THE BATTLE OF OMDURMAN.
1898.
Though the snake of Mahdism had been severely scotched at the Atbara,
it was far from being killed, and from the termination of that battle
preparations were steadily pushed forward for the final overthrow of
the Khalifa.
The magnitude of these preparations was upon a scale never before seen
in the Soudan, and the army, assembled at Wad Hamed by the end of
August, the largest that had ever taken the field in that disordered
region. Regiment by regiment the troops poured into the town of Wad
Hamed, the point of concentration chosen by the Sirdar, till the
Egyptian army had been raised to nearly double its strength, and its
attendant flotilla of gunboats vastly augmented. The railway had been
pushed forward to Atbara, and, trainload after trainload, the troops
dismounted almost upon the scene of the former battlefield, and pushed
steadily southward, British, Egyptian, and even the recent dervish foe,
all pressed into the service of the British army.
Mr. Steevens’ description of the changed conditions at Atbara is
graphic in the extreme:--
“The platform was black and brown, blue and white, with a great crowd
of natives. For drawn up in line opposite the waiting trucks were rigid
squads of black figures.... The last time we had seen these particular
blacks they were shooting at us. Every one had begun life as a dervish,
and had been taken prisoner at or after the Atbara. Now, not four
months after, here they were, erect and soldierly, on their way to
fight their former masters, and very glad to do it.... In mid-April
the Atbara was the as yet unattained objective of the railway; in
mid-July the railway was ancient history, and the Atbara was the point
of departure for the boats. Just a half-way house on the road to
Khartoum.” And, adds Mr. Steevens sententiously, “What a man the Sirdar
is!” Indeed, such organisation has seldom been seen before or since.
The force destined to overthrow the last stronghold of Mahdism was made
up of two infantry divisions, one British and one Egyptian; one British
cavalry regiment, and ten squadrons of Egyptian horse, and eight
companies of camel corps, with batteries of artillery, a siege train
and maxims--the latter to be used with deadly effect against the army
of the Khalifa. The usual medical services and transport, both by land
and river, completed the equipment. Six “fighting gunboats” accompanied
the expedition.
The British infantry division was under the command of Major-General
Gatacre, and Colonels Wauchope and Lyttelton respectively commanded its
two brigades. The first brigade was made up to nearly 3500 strong, and
consisted of Camerons, Seaforths, Lincolns, and Warwicks, with a maxim
battery. Four battalions, each over 1000 strong, of respectively 1st
Northumberland Fusiliers, 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers, 2nd Rifle Brigade,
and the 1st Grenadier Guards constituted the second brigade. The whole
division was thus about 7500 strong.
The Egyptian Infantry division consisted of four brigades (in place of
the three which had fought at the Atbara), and its first, second and
third brigades respectively under the commands of Macdonald, Maxwell,
and Lewis, were constituted as before. The fourth, under Collinson Bey,
consisted of the 1st, 5th, 17th, and 18th Egyptian regiments. The total
Egyptian Division numbered 12,000 men.
The cavalry numbered 1500 in all, of whom 500 were the 21st Lancers,
under Colonel Martin, and the remainder Broadwood Bey’s Egyptian
horse. Long Bey, of the Egyptian army, had supreme command of the
artillery--forty-four guns and twenty maxims.
With camel corps and transport, the total land force numbered some
22,000 men of all arms.
On the 23rd August, 1898, the Sirdar held a general review of this
imposing force at Wad Hamed, and company after company filed past the
commander-in-chief, stirring the dust of the desert in dense clouds.
Early on the 24th, the march south began. Rumours were rife in camp as
to the Khalifa’s intentions and probable plan of action. It was thought
by some that he would advance to meet our force in the open, by others
that he would entrench himself in the fastness of Omdurman. His army
was reported 45,000 strong.
Hajir was the first object of attainment by the British army, a
distance of 40 miles from Omdurman, and thence the route lay by
Kerreri, where a low range of sandstone hills inland led to the
Khalifa’s city. The work of shifting quarters from point to point was
characterised with the mechanical and infallible precision which marked
every move of the Sirdar’s vast army. Writing from Wad Hamed about
noon of the 26th August, the historian of the war says, “The camp is a
wilderness of broken biscuit-boxes and battered jam tins”--where but a
few hours before had been concentrated a force of 20,000 men.
Slowly the army marched south, and for a week its progress was
uneventful. Moving in the form of a vast square, with sides a mile
long, it crept nearer and ever nearer to Omdurman.
By the 28th, Gebel Royan, or Hajir, was reached, and from the hill
overlooking the camp the Nile could be viewed almost up to Omdurman
itself, and at this period the first dervish cavalry patrols were
sighted. These, however, fell back without showing fight The same day
the gunboat Zafir, the flagship of Captain Keppel, sprang a leak and
sank within a few moments. The utmost coolness was displayed by all
on board, Captain Keppel being the last to leave, and no lives were
lost, but the Zafir was, of course, rendered useless, and the naval
commander’s flag was transferred to the Sultan.
A striking example of the altered conditions of warfare in modern times
is to be found in an observation of Mr. Steevens at this point. “The
correspondents,” he says, “would find the chief disadvantage of rain
(of which the army had had by this time considerable experience) in the
possible interruption of the field telegraph, which has been brought
here, and will probably advance further.” An admirably-equipped field
telegraph formed a not unimportant adjunct to the army’s equipment.
From now on, reconnaissances were of frequent occurrence, and on the
30th, some five Arab horsemen were overtaken and captured by Major
Stuart-Wortley’s friendlies, and shortly afterwards the army reached
Kerreri.
From this point Omdurman was clearly visible, “the Mahdi’s tomb forming
the centre of a purple stain on the yellow sand, going out for miles
and miles on every side, a city worth conquering.” Clearly visible,
too, was the enemy’s army, a long white line stretching in front of the
city wall with a front of three miles.
On September 1 an admirable and final reconnaissance was effected,
and the enemy’s exact position and strength located. On the night of
September 1st, the British army bivouacked under arms at the village
of Agaiga, fully expecting the Dervish attack, but not until the
morning of the 2nd did our scouts report the entire dervish army to be
advancing against the British position. Their front was estimated at
between three and four miles. Countless banners fluttered over their
serried masses, and they chanted war-songs as they came steadily on.
Short and sharp came the orders from headquarters, and in a very short
time the British army had taken up its appointed position in front of
its camp at Agaiga. On the left were the 2nd battalion Rifle Brigade,
the Lancashire Fusiliers, the Northumberland Fusiliers, and the 1st
battalion Grenadier Guards, with the maxim battery manned by the Irish
Fusiliers. Then came the 1st battalion Royal Warwickshire regiment, the
Cameron and Seaforth Highlanders, and the 1st battalion Lincolns in the
order named, with a battery of maxims directed by the Royal Artillery.
The Soudanese brigades, under Generals Maxwell and Macdonald continued
the fighting line, with the Egyptian brigades, under Generals Lewis and
Collinson, in reserve. Captain Long had his maxim nordenfelt batteries
on both flanks. The British fighting line formed a large obtuse angle,
with its convex side towards the enemy. Facing either flank of it were,
on the British right, the heights of Kerreri, on their left the hill of
Gebel Surgham. Between these two the enemy was now seen to be advancing.
About 6.30 a.m. the British opened fire with a suddenness which must
have startled the advancing foe. Frightful was the execution done
during these first few moments of Omdurman. The foe were mown down in
handfuls, yet fresh men ever rushed forward to fill their places, and
still for a time they pressed forward.
“No white troops,” says Steevens, “could have faced that torrent
of death for five minutes, but the Baggara and the blacks came on.
The torrent of lead swept into them, and hurled them down in whole
companies. You saw a rigid line gather itself up and rush on evenly;
then, before a shrapnel shell or maxim the line suddenly quivered and
stopped. The line was yet unbroken, but it was quite still. Sometimes
they came near enough to see single figures quite plainly. One old
man with a white flag started with five comrades; all dropped, but he
alone came bounding forward to within 200 yards of the 14th Soudanese.
Then he folded his arms across his face, and his limbs loosened, and
he dropped sprawling to earth beside his flag.” In such manner did the
Mahdists fight their last great fight, but the issue of this, the first
stage of the battle, was not long held in the balance. By eight o’clock
firing ceased, the Dervishes being by this time all out of range, and
leaving scores of dead upon the field.
Half an hour later the advance was sounded, and in the order known
as “echelon of brigades” the troops moved off towards Omdurman. As
they approached the hill of Gebel Surgham a heavy dervish fire broke
out, and it was then apparent that the Khalifa had divided his army
into three. The first portion had attacked the British camp at Agaiga
in front; the second, under Ali Wad Helu and the Sheik el Din, had
moved towards Kerreri to envelop the British right; the third, under
the Khalifa himself, lay in wait behind Gebel Surgham, where they had
bivouacked the previous night.
Both flanks were soon hotly engaged, and former scenes repeated.
When the Dervishes drew off behind the ridge in front of their camp,
the Sirdar detailed General Lewis’s and General Collinson’s Egyptian
brigades, which up to this point had been held in reserve, to watch the
attempt which the dervishes made to overwhelm our left, and meanwhile
the cavalry were sent on in advance.
Just as the brigades reached the crest adjoining the Nile, the right,
comprising the Egyptian brigades, marched out of camp and became
engaged with the enemy. The action was now general. It was found that
the Dervishes had re-formed under cover of the rocky eminence two miles
from camp, and had marched under the black standard of the Khalifa in
order to make a supreme effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day.
Meanwhile a mass of about 15,000 strong bore down upon the two Egyptian
brigades on our right. These, supported by a battery of maxims,
succeeded in forming up steadily in order to face the Dervish attack.
The Sirdar swung round his centre and left, leaving the 1st British
Brigade with General Wauchope with the transport. General Maxwell’s
Soudanese brigade seized the rocky eminence, and General Macdonald’s
brigade joined the firing line.
In ten minutes--before the attack could be driven home--the flower
of the Khalifa’s army was caught in a depression, and came under the
withering cross-fire of three brigades and their attendant artillery.
Manfully the devoted Mahdists strove to make headway, but their
rushes were swept away, and their main body mown through and through
by the sustained and deadly fire of the Sirdar’s troops. Defiantly
the Dervishes planted their standards and died by them. It was more
than human nature could bear, and after the dense mass had melted to
companies, and companies to driblets, they broke and fled, leaving
the field white with jibbah-clad corpses, like a meadow dotted with
snowdrifts.
Meanwhile on the left was taking place the great incident of the battle
of Omdurman--the fine charge of the 21st Lancers against enormous odds.
Colonel Martin’s orders were to prevent the broken enemy from returning
to Omdurman, five miles away from the field of battle. The 21st Lancers
unexpectedly came upon the enemy’s reserves behind Gebel Surgham, who
were 2000 strong, but whose precise strength could not be ascertained
owing to the nature of the ground. The cavalry were then in column of
troops. They deployed into line for the attack, and charged. When they
were within thirty yards of the enemy they found the latter, who had
been ensconced in a nullah, and had been concealed by a depression of
the ground.
Wild with excitement, coming on to the attack, the Lancers had not a
single moment for hesitation. They charged gallantly home, the brunt
of the business falling on No. 2 Squadron, who absolutely had to hack
their way through the enemy, twenty deep, exposed as they were to a
withering infantry fire. They struggled through, but every man who fell
was immediately hacked to pieces by the swords of the fanatic foe. The
men of the British cavalry rallied, bleeding and blown, on the far side
of the lanes which they had cut for themselves in the enemy’s ranks,
and with admirable fortitude they re-formed as coolly as if they had
been on parade.
One corporal who was covered with blood and reeling in his saddle,
was yelling, “Fall in! fall in!” to the remnant of his company. “Fall
out, corporal; you’re wounded!” roared an officer. “No, sir! Fall in!”
bawled the wounded man, waving his bent lance; “Form up, No 2!” and No.
2 Squadron re-formed--four whole men all told.
Then it was that Lieutenant Grenfell was missed for the first time.
Lieutenant de Montmorency, with Corporal Swarback, dashed out to
effect, if possible, the rescue of his body. They were immediately
joined by Captain Kenna. With their revolver fire the two officers
kept the enemy forty yards away, and would have secured Lieutenant
Grenfell’s body if the horse upon which it was placed had not shied
with its burden.
Seeing that a second charge would be futile, Colonel Martin dismounted
his men, and with magazine and carbine fire drove the enemy steadily
back into the zone of the Anglo-Egyptian infantry fire, the Lancers
having accomplished their object by covering the enemy’s line of
retirement, though at the cost of heavy casualties.
“This maiden charge of the 21st Lancers,” says an eye-witness, “is
regarded as an extremely brilliant affair.”
All over the field the enemy were falling back before the tremendous
fire of the British, but a last splendid stand was made by the
Khalifa’s most devoted followers to the south-west of Gebel Surgham.
Upon Macdonald fell the brunt of this last and most determined
engagement. Suddenly the enemy poured down from Kerreri upon
Macdonald’s right, and for a moment things looked critical. “To
meet the attack he turned his front through a complete half circle.
Every tactician in the army was delirious in his praise. ‘Cool as on
parade’--Macdonald was very much cooler. Beneath the strong square-hewn
face you could tell that the brain was working as if packed in ice.
He saw everything. Knew what to do. Did it. All saw him and knew they
were being nursed to triumph.” The issue was not long; the British fire
tremendous. Soon the enemy remaining fled in all directions, and the
fight was won.
At a quarter past eleven the Sirdar sounded the advance, and the whole
force in line drove the scattered remnants of the foe into the desert,
while the cavalry cut off their retreat to Omdurman. At 12.55 the
Anglo-Egyptian column, preceded by the Sirdar with the captured black
standard of the Khalifa, headed for Omdurman once more, this time
unopposed.
The slaughter of Omdurman had been appalling. The dervish casualties
reached the astonishing total of 11,000 killed, 16,000 wounded, and
over 4000 prisoners. The Anglo-Egyptian losses were phenomenally small,
some 66 killed of all ranks in both forces--387 killed and wounded
together. Such was the extraordinary disparity in the numbers. The
Khalifa himself escaped with the Sheik el Din to Omdurman. Ali Wad Helu
was wounded. Mahdism was completely overthrown. The only dervish force
now left in the field was that of the garrison of Gedaref up the Blue
Nile. Here, some days later, Parsons Pasha, the Governor of Kassala,
killed 700 of this number, and dispersed the rest, with a loss of only
37 killed.
No words can be too high in praise of the courage and discipline of the
Egyptian troops. Led by such able men as Macdonald and Lewis, they had
proved themselves first-class fighting men, and hearty congratulations
were conveyed to all ranks from Her Majesty the Queen when the news of
Omdurman became known in Britain.
Newspaper correspondents suffered heavily on the day of Omdurman. The
Hon. Hubert Howard, acting for the “Times,” was killed by a bullet,
but not till the end of the day. Colonel Rhodes, of the “Times,” and
Mr. Williams, of the “Daily Chronicle,” were wounded. Mr. Cross, of
the “Manchester Guardian,” died shortly afterwards of enteric fever--a
heavy list in all.
Meanwhile the advance to Omdurman continued, and about two o’clock in
the afternoon the city of the Khalifa was reached. Here for some days
past the gunboats had been doing considerable execution. The forts on
Tuti Island had been totally demolished, and the dome of the Mahdi’s
tomb and the mosque of Omdurman partially destroyed. The destruction
thus wrought became clearly visible as the British troops approached
the city. They were met on the outskirts by “an old man on a donkey,
with a white flag,” and after some parley with the Sirdar, and an
assurance that the British would not put all the inhabitants to the
sword, the way was continued into the heart of the city. Strange scenes
were witnessed. Assured at length that the victors would not massacre
and pillage, the inhabitants streamed out in their thousands, and, with
shrill shouts of welcome, escorted the British soldiers through the
streets.
“Yet more wonderful were the women,” says Steevens. “The multitude of
women whom concupiscence had harried from every recess of Africa and
mewed up in Baggara harems, came out to salute their new masters. There
were at least three of them to every man. Black women from Equatoria,
and almost white women from Egypt. Plum-skinned Arabs, and a strange
yellow type ... the whole city was a monstrosity of African lust.”
The capture of the Khalifa himself was the one thought uppermost in
every mind as the British troops streamed into Omdurman, and the
Khalifa’s citadel was the first object of the quest. Here were found
the numerous members of his bodyguard, but the leader himself had
disappeared, slipping out of his conquered city, even as the white
troops had marched in! All ranks were much chagrined by this failure
to capture the wily dervish leader, but it was felt that his power was
broken once and for all, as indeed proved to be the case. The work of
disarming his bodyguard proceeded apace, and very soon, finding they
had little to fear from the victorious troops, the inhabitants of
Omdurman set to work to loot the Khalifa’s corn. Among the captives
released were Sister Teresa, a captive nun, who had been forcibly
married by the Khalifa’s orders to a Greek, and Charles Neufeld, a
captive German merchant, who had suffered many years of imprisonment
and brutality, and whose record of life in the Khalifa’s capital is
full of interesting details and unique experiences.
By this time evening had set in, and all ranks were exhausted with the
labours of the day, though the army continued to pour into Omdurman.
“Where the bulk of the army bivouacked, I know not,” says the historian
of the campaign, “neither did they. I stumbled on the second British
brigade, and there, by a solitary candle, the Sirdar, flat on his back,
was dictating his despatch to Colonel Wingate, flat on his belly. I
scraped a short hieroglyphic scrawl on a telegraph form and fell asleep
on the gravel with a half-eaten biscuit in my mouth.”
On the 3rd September the majority of the army moved out to Khor
Shamba, where they camped. The stench of Omdurman was found to be
intolerable. Dead donkeys lay about the streets, and filth and squalor
were perceptible on every side; the boasted capital of Mahdism proved
to be little more than a vast collection of miserable hovels, and one
and all were glad to be out of it, if only into the fresh air of the
desert. Preparations were now made for one of the crowning acts of the
campaign--the visible avenging of Gordon, who had died so nobly at
Khartoum, distant less than two miles up the Nile.
Here, on the morning of Sunday, 4th September, the Union Jack and the
Egyptian crescent were flung to the desert breeze, above the ruins
of the Residency of Khartoum, half a dozen paces from the spot where
Gordon died.
The Sirdar, accompanied by the Divisional Generals, the Brigadiers, and
the full staffs, together with detachments from all branches of the
Anglo-Egyptian army, steamed up the Blue Nile to the ruins of Khartoum,
early in the morning, and landed at the Masouri stage on the river
bank opposite the Residency. Gordon’s old palace, though gutted, was
still intact in its foundations. On the summit of the dismantled walls
two flagstaffs were raised, and detachments of representative troops,
with the band of the 11th Soudanese regiment, the drums and fifes of
the Grenadier Guards, and the pipes of the Highland regiments, formed
up reverently round the historic spot, the gunboat Melik being made
fast to the quay beside the Residency. In the centre were the Sirdar
and his full personal staff, on the right the Divisional Generals and
their staffs, and on the left a detachment of officers and sappers of
the Royal Engineers--Gordon’s old corps. The background was composed of
the picturesque ruins of Khartoum, amid which were growing wild palms,
acacias, and lemon trees.
At ten o’clock the Sirdar gave the signal, and amid the crash of the
first saluting gun and the opening strains of the British National
Anthem, the personal aide-de-camp to the Sirdar and Lieutenant Staveley
unfurled the Union Jack. The Egyptian aide-de-camp to the Sirdar and
Major Nutford next hoisted the Khedivial Crescent, and thus the cry
for vengeance heard for fifteen long years was for ever stilled. Amid
the booming of the salutes and the rolling bars of the British and
Khedivial National Anthems could be heard the shrill cries of crowds of
natives and slaves exulting at their emancipation from cruel serfdom.
Then the music changed. The Highland pipers wailed out a dirge, and the
fifes of the Grenadier Guards played a dead march in memory of Gordon
and of the heroes fallen in the late battle.
Now the chaplains to the forces--the Rev. J. M. Simms (Presbyterian),
the Rev. A. W. B. Watson (Anglican), and the Rev. Robert Bundle
(Roman Catholic), read appropriate passages of Scripture and prayers.
The religious service was followed by the firing of 15 minute guns.
The impressive and touching service was brought to a close by the
Sirdar calling on the troops to give three cheers for Her Majesty the
Queen-Empress and the Khedive. They were given with a fervour which
awoke the echoes for miles around.
What may be described as a side-ceremony then began. Fifes played the
Dead March, pipes wailed a lament, and the band played Gordon’s hymn,
“Abide with me.” When the solemn music ceased all the general officers
stepped forward and congratulated the Sirdar, and half an hour was
subsequently spent in visiting the chief historical points of the
ruined city and the totally dilapidated remains of the steps on which
Gordon was killed.
The Sirdar then re-embarked and returned to camp. There were those who
said that during the closing ceremonies he could hardly speak or see
for emotion. “What wonder? He had trodden this road to Khartoum for
fourteen years, and he stood at the goal at last. Thus, with Maxim,
Nordenfelt, and Bible we buried Gordon after the manner of his race.”
Of the subsequent advance through the former country of the Khalifa
a correspondent gives a vivid picture. “If ever there were any who
entertained a thought of pity for the Khalifa and his following
when they considered the crushing force which is advancing to their
annihilation, if they could have been with us upon the road during the
last few days, all thought of sentiment and pity would have vanished,
and even the most philanthropical would have longed, as do we, to
volunteer our aid in ridding the world of a tyrant so brutal and a
butcher so ferocious.
All along the line of march there are evidences that the country was
once a flourishing, populous province, well cultivated where occasion
offered. Yet to us it was a wilderness of desolation, every mile with
its evidences of the tragic means by which it had been depopulated, and
every landmark showing the handiwork of the ruthless destroyer. From
end to end it has been swept with fire and sword. The very crops have
grown, withered, and died without a hand to gather them. Mile after
mile of earthen village lies deserted, ruined and destroyed, and now in
the courtyards where the women were wont to grind corn and card cotton,
with their children playing at their skirts, jackal and hyena disport
amongst the broken distaffs and the bones of the murdered women and
butchered infants. Well may we cry, ‘Retribution and Khartoum!’”