The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford
and took a deliberate aim, the Arab sat perfectly still looking down
the barrel, till the bullet killed him.
Surgeon-General Sir Arthur W. May tells me of an instance of the spirit
of the men. A huge able seaman, nicknamed Jumbo, who was one of the
gun's crew when it was run outside the square, was thrown upon his face
by the charge; and apparently every Arab who went past or over him, had
a dig at the prostrate seaman.
After the action, with the help of able seaman Laker, I carried him to
the doctor. He was a mass of blood, which soaked my tunic. I tried to
wash it afterwards with sand. He must have weighed about sixteen
stone. Quite recently, at Stornoway, where he is chief petty officer
of the Coast-guard, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Laker, and we
recalled the salving of poor Jumbo.
He had seventeen wounds, spear-thrusts, and sword-cuts. Upon visiting
him in the Field Hospital a few days later, Surgeon May, intending to
console the patient, said:
"You will be able to be sent back with the next convoy of wounded,
after all."
"Sent back?" returned Jumbo indignantly. "I haven't done with the
beggars yet!"
He recovered, but not in time to gratify his ardour.
The square was moved some 50 yards from the field of battle and was
formed anew. I went to try to find any wounded men of my Brigade.
Having brought in two, I was starting for a third time, when someone
shouted, "Look out, Charlie!" and I turned about to see an Arab
charging at me with a spear. I ran to meet him, sword in hand, parried
his spear, then held my sword rigid at arm's length. He ran right up
the blade to the hilt, against which his body struck with so great
force that he fell backward.
I picked up a man who was shot through the back, and put him upon a
camel upon which was a wounded Arab. Presently I heard my man singing
out; and I {267} found his thumb was being chewed off by the Arab, whom
I hauled off the camel and of whom I disposed in another way.
The bodies of most of my men who were killed were found some 25 yards
from the place at which we had worked the gun. Here were the bodies of
my poor comrades, Lieutenants Alfred Pigott and R. E. de Lisle. Pigott
had been promoted to commander, but he never knew it. De Lisle had his
whole face cut clean off. Captain C. P. Piggot (not to be confused
with the naval officer, Commander Alfred Pigott), who fought like a
Paladin in the square, and who knew not fear, died some years
afterwards in England. (I took him on my coach to Lord's; he was so
weak that he could not get upon it without the help of a footman, and
he looked dreadfully ill. He told me that the doctor had given him
three weeks to live; but he was dead in three days.)
Eight of the Naval Brigade were killed and seven were wounded, out of
40 who went into action. Every man of the Brigade handling the gun
outside the square was killed, excepting myself.
I observed that the rows of bullets from the Gardner gun, which was
rifle calibre .45-inch, with five barrels, had cut off heads and tops
of heads as though sliced horizontally with a knife.
The official account gives the loss of the enemy at 1100 in the
vicinity of the square.
Nearly half the British rifles jammed, owing to the use of leaf
cartridges. The Remington rifles used by the Mahdi's soldiers had
solid drawn cartridges which did not jam. During the action of Abu
Klea the officers were almost entirely employed in clearing jammed
rifles passed back to them by the men. The British bayonets and
cutlasses bent and twisted, the result of a combination of knavery and
laziness on the part of those who were trusted to supply the soldier
with weapons upon which his life depends. The bayonets were blunt,
because no one had thought of sharpening them. The spears of the Arabs
were sharp like {268} razors. The cutlasses of the Naval Brigade were
specially sharpened.
I noticed that when a soldier was killed, a bluejacket always
endeavoured to secure his bayonet; and that when a sailor was killed, a
soldier always tried to take his hat, preferring it to the Army helmet.
The official report of Sir Charles Wilson states the total number of
the enemy to have been from 9000 to 11,000, consisting of men from
Berber, Metemmeh, Kordofan, and 1000 men of the Mahdi's army. Of the
total number, it was estimated that 5000 or 6000 attacked. The British
numbered something over 1200 men; but, these being in square, the
weight of the attack fell upon no more than about 300 men. There were
342 men of the Royal Artillery on the front face of the square; 235 men
on the left flank, reinforced when the charge came by some of the Naval
Brigade and a company from the rear face; 300 men and the Naval
Brigade, between 40 and 50 strong, on the rear face; and 307 men on the
right flank. The centre was a solid mass of camels. This thin
framework of men, forced back upon the camels, resisted the tremendous
impact of thousands of frenzied fanatics who knew not fear, and whom
nothing stopped but death.
I cannot better describe the result than by quoting the words of
Colonel the Hon. Reginald Talbot, 1st Life Guards, who commanded the
Heavy Camel Regiment at Abu Klea (_Nineteenth Century_, Jan. 1886):
"It was an Inkerman on a small scale--a soldiers' battle; strength,
determination, steadiness, and unflinching courage alone could have
stemmed the onslaught."
It was a soldiers' battle, because the attack was sudden; it came
before the square was formed; and in the stress and tumult orders were
useless.
{269}
CHAPTER XXIX
THE SOUDAN WAR (_Continued_)
VII. THE FIGHT TO REACH THE RIVER
"We had beat the foe at Abu Klea, and now had marched all night,
Parching with thirst, each longed to see the first faint streak of light,
For all expected with the dawn to see the river flow.
'Twas there all right, but in our path stood thousands of the foe;
We halted, and a barricade of biscuit boxes made,
And swift their deadly bullets flew round that frail barricade,
And many a gallant fellow dropped before the welcome cry,
'Form square' was heard, 'we must advance, and reach the Nile or die.'"
_Songs of the Camel Corps_ (Sergeant H. EAGLE, R.M.C.C.)
By the time the wounded were picked up, the dead counted, and their
weapons destroyed, and the square was ready to start, it was half-past
three in the afternoon. There was no food, and hardly any water. The
soldiers suffered dreadfully from thirst; their tongues were so swollen
as to cause intense pain, their lips black, their mouths covered with
white mucus. Several men fainted. Luckily I had put a skin of water
upon a camel just before the action, so that the men of the Naval
Brigade all had a drink, and there was a little water over for the
wounded. The sailors persisted in smoking; they said it did them good;
so I let them.
{270}
The wells of Abu Klea lay some three miles ahead. The Cavalry, the
horses weak, emaciated, and tormented by thirst, were sent on to
reconnoitre. The square followed slowly. So short-handed was the
Naval Brigade that I had to clap on to the drag-ropes myself. We
hauled the gun through the sand and across nullahs and over rocks till
about 5.30 p.m., when we came to the wells, which were small pools in
the soil, and which, when they were emptied, slowly filled again. The
water was yellow and of the consistency of cream; but it was cool,
sweet, and delicious.
Three hundred volunteers from the Heavy Camel Regiment, the Guards'
Camel Regiment, and the Mounted Infantry left the wells soon after
sunset to march the six weary miles back again to fetch the camels and
commissariat. They marched and worked all night; yet their lot was
better than ours; for they got food and could keep warm. As for
ourselves, we lay down where we were, without food or blankets, and
suffered the coldest night in my remembrance. It is suggested to me by
a friend who has seen much active service in many wars, that, owing
probably to the exhaustion of the nerves, men are far more susceptible
to cold after a battle. He himself recalls the night after
Magersfontein as the coldest he ever experienced. At any rate, we were
cold to the marrow that night of 17th-18th January; cold and bruised
and very hungry, the most of us having had no food for twenty-four
hours. I must here record my admiration of the medical staff, who
worked hard all night, doing their utmost for the sick and wounded.
I sat on an ammunition box and shivered. The wound upon my finger,
where the Arab's spear had cut it, though slight, was
disproportionately painful. Lieutenant Douglas Dawson (of the
Coldstream Guards) came to me and asked me if I had any tobacco. I
told him that my tobacco, together with my field-glasses, had departed
into the desert with my steed County Waterford, which had run away.
Dawson had six cigarettes, of which he gave me three. I would
cheerfully have given a year's income for them, as {271} I told him.
We agreed that it was hard to have to die without knowing who had won
the Derby.
At about seven o'clock next morning (18th January) the convoy returned
with the rest of the camels and the commissariat. We had our first
meal for some thirty-six hours. Then we went to work to build a fort
in which to leave the wounded, and to prepare for the march to the
river, some 25 miles distant. A burying party went back to the field
of Abu Klea and interred our dead. Some prisoners captured by the
convoy on its way back to the camp, reported that Omdurman had fallen;
but the information was not made generally known. I did not hear it
until we reached Metemmeh.
Sir Herbert Stewart then determined to reach the Nile before next
morning. A small detachment of the Royal Sussex was left to guard the
wounded. The column marched about 3.30 p.m. It was a desperate
venture, for the men had had no sleep for two nights, had fought a
battle in between, had suffered agonies of thirst and the exhaustion of
hunger. But Sir Herbert Stewart had learned from the prisoners that
the enemy who had fought at Abu Klea were no more than the advanced
guard of the main body, which would probably come out from Metemmeh to
meet us, and that the fall of Omdurman had released a number of the
Mahdi's army; and the general wished to reach the river before fighting
again. He hoped to be upon the Nile before daylight. In any event,
the enterprise of the Desert Column was a forlorn hope; and by this
time we all knew it.
Cameron, war correspondent of _The Standard_, came to me with a very
grave face. He was not alarmed for his own safety, for he was a most
gallant man; but he feared for the Column.
"Lord Charles," he said, "have you any influence with General Stewart?
If so, for God's sake implore him not to go on without reinforcements.
I know these people and he does not."
{272}
The next time I saw poor Cameron was upon the following day, when he
was lying with a bullet-hole in his forehead, dead.
The Column was guided by Ali Loda, a friendly desert freebooter who had
been captured during the first march to Jakdul. He was accompanied by
Captain Verner and Colonel Barrow. Half the force marched on foot, in
case of attack; the mounted men each leading a camel. The commissariat
camels were tied in threes, nose to tail, the leading camel being
ridden by a native driver. Although both men and camels were tired
out, they went bravely along the track leading across a wide plain,
with grass and scrub in the distance. By the time it was dark, we had
come to the long savas grass, and the tracks, hitherto plain to see in
the brilliant starlight, became obscured. Then began the confusion.