Decatur Boarding the Tripolitan Gunboat during the bombardment of Tripoli, 3 August 1804. Lieutenant Stephen Decatur (lower right center) in mortal combat with the Tripolitan Captain – oil painting by Dennis Malone Carter, 1850 (public domain image – Wikipedia “First Barbary War”)

(16) BARBARY WARS (1801-1805 & 1815)

Marines vs pirates – what’s not to love?

The Barbary Wars would be worthy of special mention if only as wars by the US Navy and Marines, newly created for this purpose, fighting the pirates of the Mediterranean – and not just any pirates, but the most famous and feared pirates in history or at least those with the coolest name, the Barbary Corsairs based in north Africa.

And if you were not entertained already, the Americans fought the Barbary Wars because they were simply done with the crap of paying tribute – to the tune of a fifth of its government budget – as a protection racket for piracy and slavery, all while European nations were stuffing around with a little thing called the Napoleonic Wars, except for Sweden and Sicily which joined the Americans as allies in the First Barbary War.

They are also precursors for American expeditionary warfare of subsequent history, particularly the distinctive American style of punitive expeditionary warfare, as well as the robust defense of American shipping or trade – even more notable as occurring at a time usually characterized as the zenith of American isolationism.

Of course, that American style of punitive expeditionary warfare tended (and tends) to be averse to boots on the ground – unless those boots are of Marines – albeit it has evolved from naval power or “gunboat diplomacy” to air power, bomber or drone diplomacy as it were.

And yet the Barbary Wars are up there with the American wars in history that are most overlooked, even perhaps among the so-called forgotten wars, at least in popular culture and imagination – despite being commemorated by the second line of the US Marines’ Hymn “to the shores of Tripoli” and by the Mameluke sword worn by Marine officers.

And despite, as I said, being the genesis of the US Navy and Marines. Yes, there had been a Continental Navy as well as Continental Marines during the American Revolution, but they had been disbanded. Not to mention three badass post-Revolutionary War American military heroes – US naval commander Stephen Decatur, ex-consul William Eaton, and Marine Corps Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon.

The First Barbary War was fought from 10 May 1801 to 10 June 1805 (albeit American ally Sweden had been fighting the corsairs since 1800). The Second Barbary War was classic gunboat diplomacy, lasting only three days and ending on 19 June 1815.

“The wars were largely a reaction to slavery by the Barbary states” – with slaves taken from raiding European coastal areas or captured ships from piracy, shifting to the latter as kidnapping for ransom over time. The Europeans tended to shrug it off and just cough up ransom or tribute to the Barbary states. The Americans under President Thomas Jefferson decided they were having none of that and went to war to enforce safe conduct or passage for American ships instead – “millions for defense but not once cent for tribute”.

Hence the First Barbary War, with its turning point as the Battle of Derna – in which Eaton promoted himself to general and led a small force of Marines under O’Bannon as well as foreign mercenaries on a march across the desert from Egypt to capture the Tripolitan city of Derna. That gave American negotiators the leverage they needed for the release of American hostages and the end of the war, although they still wimped out by paying a reduced ransom for the captives – much to Eaton’s chagrin.

During the War of 1812, the Barbary corsairs resumed their attacks on American shipping, characteristically encouraged by the perfidious British. Hence the Second Barbary War, when the Americans (this time under President James Madison) once again rolled up in their navy, with Barbary War veteran Decatur returning as Commodore for a little gunboat diplomacy to persuade the Algerian corsairs to sue for peace – ending “the need for further tribute from the United States”, granting “the US full shipping rights in the Mediterranean”, and significantly reducing “incidents of piracy in the region”.

Of course, it didn’t entirely stamp out the piracy or slavery by Barbary corsairs, who tended to lay low until any opposing naval ships had sailed back over the horizon – that came with the French colonization of north Africa.

The defense of Rorke’s Drift 1879 – painting by Alphonse de Neuville 1880

(15) BRITISH COLONIAL WARS –
ANGLO-ZULU & ANGLO-ZANZIBAR WARS (1879 & 1896)

The Battle of Rorke’s Drift.

That’s it – that’s the entry. Well that and the 1964 film Zulu which depicted it.

Also not quite, as British colonial wars are the archetypal wars fought by European maritime empires as they carved up the world, with the British Empire coming out in the top spot. Don’t worry – we’ll get back to Rorke’s Drift, but Britain fought numerous colonial wars.

Arguably, the most decisive colonial war or wars fought by Britain were the Napoleonic Wars. For one thing, with all the focus on their European theaters, we forget how much of the Napoleonic Wars were fought beyond Europe – and just how much of those were in essence colonial wars, with Britain coming out on top. For another, Britain’s victory in the Napoleonic Wars laid the foundations for its naval supremacy, Pax Britannica and what is sometimes called the second British Empire (to distinguish it from the first British empire until American independence).

Although its naval supremacy was the primary instrument of its empire, Britain was surprisingly versatile with a colonial army that tended to punch above its weight in numbers, which were surprisingly small, in part of course due to superior firepower (and plain old firing drill) over its colonial adversaries.

In the words of Hillaire Belloc –
“Whatever happens, we have got
The Maxim gun, and they have not”

So which of Britain’s prolific colonial wars to pick for this entry? As you can see, I’ve gone with the Anglo-Zulu and Anglo-Zanzibar Wars, firstly because I like the alliterative effect, but also because they are aptly representative of Britain’s colonial wars.

The Anglo-Zanzibar War is, however, the archetypal British colonial victory through superior firepower. Not coincidentally, it also holds the title of the shortest war in history – 38 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on which record you go by.

It was proverbial gunboat diplomacy – bonus points for involving actual gunboats, two craft with that designation, among the five British ships. Essentially, the wrong sultan succeeded to the Zanzibar Sultanate. Wrong, that is, from the perspective of the British, who preferred another one – so they simply rolled up in their ships and shelled the palace until they got the right one. Yes – they also stormed the palace with a contingent of marines or sailors and pro-British Zanzibaris. The British suffered one casualty – a wounded sailor – to about 500 Zanzibari casualties.

And with remarkably wry humor, the British billed Zanzibar for the shells the British used, among the other terms of surrender, because the British built their empire on a budget. With its puppet sultan, Zanzibar continued to be absorbed into the British Empire, and was subsequently merged with the former German colony of Tanganyika to become British Tanzania.

Now back to Rorke’s Drift, if you’re a fan of the Battle of Helm’s Deep in The Lord of The Rings film (The Two Towers), then you’re a fan of the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, as the former was filmed in a manner deliberately reminiscent of the film Zulu according to Jackson.

Indeed, Rorke’s Drift was seen at the time as the Helm’s Deep of the British Empire, a victory snatched from the jaws of the crushing defeat by the Zulus at the Battle of Isandlwana (as well as the seedy origins of the Anglo-Zulu War).

Even if contemporary observers might see Britain and its empire more as Mordor (or Isengard to America’s Mordor) rather than the Shire as Tolkien did.

If anything, Rorke’s Drift was even more epic than Helm’s Deep – as a small company of less than 150 soldiers attached to the Royal Engineers (including a substantial number of sick and wounded) fought off a force of about 3-4,000 Zulus.

Taking a step back, Rorke’s Drift was a small albeit highly celebrated part of the Anglo-Zulu War, with the British soldiers finding themselves in the path of a Zulu force in the aftermath of the opening Zulu victory at Isandlwana.

The Anglo-Zulu War itself might be seen as the last of a series of Zulu wars, from the foundation of the Zulu Kingdom as a formidable military power under Shaka. Unfortunately for his successors, the Zulu Kingdom found itself against a bigger and even more aggressive tribe – the Anglo tribe of the British Empire – and Isandlwana proved itself to be the Zulu high point of the war.

Back to Rorke’s Drift, I tend to default to its depiction in the film Zulu, which while generally accurate to the historical battle, does of course have inaccuracies (with perhaps the most egregious involving the depiction of Private Hook, a model soldier, as a rogue redeemed in the battle). The film may also be seen as somewhat problematic in these times given its celebration of British imperial victory – I don’t care.

Indeed the film tends to glamorize both sides in the battle – with the Zulus depicted as a brave, intelligent, capable, resourceful and ultimately honorable adversary. And if anyone can resist the stirring orchestral theme by John Barry, I don’t know what to say.

The British soldiers were led by Lieutenant Chard, portrayed by Stanley Baker, and his second in command Lieutenant Bromhead, portrayed by a young Michael Caine in his breakthrough film role. Deciding that retreat isn’t an option as they will move too slowly with their sick or wounded and the Zulus will catch them out in the open, they have no option but to stand and fight behind improvised barricade defenses.

Throughout the day and night (into the following day) after the Zulu force surrounds them, wave after wave of Zulu attackers are desperately and narrowly repelled by the British defenders. At one point, the Zulus succeed in setting fire to the field hospital, leading to tense scenes of the evacuation of patients under fierce attack by Zulu warriors – and British Surgeon-Major James Henry Reynolds calmly continues his surgery on a wounded soldier with fighting all around him. And yes – he got a Victoria Cross.

The British defenders retreat to the shortened lines of their inner barricades. One tactic you see through the film is the use of multiple ranks of soldiers to maintain a nearly continuous volley of fire with their bolt-action rifles. None more so than the climactic scene with three such ranks used (after falling back from desperate hand-to-hand combat at an outer barricade) to defend a massive assault by Zulu warriors. And as the camera pans back, you see the fallen Zulu warriors mere inches away from the front rank of breathless British soldiers – an impressive feat of holding the line.

That’s when you start to think from the preceding sense of overwhelming doom that hangs over the British soldiers – holy crap, they’re actually going to make it! And then – no, holy crap, they’re not…as the Zulu force masses on the hill overlooking Rorke’s Drift, seemingly barely diminished, while the British are exhausted and running low on ammunition. Lieutenant van den Burgh, their Afrikaaner advisor serving with the Natal Native Contingent, sinks to his knees and rebukes the British officers (and arguably their imperialism as well) – “Haven’t you had enough? We’re all dead!”

And then, holy crap again – as the Zulus chant, raising their spears. “They’re taunting us!” Michael Caine’s character exclaims. Van den Burgh laughs – “You couldn’t be more wrong – they’re saluting us as fellow braves!”. And then the Zulus slowly turn and walk away, still chanting, until a lone warrior is left, before he too turns and leaves.

Sadly, the historical battle ended in a more prosaic way, without the Zulus saluting the British (but more withdrawing from strategic sense and an advancing British relief column). I prefer to think it ended the way it did in the film.

11 Victoria Crosses were awarded to the defenders of Rorke’s Drift, with 17 killed and 11 wounded from their number in the battle – having inflicted 20 casualties for every one of theirs, with 351 confirmed killed from the Zulu forces (and about 500 wounded).

Britain’s colonial wars – and European colonial wars in general – exemplified the less gallant but undeniably effective side of the art of war, picking curb stomp battles, albeit usually through superior firepower rather than superior numbers. All nations would like wars like the Anglo side of the Anglo-Zanzibar War, whether or not they like to admit it – they just usually lack the means. And even if the British occasionally got stomped rather than doing the stomping, as in the Anglo-Zulu War (although they ultimately won that too).

RATING:
A-TIER (TOP TIER)