The 1964 film 'Zulu' directed by and starring the late Stanley Baker, suddenly thrust the Zulu War of 1879 on the world and the story of how a handful of determined British soldiers fought off an overwhelmingly superior Zulu army became an instant classic.

Battle of Isandlwana

(National Army Museum)

Following the success of the film, 'Airfix Magazine', of which in my formative years I was an avid reader, ran a series of articles on the Zulu War.  As well as giving a detailed explanation of how to convert Airfix plastic WW1 German soldiers into British soldiers of 1879 and Red Indian braves into Zulu warriors, the magazine told the story of the war and first introduced me to the Battle of Isandlwana, which became a place I longed to visit - an ambition I was not to realise until a friend's wedding in South Africa recently gave me an excuse.   

The Battle of Isandlwana was fought earlier on the same day that Rorke's Drift was besieged.  The Zulus attacking Rorke's Drift were reserves who were not called on to fight in the earlier battle and so ran to the nearby mission post and attacked it, hoping for an easy victory over such a small garrison.

Having written longish (epic) poems about a number of other historic events, I decided to write a poem that told the story of Isandlwana in verse and planned the trip.  We decided to fly to Johannesburg and then drive on down into Zululand via the town of Ladysmith, which was besieged in the Boer War, and the eventual relief of which caused flags to be flown and church bells to be rung throughout England.

My reason for going, however, was far more personal.  My grandfather, about whom I know very little (as he died before I was born), was a rifleman in the Cameronian Highlanders (the Scots Rifles) which took part in the relief.

Ladysmith Town Hall

(much shot at during the siege)

At Isandlwana, we had booked accommodation at Isandlwana Lodge, a beautiful hotel nestling under the iNyoni rock where the Zulu commander stood directing the battle.  The hotel is built in a rustic, Zulu-like style and from the air forms the elongated typical shape of a Zulu shield.

It is a warm, welcoming place, the memory of which still brings a smile.

From every room, the battlefield, overlooked by its distinctively shaped mountain, can be easily seen, and I recall on the first evening, looking out from our terrace at the mountain, almost pinching myself in disbelief that I was actually THERE!  Further, I found myself wondering why it had taken so long for me to get round to making the journey (or was it a pilgrimage?)

The next morning we drove over to the battlefield.  I had heard of the white cairns (piles of rocks) marking the graves of the dead British soldiers but was not prepared for how many there were or how moving the whole place is.  The story of the battle unfolds in the cairns, as the soldiers were buried where they fell, rather than being gathered together into a common graveyard.  The forward line can be clearly seen as can other places where tragic last stands took place. 

Near the entrance to the field, a Zulu memorial formed like a warrior's necklace, reminds us that, in spite of their victory, more Zulus than British died on the day.

It is apparently unusual for the Zulu people to erect a memorial of any kind because in their culture the land itself is a memorial with no need of anything added by man.  

Blood River Boer Memorial

Blood River Zulu Memorial (Ncome)

In assessing the battle, what of course is surprising is not that Rorke's Drift was such a success, but that Isandlwana was such a disaster.  Forty years earlier a group of 400 Boers had shown how easy it was to fight off vastly superior numbers of warriors armed only with spears and shields at Blood River.  They had put their wagons into a circle, in the manner associated with Wild West pioneers, and filled the gaps between them with pre-prepared palisades, effectively creating a fort into which the Zulus were unable to break.  Although armed with only muzzle-loading muskets, each man had several, and people standing behind to load, thereby enabling a devastating rate of fire to be kept up.  The Zulus were massacred.

The name of the river was subsequently changed from the Zulu Ncome (Peace) to Blood, since the water literally ran red from the number of slain Zulus who fell in.

Had the camp at Isandlwana been properly 'laagered' (or fortified) as it should have been, then it is likely that 22nd January 1879 would scarcely have merited a mention in the history books.  1,500 well-trained British soldiers firing 10 or more rounds a minute with deadly accuracy and a range of nearly a mile would have made short work of even the twenty thousand Zulus present on the day. 

Buffalo River at the point crossed by Melville and Coghill, a raging torrent at the time.