(10) BRITISH COLONIAL WARS –
ANGLO-ZULU & ANGLO-ZANZIBAR WARS (1879 & 1896)

The Battle of Rorke’s Drift.

That’s it – that’s the entry. Well that and the 1964 film Zulu which depicted it.

Also not quite, as British colonial wars are the archetypal wars fought by European maritime empires as they carved up the world, with the British Empire coming out in the top spot. Don’t worry – we’ll get back to Rorke’s Drift, but Britain fought numerous colonial wars.

Arguably, the most decisive colonial war or wars fought by Britain were the Napoleonic Wars. For one thing, with all the focus on their European theaters, we forget how much of the Napoleonic Wars were fought beyond Europe – and just how much of those were in essence colonial wars, with Britain coming out on top. For another, Britain’s victory in the Napoleonic Wars laid the foundations for its naval supremacy, Pax Britannica and what is sometimes called the second British Empire (to distinguish it from the first British empire until American independence).

Although its naval supremacy was the primary instrument of its empire, Britain was surprisingly versatile with a colonial army that tended to punch above its weight in numbers, which were surprisingly small, in part of course due to superior firepower (and plain old firing drill) over its colonial adversaries.

In the words of Hillaire Belloc –
“Whatever happens, we have got
The Maxim gun, and they have not”

So which of Britain’s prolific colonial wars to pick for this entry? As you can see, I’ve gone with the Anglo-Zulu and Anglo-Zanzibar Wars, firstly because I like the alliterative effect, but also because they are aptly representative of Britain’s colonial wars.

The Anglo-Zanzibar War is, however, the archetypal British colonial victory through superior firepower. Not coincidentally, it also holds the title of the shortest war in history – 38 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on which record you go by.

It was proverbial gunboat diplomacy – bonus points for involving actual gunboats, two craft with that designation, among the five British ships. Essentially, the wrong sultan succeeded to the Zanzibar Sultanate. Wrong, that is, from the perspective of the British, who preferred another one – so they simply rolled up in their ships and shelled the palace until they got the right one. Yes – they also stormed the palace with a contingent of marines or sailors and pro-British Zanzibaris. The British suffered one casualty – a wounded sailor – to about 500 Zanzibari casualties.

And with remarkably wry humor, the British billed Zanzibar for the shells the British used, among the other terms of surrender, because the British built their empire on a budget. With its puppet sultan, Zanzibar continued to be absorbed into the British Empire, and was subsequently merged with the former German colony of Tanganyika to become British Tanzania.

Now back to Rorke’s Drift, if you’re a fan of the Battle of Helm’s Deep in The Lord of The Rings film (The Two Towers), then you’re a fan of the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, as the former was filmed in a manner deliberately reminiscent of the film Zulu according to Jackson.

Indeed, Rorke’s Drift was seen at the time as the Helm’s Deep of the British Empire, a victory snatched from the jaws of the crushing defeat by the Zulus at the Battle of Isandlwana (as well as the seedy origins of the Anglo-Zulu War).

Even if contemporary observers might see Britain and its empire more as Mordor (or Isengard to America’s Mordor) rather than the Shire as Tolkien did.

If anything, Rorke’s Drift was even more epic than Helm’s Deep – as a small company of less than 150 soldiers attached to the Royal Engineers (including a substantial number of sick and wounded) fought off a force of about 3-4,000 Zulus.

Taking a step back, Rorke’s Drift was a small albeit highly celebrated part of the Anglo-Zulu War, with the British soldiers finding themselves in the path of a Zulu force in the aftermath of the opening Zulu victory at Isandlwana.

The Anglo-Zulu War itself might be seen as the last of a series of Zulu wars, from the foundation of the Zulu Kingdom as a formidable military power under Shaka. Unfortunately for his successors, the Zulu Kingdom found itself against a bigger and even more aggressive tribe – the Anglo tribe of the British Empire – and Isandlwana proved itself to be the Zulu high point of the war.

Back to Rorke’s Drift, I tend to default to its depiction in the film Zulu, which while generally accurate to the historical battle, does of course have inaccuracies (with perhaps the most egregious involving the depiction of Private Hook, a model soldier, as a rogue redeemed in the battle). The film may also be seen as somewhat problematic in these times given its celebration of British imperial victory – I don’t care.

Indeed the film tends to glamorize both sides in the battle – with the Zulus depicted as a brave, intelligent, capable, resourceful and ultimately honorable adversary. And if anyone can resist the stirring orchestral theme by John Barry, I don’t know what to say.

The British soldiers were led by Lieutenant Chard, portrayed by Stanley Baker, and his second in command Lieutenant Bromhead, portrayed by a young Michael Caine in his breakthrough film role. Deciding that retreat isn’t an option as they will move too slowly with their sick or wounded and the Zulus will catch them out in the open, they have no option but to stand and fight behind improvised barricade defenses.

Throughout the day and night (into the following day) after the Zulu force surrounds them, wave after wave of Zulu attackers are desperately and narrowly repelled by the British defenders. At one point, the Zulus succeed in setting fire to the field hospital, leading to tense scenes of the evacuation of patients under fierce attack by Zulu warriors – and British Surgeon-Major James Henry Reynolds calmly continues his surgery on a wounded soldier with fighting all around him. And yes – he got a Victoria Cross.

The British defenders retreat to the shortened lines of their inner barricades. One tactic you see through the film is the use of multiple ranks of soldiers to maintain a nearly continuous volley of fire with their bolt-action rifles. None more so than the climactic scene with three such ranks used (after falling back from desperate hand-to-hand combat at an outer barricade) to defend a massive assault by Zulu warriors. And as the camera pans back, you see the fallen Zulu warriors mere inches away from the front rank of breathless British soldiers – an impressive feat of holding the line.

That’s when you start to think from the preceding sense of overwhelming doom that hangs over the British soldiers – holy crap, they’re actually going to make it! And then – no, holy crap, they’re not…as the Zulu force masses on the hill overlooking Rorke’s Drift, seemingly barely diminished, while the British are exhausted and running low on ammunition. Lieutenant van den Burgh, their Afrikaaner advisor serving with the Natal Native Contingent, sinks to his knees and rebukes the British officers (and arguably their imperialism as well) – “Haven’t you had enough? We’re all dead!”

And then, holy crap again – as the Zulus chant, raising their spears. “They’re taunting us!” Michael Caine’s character exclaims. Van den Burgh laughs – “You couldn’t be more wrong – they’re saluting us as fellow braves!”. And then the Zulus slowly turn and walk away, still chanting, until a lone warrior is left, before he too turns and leaves.

Sadly, the historical battle ended in a more prosaic way, without the Zulus saluting the British (but more withdrawing from strategic sense and an advancing British relief column). I prefer to think it ended the way it did in the film.

11 Victoria Crosses were awarded to the defenders of Rorke’s Drift, with 17 killed and 11 wounded from their number in the battle – having inflicted 20 casualties for every one of theirs, with 351 confirmed killed from the Zulu forces (and about 500 wounded).

Britain’s colonial wars – and European colonial wars in general – exemplified the less gallant but undeniably effective side of the art of war, picking curb stomp battles, albeit usually through superior firepower rather than superior numbers. All nations would like wars like the Anglo side of the Anglo-Zanzibar War, whether or not they like to admit it – they just usually lack the means. And even if the British occasionally got stomped rather than doing the stomping, as in the Anglo-Zulu War (although they ultimately won that too).

RATING: 4 STARS****
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