THE BATTLE OF THE ATBARA.
1898.
The struggle for supremacy in Egypt was far from being finally settled
at Tel-el-Kebir. With the voice of discontent, bursting now and again
into open revolt, with that potent influence, fanaticism, always at
work, small wonder that the Soudan was the scene of perpetual conflict,
and at length matters reached a crisis at the end of 1897.
The voice of rumour, growing louder and ever nearer, at length brought
warning to Sir Herbert Kitchener, the Sirdar of the Anglo-Egyptian
army, of threatening movements of a dervish force near Berber, and
Anglo-Egyptian reinforcements were promptly hurried to the front to
stem the tide of what promised to be a formidable revolt. The Egyptian
army was at this time in a very complete state of organisation, thanks
to the great brain which day and night watched ever its growth and
prepared it against all eventualities, and now the time had come for
action the ultimate issue of events was confidently awaited in Britain.
General Sir Herbert Kitchener had had fifteen years’ experience of
Egypt. He had been Intelligence Officer in Sir Garnet Wolseley’s
campaign, commander at Suakim, fought with success again and again
against Osman Digna, and finally succeeded Sir Francis Grenfell
as commander-in-chief in Egypt. No man was better acquainted with
the Egyptian question, and none knew better how to meet the coming
difficulty.
The dervish forces were under the leadership of Mahmud and Osman
Digna, and were reported to be marching steadily northward, with an
ever-growing army, to attack the British force.
That force was now rapidly set in motion. With such men as Kitchener,
Hunter, Macdonald, and Gatacre, to name but a few, no loss of time or
energy took place, and in a few short weeks a formidable British force,
admirably equipped in all arms and perfectly organised, was marching
southward.
By March 1, the reinforcements were at Berber, some 25 miles from the
junction of the Nile and the Atbara rivers, near which place it was
rumoured that the dervish army, instead of advancing to the attack,
were strongly entrenching themselves against our force. By this time
the British army in the field numbered some 12,000 to 13,000 men.
They were divided into four brigades. Three of these were Egyptian,
under the chief command of General Hunter. The fourth was British.
The first brigade, under General Macdonald, comprised the 9th, 10th
and 11th Soudanese, and the 2nd Egyptian, and it is not too much to
say that never had any troops, British or native, more confidence in
their sturdy leader. General Macdonald had risen from the ranks, after
conspicuous and repeated gallantry in Afghanistan. He had been taken
prisoner in the Boer war at Majuba, and fought gallantly with his
Soudanese at Gemaizeh, Tooki, and Afafit, and it is safe to say his
devoted troops would have followed him wherever he might be pleased
to lead them. These troops were at Berber. The second brigade, of
similar constitution, three Soudanese regiments, the 12th, 13th, and
14th, together with the 8th Egyptian, was under the command of Colonel
Maxwell, and quartered half way between Berber and Atbara, while at the
latter place, and not far removed from the enemy’s outposts, was the
third, or Egyptian, brigade, under Colonel Lewis.
The total strength of the Egyptian army was thus brought up to some
10,000 men, with 46 guns, while three gunboats operated on the Nile
from Atbara. The fourth, or British, brigade, was under the charge of
General Gatacre, and, after a forced and memorable march to Berber,
in the first part of which the admirably constructed Egyptian railway
played a valuable part, had encamped in the neighbourhood of the second
brigade at Debeika. The Lincolnshire (10th), the Cameron Highlanders
(79th), and the Warwickshire made up the force, while the 1st Seaforth
Highlanders, under Colonel Murray, were daily expected. A maxim battery
completed their equipment. Thus the total force under the Sirdar’s
supreme command may be estimated at 14,000 men, with 52 guns in all.
The precise strength of the enemy was unknown, but it has been
variously estimated at 15,000 to 20,000. The Arab spy is notoriously
indifferent to accuracy, and thus precise particulars were almost
unobtainable, in spite of the most strenuous efforts of Colonel
Wingate, the chief of our Intelligence Department.
By the 16th March the whole Anglo-Egyptian force was concentrated at
Kemir, some seven miles from Fort Atbara, and the men of all ranks
and regiments, in the pink of condition, were keen and eager for the
fight. Some days, however, were now spent in reconnoitring the enemy’s
position, and in this connection invaluable services were rendered
by the gunboats which patrolled the river. Almost daily did these
seek a brush with the enemy’s outposts, and both loot and invaluable
information were brought back to camp by the enterprising naval
commanders.
Says the late G. W. Steevens, in his famous work on the campaign:--
“You may imagine that the officers of Her Majesty’s navy did not
confine their work to looking on. A day or two ago, Mahmud had been
transferring his war material in barges from Metemmeh to Shendi
(a point some hundred miles up the Nile). Knowing the ways of ‘the
devils,’ as they amiably call the gunboats, he had entrenched a couple
of hundred riflemen to cover the crossing. But one gunboat steamed
cheerfully up to the bank and turned on the maxims, while the other
sunk one ‘nuggar’ and captured two.”
With minor engagements of this nature, and in the camp hard drill and
busy preparation, the days passed by, till at length, on the morning of
Sunday, March 20th, the force moved out of Kemir, southwards, in the
direction from which the enemy were known to be advancing. Two days
previously the long-expected Seaforths had arrived in camp, and met
with a warm reception from their British and Egyptian comrades. They
arrived “smiling all over, from colonel to private, to find they were
in time.”
Great was the joy of all ranks when it was at length announced that
Mahmud’s force was on the Atbara river, and almost certain to give
battle. Rumours were rife at this time, the most credible being that
Mahmud had seized the Hudi ford, a few miles south of Fort Atbara, but
on reaching here on March 20th and 21st, not a dervish was to be seen.
The same day, however, as Hudi was reached, the cavalry had a brush
with a party of advanced dervish horse, and succeeded in chasing them
off into the bush. Our men, however, lost seven troopers killed, the
first casualties of the campaign.
By this time the sand and dust of the desert had been exchanged for
the thickly-grown, low-lying land of the Atbara, and the change was a
welcome one in many ways, though indeed the scrub afforded ample cover
for the enemy. The day following this a stronger reconnoitring force
encountered some more dervish cavalry, and shots were exchanged, which
brought the whole army to the front hot foot, but with the emptying of
a few Dervish saddles the incident terminated. Everything, however,
tended to show that a general engagement could not be long delayed. And
for our officers and men, the sooner it came the better, for though
food was plentiful, the camp equipments were scanty, and comfort almost
unknown.
Says Mr. Steevens at this stage:--“Though the Soudan can be live coals
by day, it can be aching ice by night. Officers and men came alike with
one blanket and no overcoat, for you must remember that we left Kemir
with the intention of fighting the next day or the next.”
The Egyptian army were better off than their British comrades. Knowing
the Soudan, an Egyptian officer summed up the difference of the
equipments of the two armies in a single sentence:--“I’ve been in
this country five years, so when I was told to bring two days’ kit, I
brought a fortnight’s.”
The British, however, unprepared for the long delay, had to make the
best of things, and these discomforts, added to the eagerness of the
men, made a general engagement the one prayer of all. On the 27th
March, Haig’s reconnaissance of the Atbara river took place, but for
a distance of 18 miles not a sign of Mahmud was to be seen, only “the
impenetrable, flesh-tearing jungle of mimosa spears and halfa grass,
through which no army in the world could possibly attack.”
On the morning of the 27th, the 15th Egyptian, with some friendly
Yadin, who had many old scores to settle with Mahmud, arrived at Shendi
in three gunboats, and, surprising a large party of the enemy, captured
nearly 700 prisoners, mostly women, and killed 160 of the Baggara
warriors. The captives were brought down to Fort Atbara, where they
“are now probably the wives of such black soldiers as are allowed to
marry.”
This important encounter, the result of the Sirdar’s carefully laid
plans, almost certainly forced the engagement. For, distressed at the
loss of their women, and now unable to retreat to Shendi, the fighting
men of Mahmud’s army must be distracted at all costs. A fight with
the British must occur without delay if the Khalifa’s enterprise is
to succeed. As yet the precise position of the enemy’s main force was
unknown, but at last, on March 30th, General Hunter’s reconnaissance
located them, and the joyful news went round the camp like wildfire.
Nakheila, 18 miles away, on the Atbara, formed the stronghold of
Mahmud. The General “had gone on until he came to it,” says Steevens.
“He had ridden up to within 300 yards of it and looked in. The position
faced the open desert, and went right back through the scrub to the
river. Round it ran a tremendous zareba.” For a few days speculation
was rife in camp as to the next move. Here was the enemy at last, not
attacking as expected, but waiting to be driven from his entrenched
position either by bayonet or hunger. What means would be adopted to
accomplish a successful issue?
The decision was not long in coming. By April 3rd, the camp was at
Abadar, on the 5th at Umdabieh--nearer, ever nearer to the enemy. A
brush here and there was of daily occurrence now, and raiding became
part of the routine. The description by Mr. Steevens of the scene of
one such raid gives a vivid picture of the state of affairs at this
juncture.
He was returning with the camel corps convoy from Fort Atbara, whither
during the days of waiting they had ridden for supplies, when “suddenly
one of the men discerned cases lying opened on the sand about a
hundred yards off the trampled road. Anything for an incident. We
rode listlessly up and looked. A couple of broken packing-cases, two
tins of sardines, a tin of biscuits half empty, a small case of empty
soda bottles with Sirdar stencilled on it, and a couple of empty
bottles of whisky. Among them lay a cigarette box, a needle and reel
of cotton, and a badge--A.S.C.--such as the Army Service Corps wear on
their shoulder-straps. We were on the scene of last evening’s raid.
Two camels, we remembered, had been cut off and their loads lost.”
With such incidents as these, and another reconnaissance in force by
Hunter, terminating in a miniature battle with seventeen casualties,
the evening of the 7th April arrived. In the early morning of the 8th,
Good Friday, the long-expected battle was to be fought.
Dawn was the hour fixed for the attack. Unlike the approach to
Tel-el-Kebir, the night of the march immediately preceding the battle
on the Atbara was conspicuous for its brilliant moonlight. At six the
force moved out of Umdabieh. At seven a halt was called, and till
nearly one o’clock the troops rested. Some ate, some slept, but all
were at last assured of the certainty of the morrow’s action. At one
o’clock the march was resumed, and, under the guidance of Bunbashi
Fitton of the Egyptian army, the dervish zareba was cautiously, but
surely, approached by the Anglo-Egyptian squares. Between four and
five another halt took place, and the prospective battle was discussed
in low tones in the prevailing cold. Some slept once more, others
shivered, waiting for the dawn. At length the sun rose and disclosed
the enemy’s position right in front and the serried ranks of Britain
ready to give battle.
Says Mr. Steevens:--“The word came, and the men sprang up. The squares
shifted into the fighting formations, and at one impulse, in one superb
sweep, nearly 12,000 men moved forward towards the enemy.... The awful
war machine went forward into action.”
Twenty-four guns, under Colonel Long, were on the right flank, and 12
maxims were divided among the right and left flanks and the centre.
Crash! broke out the roar of artillery, and in an instant the front of
Mahmud’s camp was raked from end to end. The puffs of smoke floated
lazily across the foreground as the iron hail tore its way into the
quick-set hedge of the zareba, and here and there flames sprang out
where the rockets compassed their work of relentless destruction. Once
during the awful cannonade the dervish cavalry formed up on the extreme
left of the position, emerging from the bush in handfuls, but a heavy
maxim fire soon drove them back. For fully half an hour the enemy made
no reply, and then, after this interval, the bullets began to whistle
over the heads of the Anglo-Egyptian force. As at Tel-el-Kebir, the
fire of the dervishes was aimed too high, and little damage was done.
At 7.30 the “Cease Fire!” sounded, and the infantry moved forward to
the attack. The commanding officers of the various regiments made
stirring speeches to their men. Colonel Murray, addressing the Seaforth
Highlanders, said:--“The news of victory must be in London to-night.”
General Gatacre’s words were to the point, “there was to be no question
about this, they were to go right through the zareba and drive the
dervishes into the river.” The moment had arrived. The bugles sounded
the “Advance!” the pipes screamed out “The March of the Cameron Men”
with that voice of glorious memories and lust for battle which the
pipes convey when heard in war, and the force swept forward on the foe.
Upon the Camerons fell a prominent part. They were to clear the front
with a hot rifle fire, and while some were doing this others were to
tear opens in the zareba or surmount it by scaling ladders. Next behind
them followed the Lincolns, the Seaforths, and the Warwickshires. For
a few moments as the force rushed forward, the enemy made never a
sound. Then suddenly, as the Camerons reached the crest of the ridge
overlooking the zareba, the murderous fire broke out. Fortunately, as
always in the Soudanese campaigns, the fire was for a great part too
high, and the casualties, though heavy, were not so great as might have
been expected. Meanwhile, General Macdonald’s brigade advanced, and
only about a minute elapsed from the time the combined force crowned
the rise of the hill till the Camerons and Soudanese had torn down the
zareba and made way for the main body of the army.
“General Gatacre, accompanied by Private Cross, was actually the
first at the zareba,” says an eye-witness. “Cross, of the Camerons,
bayoneted a big dervish who was aiming point blank at the General.” The
simultaneous right attack by the Egyptians and Soudanese was also a
fine spectacle. General Hunter himself, helmet in hand, led his men on
to the zareba, but thirty yards from it was a strong stockade, backed
by entrenchments, and this too had to be stormed. It was a thrilling
quarter of an hour, and nothing could be finer than the way these
almost insurmountable obstacles were tackled by our troops, and that in
the face of the hottest fire imaginable from the dervish defenders.
Inside the zareba, from behind stockades, and from holes in the ground
swarmed the black, half-naked dervishes, running everywhere, turning
now and again to fire at their assailants, but making ever for the
river. Scores of them lay stretched upon the ground. The slaughter was
awful. Gradually the ground grew clearer. The maxims had galloped right
up to the stockade and poured their merciless fire into the living
contents of the zareba. The Warwicks “were volleying off the blacks as
your beard comes off under a keen razor.” Death and destruction reigned
on every side.
But the British had lost heavily. Captains Findlay and Urquhart of the
Camerons had been killed storming the zareba. Lieutenant Gore of the
Seaforths fell in the same place, and, indeed, most of our casualties
were sustained at this place. “Never mind me, lads; go on!” called
Captain Urquhart as he fell stricken; and go on they did, killing and
slaying at every step. Piper Stewart of the Camerons was killed leading
the way.
The fight was now practically over. Only the pursuit remained. On
stumbled our men over the broken ground till suddenly there “came a
clear drop under foot--the river. And across the trickle of water
the quarter mile of dry sandbed was a flypaper with scrambling spots
of black. The pursuers thronged the bank in double line,” says Mr.
Steevens, “and in two minutes the paper was still black spotted, only
the spots scrambled no more.” “Now that,” panted the most pessimistic
senior captain in the brigade, “now I call that a very good fight!”
Shortly after this the “Cease Fire!” sounded, and only the cavalry
pursuit remained.
Nearly 4000 prisoners had been taken, including Mahmud himself, who
was found hiding beneath a native litter. Zeki, formerly Governor of
Berber, was killed. Osman Digna, wily to the last, had again escaped,
but all the other important dervish emirs were among the dead. The
former, with his horsemen, at an early period of the action got into
the river bed and made off in the direction of Damara. They were
pursued by General Lewis’s cavalry, but the jungle on the river banks
was so dense that the pursuit had to be abandoned. Colonel Broadwood,
however, chased a large party of dervishes into the desert, where he
captured a number of prisoners.
The British casualties were three officers and 18 men killed, with
88 wounded. Four British officers and two British non-commissioned
officers belonging to the Egyptian and Soudanese brigades, and 14
native officers were wounded, while the native regiments lost 50 killed
and 319 wounded.
Other accounts put the total Anglo-Egyptian loss at 81 killed and
493 wounded, out of the 12,000 men in action. The dervish dead
alone numbered 3000, and Mahmud’s ten guns and hordes of prisoners
showed the significance of the crushing victory at the Atbara. The
jubilation among the British force was great, and loud cheers marked
the termination of the battle. After the engagement, the Sirdar, who
had been under fire all the morning, rode over the battlefield. He was
received with enthusiastic cheers by every regiment of the British
brigade, which he thanked individually for their gallant victory. He
also received an ovation from the Egyptian and Soudanese, among whose
trophies were a great number of standards, spears, and drums, in
recognition of the signal gallantly shown by the native troops.
The Sirdar provisionally promoted on the field a sergeant-major of
each native battalion which crossed the zareba, to subaltern rank. In
conversation with Colonel Money, whose helmet had been traversed by a
bullet, the Sirdar, referring to the slow and steady advance of the
Camerons under a withering fire when attacking the zareba, said:--“It
was one of the finest feats performed for many years. You ought to be
proud of such a regiment.” Colonel Money replied that he was “right
proud of it.”
In the afternoon the three British officers killed and the 18 British
soldiers who fell in the action were buried on the gravelly slope near
the zareba where they met their fate, and the graves were afterwards
covered with a zareba to prevent their desecration. “The burial
service,” says an eye-witness, “was most impressive. It was attended by
the Sirdar, Generals Hunter and Gatacre and their respective staffs,
by every officer off duty, and by detachments of all the regiments. No
farewell shots were fired, but a firing party presented arms, and the
band of the 11th Soudanese and the Highland pipers played laments.”
Inside the zareba, visited after the fight, the dervishes lay dead in
scores, choking the rifle pits and entrenchments, and “it was curious,”
says one who was present at this exploration of the late battlefield,
“to see the Soudanese soldiers filling their water-bottles from a pool
containing dead dervishes.” About an hour after sunset, the wearied
troops returned to their camp at Umbadieh, which they reached about
three o’clock on the Saturday morning. The wounded started an hour or
two later.
The captive Mahmud attracted much attention, and all were eager
to catch a glimpse of the famous Arab leader. To the Sirdar, who
interviewed him, he said little but that the campaign had been
conducted at the Khalifa’s orders. He preserved a stoical silence on
all other subjects, and seemed indifferent as to his fate. He was
described by those who saw him as a remarkable-looking man, of grand
physique and good features. “He has,” says one of these, “a dignified
presence, and a quite natural haughty disregard of the common herd. He
looks intelligent and strong-willed. He is being well treated. In his
captured stronghold were found six heads fixed on poles, and one body,
dreadfully mutilated.”
On the Sunday following the battle, when the camp had been moved from
Umbadieh to Abadar, a great church parade was held, and a thanksgiving
service for victory conducted by the chaplains of all denominations
present with the forces. At its conclusion the British Brigade was
formed up in square, and the Sirdar, advancing to the centre, read a
telegram from the Queen, which filled the heart of every listener with
pride. “I greatly rejoice,” said Her Majesty, “at brilliant victory.”
And then, with her infallible consideration and womanly sympathy, “I
desire to be fully informed as to the state of the wounded.” Needless
to say, the reading of this message provoked the wildest enthusiasm,
and at the call of the Sirdar three hearty cheers for the Queen rent
the stifling desert air. Other congratulations were to follow. From
the Khedive, Mr. Balfour on behalf of the Government, Lord Lansdowne,
Lord Cromer, and others too numerous to mention heartfelt expressions
of joy and pride kept pouring in, and “In short,” said the Sirdar, in
conclusion, “everyone is extremely proud of the conduct of the army in
the field.”
It is impossible to take leave of the battle of the Atbara without
quoting somewhat extensively from the narrative of a soldier who was
through the fight. Corporal Inglis, of the Cameron Highlanders, gives a
vivid picture of the great engagement:--
“As we approached the enemy’s position,” writes this gallant
non-commissioned officer, “my feelings got a bit of a shock. I was
thinking of home, and wondering if that day was to finish my existence,
when a large flock of vultures came swooping down, and settled right in
front of us. I had often read about them, but never saw them before.
Some instinct surely tells them of a coming battle. It made a lot of
our fellows feel queer for a bit, as the big brutes kept walking up and
down, looking at us. We moved on till within 500 yards of the enemy’s
front. We could see all was bustle and excitement within the camp. We
halted, charged magazines with several rounds, and sat down with fixed
bayonets, and for the next hour were interested spectators of the
Egyptian artillery shelling the enemy.... Just as the advance sounded,
one of our men was shot through the head. We ran under a heavy fire
till within one hundred yards of the zareba, when we got on the knee
and poured in five terrible volleys. What a terrific noise! We could
see the enemy looking over their zareba and laughing in our faces, all
the while keeping up a heavy fire upon us. We ran till close to the
zareba. I was in the front rank, and another chap and I caught hold of
a branch, and, turning, hauled it clean away, leaving the palms of our
hands badly torn and bleeding. Men at other parts did the same, and as
soon as the dervishes saw their protection giving way, they jumped out
of the pits (in which they were lying), fired a volley into our midst,
and eventually turned tail. Clutching my rifle in my hand, the fearful
work now began of bayoneting the dervishes in the pits. Lots of them
could not get out, and they fought in desperate fashion.”
The treachery of the dervishes is well shown by the same graphic
narrator:--
“One lance-corporal was running up the hill through their huts when
three of them made for him. He shot one, bayoneted another, and then
the third man threw down his spear and held up his hands (in token
of surrender). The lad pointed to the rear, allowing his captive the
way to take for safety, and was in the act of running after the enemy
again, when the man he had spared picked up a rifle and blew the
lance-corporal’s brains out. General Gatacre was running up behind,
and, seeing the incident, gave the dervish such a blow with his sword
that he nearly severed his head from his body. After that the order was
given to show no mercy. It was not easy to distinguish the men from
the women. A woman was on the point of being stabbed, when the fellow
discovered his mistake and, laughing, turned away, when she immediately
ran a spear clean through him. In an instant four bayonets pierced
her body. On ceasing fire I found myself alone, wondering how I had
escaped, and a fervent ‘thank God!’ escaped my lips.”
With such stirring tales as this the battle of the Atbara was brought
to a successful issue, and crushing was its effect upon the forces of
the Khalifa. Not until September were the dervish forces able once more
to confront the arms of Britain, and then for the last time.