“In a small pocket notebook William Cochrane had taken with him into the field, a printed entry for Wednesday 22 January 1879 noted that a solar eclipse would take place that day…The eclipse coincided with the peak of the battle at iSandlwana; in a stunning piece of natural symbolism, on the bloodiest day in the history of the Victorian Empire, the sun darkened. As one African folk story has it, in that moment, God closed his eyes, for he could not bear to look upon the horror that Man was inflicting upon himself.
There was no dramatic reduction in the light levels, but far out at Mangeni Trooper Symons noticed a heavy stillness settle over the atmosphere. In the camp at iSandlwana, the eclipse frayed nerves already overstretched by the adrenaline rush of blood-lust and terror amid the smoke and dust. ‘Our eyes were dark,’ said uNzuzi Mandla of the uVe, ‘and we stabbed everything we came across.’ The worlds of the living and of the ancestors were entwined in a terrible embrace, and the sky seemed rent by some terrible form of umnyama; ‘the sun turned black in the middle of the battle,’ a man of the uNokhenke told Bertram Mitford in 1882. ‘We could still see it over us, or we should have thought we had been fighting till evening. Then we got into camp, and there was a great deal of smoke and firing. Afterwards the sun came out bright again.’
And for hundreds of men, that hellish vortex of human rage and violence swirling in the unnatural gloom would be their last vision of the living world…”
- Ian Knight, Zulu Rising: The Epic Story of Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift
In terms of sheer drama, few conflicts in history can surpass the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879. Despite its brevity – it lasted but five months – it brims with epic battles, heroic stands, tense chases, close escapes, and a litany of mysteries and controversies. This aspect of the war has been ably covered in Hollywood films, such as Zulu, and nonfiction narratives such as Donald R. Morris’s classic The Washing of the Spears.
There is another aspect to the war, however, one that reminds us that history, unlike fiction, actually happened, and that no matter how good the story, there were real life consequences. The Anglo-Zulu War was a colonial war, one that began with Great Britain’s unjustified and premeditated invasion of Zululand, and ended with the attempted dismantling of a culture and a people. This reality is often missing in the many battle-histories covering the war. You get the excitement, without reckoning at the cost.
In that sense, Ian Knight’s Zulu Rising is quite nearly a perfect book. It combines storytelling proficiency – if not quite flair – with prodigious research, sound judgments, cultural sensitivity, and a broadness that treats the Zulu perspective as equal to that of the British.
***
Zulu Rising covers only the opening of the Anglo-Zulu War, and focuses on its two most famous battles: the crushing defeat of an entire battalion of British infantry at Isandlwana, and the makeshift defense of Rorke’s Drift by a small number of redcoats.
Knight is one of the preeminent scholars of this period, and you know before opening the cover that you are in good hands. Within the first few pages, he also indicates that he’s bringing a modern sensibility to a Victorian saga. For example, he has scrubbed his text of Afrikaner references that pepper most Zulu books, such as laager and kraal. He also uses more traditional spellings and place names.
More than that, Knight starts from the Zulu point of view. Specifically, the first set piece is a detailed recounting of the killing of a woman named MaMtshali by Mehlokazulu. MaMtshali was a Great Wife who strayed from her husband in violation of Zulu law, and Knight uses the incident to explain the ideological divide separating Zulus on both sides of the Mzinyathi River. Zulus on one side still retained their traditional lifestyles, while those on the other were under colonial authority.
While this incident has been covered before, I appreciated Knight ceding to the Zulu center stage in their own tale. They are given names, passions, and motivations. Later, when the battles start, their movements about the battlefield are placed in a strategic context far different from the human wave attacks portrayed in popular media.
***
This is an absolutely massive tome, and is just over 600 pages of text, followed by fifty pages of endnotes, some of them annotated.
Knight spends the majority of this space on the battle of Isandlwana. Frankly, this is justified. In the shadow of an iconic mountain, thousands of men went bayonet to spear in a clash that left some 1,300 British and 1,000 Zulus dead. It was one of the worst disasters in British imperial history, and that is saying something.
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What makes Isandlwana so fascinating is that it is part history, part puzzle. Every British soldier on the firing lines, every company officer, and Colonel Henry Pulleine – the commander – was killed in the battle. According to legend, Zulu King Cetshwayo told his men to kill every man with a red coat, so that only a handful of Anglo officers wearing blue tunics managed to safely flee.
Because the British were nearly annihilated, a lot of witnesses never got the chance to make their reports. All of our primary Anglo sources come from men who didn’t have official duties during the fight. This allowed them to escape, which is good for their lives, but also meant that they didn’t necessarily see some of the most impactful moments, which is bad for the historical record.
Consequently, we have tantalizing glimpses of how things shook out, but at the critical moment of failure – when the overextended British firing line collapsed – we have only suppositions, surmises, theories, and precious few Zulu accounts. Half the fun of reading about a battle like this is in the detective work involved, in attempting to cull and collate sources, searching for corroborating witnesses or forensic evidence that dovetails with a frightened man’s long-ago account.
***
Given the difficulties I’ve described, Knight strikes a really good balance between straight-ahead narrative and source-analysis. I also appreciated his judicious block-quoting of primary sources. This allows the reader to see exactly what a participant recorded, rather than having that information diffused through an author’s preconceptions.
With clarity and precision, Knight capably resolves many of the enduring controversies of the battle. For instance, he has an extended discussion on the infamous ammunition controversy, which stems from the alleged failure of quartermasters to hand out bullets to anyone but authorized companies, and from the difficulty in breaking open the ammo boxes themselves. Some have theorized that this allowed the firing to slacken, giving the Zulu the chance to close with their spears. One historian actually recreated a period-appropriate box and then tried to destroy it on camera. To my mind, Knight puts the argument to bed, though I wouldn’t dare spoil that.
Knight also spends time clarifying the British order of battle, including the disposition of African troops who served with the British. In certain retellings of the battle – unfortunately including The Washing of the Spears, which is otherwise magnificent – the British disintegration is precipitated by the retreat of African troops in the center of the British firing line. This is a rather unsubtle bit of racism in that it blames black soldiers for the defeat of white troops at the hands of black warriors. Knight not only demolishes the lie, but he traces it back to its source, so that the interested reader can follow its genesis.
***
Isandlwana is an exceedingly English dumpster fire. I mean, there is nothing more British than capping a massive military loss by having an officer attempt to escape with the Regimental flag.
After that, everything following is a bit anticlimactic, even though the struggle at Rorke’s Drift is fascinating in its own right.
If you’re an American, the best way to describe Rorke’s Drift is to compare it to the Doolittle Raid launched in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor. In other words, the defense of the Drift is a relatively small event that took on massive proportions as a morale booster.
During the fight at Rorke’s Drift, 150 British soldiers turned an old trading post into a sandbagged redoubt and held off 3-4,000 Zulus. The successful defense was a much needed elixir after the drubbing at Isandlwana, and resulted in the award of 11 Victoria Crosses.
Unlike Isandlwana, there were many survivors capable of giving contemporary written accounts, so that there is little mystery surrounding the fight. In my opinion, this makes Rorke’s Drift inherently less interesting to study. Even so, Knight does a credible job with the battle, emphasizing the piecemeal nature of the Zulu attacks that doomed them to fail.
***
Zulu Rising is not just a great book on the Anglo-Zulu War, but an excellent example of history done with skill and balance. It is respectful and inclusive; it corrects past biases; and it does these things without losing sight of why you picked this book up in the first place: to stand with brave men from two very different worlds beneath an eclipsing sun, both sides struggling – in their own way – for survival itself.