lay in maintaining themselves by their fire
near the river-bank until help could reach them, and, in order to delay
and weaken the Dervish attack the cavalry would have to make a desperate
charge.
But at the critical moment the gunboat arrived on the scene and began
suddenly to blaze and flame from Maxim guns, quick-firing guns, and
rifles. The range was short; the effect tremendous. The terrible
machine, floating gracefully on the waters--a beautiful white
devil--wreathed itself in smoke. The river slopes of the Kerreri Hills,
crowded with the advancing thousands, sprang up into clouds of dust and
splinters of rock. The charging Dervishes sank down in tangled heaps.
The masses in rear paused, irresolute. It was too hot even for them.
The approach of another gunboat completed their discomfiture. The
Camel Corps, hurrying along the shore, slipped past the fatal point of
interception, and saw safety and the zeriba before them.
Exasperated by their disappointment, the soldiers of Osman Sheikh-ed-Din
turned again upon the cavalry, and, forgetting in their anger the mobile
nature of their foe, pursued the elusive squadrons three long miles to
the north. The cavalry, intensely relieved by the escape of the Camel
Corps, played with their powerful antagonist, as the banderillo teases
the bull. Colonel Broadwood thus succeeded in luring this division of
the Dervish army far away from the field of battle, where they were
sorely needed. The rough ground, however, delayed the Horse battery.
They lagged, as the Camel Corps had done, and caused constant anxiety.
At length two of their guns stuck fast in a marshy spot, and as several
men and horses were shot in the attempt to extricate them Broadwood
wisely ordered them to be abandoned, and they were soon engulfed in
the Dervish masses. Encouraged by this capture, the horsemen of
Osman's command daringly attacked the retreating cavalry. But they were
effectually checked by the charge of a squadron under Major Mahon.
Both gunboats, having watched the Camel Corps safely into the zeriba,
now returned with the current and renewed their attack upon the Arabs.
Opening a heavy and accurate fire upon the river flank, they drove them
westward and away from the Nile. Through the gap thus opened Broadwood
and his squadrons trotted to rejoin the main body, picking up on the way
the two guns which had been abandoned.
While these things were passing on the northern flank, the frontal
attack was in progress. The debris of the 'White Flags' joined the
centre, and the whole 14,000 pressed forward against the zeriba,
spreading out by degrees and abandoning their dense formations, and
gradually slowing down. At about 800 yards from the British division the
advance ceased, and they could make no headway. Opposite the Soudanese,
who were armed only with the Martini-Henry rifle, the assailants came
within 300 yards; and one brave old man, carrying a flag, fell at 150
paces from the shelter trench. But the result was conclusive all along
the line. The attack was shattered. The leader, clad in his new jibba
of many colours, rode on steadfastly towards the inexorable firing line,
until, pierced by several bullets, he fell lifeless. Such was the end of
that stubborn warrior of many fights--wicked Osman Azrak, faithful
unto death. The surviving Dervishes lay down on the ground. Unable
to advance, they were unwilling to retire; and their riflemen, taking
advantage of the folds of the plain, opened and maintained an unequal
combat. By eight o'clock it was evident that the whole attack had
failed. The loss of the enemy was more than 2,000 killed, and perhaps as
many wounded. To the infantry, who were busy with their rifles, it had
scarcely seemed a fight. Yet all along the front bullets had whizzed
over and into the ranks, and in every battalion there were casualties.
Captain Caldecott, of the Warwicks, was killed; the Camerons had two
officers, Captain Clarke and Lieutenant Nicholson, severely wounded; the
Grenadiers one, Captain Bagot. Colonel F. Rhodes, as he sat on his horse
near the Maxim battery of the 1st British Brigade, was shot through
the shoulder and carried from the field just as the attack reached its
climax. There were, besides these officers, about 150 casualties among
the soldiers.
The attack languished. The enemy's rifle fire continued, and as soon as
the heavy firing ceased it began to be annoying. The ground, although it
appeared flat and level to the eye, nevertheless contained depressions
and swellings which afforded good cover to the sharpshooters, and the
solid line behind the zeriba was an easy target. The artillery now began
to clear out these depressions by their shells, and in this work they
displayed a searching power very remarkable when their flat trajectory
is remembered. As the shells burst accurately above the Dervish
skirmishers and spearmen who were taking refuge in the folds of the
plain, they rose by hundreds and by fifties to fly. Instantly the hungry
and attentive Maxims and the watchful infantry opened on them, sweeping
them all to the ground--some in death, others in terror. Again the
shells followed them to their new concealment. Again they rose, fewer
than before, and ran. Again the Maxims and the rifles spluttered.
Again they fell. And so on until the front of the zeriba was clear
of unwounded men for at least half a mile. A few escaped. Some,
notwithstanding the vices of which they have been accused and the perils
with which they were encompassed, gloriously carried off their injured
comrades.
After the attack had been broken, and while the front of the zeriba
was being cleared of the Dervish riflemen, the 21st Lancers were again
called upon to act. The Sirdar and his generals were all agreed on one
point. They must occupy Omdurman before the Dervish army could get back
there. They could fight as many Dervishes as cared to come in the plain;
among the houses it was different. As the Khalifa had anticipated, the
infidels, exulting in their victory, were eager, though for a different
reason, to seize the city. And this they were now in a position to do.
The Arabs were out in the desert. A great part of their army was even as
far away as Kerreri. The troops could move on interior lines. They were
bound to reach Omdurman first. The order was therefore given to march on
the city at once. But first the Surgham ridge must be reconnoitred,
and the ground between the zeriba and Omdurman cleared of the
Dervishes--with infantry if necessary, but with cavalry if possible,
because that would be quicker.
As the fusillade slackened, the Lancers stood to their horses. Then
General Gatacre, with Captain Brooke and the rest of his Staff, came
galloping along the rear of the line of infantry and guns, and shouted
for Colonel Martin. There was a brief conversation--an outstretched arm
pointing at the ridge--an order, and we were all scrambling into our
saddles and straightening the ranks in high expectation. We started at
a trot, two or three patrols galloping out in front, towards the high
ground, while the regiment followed in mass--a great square block
of ungainly brown figures and little horses, hung all over with
water-bottles, saddle-bags, picketing-gear, tins of bully-beef, all
jolting and jangling together; the polish of peace gone; soldiers
without glitter; horsemen without grace; but still a regiment of light
cavalry in active operation against the enemy.
The crest of the ridge was only half a mile away. It was found
unoccupied. The rocky mass of Surgham obstructed the view and concealed
the great reserve collected around the Black Flag. But southward,
between us and Omdurman, the whole plain was exposed. It was infested
with small parties of Dervishes, moving about, mounted and on foot,
in tens and twenties. Three miles away a broad stream of fugitives, of
wounded, and of deserters flowed from the Khalifa's army to the city.
The mirages blurred and distorted the picture, so that some of the
routed Arabs walked in air and some through water, and all were
misty and unreal. But the sight was sufficient to excite the fiercest
instincts of cavalry. Only the scattered parties in the plain appeared
to prevent a glorious pursuit. The signalling officer was set to
heliograph back to the Sirdar that the ridge was unoccupied and that
several thousand Dervishes could be seen flying into Omdurman. Pending
the answer, we waited; and looking back northwards, across the front
of the zeriba, where the first attack had been stopped, perceived
a greyish-white smudge, perhaps a mile long. The glass disclosed
details--hundreds of tiny white figures heaped or scattered; dozens
hopping, crawling, staggering away; a few horses standing stolidly
among the corpses; a few unwounded men dragging off their comrades.
The skirmishers among the rocks of Surgham soon began to fire at the
regiment, and we sheltered among the mounds of sand, while a couple of
troops replied with their carbines. Then the heliograph in the zeriba
began to talk in flashes of light that opened and shut capriciously.
The actual order is important. 'Advance,' said the helio, 'and clear
the left flank, and use every effort to prevent the enemy re-entering
Omdurman.' That was all, but it was sufficient. In the distance the
enemy could be seen re-entering Omdurman in hundreds. There was no room
for doubt. They must be stopped, and incidentally these small parties in
the plain might be brushed away. We remounted; the ground looked smooth
and unbroken; yet it was desirable to reconnoitre. Two patrols were
sent out. The small parties of Dervishes who were scattered all over the
plain and the slopes of the hill prevented anything less than a squadron
moving, except at their peril. The first patrol struck out towards
Omdurman, and began to push in between the scattered Dervishes, who
fired their rifles and showed great excitement. The other patrol, under
Lieutenant Grenfell, were sent to see what the ground looked like from
further along the ridge and on the lower slopes of Surgham. The riflemen
among the rocks turned their fire from the regiment to these nearer
objects. The five brown figures cantered over the rough ground,
presenting difficult targets, but under continual fire, and disappeared
round the spur. However, in two or three minutes they re-appeared, the
riflemen on the hill making a regular rattle of musketry, amid which the
Lancers galloped safely back, followed last of all by their officer. He
said that the plain looked as safe from the other side of the hill as
from where we were. At this moment the other patrol returned. They, too,
had had good fortune in their adventurous ride. Their information was
exact. They reported that in a shallow and apparently practicable
khor about three-quarters of a mile to the south-west, and between
the regiment and the fugitives, there was drawn up a formed body of
Dervishes about 1,000 strong. Colonel Martin decided on this information
to advance and attack this force, which alone interposed between him and
the Arab line of retreat. Then we started.
But all this time the enemy had been busy. At the beginning of the
battle the Khalifa had posted a small force of 700 men on his extreme
right, to prevent his line of retreat to Omdurman being harassed. This
detachment was composed entirely of the Hadendoa tribesmen of Osman
Digna's flag, and was commanded by one of his subordinate Emirs, who
selected a suitable position in the shallow khor. As soon as the 21st
Lancers left the zeriba the Dervish scouts on the top of Surgham carried
the news to the Khalifa. It was said that the English cavalry were
coming to cut him off from Omdurman. Abdullah thereupon determined to
strengthen his extreme right; and he immediately ordered four regiments,
each 500 strong, drawn from the force around the Black Flag and under
the Emir Ibrahim Khalil, to reinforce the Hadendoa in the khor. While we
were waiting for orders on the ridge these men were hurrying southwards
along the depression, and concealed by a spur of Surgham Hill. The
Lancer patrol reconnoitred the khor, at the imminent risk of their
lives, while it was only occupied by the original 700 Hadendoa.
Galloping back, they reported that it was held by about 1,000 men.
Before they reached the regiment this number was increased to 2,700.
This, however, we had no means of knowing. The Khalifa, having
despatched his reinforcement, rode on his donkey with a scanty escort
nearly half a mile from the Black Flag towards the khor, in order to
watch the event, and in consequence he was within 500 yards of the
scene.
As the 21st Lancers left the ridge, the fire of the Arab riflemen on
the hill ceased. We advanced at a walk in mass for about 300 yards. The
scattered parties of Dervishes fell back and melted away, and only one
straggling line of men in dark blue waited motionless a quarter of
a mile to the left front. They were scarcely a hundred strong. The
regiment formed into line of squadron columns, and continued at a walk
until within 300 yards of this small body of Dervishes. The firing
behind the ridges had stopped. There was complete silence, intensified
by the recent tumult. Far beyond the thin blue row of Dervishes the
fugitives were visible streaming into Omdurman. And should these few
devoted men impede a regiment? Yet it were wiser to examine their
position from the other flank before slipping a squadron at them. The
heads of the squadrons wheeled slowly to the left, and the Lancers,
breaking into a trot, began to cross the Dervish front in column of
troops. Thereupon and with one accord the blue-clad men dropped on their
knees, and there burst out a loud, crackling fire of musketry. It was
hardly possible to miss such a target at such a range. Horses and men
fell at once. The only course was plain and welcome to all. The Colonel,
nearer than his regiment, already saw what lay behind the skirmishers.
He ordered, 'Right wheel into line' to be sounded. The trumpet jerked
out a shrill note, heard faintly above the trampling of the horses and
the noise of the rifles. On the instant all the sixteen troops swung
round and locked up into a long galloping line, and the 21st Lancers
were committed to their first charge in war.
Two hundred and fifty yards away the dark-blue men were firing madly in
a thin film of light-blue smoke. Their bullets struck the hard gravel
into the air, and the troopers, to shield their faces from the stinging
dust, bowed their helmets forward, like the Cuirassiers at Waterloo. The
pace was fast and the distance short. Yet, before it was half covered,
the whole aspect of the affair changed. A deep crease in the ground--a
dry watercourse, a khor--appeared where all had seemed smooth, level
plain; and from it there sprang, with the suddenness of a pantomime
effect and a high-pitched yell, a dense white mass of men nearly as
long as our front and about twelve deep. A score of horsemen and a dozen
bright flags rose as if by magic from the earth. Eager warriors sprang
forward to anticipate the shock. The rest stood firm to meet it. The
Lancers acknowledged the apparition only by an increase of pace. Each
man wanted sufficient momentum to drive through such a solid line. The
flank troops, seeing that they overlapped, curved inwards like the horns
of a moon. But the whole event was a matter of seconds. The riflemen,
firing bravely to the last, were swept head over heels into the khor,
and jumping down with them, at full gallop and in the closest order, the
British squadrons struck the fierce brigade with one loud furious shout.
The collision was prodigious. Nearly thirty Lancers, men and horses, and
at least two hundred Arabs were overthrown. The shock was stunning to
both sides, and for perhaps ten wonderful seconds no man heeded his
enemy. Terrified horses wedged in the crowd, bruised and shaken men,
sprawling in heaps, struggled, dazed and stupid, to their feet, panted,
and looked about them. Several fallen Lancers had even time to re-mount.
Meanwhile the impetus of the cavalry carried them on. As a rider tears
through a bullfinch, the officers forced their way through the press;
and as an iron rake might be drawn through a heap of shingle, so the
regiment followed. They shattered the Dervish array, and, their pace
reduced to a walk, scrambled out of the khor on the further side,
leaving a score of troopers behind them, and dragging on with the charge
more than a thousand Arabs. Then, and not till then, the killing began;
and thereafter each man saw the world along his lance, under his guard,
or through the back-sight of his pistol; and each had his own strange
tale to tell.
Stubborn and unshaken infantry hardly ever meet stubborn and unshaken
cavalry. Either the infantry run away and are cut down in flight, or
they keep their heads and destroy nearly all the horsemen by their
musketry. On this occasion two living walls had actually crashed
together. The Dervishes fought manfully. They tried to hamstring the
horses, They fired their rifles, pressing the muzzles into the very
bodies of their opponents. They cut reins and stirrup-leathers. They
flung their throwing-spears with great dexterity. They tried every
device of cool, determined men practised in war and familiar with
cavalry; and, besides, they swung sharp, heavy swords which bit deep.
The hand-to-hand fighting on the further side of the khor lasted for
perhaps one minute. Then the horses got into their stride again, the
pace increased, and the Lancers drew out from among their antagonists.
Within two minutes of the collision every living man was clear of the
Dervish mass. All who had fallen were cut at with swords till they
stopped quivering, but no artistic mutilations were attempted.
Two hundred yards away the regiment halted, rallied, faced about, and in
less than five minutes were re-formed and ready for a second charge. The
men were anxious to cut their way back through their enemies. We were
alone together--the cavalry regiment and the Dervish brigade. The ridge
hung like a curtain between us and the army. The general battle was
forgotten, as it was unseen. This was a private quarrel. The other might
have been a massacre; but here the fight was fair, for we too fought
with sword and spear. Indeed the advantage of ground and numbers lay
with them. All prepared to settle the debate at once and for ever. But
some realisation of the cost of our wild ride began to come to those
who were responsible. Riderless horses galloped across the plain. Men,
clinging to their saddles, lurched helplessly about, covered with blood
from perhaps a dozen wounds. Horses, streaming from tremendous gashes,
limped and staggered with their riders. In 120 seconds five officers, 65
men, and 119 horses out of fewer than 400 had been killed or wounded.
The Dervish line, broken by the charge, began to re-form at once. They
closed up, shook themselves together, and prepared with constancy
and courage for another shock. But on military considerations it was
desirable to turn them out of the khor first and thus deprive them of
their vantage ground. The regiment again drawn up, three squadrons in
line and the fourth in column, now wheeled to the right, and, galloping
round the Dervish flank, dismounted and opened a heavy fire with their
magazine carbines. Under the pressure of this fire the enemy changed
front to meet the new attack, so that both sides were formed at right
angles to their original lines. When the Dervish change of front was
completed, they began to advance against the dismounted men. But the
fire was accurate, and there can be little doubt that the moral effect
of the charge had been very great, and that these brave enemies were no
longer unshaken. Be this as it may, the fact remains that they retreated
swiftly, though in good order, towards the ridge of Surgham Hill, where
the Khalifa's Black Flag still waved, and the 21st Lancers remained in
possession of the ground--and of their dead.
Such is the true and literal account of the charge; but the reader
may care to consider a few incidents. Colonel Martin, busy with the
direction of his regiment, drew neither sword nor revolver, and rode
through the press unarmed and uninjured. Major Crole Wyndham had his
horse shot under him by a Dervish who pressed the muzzle of his rifle
into its hide before firing. From out of the middle of that savage crowd
the officer fought his way on foot and escaped in safety. Lieutenant
Molyneux fell in the khor into the midst of the enemy. In the confusion
he disentangled himself from his horse, drew his revolver, and jumped
out of the hollow before the Dervishes recoved from the impact of the
charge. Then they attacked him. He fired at the nearest, and at the
moment of firing was slashed across the right wrist by another. The
pistol fell from his nerveless hand, and, being wounded, dismounted, and
disarmed, he turned in the hopes of regaining, by following the line of
the charge, his squadron, which was just getting clear. Hard upon his
track came the enemy, eager to make an end. Beset on all sides, and
thus hotly pursued, the wounded officer perceived a single Lancer riding
across his path. He called on him for help. Whereupon the trooper,
Private Byrne, although already severely wounded by a bullet which had
penetrated his right arm, replied without a moment's hesitation and in a
cheery voice, 'All right, sir!' and turning, rode at four Dervishes who
were about to kill his officer. His wound, which had partly paralysed
his arm, prevented him from grasping his sword, and at the first
ineffectual blow it fell from his hand, and he received another wound
from a spear in the chest. But his solitary charge had checked the
pursuing Dervishes. Lieutenant Molyneux regained his squadron alive, and
the trooper, seeing that his object was attained, galloped away, reeling
in his saddle. Arrived at his troop, his desperate condition was noticed
and he was told to fall out. But this he refused to do, urging that he
was entitled to remain on duty and have 'another go at them.' At length
he was compelled to leave the field, fainting from loss of blood.
Lieutenant Nesham had an even more extraordinary escape than Molyneux.
He had scrambled out of the khor when, as his horse was nearly stopping,
an Arab seized his bridle. He struck at the man with his sword, but
did not prevent him cutting his off-rein. The officer's bridle-hand,
unexpectedly released, flew out, and, as it did so, a swordsman at a
single stroke nearly severed it from his body. Then they cut at him
from all sides. One blow sheared through his helmet and grazed his head.
Another inflicted a deep wound in his right leg. A third, intercepted
by his shoulder-chains, paralysed his right arm. Two more, missing
him narrowly, cut right through the cantel of the saddle and into the
horse's back. The wounded subaltern--he was the youngest of all--reeled.
A man on either side seized his legs to pull him to the ground; but
the long spurs stuck into the horse's flanks, and the maddened animal,
throwing up its head and springing forward, broke away from the crowd
of foes, and carried the rider--bleeding, fainting, but still alive--to
safety among the rallying squadrons. Lieutenant Nesham's experience was
that of the men who were killed, only that he escaped to describe it.
The wounded were sent with a small escort towards the river and
hospitals. An officer was despatched with the news to the Sirdar, and
on the instant both cannonade and fusillade broke out again behind the
ridge, and grew in a crashing crescendo until the whole landscape seemed
to vibrate with the sound of explosions. The second phase of the battle
had begun.
Even before the 21st Lancers had reconnoitred Surgham ridge, the Sirdar
had set his brigades in motion towards Omdurman. He was determined, even
at a very great risk, to occupy the city while it was empty and before
the army in the plain could return to defend it. The advantage might be
tremendous. Nevertheless the movement was premature. The Khalifa still
remained undefeated west of Surgham Hill; Ali-Wad-Helu lurked behind
Kerreri; Osman was rapidly re-forming. There were still at least 35,000
men on the field. Nor, as the event proved, was it possible to enter
Omdurman until they had been beaten.
As soon as the infantry had replenished their ammunition, they wheeled
to the left in echelon of brigades, and began to march towards Surgham
ridge. The movements of a great force are slow. It was not desirable
that the British division, which led the echelon, should remain in the
low ground north of Surgham--where they were commanded, had no field of
fire, and could see nothing--and accordingly both these brigades moved
forward almost together to occupy the crest of the ridge. Thus two steps
of the ladder were run into one, and Maxwell's brigade, which followed
Wauchope's, was 600 yards further south than it would have been had the
regular echelon been observed. In the zeriba MacDonald had been next
to Maxwell. But a very significant change in the order was now made.
General Hunter evidently conceived the rear of the echelon threatened
from the direction of Kerreri. Had the earth swallowed all the thousands
who had moved across the plain towards the hills? At any rate, he would
have his best brigade and his most experienced general in the post of
possible danger. He therefore ordered Lewis's brigade to follow Maxwell,
and left MacDonald last of all, strengthening him with three batteries
of artillery and eight Maxim guns. Collinson marched with the transport.
MacDonald moved out westward into the desert to take his place in the
echelon, and also to allow Lewis to pass him as ordered. Lewis hurried
on after Maxwell, and, taking his distance from him, was thus also 600
yards further south than the regular echelon admitted. The step
which had been absorbed when both British brigades moved
off--advisedly--together, caused a double gap between MacDonald and the
rest of the army. And this distance was further increased by the fact
that while he was moving west, to assume his place in correct echelon,
the other five brigades were drawing off to the southward. Hence
MacDonald's isolation.
At 9.15 the whole army was marching south in echelon, with the rear
brigade at rather more than double distance. Collinson had already
started with the transport, but the field hospitals still remained in
the deserted zeriba, busily packing up. The medical staff had about 150
wounded on their hands. The Sirdar's orders had been that these were to
be placed on the hospital barges, and that the field hospitals were to
follow the transport. But the moving of wounded men is a painful and
delicate affair, and by a stupid and grievous mistake the three regular
hospital barges, duly prepared for the reception of the wounded, had
been towed across to the right bank. It was necessary to use three
ammunition barges, which, although in no way arranged for the reception
of wounded, were luckily at hand. Meanwhile time was passing, and the
doctors, who worked with devoted energy, became suddenly aware that,
with the exception of a few detachments from the British division and
three Egyptian companies, there were no troops within half a mile, and
none between them and the dark Kerreri Hills. The two gunboats which
could have guarded them from the river were down stream, helping the
cavalry; MacDonald with the rear brigade was out in the plain; Collinson
was hurrying along the bank with his transport. They were alone and
unprotected. The army and the river together formed a huge "V" pointing
south. The northern extremity--the gorge of the redan, as it were--gaped
open towards Kerreri; and from Kerreri there now began to come, like the
first warning drops before a storm of rain, small straggling parties of
Dervish cavalry. The interior of the "V" was soon actually invaded by
these predatory patrols, and one troop of perhaps a score of Baggara
horse watered their ponies within 300 yards of the unprotected
hospitals. Behind, in the distance, the banners of an army began to
re-appear. The situation was alarming. The wounded were bundled on to
the barges, although, since there was no steamer to tow them, they were
scarcely any safer when embarked. While some of the medical officers
were thus busied, Colonel Sloggett galloped off, and, running the
gauntlet of the Baggara horsemen, hurried to claim protection for the
hospitals and their helpless occupants. In the midst of this excitement
and confusion the wounded from the cavalry charge began to trickle in.
When the British division had moved out of the zeriba, a few skirmishers
among the crags of Surgham Hill alone suggested the presence of an
enemy. Each brigade, formed in four parallel columns of route, which
closed in until they were scarcely forty paces apart, and both at
deploying interval--the second brigade nearer the river, the first
almost in line with it and on its right--hurried on, eager to see what
lay beyond the ridge. All was quiet, except for a few 'sniping' shots
from the top of Surgham. But gradually as Maxwell's brigade--the third
in the echelon--approached the hill, these shots became more numerous,
until the summit of the peak was spotted with smoke-puffs. The British
division moved on steadily, and, leaving these bold skirmishers to the
Soudanese, soon reached the crest of the ridge. At once and for the
first time the whole panorama of Omdurman--the brown and battered dome
of the Mahdi's Tomb, the multitude of mud houses, the glittering fork of
water which marked the confluence of the rivers--burst on their vision.
For a moment they stared entranced. Then their attention was distracted;
for trotting, galloping, or halting and gazing stupidly about them,
terrified and bewildered, a dozen riderless troop-horses appeared over
the further crest--for the ridge was flat-topped--coming from the plain,
as yet invisible, below. It was the first news of the Lancers' charge.
Details soon followed in the shape of the wounded, who in twos and
threes began to make their way between the battalions, all covered with
blood and many displaying most terrible injuries--faces cut to
rags, bowels protruding, fishhook spears still stuck in their
bodies--realistic pictures from the darker side of war. Thus absorbed,
the soldiers hardly noticed the growing musketry fire from the peak.
But suddenly the bang of a field-gun set all eyes looking backward. A
battery had unlimbered in the plain between the zeriba and the ridge,
and was beginning to shell the summit of the hill. The report of the
guns seemed to be the signal for the whole battle to reopen. From far
away to the right rear there came the sound of loud and continuous
infantry firing, and immediately Gatacre halted his division.
Almost before the British had topped the crest of the ridge, before
the battery had opened from the plain, while Colonel Sloggett was still
spurring across the dangerous ground between the river and the army,
the Sirdar knew that his enemy was again upon him. Looking back from
the slopes of Surgham, he saw that MacDonald, instead of continuing his
march in echelon, had halted and deployed. The veteran brigadier
had seen the Dervish formations on the ridge to the west of Surgham,
realised that he was about to be attacked, and, resolving to anticipate
the enemy, immediately brought his three batteries into action at 1,200
yards, Five minutes later the whole of the Khalifa's reserve, 15,000
strong, led by Yakub with the Black Flag, the bodyguard and 'all the
glories' of the Dervish Empire, surged into view from behind the hill
and advanced on the solitary brigade with the vigour of the first attack
and thrice its chances of success. Thereupon Sir Herbert Kitchener
ordered Maxwell to change front to the right and storm Surgham Hill.
He sent Major Sandbach to tell Lewis to conform and come into
line on Maxwell's right. He galloped himself to the British
division--conveniently halted by General Gatacre on the northern crest
of the ridge--and ordered Lyttelton with the 2nd Brigade to form facing
west on Maxwell's left south of Surgham, and Wauchope with the 1st
Brigade to hurry back to fill the wide gap between Lewis and MacDonald.
Last of all he sent an officer to Collinson and the Camel Corps with
orders that they should swing round to their right rear and close the
open part of the "V". By these movements the army, instead of facing
south in echelon, with its left on the river and its right in the
desert, was made to face west in line, with its left in the desert and
its right reaching back to the river. It had turned nearly a complete
somersault.
In obedience to these orders Lyttelton's brigade brought up their left
shoulders, deployed into line, and advanced west; Maxwell's Soudanese
scrambled up the Surgham rocks, and, in spite of a sharp fire, cleared
the peak with the bayonet and pressed on down the further side; Lewis
began to come into action on Maxwell's right; MacDonald, against whom
the Khalifa's attack was at first entirely directed, remained facing
south-west, and was soon shrouded in the smoke of his own musketry and
artillery fire. The three brigades which were now moving west and
away from the Nile attacked the right flank of the Dervishes assailing
MacDonald, and, compelling them to form front towards the river,
undoubtedly took much of the weight of the attack off the isolated
brigade. There remained the gap between Lewis and MacDonald. But
Wauchope's brigade--still in four parallel columns of route--had
shouldered completely round to the north, and was now doubling swiftly
across the plain to fill the unguarded space. With the exception of
Wauchope's brigade and of Collinson's Egyptians, the whole infantry and
artillery force were at once furiously engaged.
The firing became again tremendous, and the sound was even louder than
during the attack on the zeriba. As each fresh battalion was brought
into line the tumult steadily increased. The three leading brigades
continued to advance westward in one long line looped up over Surgham
Hill, and with the right battalion held back in column. As the forces
gradually drew nearer, the possibility of the Dervishes penetrating
the gap between Lewis and MacDonald presented itself, and the flank
battalion was wheeled into line so as to protect the right flank.
The aspect of the Dervish attack was at this moment most formidable.
Enormous masses of men were hurrying towards the smoke-clouds that
almost hid MacDonald. Other masses turned to meet the attack which was
developing on their right. Within the angle formed by the three brigades
facing west and MacDonald facing nearly south a great army of not fewer
than 15,000 men was enclosed, like a flock of sheep in a fold, by
the thin brown lines of the British and Egyptian brigades. As the 7th
Egyptians, the right battalion of Lewis's brigade and nearest the gap
between that unit and MacDonald, deployed to protect the flank, they
became unsteady, began to bunch and waver, and actually made several
retrograde movements. There was a moment of danger; but General Hunter,
who was on the spot, himself ordered the two reserve companies of the
15th Egyptians under Major Hickman to march up behind them with fixed
bayonets. Their morale was thus restored and the peril averted. The
advance of the three brigades continued.
Yakub found himself utterly unable to withstand the attack from
the river. His own attack on MacDonald languished. The musketry was
producing terrible losses in his crowded ranks. The valiant Wad Bishara
and many other less famous Emirs fell dead. Gradually he began to give
ground. It was evident that the civilised troops were the stronger. But
even before the attack was repulsed, the Khalifa, who watched from
a close position, must have known that the day was lost; for when
he launched Yakub at MacDonald, it was clear that the only chance of
success depended on Ali-Wad-Helu and Osman Sheikh-ed-Din attacking at
the same time from Kerreri. And with bitter rage and mortification
he perceived that, although the banners were now gathering under the
Kerreri Hills, Ali and Osman were too late, and the attacks which
should have been simultaneous would only be consecutive. The effect
of Broadwood's cavalry action upon the extreme right was now becoming
apparent.
Regrets and fury were alike futile. The three brigades advancing drove
the Khalifa's Dervishes back into the desert. Along a mile of front an
intense and destructive fire flared and crackled. The 32nd British Field
Battery on the extreme left was drawn by its hardy mules at full gallop
into action. The Maxim guns pulsated feverishly. Two were even dragged
by the enterprise of a subaltern to the very summit of Surgham, and from
this elevated position intervened with bloody effect. Thus the long line
moved forward in irresistible strength. In the centre, under the red
Egyptian flag, careless of the bullets which that conspicuous emblem
drew, and which inflicted some loss among those around him, rode the
Sirdar, stern and sullen, equally unmoved by fear or enthusiasm. A mile
away to the rear the gunboats, irritated that the fight was passing
beyond their reach, steamed restlessly up and down, like caged Polar
bears seeking what they might devour. Before that terrible line the
Khalifa's division began to break up. The whole ground was strewn with
dead and wounded, among whose bodies the soldiers picked their steps
with the customary Soudan precautions. Surviving thousands struggled
away towards Omdurman and swelled the broad stream of fugitives upon
whose flank the 21st Lancers already hung vengefully. Yakub and the
defenders of the Black Flag disdained to fly, and perished where they
stood, beneath the holy ensign, so that when their conquerors reached
the spot the dark folds of the banner waved only over the dead.
While all this was taking place--for events were moving at speed--the
1st British Brigade were still doubling across the rear of Maxwell and
Lewis to fill the gap between the latter and MacDonald. As they had
wheeled round, the regiments gained on each other according to their
proximity to the pivot flank. The brigade assumed a formation which may
be described as an echelon of columns of route, with the Lincolns, who
were actually the pivot regiment, leading. By the time that the right of
Lewis's brigade was reached and the British had begun to deploy, it was
evident that the Khalifa's attack was broken and that his force was in
full retreat. In the near foreground the Arab dead lay thick. Crowds of
fugitives were trooping off in the distance. The Black Flag alone waved
defiantly over the corpses of its defenders. In the front of the
brigade the fight was over. But those who looked away to the right saw a
different spectacle. What appeared to be an entirely new army was coming
down from the Kerreri Hills. While the soldiers looked and wondered,
fresh orders arrived. A mounted officer galloped up. There was a
report that terrible events were happening in the dust and smoke to
the northward. The spearmen had closed with MacDonald's brigade; were
crumpling his line from the flank; had already broken it. Such were
the rumours. The orders were more precise. The nearest regiment--the
Lincolnshire--was to hurry to MacDonald's threatened flank to meet the
attack. The rest of the brigade was to change front half right, and
remain in support. The Lincolnshires, breathless but elated, forthwith
started off again at the double. They began to traverse the rear
of MacDonald's brigade, dimly conscious of rapid movements by its
battalions, and to the sound of tremendous independent firing, which did
not, however, prevent them from hearing the venomous hiss of bullets.
Had the Khalifa's attack been simultaneous with that which was now
developed, the position of MacDonald's brigade must have been almost
hopeless. In the actual event it was one of extreme peril. The attack in
his front was weakening every minute, but the far more formidable
attack on his right rear grew stronger and nearer in inverse ratio.
Both attacks must be met. The moment was critical; the danger near. All
depended on MacDonald, and that officer, who by valour and conduct in
war had won his way from the rank of a private soldier to the command of
a brigade, and will doubtless obtain still higher employment, was equal
to the emergency.
To meet the Khalifa's attack he had arranged his force facing
south-west, with three battalions in line and the fourth held back in
column of companies in rear of the right flank--an inverted L-shaped
formation. As the attack from the south-west gradually weakened and
the attack from the north-west continually increased, he broke off his
battalions and batteries from the longer side of the L and transferred
them to the shorter. He timed these movements so accurately that each
face of his brigade was able to exactly sustain the attacks of the
enemy. As soon as the Khalifa's force began to waver he ordered the XIth
Soudanese and a battery on his left to move across the angle in which
the brigade was formed, and deploy along the shorter face to meet
the impending onslaught of Ali-Wad-Helu. Perceiving this, the IXth
Soudanese, who were the regiment in column on the right of the original
front, wheeled to the right from column into line without waiting for
orders, so that two battalions faced towards the Khalifa and two
towards the fresh attack. By this time it was clear that the Khalifa
was practically repulsed, and MacDonald ordered the Xth Soudanese and
another battery to change front and prolong the line of the IXth and
XIth. He then moved the 2nd Egyptians diagonally to their right front,
so as to close the gap at the angle between their line and that of the
three other battalions. These difficult manœuvres were carried out
under a heavy fire, which in twenty minutes caused over 120 casualties
in the four battalions--exclusive of the losses in the artillery
batteries--and in the face of the determined attacks of an enemy who
outnumbered the troops by seven to one and had only to close with them
to be victorious. Amid the roar of the firing and the dust, smoke, and
confusion of the change of front, the general found time to summon
the officers of the IXth Soudanese around him, rebuked them for having
wheeled into line in anticipation of his order, and requested them to
drill more steadily in brigade.
The three Soudanese battalions were now confronted with the whole fury
of the Dervish attack from Kerreri. The bravery of the blacks was no
less conspicuous than the wildness of their musketry. They evinced an
extraordinary excitement--firing their rifles without any attempt to
sight or aim, and only anxious to pull the trigger, re-load, and pull
it again. In vain the British officers strove to calm their impulsive
soldiers. In vain they called upon them by name, or, taking their rifles
from them, adjusted the sights themselves. The independent firing was
utterly beyond control. Soon the ammunition began to be exhausted, and
the soldiers turned round clamouring for more cartridges, which their
officers doled out to them by twos and threes in the hopes of steadying
them. It was useless. They fired them all off and clamoured for more.
Meanwhile, although suffering fearfully from the close and accurate fire
of the three artillery batteries and eight Maxim guns, and to a less
extent from the random firing of the Soudanese, the Dervishes drew
nearer in thousands, and it seemed certain that there would be an actual
collision. The valiant blacks prepared themselves with delight to
meet the shock, notwithstanding the overwhelming numbers of the enemy.
Scarcely three rounds per man remained throughout the brigade. The
batteries opened a rapid fire of case-shot. Still the Dervishes
advanced, and the survivors of their first wave of assault were scarcely
100 yards away. Behind them both green flags pressed forward over
enormous masses of armed humanity, rolling on as they now believed to
victory.
At this moment the Lincoln Regiment began to come up. As soon as the
leading company cleared the right of MacDonald's brigade, they formed
line, and opened an independent fire obliquely across the front of the
Soudanese. Groups of Dervishes in twos and threes were then within 100
yards. The great masses were within 300 yards. The independent firing
lasted two minutes, during which the whole regiment deployed. Its effect
was to clear away the leading groups of Arabs. The deployment having
been accomplished with the loss of a dozen men, including Colonel
Sloggett, who fell shot through the breast while attending to the
wounded, section volleys were ordered. With excellent discipline the
independent firing was instantly stopped, and the battalion began with
machine-like regularity to carry out the principles of modern musketry,
for which their training had efficiently prepared them and their rifles
were admirably suited. They fired on an average sixty rounds per man,
and finally repulsed the attack.
The Dervishes were weak in cavalry, and had scarcely 2,000 horsemen
on the field. About 400 of these, mostly the personal retainers of the
various Emirs, were formed into an irregular regiment and attached to
the flag of Ali-Wad-Helu. Now when these horsemen perceived that there
was no more hope of victory, they arranged themselves in a solid mass
and charged the left of MacDonald's brigade. The distance was about 500
yards, and, wild as was the firing of the Soudanese, it was evident that
they could not possibly succeed. Nevertheless, many carrying no weapon
in their hands, and all urging their horses to their utmost speed, they
rode unflinchingly to certain death. All were killed and fell as they
entered the zone of fire--three, twenty, fifty, two hundred, sixty,
thirty, five and one out beyond them all--a brown smear across the
sandy plain. A few riderless horses alone broke through the ranks of the
infantry.
After the failure of the attack from Kerreri the whole Anglo-Egyptian
army advanced westward, in a line of bayonets and artillery nearly two
miles long, and drove the Dervishes before them into the desert, so that
they could by no means rally or reform. The Egyptian cavalry, who had
returned along the river, formed line on the right of the infantry in
readiness to pursue. At half-past eleven Sir H. Kitchener shut up his
glasses, and, remarking that he thought the enemy had been given 'a good
dusting,' gave the order for the brigades to resume their interrupted
march on Omdurman--a movement which was possible, now that the forces
in the plain were beaten. The brigadiers thereupon stopped the firing,
massed their commands in convenient formations, and turned again towards
the south and the city. The Lincolnshire Regiment remained detached as a
rearguard.
Meanwhile the great Dervish army, who had advanced at sunrise in hope
and courage, fled in utter rout, pursued by the Egyptian cavalry,
harried by the 21st Lancers, and leaving more than 9,000 warriors dead
and even greater numbers wounded behind them.
Thus ended the battle of Omdurman--the most signal triumph ever gained
by the arms of science over barbarians. Within the space of five hours
the strongest and best-armed savage army yet arrayed against a modern
European Power had been destroyed and dispersed, with hardly any
difficulty, comparatively small risk, and insignificant loss to the
victors.