One of my dad's favourite films, and one that growing up we watched countless times, is the 1964 Stanley Baker/Michael Caine classic 'Zulu' that depicts the real life battle of Rourke's Drift. Being so close to where it all happened I couldn't pass up the opportunity to visit the actual battlefields themselves, and see just how accurate the film really was.
After descending the Sani Pass, I spent my first night back in SA in a B&B where my room was in a converted railway carriage (the owner had bought the rusting hulks off a farmer for £30 then done an amazing job of renovating them), before heading out to two places familiar to anyone who seen the aforementioned film - Isandlwana and Rourke's Drift. For those of you whose staple family mealtime conversation was not British military history (surely a minority), Isandlwana and Rourke's Drift were two significant battles between the Zulu warriors of King Cetshwayo and the British Army under Lord Chelmsford in 1879. Unsurprisingly, the British had started it by giving the Zulus a set of unmeetable demands, essentially to disband their entire military and hence social structure or face the consequences. The Zulus couldn't and didn't comply and Chelmsford had his excuse to march his army into Zulu territory. With characteristically British aristocratic arrogance, Chelmsford ignored his own protocols that said he should fortify his camp, and also ignored the threat that the Zulus would come over the mountain rather than around it. King Cetshwayo meanwhile summoned 20,000 warriors and after splitting Chelsmford's force by drawing over half away with a dummy force of a couple of thousand men, attacked the main camp from...over the mountain. The British force of 1400 men that remained at camp, despite being armed with overwhelmingly superior weaponry, was encircled, overrun and almost entirely wiped out. Chelmsford ignored the mounting evidence of the disaster throughout the day, including the urgent message "For God's sake come back, the camp is surrounded, and things I fear are going badly", and when he finally returned all that was left was a scene of utter carnage.
Meanwhile, 4000 Zulu warriors from Cetshwayo's reserve had attacked the small garrison of soldiers at the mission station of Rourke's Drift. Having received the news about Isandlwana the troops had hastily begun to construct a barricade of mealie bags, and by the time the Zulu force attacked they had a four foot high barricade. With only 139 men (many already sick or injured) it looked pretty hopeless, but after a furious fight which cost 500 Zulu and 17 British lives, the Zulus called off the attack.
Isandlwana is a dramatic landscape, a grassy plain hemmed in by mountains with the rocky mass of Isandlwana itself in the centre (it is the name of the hill that the British had camped around). The scene is dotted with small white cairns, denoting where the British fell, and where small bands made a desperate last stand. It was all too easy to imagine the Zulu troops swarming down the hillsides at an overstretched thin red line that ultimately stood no chance. More surprising was Rourke's Drift. Having seen the film, what was most different about the reality was just how small the site was. By the evening of the battle, the troops were all within an area of about 30m x 30m; a diorama in the museum gave an idea of just what that would have looked like when surrounded by 4000 attacking Zulus, and it looked pretty terrifying!
Having soaked up the atmosphere, I then fluked a free night in a local lodge by chatting to an incredibly hospitable guide about my travels (who should definitely write a book as he has so many good stories), and the next day packed up and headed off for the other tiny nation in the region - Swaziland.
[Oh, and if you were wondering what happened after the battles, the British (being the global superpower and world's #1 bullies) came back with more troops and more guns and crushed the Zulus who just wanted to be left alone. Chelmsford blamed the failure on Durnford (who had actually fought courageously unlike Chelmsford) though was ultimately replaced by Wolesley and never held field command again]
After descending the Sani Pass, I spent my first night back in SA in a B&B where my room was in a converted railway carriage (the owner had bought the rusting hulks off a farmer for £30 then done an amazing job of renovating them), before heading out to two places familiar to anyone who seen the aforementioned film - Isandlwana and Rourke's Drift. For those of you whose staple family mealtime conversation was not British military history (surely a minority), Isandlwana and Rourke's Drift were two significant battles between the Zulu warriors of King Cetshwayo and the British Army under Lord Chelmsford in 1879. Unsurprisingly, the British had started it by giving the Zulus a set of unmeetable demands, essentially to disband their entire military and hence social structure or face the consequences. The Zulus couldn't and didn't comply and Chelmsford had his excuse to march his army into Zulu territory. With characteristically British aristocratic arrogance, Chelmsford ignored his own protocols that said he should fortify his camp, and also ignored the threat that the Zulus would come over the mountain rather than around it. King Cetshwayo meanwhile summoned 20,000 warriors and after splitting Chelsmford's force by drawing over half away with a dummy force of a couple of thousand men, attacked the main camp from...over the mountain. The British force of 1400 men that remained at camp, despite being armed with overwhelmingly superior weaponry, was encircled, overrun and almost entirely wiped out. Chelmsford ignored the mounting evidence of the disaster throughout the day, including the urgent message "For God's sake come back, the camp is surrounded, and things I fear are going badly", and when he finally returned all that was left was a scene of utter carnage.
Meanwhile, 4000 Zulu warriors from Cetshwayo's reserve had attacked the small garrison of soldiers at the mission station of Rourke's Drift. Having received the news about Isandlwana the troops had hastily begun to construct a barricade of mealie bags, and by the time the Zulu force attacked they had a four foot high barricade. With only 139 men (many already sick or injured) it looked pretty hopeless, but after a furious fight which cost 500 Zulu and 17 British lives, the Zulus called off the attack.
Isandlwana is a dramatic landscape, a grassy plain hemmed in by mountains with the rocky mass of Isandlwana itself in the centre (it is the name of the hill that the British had camped around). The scene is dotted with small white cairns, denoting where the British fell, and where small bands made a desperate last stand. It was all too easy to imagine the Zulu troops swarming down the hillsides at an overstretched thin red line that ultimately stood no chance. More surprising was Rourke's Drift. Having seen the film, what was most different about the reality was just how small the site was. By the evening of the battle, the troops were all within an area of about 30m x 30m; a diorama in the museum gave an idea of just what that would have looked like when surrounded by 4000 attacking Zulus, and it looked pretty terrifying!
Having soaked up the atmosphere, I then fluked a free night in a local lodge by chatting to an incredibly hospitable guide about my travels (who should definitely write a book as he has so many good stories), and the next day packed up and headed off for the other tiny nation in the region - Swaziland.
[Oh, and if you were wondering what happened after the battles, the British (being the global superpower and world's #1 bullies) came back with more troops and more guns and crushed the Zulus who just wanted to be left alone. Chelmsford blamed the failure on Durnford (who had actually fought courageously unlike Chelmsford) though was ultimately replaced by Wolesley and never held field command again]
