In the early hours of 11th January 1879, the British No. 3 Column received orders to march across the Buffalo River into Zululand. This column, one of a few raised for the invasion, consisted of 7,800 men, and was under the command of Lord Chelmsford, the British commander-in-chief. The initial march was uneventful. As the soldiers approached the Zulu capital of Ulundi, the confidence of the soldiers reflected the contemporary British belief that the war was going to be swift and decisive. However, thunderstorms soon reduced what had been swift progress to a slow crawl.
Meanwhile, the Zulu army was keeping watch, quietly shadowing the British movements, as they marched deeper into foreign terrain. The Zulus planned their attack on the 23rd of January, the night of the full moon, which they believed would bring bad luck on the British. The chance to attack, however, came far sooner. The Zulu army consisted of about 24,000 fighters and was largely equipped their traditional spears and cowhide shields. They did possess a few outdated muskets but lacked any experience in their use. What they lacked in modern weaponry, they compensated for in determination and courage. By the 17th of January, the Zulu forces assembling, encircling the British. Some 4000 warriors formed a distraction, while the main force of 20,000 warriors moved stealthily into the Ngwebeni Valley unnoticed, and waited with simple, yet cruel, orders: “Eat up the red soldiers.” Ultimately, the British force settled at the base of the rocky outcrop of Isandlwana on 20 January.
This outcrop proved to be a poor choice for a British camp: they had made few serious defences, and the surrounding hills left the camp exposed. Despite the concerns of many over the position, the camp had been established, with patrols occasionally sent out to chase cattle or disperse small groups of Zulus nearby.
On the morning of 22 January, at approximately 7:30 a.m., a small patrol of British scouts rode out to the north-eastern ridge to maintain watch. By now, Chelmsford had taken most of the force to locate the main Zulu threat, which he believed was encamped 11 miles away, leaving just 1,300 men to protect the camp. But looking down from their vantage point, the scouts were appalled to see 20,000 Zulu warriors amassing just three miles away. Despite initial intentions to wait until the early hours of the next morning, a depleted British camp presented to enticing an opportunity.
The Zulus deployed in their famous “horns of the buffalo” formation. Two long flanks – from which the horns come – bowed out to encircle the enemy, while the central body of warriors, the chest, stood ready to drive into the British camp. Approximately 2,500 warriors formed the right horn, 6,000 the left, and the remaining troops held the centre. Their strategy was clear: to surround the camp and cut off any avenue of escape.
With Lord Chelmsford absent, the command now lay with Colonel Anthony Durnford. As the scale of the Zulu attack became clear, the time to withdraw or regroup had passed. The British line met the first wave of advancing Zulus with disciplined salvos. For a time, they inflicted heavy casualties and even managed to check the advance. It even seemed that the line would stand. But slowly momentum began to swing. Ammunition supplies failed, leaving gaps in the previously constant firing. The Zulus quickly adjusted their tactics in light of the situation: throwing themselves to the ground during each volley and then charging forward as the British reloaded. Gradually, the defenders were overwhelmed. The line was shattered first at the flanks, then across the centre.
What followed can more accurately be described as a slaughter. The camp fell to disarray as waves of Zulus surged through its defences. Most of the defenders were killed where they stood, with only a few men managing to escape. Despite orders to withdraw after the massacre, some 4000, a sixth of the Zulu army, chased the fleeing Brits across the Buffalo River into Natal. They would go on to meet at Rorke’s Drift, a fight which would go down in legend.
The Battle of Isandlwana was a crushing loss for the British army. Roughly 1,250 British soldiers were killed, with a similar number of Zulu casualties. For the confident British Empire, the loss was a shock and a humiliation. There is still debate, among both soldiers and historians, about what went wrong.
Some blamed Chelmsford for leaving the camp vulnerable, while others argue that victory was impossible given the sheer numbers of the enemy. Regardless, the result was the undeniable: Isandlwana was not just a defeat, but one of the most disastrous and unexpected defeats in British military history.