The terrain was in a valley with some scattered farmhouses. The river was a dry wadi which provided cover but did not inhibit movement.

The valley showing the wadi running through the centre of it.

British Line Infantry and a Field Gun deployed behind sandbags.

The Gun Limber and some Natal native horse deployed towards the rear

More British Line deployed behind rock-walled fields.

The first Zulu Impi moves forward

The Second Zulu Impi moves at the double and crosses the wadi trying to outflank the British.

Sweeping through the farm the First Impi comes under British fire and the unit of the Zulu King becomes pinned.

The farmlet at Rorke’s Drift protected by a “not so thin red line”.

At this stage the British were worried but as a seasoned Zulu player I knew the impact of the British firepower. The two Zulu unit just failed to contact the British behind their sandbags and were reduced to below half strength and pinned by artillery and front and flank rifle fire.

Things were initially looking good for the Second Impi but again the British rifle fire decimated the three front Impi’s. I could have gone to ground but this would have meant that I would have been unable to reach the British and would have suffered much the same fate but only taking a little longer.

The First Impi has become unpinned and is ready to attack next turn.

Having just smashed through two of the First Impi’s remaining units the Natal Light Horse is preparing to charge the Second Impi. At this stage a roar of voices was heard from the redcoats:

Men of Harlech, march to glory,
Victory is hov’ring o’er ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye,
Hear ye not her call?
At your sloth she seems to wonder;
Rend the sluggish bonds asunder,
Let the war-cry’s deaf’ning thunder
Every foe appall.

At this stage with the Zulu King dead and only two remaining Zulu units intact the Zulu’s retired. It becomes a very different outcome if the Zulu’s can close quickly on British in the open. Ahhh……..next time!

A great game which demonstrated the power of British firepower behind fortifications.

See, they now are flying!
Dead are heap’d with dying!
Over might hath triumph’d right,
Our land to foes denying;
Upon their soil we never sought them,
Love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson we have taught them,
“Cambria ne’er can yield!”