Following in Fred Symons Footsteps

I have mentioned several times that my favourite film as a boy was the technicolour epic Zulu, where Stanley Baxter and Michael Caine against all the odds defend the mission station at Rorke’s Drift from a mighty Zulu army. I never dreamt while growing up in the middle of England that I would ever visit the scene of that battle and the filming location. Now imagine how I felt on learning that my wife’s great, great, grandfather, Fred Symons, took part in the Anglo Zulu War. Not only was he there during the conflict but he kept a diary. I have over the years been lucky enough to spend time in the battlefield region of KwaZulu Natal. But now I was back and travelling with a purpose. With a typed copy of the diary in hand I was following in Fred Symons’ footsteps.

Planning in advance, Pam McFadden, chairman of the battlefield route tourism authority, had assisted me with finding accommodation in the Dundee area and arranging a guide. I liaised directly with John DeSilva, owner of Kwakunje Village, and specialist guide Paul Garner and our trip was confirmed. I made Paul aware of the plan that this was about visiting some of the places that Fred had been to and had mentioned in his diary.

At 7.30am on a cool overcast Zululand morning we met Paul at KwaKunje Village and off we set. Joining us was my friend Paul out from England, with an interest in military history, just for this part of my road trip. From the passenger seat of my car, guide Paul gave us a background to the war as we headed for our first destination. Fred’s diary covers many places, events and people, but we were only going to be looking at a set small number of locations. I will also mix in extracts from the diary relevant to each location.

After navigating some very wet rural roads and narrowly avoiding a flock of sheep, only to collide with a large boulder, we arrived at our first location, The Buffalo River. On our arrival the river was in full flow due to very heavy rains that had fallen the previous night. Fred had also experienced similar conditions, and it is clear from his diary that the going was extremely tough. We sat on our camping chairs looking down on the river where Fred had crossed and camped on the opposite side. We sat with a map laid out on the grass so as Paul could talk us through Fred’s journey and run through our route. We were in a far better position than Fred. “At present all that I know is that I can’t get enough to eat, we can’t get dry, an we can’t get enough sleep for we have lost everything but the clothes we wear. No tents or food or anything left” It was here where Fred and his comrades suffered their first casualty of the campaign, but not to an enemy but the elements. “We crossed over the Buffalo and camped on the other side. Here Trooper Dixon was drowned while bathing among a crowd of us. Yet no one noticed anything wrong until we got back to camp and he was missed. His body was found three days later a long way down”

There is a poignant note by Fred when orders are received that detachments from the Natal Carbineers, Police and the Native Contingent are to leave camp to take part in a scouting mission. “Before the invasion of Zululand we had bell tents each holding from seven to eight men, who, since crossing still messed together in the open. That evening the members of No. 3 tent whose names were Sergeant Methley, Troopers Davis, Greene, Moodie, Maclerey, Slatter, Sibthorpe and myself sat down to a good dinner provided by our genial Quartermaster London, little dreaming that we would probably never mess again together” We made our way to the Mangeni Valley where ultimately the scouting party would spend the night. Either side of the dirt road the scenery varied from lush green grass to dry rocky outcrops. There were open flat lands, rolling hills and mountains in the distance. We parked up and walked towards what appeared to be two winding rocky ledges. As we approached the rocks a large valley opened, being fed by the most stunning a Mangeni Waterfall in full flow. We were not expecting such a magnificent sight. Fred had probably stood in the same spot but his thoughts were very different. “The bottom and deep sides of the gorge were overgrown with thorn bushes under cover of which thousands of men might lie unsuspected” Tensions were running high and nerves were on edge. The men were tired and hungry. Their day had turned into an overnight stay. Skirmishes with shots being exchanged and sighting of large numbers of Zulu’s were all adding to the tensions. News also reached them during the night that Lord Chelmsford, commander of the British Forces, was to join them the following morning with reinforcements.

Things would have been vastly different if Fred had not been ordered on his scouting mission. “It must have been about twelve or one o’clock when I went to relieve the first guard and had not been there long when the low boom of a cannon reached my ears. A second and a third followed. I drew my mate’s (Harry Stirton) attention to the sounds. About this time an oppressive gloom pervaded the whole atmosphere. This was due to an eclipse of the sun but we never thought of this at the time” We arrived at our next destination, Isandlwana, where Fred was hearing the boom of cannons coming from. The atmosphere here is sombre and I have always found area eerie. Cairns of painted white rocks, fading in time, mark the mass burials of British troops.  And there are cairns of various sizes scattered over a vast distance. The camp at Isandlwana had been all but whipped out by the Zulu army with huge loss of life. Fred arrived with his comrades back at Isandlwana the following night where they were met with the most awful sights and the reality of what had happened. “Here in the dim starlight we saw the first man in a red coat lying dead, and our horses kept shying at more and more as we progressed” He goes onto say “Firing could be heard from the direction of Rorke’s Drift and a lurid light began to run along the Buffalo on the Natal side”

The penultimate visit of our day took us to Rorke’s Drift. Paul, our guide, walked and talked us through the battle here at the mission station. Paul at every stop, and along our route,  bought the scene here to life. The grim reality of the British here was of a desperate and brutal struggle to stay alive. Yes, like the film Zulu, there were many heroic acts. But the film does not reflect the horrendous scenes, desperation and the terror that those men, on both sides, went through. Fred had now been spared from two major battles and found himself at Rorke’s Drift on burial duty. “The greater part of the day was spent in collecting up the dead Zulus of whom about seven hundred were buried on that day and the following” He also wrote.”The men spoke very highly of Chard and another man named Milne, I think of Bromhead they did not speak well”

With dusk fast approaching and under Paul’s guidance I drove the old oxcart road to Helpmekaar. I cannot imagine how this steep road created for moving supplies had been passable. It is no wonder that Fred and his fellow troops were left cold and hungry as basic supplies, coats, blankets and food, were ether delayed or simply never made it to their intended destinations. There is nothing left of the camp here where Fred was taken ill but it was fitting to finish our day here. He was sent to convalesce in the town of Ladysmith from where his mother, having driven herself there in an oxcart from Pietermarizburg some one hundred miles away, collected him.

As our journey, following in Fred Symons footsteps, ended it was hard to comprehend what he and many thousands of others had gone through during the Anglo-Zulu War. There may be errors in Freds account and historical discrepancies. We are not one hundred percent sure as to when he wrote the diary. It also turns out that he was not a particularly nice man or well liked by his family. But there is no doubt that he was there and, some would say through tactical mistakes made by his seniors, survived the war. And so, the Symons name lives on, and the family remains on their farm in KwaZulu Natal. And just to go back to where it all began in Pietermaritburg once Fred had answered the call.” We were drawn up in line on the market square waiting for Lord Chelmsford to address us. Lord Chelmsford promised each of the Carbineers a farm in Zululand when the war was over” That farm never materialised but the cattle are still to this day branded FS