Zulus seemed to be behind, before, and on each side of us,
and as we hurried on we had to leave poor fugitives crying
and begging us not to leave them.
Trooper W. Barker, Natal Carbineers
The scene across the British position, as stabbing Zulus fought hand-to-hand with desperate soldiers, was unimaginably terrifying. British discipline had been replaced by a rout; it was every man for himself amidst the carnage. Nevertheless, some acts of selflessness were recorded: the Hon. Standish Vereker gave his horse to an injured man, which resulted in his own death moments later. Surgeon Major Peter Shepherd would have escaped on his horse had he not stopped to assist a severely wounded soldier; Shepherd was stabbed through the neck by a passing Zulu. With the British force so heavily outnumbered, it was remarkable that anyone should have escaped back to the safety of Natal, although of the sixty or so Europeans who did escape the majority were camp followers who departed before the battle was underway, or colonials who were mounted and could outpace the Zulus. Lieutenant Horace Smith-Dorrien, who was one of only five Imperial officers to escape, was in camp as the Zulus attacked and wrote of his escape to his father:
I was out with the front companies of the 24th handing them spare ammunition. Bullets were flying all over the place, but I never seemed to notice them. The Zulus nearly all had firearms of some kind and lots of ammunition. Before we knew where we were, they came right into the camp, assegaing everybody right and left. Everybody then who had a horse turned to fly. The enemy were going at a kind of very fast half walk and half run. On looking round we saw that we were completely surrounded and the road to Rorke's Drift was cut off. The place where they seemed thinnest was where we all made for. Everybody went pell-mell over the ground covered with huge boulders and rocks until we got to a deep spruit or gully. How the horses got over, I have no idea. I was riding a broken kneed old crock which did not belong to me, and which I expected to go on its head every minute. We had to go bang through them at the spruit. Lots of our men were killed there. I had lots of marvellous escapes, and was firing away at them with my revolver as I galloped along. The ground there down to the river was so broken that the Zulus went as fast as the horses and kept killing all the way. There were very few white men; they were nearly all mounted niggers of ours flying. This lasted until we came to a kind of precipice down to the river Buffalo. I jumped off and led my horse down, there was a poor fellow of the Mounted Infantry, a Private, struck through the arm, who said as I passed that if I could bind up his arm and stop the bleeding he would be alright. I accordingly took out my handkerchief and tied up his arm. Just as I had done it, Maj. Smith of the Artillery came down by me wounded, saying, “For God's sake get on, man, the Zulus are on the top of us”. I had done all I could for the wounded man as I turned to jump on my horse. Just as I was doing so, the horse went with a bound to the bottom of the precipice, being struck with an assagai [sic]. I gave up all hope, as the Zulus were all round me, finishing off the wounded, the man I had helped and Maj. Smith among the number. However, with the strong hope that everybody clings to that some accident would turn up, I rushed off on foot and plunged into the river, which was little better than a roaring torrent.
Lieutenant William Cochrane was also in the camp when it was overrun by the Zulus. He echoed the desperate attempts to escape in a letter to his family:
I made in the direction which I had seen taken by the mounted men, guns and Royal Artillery, and natives on foot. I was cut off by the enemy, who had now reached the line of retreat; but with a good horse, hard riding, and good luck, I managed to reach the Buffalo River. The Zulus seemed perfectly fearless; they followed alongside, having desperate fighting with those retreating, mostly our natives on foot. On several occasions they were quite close to me, but I was fortunate enough to escape, while others dropped at my side. They fired at us the whole way from the camp to the river, but having mounted the bank on the opposite side we were safe.
One officer, sadly unidentified, subsequently sent a descriptive account of the battle to The Times, who published it on 10 April 1879. He also added that he had been escorting a shipment of gold (probably to pay or bribe wavering Zulu chiefs). What happened to the gold is not recorded, although immediately after the war an escort of British cavalry arrived at the hardware store at Greytown to collect a heavy box marked ‘Horseshoes’ deposited for safe keeping in the confusion after the battle of Isandlwana. When the storekeeper signed the officer's receipt he saw, to his astonishment, that he had been caring for a wooden case of gold sovereigns.
With the exception of Lieutenant Curling who vainly tried to save the artillery guns, no British front-line soldier or officer survived. Much controversy was thus caused when, a few days after the battle, it was discovered that two mounted officers of the 24th Regiment, Lieutenants Coghill and Melvill, had not only managed to escape from the camp but had actually reached Natal on horseback before then being killed. Their departure from the battlefield while their regiment's soldiers were still fighting for their lives, and the circumstances in which the two officers died, were to become the subject of much speculation and debate, as well as a harsh statement from Chelmsford's successor, Sir Garnet Wolseley. Only three Isandlwana Victoria Crosses were awarded, and curiously, every recipient had fled the battlefield. A Victoria Cross was awarded immediately to Private Wassall, but the awards to Lieutenants Coghill and Melvill would be delayed for nearly thirty years.
Because there were some survivors, it has often been argued that the Zulus never completely surrounded Isandlwana. This argument is based on the fact that a number of survivors were able to flee through a gap in the Zulu encirclement and escape towards Natal, albeit over the very rough terrain known today as the Fugitives' Trail. In fact, the Zulus did complete their encirclement and blocked the British line of retreat back to Rorke's Drift, but a section of the iNgobamakhosi then detached themselves from the closing right horn to chase fleeing NNC natives trying to escape across the boulder-strewn terrain. This caused a temporary gap through which the escaping Europeans were able to follow, only for most to run into Zulus who killed them. It was through this gap that Lieutenant Curling and Major Smith rode alongside the two artillery guns, only to observe them careering out of control down a steep slope, where the guns overturned amidst the Zulus. Curling and Smith, independently mounted, were able to escape the incident and rode on; Smith was killed further along the Fugitives'Trail, while Curling escaped. The only Europeans to reach Natal did so on horseback, and it can be positively argued that most of these survivors, with the exception of Curling, left Isandlwana before the main battle was under way – but which route did they take to escape the slaughter raging across the camp?
Contemporaries and modern researchers have collectively related how the battlefield fugitives tried to flee back to the safety of Natal by first crossing the Nek between Isandlwana and Black's Koppie. This choice of route is strange, even for fugitives consumed with panic, as they would have been fleeing into the full force of the densely packed advancing Zulus now attacking the camp across the Nek from the undefended rear of Isandlwana. Obviously this was the route taken by some of the fugitives when the iNgobamakhosi detached themselves from the completed encirclement and created a temporary gap; but what route did the fugitives take before the gap opened? Standing on the battlefield, it is clear that the obvious escape route is to the left (south) of Black's Koppie and not across the Zulu-occupied Nek.
From most points on the battlefield the area left of the Nek offered the fugitives a view of Natal some six miles distant, and the route lay downhill. The uphill track across the Nek was the known route that had recently brought everyone to Isandlwana, but would that have been a sufficient incentive in the face of advancing Zulus? When the author examined the map of the battle drawn by the Queen's cartographer, James Wyld, submitted to the War Office on 31 March 1879, it was clear that, to those interviewed in the making of the map and with matters recently in their minds, there were two fugitives' trails: one each side of Black's Koppie, and both leading to the safety of Natal. This alternative route has hitherto been ignored by historians, but more recent research in South Africa into the accounts of Captain William Barton NNH and Private Wassall suggest they also took this route. (1) In April 2010 the author and Dr David Payne attempted to follow the southern route. It was boulder-strewn and difficult to follow, and no cairns could be found. Indeed, it is logical that none was built, as no one taking this route died; but the extreme African elements and the long grass made such searching impossible. There is still further research to be conducted into this second fugitives' trail.
During the 2000 archaeological investigation of Isandlwana, the author brought to the attention of the archaeologists a freshly eroded cairn near the beginning of the Fugitives' Trail, a mere 400 yards from the Nek. A recent storm had exposed the cairn's stones and a small flood had eroded the side of the cairn. After careful work, the site revealed numerous horse bones and fragments of rotted leather straps and metal buckles. Just below these items were found human remains – the bones of Curling's Royal Artillery drivers who died when the Zulus overwhelmed their gun carriage. The artefacts and bones were replaced with due care and reverence.
Coghill and Melvill
Lieutenants Teignmouth Melvill and Nevill Coghill were two 24th officers who escaped from Isandlwana but were killed while attempting to save the Regimental Colour of the 1/24th. Both officers were subsequently awarded the Victoria Cross for their efforts, but not until 1907, nearly thirty years later. Much has been written about their gallantry but nothing is known about their escape from Isandlwana camp.
The eminent British historian of the time, Sir Reginald Coupland, wrote of Coghill and Melvill (always as Melville), that these two officers:
Had charged themselves with saving the Colours of the 24th and then, after their six-mile flight on horseback across impossibly rocky terrain, they reached the river together and plunged straight into it. (2)
It is highly probable that Coupland had studied and then relied on the original report written by Lieutenant Colonel Richard Glyn, then isolated at Rorke's Drift, in his capacity as the Officer Commanding the 3rd Column (Coupland even copied Glyn's incorrect spelling of Melvill's name). This highly emotive but fascinating report, the earliest record of the fate of these two officers, was written by Glyn after the enquiry into the disaster of Isandlwana and, no doubt, after much anguish and personal reflection on his part. At the time of the Zulu attack on the camp, Glyn was with Chelmsford at Mangeni. This report, based on hearsay only, is his emotional justification of his officers' actions at Isandlwana. The full report by Glyn, dated 21 February 1879, is produced in full as Appendix C. The official history of the 24th Regiment, similarly based on hearsay, records the event as follows:
On the fateful 22nd January 1879, when it was evident that all was lost in Isandhlwana camp, Lieutenant and Adjutant Melvill, 1st battalion 24th, received special orders from Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine, to endeavour to save the Colour. “You, as senior subaltern”, that officer is reported to have said,“will take the Colour, and make your way from here”. Accompanied by Lt. A.J.A. Coghill, 1st Battalion 24th, who was orderly officer to Colonel Glyn, but had remained in camp on account of a severe injury to his knee, Melvill rode off with the Colour, taking the same direction as the other fugitives. Both officers reached the Buffalo (river) although, owing to the badness of the track, the Zulus kept up with them and continued throwing their spears at them. The river was in flood, and at any other time would have been considered impassable.
They plunged their horses in, but whilst Coghill got across and reached the opposite bank, Melvill, encumbered by the Colour, got separated from his horse and was washed against a large rock in mid-stream, to which Lieutenant Higginson, Native Contingent, who afterwards escaped, was clinging. Melvill called to him to lay hold of the Colour, which Higginson did, but so strong was the current that both men were washed away. Coghill, still on his horse and in comparative safety, at once rode back into the stream to their aid. The Zulus by this time had gathered thick on the bank of the river and opened fire, making a special target of Melvill, who wore his red patrol jacket. Coghill's horse was killed and his rider cast adrift in the stream. Notwithstanding the exertions made to save it, the Colour had to be abandoned, and the two officers themselves only succeeded in reaching the opposite bank with great difficulty, and in a most exhausted state. Those only who know the precipitous character of the Natal side at the spot, can fully realise how great must have been the sufferings of both in climbing it, especially of Coghill with his wounded knee. They appear to have kept together, and to have got to within twenty yards of the summit when they were overtaken by their foes and fell. On 3rd February, a search party found the bodies of Melvill and Coghill covered with assegai wounds and with several dead Zulus around them. Next day the flood, having subsided, the Colour, on its pole, was recovered further downstream. For their gallantry in the saving of the Colour, Lieutenants Melvill and Coghill were later each awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross. (3)
This official history tallies almost exactly with the contemporary report, also based on hearsay, of Captain Penn Symons, 2/24th, who wrote:
They [Coghill and Melvill] were greatly exhausted, partly from the quantity of water they had swallowed, and partly from their struggle in the river. For a moment they laid down on the water's edge, and then getting over the first 200 yards of the bank which is flat, they began to climb the side of the ravine which was exceedingly steep. Lieut. Coghill was lame from an old injury to his knee, and on this account had been left in camp on this day. They had gone but a little way up when they saw that the Zulus were crossing after them. They scrambled on until Lt. Coghill said “I am done, I can go no further”. Lt. Melvill said, “Neither can I”. Lt. Higginson begged of them to shoot as they still had their revolvers, he, having lost his rifle in the river, went on, and at the top of the bank found some Basutos who were keeping up a fire on the advancing Zulus. (4)
It would appear that Captain Penn Symons' subjective report was based largely on comments made by Higginson, adjutant of the 3rd Battalion Natal Native Contingent, on his arrival at Helpmekaar after fleeing from Isandlwana. Higginson stated that he had left Coghill and Melvill after the three of them had safely reached the Natal bank. It is probable that all three believed they were then safe, as Higginson initially related how he, being the fittest, left the two exhausted British officers in order to find some horses. He claimed to have found two spare horses and, on reaching a vantage point, saw the bodies of Coghill and Melvill surrounded by Zulus. Unable to help them, he then rode off to Helpmekaar.
Curiously, local rumours have long persisted that four bodies were found at the spot where Coghill and Melvill died. Lieutenant Hillier of the NNC throws more light on the subject as he was present when the bodies were discovered several days later. His unabridged account of what he saw, published in the press on 28 February, makes interesting reading:
You will see my name in General Orders as one of those that recovered the colors [sic] of the 1-24th Regiment. Major Black, of the 2-24th Regiment, came and asked for volunteers to go and search for the colors of the 1-24th Regiment, as they were known to be lost in a dangerous part of the Drift. It was thought that there might be a fight, so 20 men volunteered. Well armed, we rode out and, crossing over the hill overlooking the Drift, we came across the bodies of poor Lieuts. Melvill and Coghill; they lay behind the bodies of two soldiers, where they had made a stand. Coghill was quite naked except for his boots and a gold ring on his finger, which Captain Parr took off. Poor Melvill had everything on, but was much disfigured. We buried them and read the Service over them. (5)
After the battle, and in line with the military custom of the time, the death of two ordinary soldiers alongside the officers would not have been deemed relevant or significant. The author, aware of this account, searched the area around the graves of Coghill and Melvill; there are, indeed, two cairns nearby. The story has an interesting twist because Sergeant Cooper of the 1/24th is officially recorded as being an Isandlwana casualty, but his family papers and memorial service documents indicate he was killed at Rorke's Drift. Fugitives' Drift is much closer to Rorke's Drift than Isandlwana. Cooper is not recorded in any of the accounts as having died during the fighting at Rorke's Drift, but the logical hypothesis is that he died nearby – possibly at Sotondose's Drift (re-named Fugitives' Drift after the battle) alongside Coghill and Melvill. This hypothesis is supported by a letter sent from the Officer in Command at nearby Helpmekaar, Major Upcher, to Cooper's married sister, a Mrs Clements, informing her of his death. Had Cooper been killed at Isandlwana this would not have happened. But could Cooper have made good his escape along the Fugitives' Trail and across the Buffalo River before being killed? If he had been able to catch or cling to a fleeing horse the answer has to be ‘yes’. Curling wrote that his horse pulled four soldiers across the flooded river. If Cooper's body had been discovered and buried where it fell near those of Coghill and Melvill, notification of Cooper's death, especially since he was a sergeant, would have been passed to Major Upcher and thus generated his letter to Mrs Clements.
As with many details about the battle of Isandlwana, the death of Cooper remains shrouded in uncertainty, and so the questions remain: how near to Rorke's Drift was Sergeant Cooper when he was killed, or was his body that of one of the two soldiers actually discovered along with those of Coghill and Melvill and buried under one of the adjacent cairns? What caused Major Upcher to write specially to Cooper's sister on 11 April 1879, bearing in mind the first serious attempt to tidy the Isandlwana battlefield did not take place until 21 May of that year? Why did Cooper's family always believe he had been killed at Rorke's Drift? And if one of the two soldiers'bodies was indeed that of Cooper, who was the fourth soldier seen there by Lieutenant Hillier? The author has frequently walked the route between Fugitives' Drift and Rorke's Drift, alone or with David Rattray (the final time just a month before David Rattray's death), and most recently in April 2010 accompanied by Dr David Payne. No evidence of any cairns has ever been found beyond those where Coghill and Melvill were killed at Fugitives' Drift. It is possible that Cooper could have been one of the two soldiers who made a stand with Melvill and Coghill. Only a DNA analysis will provide the definitive answer. (6)
Meanwhile, protected by the covering fire of Lieutenant Raw's Mounted Basutos who had safely gained the Natal bank, two Troopers, Barker and Tarboton, had managed to swim their horses across the flooded Buffalo River to join them. The group then rode up the steep Natal side of the bank until they were out of range of the Zulu marksmen on the far bank. Looking back, they saw a distant figure scrambling on foot towards them. While his companions rode on, Barker rode back down the hill and met the figure, who turned out to be Higginson. As his horse was in no state to carry them both back up the steep slope, Barker surrendered his mount to the exhausted officer but implored him to wait for him at the top of the hill. Higginson gave his promise then spurred the horse up the hill, leaving Barker to follow on foot. With natives closing in around him (no doubt the same men who in due course killed Melvill and Coghill), Barker struggled to the summit only to find that Higginson had galloped off, leaving him to his fate. The exhausted Barker was forced to run for his life; he was pursued for another three miles before Lieutenant Raw arrived and drove the pursuers off.
In the meantime, Higginson had come across Tarboton, Lieutenants Raw and Henderson and some Basutos who had waited on the Helpmekaar track for Barker to rejoin them. Perhaps certain that Barker must by this time have been overtaken by the ‘Zulus’, Higginson at first insisted that he had found the horse down at the Buffalo River. Tarboton, though, immediately recognised Barker's horse, which Higginson relinquished in exchange for a spare Basuto pony. Higginson having set off for Helpmekaar to make his report, the group rode back towards the river until they came upon the exhausted Barker still running for his life. Within a few days, the truth of Higginson's escape from the scene became well known; Higginson, now with a black eye, quietly disappeared into obscurity.
Over the years, writers have invariably accepted that the original stories relating to Coghill and Melvill riding together to save the Colour were correct, and little additional comment was added to the contemporary reports of the day. Several modern authors have gone somewhat further and described how, at the height of the battle, Melvill had ridden with Colonel Pulleine to his HQ tent housing the Queen's Colour of the 1/24th (the Regimental Colour was at Helpmekaar; the two Colours of the 2/24th were in Colonel Glyn's tent, which was quickly engulfed by Zulus). According to one military author, Pulleine apparently emerged from his tent, handed the cased Colour to Melvill and ‘ordered him to take it to a place of safety’. Melvill then apparently ‘placed the staff across the saddlebow, saluted, wheeled his horse and plunged into the stream of refugees who were fleeing the camp’. (7) This description portrays a melodramatic scene, but sadly without any empirical evidence.
The popular press perpetuated many of these stories, although on 1 March 1879 the highly respected Illustrated London News drew its own rational conclusion as to why Coghill left the battlefield. It wrote that Mr Young, a surviving officer of the NNC who fled early in the battle alongside his natives, also saw Coghill leave Isandlwana. Young wrote, ‘It appears that Lt. Coghill was dispatched for assistance as he was acting that day as staff officer to Colonel Pulleine’. (8)
The Curling letters also throw some light on the matter. Curling mentions seeing both Melvill and Coghill at separate times during his escape, and his initial encounter with Melvill indicates that the Zulu right horn had already entered the camp before the order to retire was given to the firing line. Curling wrote that the guns were positioned ‘about four hundred yards beyond the left front of the Natal Native Contingent Camp’ and that, ‘on the order being given to retire, the guns were limbered up and were trotted away finally galloping through the camp being invaded by the Zulus’. The distance from the guns' position to the waggon park is approximately 1,500 yards, which in panic and among fleeing soldiers would have taken three to four minutes to cover on horseback. Melvill had already left with the Colour as Curling caught up with him some distance from the camp. Curling was riding his own charger which, by his own account, was a splendid animal which did not put a foot wrong and carried him all the way down to and across the Buffalo River without faltering.
Lieutenant Coghill's departure from the battlefield
Although an officer of the 24th on the day of the battle, Coghill was staff officer to Colonel Glyn, commander of No. 3 Column. He did not, however, accompany Glyn due to an ‘old injury to his knee’, and accordingly stayed at Isandlwana camp. As the Zulu attack was pressed home, several staff officers rendered valuable assistance to the failing British line. Captain Essex, who survived, subsequently reported that he had spent some time supervising the flow of additional ammunition to the front line before the Zulus broke into the camp. Coghill was probably unable to assist anyone due to his injured knee. As yet, there is no evidence, oral or written, official or unofficial, to indicate that Coghill was with Melvill when Melvill departed from the battlefield at Isandlwana with the Colour.
Survivors' reports indicate that Coghill left Isandlwana well before Melvill took charge of the colour from Pulleine, yet, curiously, some five miles from the camp Coghill specifically informed Curling that Pulleine had already been killed. Lieutenant Smith-Dorrien was near Melvill as the two officers were jointly negotiating a marshy patch, and Smith-Dorrien looked up and recognised Coghill at least half a mile ahead. There are other eyewitness reports of Coghill and Melvill being seen at different points along the Fugitives' Trail, but never together. It is known that Coghill, considerably incapacitated by his injury, left the camp on a stray horse. Had he left later with Melvill, it is unlikely that he could have maintained the same pace as Melvill, who was riding his own ‘splendid’ mount. On the approach to the river, Curling had a brief discussion with Coghill and later wrote, ‘I was with Maj. Smith at this time, he told me he had been wounded in the arm. We saw Lt. Coghill, the ADC and asked him if we could not rally some men and make a stand, he said he did not think it could be done’. (8)
It is also probable that Coghill's departure from Isandlwana was rather less well organised than Melvill's. Coghill certainly did not manage to collect his own horse, which would indicate a degree of chaos in the headquarters area. Instead, he seized another horse and thus made his escape, but only just, as several survivors saw some Zulus attempt to assegai Coghill but settle instead for spearing and injuring his horse. (9)
Lieutenant Higginson reached the river ahead of Coghill and Melvill but, having lost his horse in mid-stream, was clinging for dear life to a large rock protruding from the swirling water. He recalled that Coghill and Melvill reached the river independently and at different locations, with Coghill successfully crossing the river upstream of Melvill's approach. The combination of Coghill's incapacity, the rough terrain and his riding an unfamiliar and wounded horse, conspired to slow his progress to the place of the fateful incident about to unfurl. Coghill reached the safety of the Natal bank and was recovering from his ordeal as Melvill was swept into view clutching the Colour. Melvill had put his horse into the surging river and was immediately swept from the saddle. Still clutching the colour, Melvill was carried towards the rock supporting Higginson. Melvill called to Higginson to grasp the Colour but the force of the water caused Melvill to drop it; his subsequent impact with Higginson left both officers struggling in the water but protected by the lee of the rock. The struggle was observed by Coghill who put his horse into the river in an attempt to reach his fellow officers; he had nearly reached them, under a hail of Zulu rifle fire, when his horse was shot dead. The three officers then struck out for the Natal bank and safety.
Higginson first mentions Coghill after he and Melvill were swept from the now famous ‘coffin rock’, and not before. Donald Morris, a meticulous researcher, also makes no mention of Coghill and Melvill being together until Melvill was actually in the river with Higginson and after they had been clinging to the rock for some time. Morris continues, ‘Lieutenant Coghill, in a blue patrol jacket had reached the Natal shore in safety a few minutes before’. (10) Obviously no one knows why Coghill departed the battlefield; he was an ambitious officer who was highly regarded by senior officers of the 24th, including Colonel Glyn and Lord Chelmsford. As a staff officer, Coghill would have been fully aware that considerable reserves, consisting of two companies of the 1/24th, were already en route from Helpmekaar to Rorke's Drift. He could not have known that those reserves, on learning the unbelievable news of the British defeat, would turn back to Helpmekaar when only three miles from Rorke's Drift. It is possible that Coghill left Isandlwana early in the battle, intending to summon help from these reserves, which he would have believed were either at Rorke's Drift or even closer to Isandlwana.
Lieutenant Melvill and the Colour
There is no actual evidence, either primary or secondary, that Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine ever dispatched Melvill with the Colour; likewise, there is nothing to substantiate the classic words attributed to Pulleine in a variety of films and books, imploring Melvill,‘You, as senior subaltern, will take the Colour, and make your way from here’. This story is one of the legends of Isandlwana and originated in the hearsay account by Colonel Glyn, subsequently copied in a report in an obscure Natal newspaper signed by ‘A gentleman whose testimony may be relied upon’. As to its author's identity and truthfulness, we will probably never be sure, but it certainly joined the growing collection of heroic scenes adored by the Victorians. It might just be possible that Melvill, an officer with a fine reputation, seized the initiative from the inexperienced Pulleine, who before that fateful day had never heard a shot fired in anger. There is plentiful evidence that, once the Zulus entered the camp, terror and panic took an immediate hold and resistance lasted for minutes only. It is probable that Melvill took the one symbol that could restore order, the Colour, in a brave attempt to rally the 24th as the Zulus were progressively overwhelming them. Traditionally, the primary role of the Colour was as a rallying point for one's own troops in the noisy confusion and smoke of battle, and Melvill would have been only too aware of this purpose. He may then have realised his task was impossible and sought to save the Colour. In any event, Melvill managed to leave Isandlwana in relatively good order. He had the Colour, he rode his own horse and he still possessed his revolver and sword. We know that he lost his sword during the flight to the river, as Chelmsford's interpreter, Brickhill, remembered being asked by Melvill if he had seen his lost sword. Melvill probably departed the scene just as the camp was being overrun and just ahead of Curling, making him one of the last to leave the stricken position; this also accounts for Melvill's arrival at the river so long after the other fugitives.
The question posed has to remain unanswered. What is clear is that Melvill reached the river with the Colour, lost it in mid-stream and then, having been saved by Coghill, lost his life trying to save Coghill. There is little doubt that Melvill could have escaped on foot with Higginson, but chose instead to assist Coghill.
What role was played by the two soldiers who died alongside the officers is not known; they may well have arrived at the spot after Higginson departed. Higginson's initial report soon reached Glyn at Rorke's Drift. Using the report, a search party found the bodies of Coghill, Melvill and the two soldiers the following day and buried them where they had fallen. There are three cairns close to the graves of the officers and the supposition is that the soldiers were buried close to, but apart from, the officers – a normal practice at the time. It later occurred to Glyn that the Colour could still be in the vicinity of the bodies, and on 3 February he dispatched a party to search the river banks. Lieutenant Harford and Captain Harber soon discovered the Colour's case and further down the river found the Colour's pole protruding out of the water. Harber waded into the river and pulled the pole, still attached to the Colour, out of the water. As he recovered the Colour, the gold-embroidered centre scroll fell back into the water. In a moving ceremony at Rorke's Drift the Colour was restored to Colonel Glyn, the officer to whom it had originally been presented in June 1866.
Of the Regimental Colour left in camp, the crown, which was detachable, was found in March on the Natal side of the Buffalo River among the debris of a farm burnt by the Zulus. Its case was recovered from the dried-up bed of the Manzimnyama stream.
Higginson received no recognition for his endeavours to save either the two officers or the Colour from the Buffalo River. He was a colonial officer, his story was not corroborated, and then there was the unworthy incident of the horse stolen from Trooper Barker and Higginson's broken promise to him.
Who killed Coghill and Melvill?
Following the initial British attack on Sihayo's homestead, a number of surviving Zulus were detained for questioning, invariably a rough and brutal process. These captives were released during the following day or so, and a number of them took refuge with relatives living in the vicinity of Fugitives' Drift on the Natal bank of the Buffalo River, then known as Sothondose's Drift. These men, resentful of the British action and grieving for their chief's son and friends killed in the attack, were not well disposed towards the British. As the few British survivors from Isandlwana crossed the river, these very same Zulus observed them; the time for revenge had arrived. Local Zulu folklore holds that Coghill and Melvill were both killed by these previously friendly local natives and not by Cetshwayo's Zulus. It was well known that the Zulus were reluctant to cross the fast flowing and turbulent Buffalo River. Apart from being reluctant to disobey Cetshwayo's order not to invade Natal, most warriors could not swim.
Author Ron Lock wrote that many of the fugitives, including Melvill and Coghill, were killed by the prisoners released by Chelmsford the previous day, a fact which was kept secret at the time but was well known to Chelmsford's staff. One member of Chelmsford's staff actually wrote that:
Some of them got right down to the river six miles off and were killed by a lot of scoundrels whom the General had taken prisoner a few days before. (11)
What is not disputed is that three officers, Coghill, Melvill and Higginson, all ended up in the Buffalo River. All of them could have survived, but a combination of circumstances proved fatal for two of them so that only Higginson escaped. It is apparent that Melvill refused to leave Coghill to his fate, and both were killed just below the crest of the ridge overlooking the river. Amazingly, Coghill still had his sword and revolver; Melvill had drawn his revolver but it was useless – the cylinder had fallen out at Isandlwana and was allegedly found by a member of a later burial party. It is evident that Coghill, being mounted and having safely reached the Natal bank, could easily have escaped had he left Melvill to his fate in the river. Likewise, once Melvill was on the Natal bank, he could have easily reached safety had he accompanied Higginson to search for horses instead of remaining with the lame Coghill.
Chelmsford's and Wolseley's view of events
In the following months, Chelmsford remained unhappy about the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Coghill and Melvill. He was well aware of the implications of certain officers' conduct – those who had escaped Isandlwana and others who had subsequently deserted their men – so he was understandably cautious before making any official comment.
Most notable of the recent desertions was that of Lieutenant Henry Harwood, who abandoned his heavily outnumbered men in the midst of the Ntombe Drift battle on 12 March. This followed the desertion of two officers, Lieutenants Avery and Holcroft, who were part of Major Dartnell's force sent to scout ahead of Isandlwana; both disappeared and were never seen again. The circumstances of Lieutenant Adendorff's departure from Isandlwana, where he was on picket duty, and his arrival at Rorke's Drift are also uncertain. There is even the possibility that he deserted Rorke's Drift moments before the Zulu attack. Zulu war author, Michael Glover, wrote, ‘Chard did not notice Adendorff's defection and reported that he stayed to assist in the defence. Nevertheless, the evidence is overwhelming that he decamped. He was later arrested in Pietermaritzburg’. (12) More seriously, on the afternoon of the battle at Isandlwana, Captain Stevenson deserted from Rorke's Drift, leaving Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead to face the attacking Zulus. Likewise, Major Spalding never explained why he left Rorke's Drift for reinforcements only hours before the Zulus attacked the position. On 14 May 1879 Lord Chelmsford wrote to the War Office:
It is most probable that Melvill lost his life endeavouring to save Coghill rather than vice versa. He (Coghill) could hardly walk and any exertion such as walking or riding would have been likely to render him almost helpless. He could not have assisted, therefore, in saving the Colours of the 1/24th, and as I have already said I fear he was a drag on poor Melvill. As regards the latter (Melvill) I am again puzzled how to reply to your question. I feel sure that Melvill left camp with the Colours under orders received. He was too good a soldier to have left without. In being ordered to leave, however, he no doubt was given the best chance of saving his life which must have been lost had he remained in camp. His ride was not more daring than that of those who escaped. The question, therefore, remains had he succeeded in saving the Colours and his own life, would he have been considered to deserve the Victoria Cross? (13)
The new British Military Commander, Sir Garnet Wolseley, was to write even more strongly on the issue:
I am sorry that both of these officers were not killed with their men at Isandlwana instead of where they were. I don't like the idea of officers escaping on horseback when their men on foot are killed. Heroes have been made of men like Melvill and Coghill, who, taking advantage of their having horses, bolted from the scene of the action to save their lives. It is monstrous making heroes of those who saved or attempted to save their lives by bolting or of those who, shut up in buildings at Rorke's Drift, could not bolt, and fought like rats for their lives which they could not otherwise save. (14)
Why were Coghill and Melvill awarded the Victoria Cross?
The criteria for the award of a posthumous Victoria Cross prior to 1879 are confusing. Much of this confusion arose over men who died during the Indian Mutiny before the Victoria Cross could be conferred. Due to the long delays in the transmission of news between India and London, one GOC, Lord Clyde, had even requested that a supply of Victoria Crosses should be dispatched to him. His request was considered but refused by the War Office. Even after 1879, General Harman, Military Secretary at the War Office, wrote to the Foreign Secretary in 1888 concerning a request for a Victoria Cross for a deceased ensign:.
Ensign Phillipps would have been recommended for the VC had he survived, but he was not recommended prior to his decease and there are only precedents for the issue of the Cross to the relatives of persons upon whom it had been provisionally conferred, who had been recommended for it whilst alive. (15)
This doctrine prevailed until the end of the nineteenth century, though Sir Evelyn Wood recommended that Captain Ronald Campbell would have received the Victoria Cross had he survived the battle of Hlobane. Wood's relevant War Office file contains a pencilled note: ‘Gen W [presumably Wolseley] does not wish this question raised’.
With regard to Coghill and Melvill, it is interesting that no recommendation was submitted from the commander in the field. Colonel Glyn's emotive dispatch praised their conduct but made no specific recommendation. The Duke of Cambridge suggested to the Secretary of State for War that the terms of the dispatch merited the issue of memoranda to the effect that they would have been recommended to the Queen for the award of the Victoria Cross had they survived. Exactly the same situation applied to the recommendation made by the Indian Government on 15 May 1879 for the Victoria Cross to be awarded to Lieutenant Walter Hamilton for his action at Futtehabad. This attempt to bend the rules, as in the case of Coghill and Melvill, also failed.
There can be no doubt that Melvill richly deserved his award on at least two counts: firstly, for denying the Colour to the enemy and, secondly, for remaining to assist the injured Coghill. The case of Coghill is only marginally less clear although, sadly, the awkward question concerning the authority for his flight from the battlefield remains unanswered. He probably left Isandlwana, under orders, early in the battle to summon help from the reserves he fully expected to be at nearby Rorke's Drift or even closer to Isandlwana. He also surrendered his only chance of escape by plunging back into the river, under heavy enemy fire, to assist Melvill and Higginson who were floundering in mid-stream.
On 19 May 1879 Disraeli, the Prime Minister, notified Melvill's widow Sara that Queen Victoria had awarded her a pension of £100 a year ‘in recognition of the heroic conduct of your late husband in saving the Colours of the 24th Regt. on the field of Isandlana [sic]’. Melvill's father received the following letter from Major General Dillon, War Office, and dated 21 April 1879:
Sir,
I am directed by the Field Marshal Commanding in Chief to inform you that his Royal Highness [the Duke of Cambridge] perused with melancholy interest the report forwarded to him by Lord Chelmsford from Colonel Glyn, shewing how the Queen's Color [sic] of the 1st Battalion 24th Foot would have fallen into the hands of the enemy on the 22nd January but for the gallant behaviour of your son Lieutenant & Adjutant Melvill and Lieutenant Coghill of that Regiment. His Royal Highness in communicating this dispatch to you desires me to assure you, of his sincere sympathy with you in the loss of your son, whose gallant death in the successful endeavour to save the Colour of this regiment, has gained the admiration of the army.
It is gratifying to His Royal Highness to inform you that, if your son had survived his noble effort, it was Her Majesty's intention to confer upon him the Victoria Cross, and a notification to that effect will be made in the London Gazette. (16)
In 1907 the rules for the award of a posthumous Victoria Cross were changed; perhaps the continuous pressure on King Edward VII from Coghill's father, Sir Jocelyn Coghill, and Sara Melvill, influenced the change. On 15 January 1907 the London Gazette published the names of a number of families who were to receive a posthumous Victoria Cross; the list included the names of Melvill and Coghill, Melvill for attempting to save the Colour, Coghill for attempting to save Melvill and the Colour. Sadly, Sir Jocelyn Coghill died just before the awards were announced.
The Isandlwana Victoria Cross
Private 427 Samuel Wassall of the 80th Regiment of Foot (Staffordshire Volunteers) earned the only Isandlwana Victoria Cross. On 13 June 1877 Wassall joined the 80th Regiment in South Africa. The Imperial forces were short of mounted troops at the time, and a call went out for volunteers from the various regiments and detachments. Along with a number of soldiers from the 80th Regiment, Wassall volunteered and was accepted. It was not long before he was assigned to Carrington's Horse and saw action in the South African Border wars.
At the outbreak of the Zulu War, Wassall was still with the mounted infantry, and his squadron was allotted to No. 3 (Central) Column. On 11 January 1879 Chelmsford's column, containing Carrington's Horse, crossed into Zululand. On the 22nd Chelmsford divided his forces; the mounted infantry and the 1/24th remained behind with Pulleine to protect the Isandlwana camp. When the Zulus attacked the encampment, only those on horseback had any chance of escape. With the way to Rorke's Drift cut off, the only means of escape was across the rough countryside to the river border some six to seven miles distant. It will be recalled that the river was in flood, and crossing was going to be a formidable task even without the attacking Zulus. The point of the river known from that day as ‘Fugitives' Drift’ was where Wassall saved the life of a drowning comrade, Private Westwood, whilst under enemy fire.
After his escape from Isandlwana, Wassall was unofficially attached to the Northern Column under Colonel Wood VC. Westwood was still recovering in hospital at Helpmekaar from his near-drowning when he overheard two officers discussing an unrecorded event of ‘unparalleled bravery’ in the river by an unknown soldier. Although weak, Westwood managed to provide his saviour's name, but it took the army several weeks to trace Wassall. In the meantime, Wassall had also fought with Colonel Buller at Hlobane, the second major British disaster of the war. Wassall survived both. In the London Gazette dated 17 June 1879 the War Office gave notice:
That the Queen has been graciously pleased to signify Her intention to confer the decoration of the Victoria Cross on the undermentioned Officers and soldier of Her Majesty's Army, whose claims have been submitted for Her Majesty's approval, for their gallant conduct during the recent operations in South Africa, as recorded against their names.
One of these was Samuel Wassall of the 80th Regiment of Foot. On 11 September 1879, Wassall, along with Robert Jones of the 24th Regiment (for his part in the defence of Rorke's Drift), were presented with their Victoria Cross medals by Sir Garnet Wolseley GCMG, KCB. Wassall was twenty-two years and nine months old and was the youngest serving soldier then to hold the award. His VC was the first awarded during the Zulu War. He was also granted a pension of £10 per annum for life. His citation for the award was published in the London Gazette on 17 June 1879:
For his gallant conduct in having, at the imminent risk of his own life, saved that of Private Westwood, of the same Regiment. On the 22nd January 1879, when the camp at Isandhlwana was taken by the enemy, Private Wassall retreated towards the Buffalo River, in which he saw a comrade struggling, and apparently drowning. He rode to the bank, dismounted, leaving his horse on the Zulu side, rescued the man from the stream and again mounted his horse, dragging Private Westwood across the river under a heavy shower of bullets. (17)
When he left the army, Wassall moved to Barrow-in-Furness and lived with his brother William at 18 Exeter Street. He was for a time employed in the electrical department of the Barrow shipyard. He married Rebecca Round on 10 April 1882 at the parish church of St. Matthew's. They were blessed with seven children, all of whom later married. Wassall died at the age of seventy and is buried at St. James's Church, Barrow-in-Furness, in the same grave as his wife. Their graves were unmarked until 1985, when a fine marble headstone was erected by his regiment. Wassall's account of his escape and citation is reproduced in full at Appendix D.
Nearly an Isandlwana VC
Chased for six miles over extremely rugged terrain, the mounted survivors (those on foot were soon overtaken and killed) reached the Buffalo River. This fast-moving river was in full spate, and many who had survived the dangers of the trail perished beneath the swirling waters.
Trooper William Barker was one who managed to cross safely and began to climb the steep slopes on the Natal bank. Here he joined Lieutenant Charlie Raw's Mounted Basutos, who were giving covering fire. The group then moved out of range of the Zulus on the far bank. The danger, however, was not past, for the discontented relatives of the Zulus, who lived in the vicinity, now attacked the survivors as they reached the Natal bank.
Looking back, Barker saw a distant figure scrambling on foot towards them. Thinking it was a colleague, Barker left his companions and rode back down the hill. The struggling figure was Lieutenant Higginson, the Adjutant of 2/3rd Natal Native Contingent, and it will be recalled that Barker insisted the officer took his exhausted horse, as it was incapable of carrying them both up the steep slope, but obtained Higginson's promise that he would wait for him at the top of the hill. It will also be recalled that Higginson reneged on his promise, in the belief that Barker had been killed, and then rode off to ‘look for horses’ for Melvill and Coghill. But Trooper Barker had not been killed; when Raw and his companions rode back towards the river to check for any survivors they came upon Barker still running for his life. He had been pursued for about three miles, managing to fire the occasional round to keep the natives at a distance.
Within a few days the truth of Higginson's escape became well known. And there it would have ended but for a visit paid on 17 December 1881 to the Natal Carbineers by the outgoing Military Commander, Sir Evelyn Wood. During his speech to the officers he said:
I have only now heard of a gallant act performed by a straggler, whose late arrival is well explained by his having, during the retreat, given up his horse to an officer, who was exhausted. Into this matter, it will be my pleasure to enquire more.
Thus Trooper, now Sergeant, William Barker, was recommended by Wood for the Victoria Cross. But there had already been a reaction in Whitehall over the seemingly lavish dispensing of the Cross, and it cannot have been a surprise for Wood to receive the following reply:
Major General Sir Evelyn Wood VC
Sir
I am directed by the Field Marshal Commanding in Chief to acknowledge your letter of the 6th instant, and to acquaint you in reply, that statements re: Trooper Barker, Natal Carbineers, at the battle of Isandlwana, on 22 January 1879, having carefully been considered, His Royal Highness desires me to state that, while Trooper Barker's conduct on the occasion referred to is deserving of every commendation, there does not appear to be sufficient ground, according to the terms of the statute, for recommending him for the distinction of the Victoria Cross.
The disembowelling myth
As part of the Zulus' battle ritual, warriors invariably disembowelled and occasionally mutilated the bodies of their slain enemies. These were acts that horrified British soldiers, who initially believed that disembowelling was a process of torture. In fact, it was a post-combat ritual which reflected the extent to which death in battle was linked to the spiritual world of the Zulus.
After battle, freshly slain bodies were repeatedly stabbed, a practice known as ukuhlomula. Inflicting this on a fallen enemy was a ritual to mark a participating warrior's role in the kill. Warriors who had been involved in the fighting but had not actually killed an enemy were still entitled to share the glory that was attached to the victory – stabbing the corpse after it was dead and ‘washing the spear’ in blood acknowledged this.
The associated custom of disembowelling a fallen enemy – qaqa – was directly related to the Zulu view of the afterlife and its relationship with the world of the living. Part of this ritual involved slitting open the stomach of the slain enemy. Under the African sun any corpse will quickly putrefy, and the gases given off by the early stages of decay cause the stomach to swell. In Zulu belief, this was the soul of the dead warrior vainly trying to escape to the afterlife. The victor was obliged to open the stomach of his victim to allow the spirit to escape, failing which the victor would be haunted by the ghost of his victim, who would inflict unmentionable horrors upon him, including causing his own stomach to swell until eventually, the victor went mad.
Mehlokazulu kaSihayo, an attendant of King Cetshwayo, was present at Isandlwana with the iNgobamakhosi regiment. In his account of the war, which was recorded in September 1879, he made various references to the subject of stripping and disembowelling the dead:
As a rule we took off the upper garments, but left the trousers, but if we saw blood upon the garments we did not bother. All the dead bodies were cut open, because if that had not been done the Zulus would have become swollen like the dead bodies. I heard that some bodies were otherwise mutilated. (18)
At Isandlwana some bodies were disembowelled immediately. Trooper Richard Stevens of the Natal Mounted Police survived the battle, and recorded his shock at the practice:
I stopped in the camp as long as possible, and saw one of the most horrid sights I ever wish to see. The Zulus were in the camp, ripping our men up, and also the tents and everything they came across, with their assegais. They were not content with killing, but were ripping the men up afterwards. (19)
One aspect of Zulu ritual that did result in mutilation of the dead was the removal of body parts from a fallen enemy to add to the ritual medicines used to fortify the Zulu army before battle. These medicines were known as intelezi, and were sprinkled on the warriors by izinyanga, war-doctors, before the army set off on campaign. Incorporating into intelezi parts from a dead enemy, especially one who had fought bravely, would be an enormous boost to Zulu morale, thus ensuring supremacy in battle. Since a number of izinyanga accompanied the army that triumphed at Isandlwana, they would certainly have taken the opportunity to collect the raw materials for such medicine from dead soldiers. Archibald Forbes’ graphic account of the state of the bodies at the time of the first burial expedition to Isandlwana in May 1879 is highly suggestive:
Every man had been disembowelled, some were scalped, and others subject to yet ghastlier mutilations. (20)
At Isandlwana these mutilations included the disarticulation by the Zulus of the dead soldiers’ jaws, complete with beards, for trophies. Facial hair was relatively unknown to the warriors, and the luxuriant beards worn by many soldiers fascinated them. Despite the deep-seated fears of the British that these mutilations were carried out before death, and therefore amounted to torture, there is no evidence that this was in fact the case. Interestingly, after Isandlwana, the practice of shaving became widespread throughout the army. Soldiers accepted the necessity of dying for their country, but were reluctant to become trophies after death on the battlefield.
The gulf of cultural misunderstanding on this point was so wide that after Isandlwana any Zulu who fell into British hands was doomed.